#again. peek into my dark and twisted mind

[daenystheedreamer]

queen cersei organising a tourney in honour of herself c. ~290 AC also featured: lord baelish

[stellerssong]

swan stellerssong be like "i know a place" and it's the hotel calochortus (affectionate. ily for this)

<3!!!!!!! but also realistically it would be "swan stellerssong be like 'i know a place' and then she takes you there and all the calochortuses went to seed a full month ago and then you have to stand there and wait while she visibly suppresses a blood-curdling shriek of agony"

[luvsupa]

003 | JEALOUSY?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, angst, tension, smut, ōral sex + fingering (f!recieving), petnames, revenge sex. don’t know what to add </3, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SOSO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS <33

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

you lie in bed, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, sleep evading you entirely. he floods your mind—lewd images, the sounds, the intoxicating scent that clings to your senses, refusing to leave.

his voice.

sukuna, the king of curses, always knew exactly how to get into your head, how to twist your thoughts until he owned every part of you. you scrunch your face in frustration, knowing he sees you as a plaything—something weak, something to be toyed with.

you glance around the room at the other servants, sleeping peacefully in their single beds, until your gaze lands on yorozu’s bed, neatly made and empty.

a bitter feeling stirs inside you—she had spent the night in sukuna’s bed. yet, even as he fucked her senseless, his attention was entirely on you. his eyes, those cursed, cruel eyes, never left you.

quietly, you rise, slipping on a thin cotton robe. with careful steps, you tiptoe out of the room, the wooden door creaking slightly as it opens. you nearly scream as uraume appears before you, arms crossed, their expression as neutral as ever.

“g-good morning, uraume,” you stammer, bowing slightly in respect.

“the king has requested you clean his chambers,” uraume states, and just hearing his name sends a shiver down your spine. that twisted bastard—he’s trying to get inside your head again.

“tell sukuna i do not wish to see him,” you reply coldly. for the first time, you see a flicker of shock on uraume’s face, their eyebrows raising at your blatant disrespect toward the king of curses.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be starting my duties early.” you walk past them without another word, leaving uraume speechless at your audacity as you head toward the garden doors.

the sun peeks over the tall mountains, casting a warm glow over the vibrant garden. you stand for a moment, looking up at the orangey-blue sky, before walking deeper into the garden.

you begin your work alone, plucking ripe fruits and vegetables, making sure everything looks perfect. but then, you freeze.

you can feel his presence, dark and oppressive, lingering somewhere nearby.

your heart races. he’s angry—you know it. you must have upset him by refusing his orders. you keep plucking the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as his aura thickens, almost suffocating you.

and then, suddenly, his presence vanishes.

you furrow your brow in confusion, turning to scan your surroundings. nothing. he’s gone just like that?

you try to convince yourself that he’s gone, but before you can fully relax, a rough hand grips your face, yanking you around. your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself face to face with sukuna. he looms over you, taller and more terrifying than you remember, his four eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that makes your blood run cold.

“you thought you could ignore me?” he growls, his voice low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat is unmistakable. his grip tightens, forcing you back against the rough bark of a towering oak tree. he’s so close, his body heat searing into you, his scent, a heady mix of blood and something darkly sweet—overwhelming your senses.

“you think you can defy me, woman?” his voice is deceptively soft, but it only makes the fear coil tighter in your chest. his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he inhales deeply, savouring your scent. “you’ve been blocking me out, haven’t you? my clever little girl.”

his words are laced with a twisted kind of praise, but there’s nothing comforting in it. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of your ear, making you squirm involuntarily. his grip on your face is firm, almost possessive, as he presses himself against you, his presence overpowering.

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the defiance in your words only makes him chuckle darkly.

“such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. his other hand trails up your neck, his fingers elongating into sharp, black claws that press dangerously against the pulsing vein in your throat. he’s toying with you, every touch calculated to draw out your fear, your arousal.

“so brave, yet you tremble under my touch,” sukuna’s voice is a husky whisper, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he watches your reaction. you hate the way your body responds to him, how the proximity makes your heart race, your thighs press together in a vain attempt to quell the heat building inside you.

his bottom eyes catch the movement, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “how delightful,” he sneers, releasing your neck and stepping back, leaving you breathless and trembling against the tree.

sukuna hums, turning to leave without a word, no goodbye, nothing. you’re left standing there, breathless and shaking, knowing you’ll never truly escape his grasp.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the evening buzzes with activity as servants and guards rush to prepare the dining hall for the zenin clan’s arrival. you overhear whispers about toji, the head of the clan, who commands both fear and respect. a secluded home within the estate has been prepared for their stay, a gesture of hospitality from sukuna himself.

you slip into more formal attire, the fabric soft against your skin, when a soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. uraume steps in, their expression unreadable.

“the king—”

“i’ve already spoken to him, uraume,” you interject, catching a flicker of irritation in their eyes.

“the king has requested that you serve the food at dinner for the zenin clan,” uraume continues, their tone firm. your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can protest, they add, “i will not tolerate any disrespect towards sukuna-sama, so i suggest you comply.” with that, they leave, offering no room for argument. you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sukuna is up to something.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the estate is a flurry of movement as everyone gathers outside to greet the zenin clan. the grand entrance is framed by koi ponds and cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting in the breeze. the noise of the crowd quiets as everyone falls into place, a wide path left clear for sukuna and uraume.

the chatter dies as word spreads that sukuna is approaching. everyone bows as the double doors swing open, revealing sukuna in a black kimono with gold accents, his hair slicked back with a few strands falling against his face.

fuck. he looks so good, you think, your heart skipping a beat.

uraume follows behind him as they move toward their spot at the front. just as sukuna passes by you, your heart clenches. you barely manage to lower your head in respect as you notice his hand intertwined with yorozu’s. she throws a smirk your way, and your eyes flicker between them. a gasp escapes your lips as you catch sukuna’s lower eye locked on you, a smirk playing on his lips as well.

the gates swing open, and the zenin clan’s carriages roll in, the horses' hooves echoing against the stone. the zenin’s guards step out first, followed by a tall, broad man in a black haori. he moves with an air of authority, his eyes locking onto sukuna’s with a tension so thick it feels like the air might crack.

“zenin,” sukuna calls out, their gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance. toji strides forward, his hands casually behind his back, his presence as commanding as sukuna’s.

“ryomen,” toji responds, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. you study him more closely, noting the scar on his lip, the sharpness of his gaze. he catches you staring, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. sukuna’s gaze follows toji’s, his jaw tightening, a vein pulsing at his temple as he harshly releases yorozu’s hand.

“uraume, show our guests to the dining hall,” sukuna orders, his voice low, his breath quickening with barely restrained anger. toji’s eyes flick between you and sukuna, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he catches onto the tension.

as uraume leads toji and the rest of the zenin clan inside, toji deliberately brushes past sukuna, the slight contact sparking a flash of rage in sukuna’s eyes. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to unleash his wrath, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

sukuna, toji, and the rest of the zenin clan settle into the dining room, the air thick with chatter and underlying tension. you stand quietly in the corner behind toji, your gaze drifting to sukuna seated at the other end of the table. yorozu is by his side, her smile wide as she leans into him, desperate for his attention while he pets her head, his eyes never leaving you.

the chefs signal that the food is ready, and you step forward, carrying the largest, heaviest plate. as you approach sukuna, yorozu stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. you carefully place the dish in front of sukuna, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, making your heart race with nervous energy.

you retreat back to your spot behind toji, aware that he’s been watching your every interaction with sukuna. he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips as he senses the tension.

“is the food to your liking, lord zenin?” you ask softly, leaning down so only he can hear. but sukuna’s piercing red eyes catch every movement, his stare burning into you. toji turns to you, his gaze appreciative as he sets his utensils down.

“y’er a cute one, hmm? call me toji, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with charm. you smile, flustered by the attention, while across the table, yorozu desperately tries to capture sukuna’s interest, even going so far as to eat from his plate in an attempt to please him.

suddenly, sukuna’s voice booms out, calling your name with a force that silences the entire room. all conversation stops as you freeze, your exchange with toji abruptly cut short. you take a hesitant step toward sukuna’s side of the table, but before you can move any further, toji grabs your arm. you gasp, turning to find him grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

in one swift motion, toji pulls you into his lap, your squeal echoing in the now-silent dining room. “ryo’, let the girl rest, yeah? workin’ too much, baby, isn’t that right?” he coos, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. sukuna’s expression darkens, his anger barely contained, only held in check by uraume’s firm grip on his shoulder, reminding him of the guests in the room.

the dinner continues, but the atmosphere is charged. sukuna’s eyes never leave you and toji, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. toji, sensing sukuna’s barely restrained anger, keeps pushing, his hands wandering over your thighs, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers sweet, seductive words.

toji takes your hand, kissing it softly, his eyes locked on sukuna’s with a smug, taunting look. sukuna’s fists clench, his entire body tense as he fights the urge to tear toji apart.

“meet me in my chambers,” toji murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. you giggle, caught up in the flirtation, but the sound barely leaves your lips before sukuna abruptly stands, the ancient chair crashing to the floor.

“dinner is over,” sukuna announces, his voice cold and final. confusion ripples through the room as he storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. yorozu calls after him, but he doesn’t even glance back, his rage blazing as he disappears from sight.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as nighttime falls, you find yourself at the guest estate just a few minutes from the main one. with a nervous knock, toji answers the door, his grin widening before he pulls you into a deep, feverish kiss. your tongues intertwine, frantic and messy, at the entrance where anyone might witness the two of you.

toji pulls away, his large hand cupping your face. “who is sukuna to you?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that makes you choke on your saliva, caught off guard.

“h-he’s my king, toji,” you stammer, leaning into his touch, your breath coming fast. he chuckles, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“i see how he looks at you—he’s always been possessive with… women,” he says, his gaze wandering as a wicked thought forms.

“are you up for something adventurous?” he whispers, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck. you tilt your head, desperate for more.

“I want you, toji,” you whimper, and he chuckles, pulling out a black blindfold from his pocket.

was he prepared for this all along?

“may I put this on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with anticipation. you nod eagerly, unable to contain your desire. toji smirks, guiding you to turn around as he binds the fabric over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

you ache to see him, to watch the way he moves, but the blindfold denies you that pleasure. “we just need to walk a bit, and I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises, his arms lifting you in a bridal style.

the journey feels endless until he finally lays you down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt. he undresses you slowly, making you shiver with anticipation.

toji’s mouth descends on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples- alternating from each breast.

“n-need you inside me,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. he kisses his way down your body, his lips blazing a trail to your aching cunt.

“such a needy one,” he teases, his voice rough as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. he circles your entrance, collecting your essence before pushing his fingers inside. your gasp is loud, your body arching as he thrusts deep, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot. the room fills with the wet, lewd sounds of your pleasure.

“you’re drenched,” he growls, sliding his fingers out to deliver a stinging slap to your cunt, making you hiss. he licks his fingers clean, savouring your taste before diving into your pussy with feral intensity. his tongue explores every inch of your velvety walls, making you clench around him.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he groans into your core, the vibrations sending electric jolts through your body. your legs try to close around his head, but he forces them open, his face and the sheets below soaked with your arousal.

“toji, I need you inside me,” you moan, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“are you out of your fucking mind?”

you freeze.

your heartbeat halts as his voice cuts through the haze. confusion and fear grip you as you realize who’s in the room.

toji doesn’t stop; if anything, he devours you with even more intensity. loud slurping heard from below as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries.

shakily, you pull off the blindfold, blinking against the bright light. below you, toji’s face is a mask of wicked satisfaction, strands of saliva and cum connecting him to your swollen cunt.

your gaze travels to the end of the bed, and your blood runs cold. sukuna stands there, his four arms bulging with veins, his nails longer and sharper than before.

this is sukuna’s room—the very place where he was with yorozu the night before.

your eyes dart between toji and sukuna, realizing you’re in deep trouble. toji orchestrated this, deliberately placing you in sukuna’s room to fuel the tension between them. “m-my lord—” you begin, but toji spits flat on your cunt, slapping it loudly as you moan uncontrollably.

“c’mon, baby—tell ‘kuna how I’m making you feel.”

[fawnandferns]

thinking about hooking up with neighbour nanami…

mdni, i will block you. nsfw under the cut. ~2k words

neighbour!nanami who was just checking the mail box when he felt your presence beside him. he looked down to see you, someone new to the building as you clearly struggled with the lock. he cleared his throat, offering to help you with the tricky mechanism.

neighbour!nanami who thinks your voice is the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, your eyes catching the light in a way that made his insides twist. you gave him a smile as you thanked him, and he swore his heart stopped beating.

neighbour!nanami who can’t stop thinking about his pretty little neighbour. your mailbox was right next to his, that meant you were right across the hall. he hoped he’d see you again.

neighbour!nanami who heard a knock on his door a week later. he grumbles, opening the door with a flat expression until his gaze fell upon your sheepish smile. you explained you were out of eggs and in the middle of baking, and if he had a few to spare.

neighbour!nanami who’s heart almost melts the next morning, when he steps out and almost steps on a small container. it was filled with cookies, a little sticky note reading “thanks so much for the eggs!”, signed with your name and a little smiley face.

neighbour!nanami who goes down to the laundry room to see you down there as well. he gives you a polite smile, soft spoken greetings before his eyes caught a flash of pink.

neighbour!nanami who is suddenly pointedly trying to avoid looking at the little lacy panties you had in your basket, feeling a heat creeping up his cheeks and further down as well.

neighbour!nanami who quickly excuses himself after putting in his load, rushing to his place and hoping you hadn’t caught sight of the growing tent he’d hid.

neighbour!nanami who feels so shameful as his hand wraps around his cock, images of you in those pretty lacy panties and not much else running through his mind. he can’t help but think of your bright eyes, looking up at him so sweetly.

neighbour!nanami who makes a pointed effort to avoid you after that, listening carefully so that he might not run into you as he locked the door. who couldn’t imagine facing you after he’d done something so dirty, like a horny schoolboy.

neighbour!nanami who startles when the power goes out, lighting a candle before thinking of you. he couldn’t avoid it, he’d want to make sure you were alright.

he had knocked on your door, hearing the soft patter of feet before the click of the door. he could see your eyes widen as you peeked your head out, voice curious and hair clearly damp.

“Kento? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah — yes,” he cleared his throat, struggling to decide whether to meet your gaze, “I wanted to check if you were okay. I know you live alone, and since the power went out —“

he cut himself off when he saw your smile. “Thanks, that’s sweet. I’m okay, I was just taking a shower and, poof.”

as you spoke, you pulled back the door, his breath caught. your skin was still damp, while you wore what was clearly clothes for sleep. tiny shorts and a small tank top, clearly without a bra as pert nipples poked through the white cotton.

“Ahh, that’s good. I’ll let you be then —“

“Oh, it’s alright!” you cut him off with a smile, taking a step aside to greet him in, “I have a bunch of candles, and I wouldn’t want you to be alone in a dark apartment. Please, come in.”

Nanami couldn’t think of a reason to decline, save for ‘Actually, the only thing I can focus on is your chest. My mother taught me to respect women, so I’d quite like to leave and bang my head on a wall.’

so he broke the threshold, stepping into your warm home. his eyes trailed across the open kitchen and living room, illuminated by candles and starlight pouring in through wide windows.

“Your home is lovely.” he followed your guide, sitting down on the couch as you sat beside him.

“Oh, thanks. I’ve still got a few things to do, even though it’s been a month.” you vaguely gestured to a few boxes in the corner, “I just can’t quite reach the top shelves, and I haven’t gotten the chance to buy myself a new stepstool.”

“I can do it.” Nanami stood up without thinking, reaching towards the boxes. any chance to not be so close to you, he felt so shameful each time he met your gaze.

“Oh, you don’t have to — you’re too kind, Kento.” you had stood up as well, watching him reach for a few books which he held with calloused hands.

Nanami begins to dutifully put books on the shelves, along with a few tchotchkes you had packed away. even though he was wearing a simple cotton tshirt, he felt so warm just being in your presence.

he suddenly becomes aware of the silence occupying the room, eyes falling down to your form. his brain short circuits as he realized you were looking at his stomach, where his shirt had been raising up each time he’d reach for the shelves.

he watched as your eyes looked up, meeting his before they widened almost comically. he could see the way the tips of your ears flushed as you stepped backed, voice raising in pitch.

“Uhm, do you want some water? I’m thirsty.”

You stepped away before he could respond, quickly rushing over to the small kitchen and turning on the tap. He cleared his throat, nodding faintly as he began to put away your books once more.

“Yes, thank you.”

Nanami could hear you as you walked back up to him a minute later, setting the glass beside him on the coffee table.

he thanked you, taking a sip and soaking in the awkward silence. his throat still felt so dry, coughing slightly before turning to set the glass down, turning and —

— and suddenly his face was inches away from yours.

you eyes were wide, cheeks burning red as you froze in place. your lips parted with words you couldn’t get out, chest rising and falling as your gaze fell to his lips.

and then his lips were on yours. it was sweet, his tongue gently poking at your lips to ask for permission to enter. he felt your arms wrap around his neck, pulling yourself closer as his hands steadied themselves on your waist.

you both finally pulled away, breathless and keeping each others gaze. his eyes had dilated impossibly, carefully observing your features to make sure he hadn’t upset you.

“I’m sorry —“ the timbre of his voice was huskier now, hoarse with arousal, “I should’ve asked —“

Nanami’s words were cut off as your lips met his again, sanguine skin warm against his own. he hesitated before pulling at your waist, flush against his body. your hands were moving from his neck to his shoulders. he could feel each brush of your hands against his body, a trail of wildfire.

he felt one hand begin to move past his collarbones down to brush against his tensed abdomen. your fingers began to play with the hem which he quickly took as a sign.

your lips broke apart for a moment as he tugged the shirt off, discarding it on the floor before quickly meeting your lips once more. your touch became bolder, fingers grazing over the ridges of Nanami’s hard muscle and the faint happy trail which crept beneath the band of his pants.

he let his hands fall, gripping at your thighs and pulling you both down to sit on your couch. you were suddenly straddling one of his thighs, left hand on his shoulder and right hand hooking a finger on his belt loop. you let go soon after, letting that hand drop towards the aching tent he’d been ignoring.

he resisted a shudder as your fingers ghosted over the tent in his pants. your voice was a breathless whisper.

“can i?”

Kento couldn’t imagine a world where he said no to you. he nodded, and his breath caught the moment you finally touched him fully. your hand began to palm at his cock through the slacks. he could feel precum starting to messy his briefs, but couldn’t find himself to care.

he groaned as his lidded eyes followed down your arm to watch as you squeezed him. he canted his hips up involuntarily, body shaking with pent-up arousal.

your fingers began to clumsily pull at the button below his navel. Nanami felt his lips curl at the corners as you cursed softly, pulling back to watch your handiwork before crashing your lips back against his.

His fly was down now, allowing your hand to follow his blond happy trail down to the bulge covered only by his briefs. He felt his body shiver the moment your finger hooked at the band. You pulled it down slowly, eyes drawn down to his cock.

He could only watch your expression as you did so.

Your eyes widened, pupils blown as you mumbled, “… fuck.”

Nanami rasped out a low chuckle, trying to ignore the way you kept ogling down there.

“Is that good?”

You nodded absentmindedly, hands hesitating to touch his intimidating length.

“Mmh… yeah.”

You were practically drooling, thighs clenching around his hips as you felt heat pool in your belly. His body was herculean. Finally reaching out, your finger traced down his length and watch him twitch.

Nanami exhaled quickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked between your darkened gaze. He couldn’t stop himself, leaning in again as your lips pulled him in. He crashed against your lips once more, messily making out with you as your finger began to trace up and down. He could feel you smile into the kiss when he’d twitch involuntarily, making his body stutter.

Nanami Kento was, admittedly, quite inexperienced. Not that he was a virgin — he’d had a girlfriend in college, gotten many of the firsts out of the way. But it was brief, and it had been years since then. Most of what he knew now was learned exclusively through the romance novels he read, not practice.

So when your lips began to trail down to his jawline, the column of his neck, and his collarbones, his mind grew a blank. He couldn’t rely on his instincts. Hands squeezed at your waist and his breath shook.

As your lips worshipped the muscles of his torso, he kept watching. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to brush at a stray hair he’d noticed in your vision. His hand began to rest against the side of your head, thumb brushing against your soft hair.

You kept moving down, until you’d slid off the couch and were on your knees in between his legs. Your hands kept moving back and forth on the tops of his thighs, eyes looking up at him through long lashes, a silent question.

Nanami was a gentleman. He knew, he knew he wanted to service you first. That you shouldn’t be the one on your knees right now. But he was only a man, and when you looked up at him like that he couldn’t help but nod and whisper.

“Yes… please.”

You looked back down, tongue darting out to wet your lips. When you leaned forward, you gave a kitten lick to the tip of his cock. You could taste the precum on his tip, salty but addicting. While one hand stayed on your head, stroking your cheek and pulling back some hair, the other was fisting at the fabric of your couch, trying not to cum on the spot.

You smirked, watching his reactions as you kept licking at the tip, teasing him and enjoying the small noises he couldn’t control.

“Just…” he rasped out, trying to resist the urge to beg, “… please, beautiful.”

Though a part of you wanted to keep teasing, the other stronger, much more primal side of you knew you couldn’t keep it up much longer.

Nanami watch you lick a long stripe up his length, before taking the top of his cock in your mouth. Fuck, it was so warm and wet and he was going to have to focus so hard on not cumming right then and there.

You swirled your tongue as best you could around him as his girth stretched out your lips. You breathed out of your nose, eyes closing before pushing yourself down against the length.

You couldn’t even fit it all, not on your own. When you had fit about two thirds down your throat, you gagged around his cock.

Nanami grunted, the sudden tightness making his entire body warm.

Taking in a breath through your nose, you finally moved up and down, slowly finding a rhythm as you tried to focus on the sweet and small sounds Nanami couldn’t help but make. Your nails began to lightly scratch at his v-line, goosebumps following in your wake.

You couldn’t help but press your thighs together, feeling just how much this was all turning you on. It was almost an ache, burning down there to feel that sweet pressure.

It was so messy. Nanami watched as spit trailed down his cock, making it glisten in the low light as the lewd sounds echoed through the apartment. He was hanging on by a thread.

You watched with a glint in your eye as his head lolled back, pleasure coursing through his veins. Pulling back, you pressed the flat of your tongue against his frenulum before gently flicking at it.

He made a sort of strangled sound, eyes open as he looked down at you, all control slipping from his grasp.

“Fuck —“ he gritted out, as the coil snapped and cum began to spurt out the tip. You kept lapping it up, warm mouth bringin him through the orgasm as you swallowed the salty substance. His body shuddered, quickly overstimulated as you kept licking at his cock like a lollipop.

“Darling —“

He raised a shaky hand to your jawline, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. Your lips were glossy now, as you gave him a lopsided smile, cheeks flushed.

“Mmh?”

His eyes trailed down your figure, resting on your thighs as they pressed together, clearly aroused by the moment.

Ah. His turn, now. Good.

a/n: listen i was gonna add more, i was thinking about Nanami eating reader out and like fucking her against the window, but idk. perhaps another day. also this took longer than i thought.

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Part 2

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade's world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, and fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven't written in A WHILE so bear with me

Previous Part

“Come on!”, Wade groaned before he threw himself on the old couch, and it made a squeaky sound:” Admit it, you missed me!” He keeps his head low as he peeks up at you through non-existent lashes. You only roll your eyes at his behavior:” I’m already missing the quiet.”. A blatant lie. God only knows how fucking worried you were when he abruptly vanished. It brought back old feelings, and you certainly weren’t a fan of that.

You sit down next to him when his expression suddenly shifts. It’s not often that you see Wade concerned, even though you know that his sarcasm and comedy are nothing more than a coping mechanism. It’s like looking into a mirror. “What’s wrong?”, you question him, swallowing thickly while you study his features for any clues:” Why did you need to see me…alone?” It was an odd phone call to receive at 3 in the morning.

Wade clears his throat:” I told you about saving the universe, right? And before you drop to your knees to thank me like the maid thanks her knight in shining armor. I have to tell you something important.” You run a hand down your face and sigh softly:” God, I miss the silence so much.”

“I didn’t save this world alone…”, he declares, twisting his body to fully face you:” I had help. And that help is living with me from now on and I just cannot keep him in my room the entire time whenever you’re around- even though that’s kinda sexy, now that I'm thinking about it. As if he’s my mistress...” You only blink at him in pure perplexity.

“I- I just need you to meet him, okay?”, he rises from his spot beside you and walks towards the door to his room. “Wade…”, you observe his every move and lean back:” Did you kidnap a stripper? Again?! I swear to God, I-.” But when he opens the door and does a hand motion notifying that whoever’s in the room can come out now you turn silent.

A sixth sense you hadn’t felt in a long time begins to limp its way out from some dark and quiet spot inside your soul and towards the surface.

“Come on.”, Wade makes a few more hand movements, almost as if he is calling a… cat?“You can do it, kitty.” Your breath hitched in your throat, and something inside of you is arising again from a long, and deep slumber- it aches terribly. If someone asked you to guess who was inside that room, you could nod but not give them a name. Your heart was carved in with the name of a lover you tried your hardest to forget.

And a second later he comes into view. “Now, please keep in mind that this Logan is from another universe.”, your friend clarifies, while he slowly moves in front of him. Almost as if he attempts to shield him from whatever reaction you were about to give him. But you don’t move.

There’s a longing look on Logan’s face. His fingers twitch now and then. “Y/N.”, your name leaves his mouth like a prayer. Like some sort of spell that hasn’t been used in decades. Smooth like honey, and dripping off his lips onto the filthy carpet. You yearn to drench in it. After all, you haven’t heard it in such a long time, it feels like you are listening to it for the first time all over again. And you finally rise to your feet.

Wade swallows thickly and turns to attend to the empty air:” What do you guys think she’s about to do? Do you think they’re going to fuck on the carpet? No… Disney wouldn’t allow that. What a fucking shame! It’s Stucky all over again.”

It takes you a few seconds to react, but once you finally do you only turn around and scan the room for a trash can before you eventually rush to the nearest and throw up. Wade tilts his head and sighs:” Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Y/N.”, Logan quickly walks up to you but you snap your head at him and hiss. “That’s so Cat claw coded.”, the bald man whispers before he makes his way towards you. “Don’t fucking touch me!”, you shout at Logan. And you can sense all the bitterness and anger and hatred boil inside your veins.

“What the fuck, Wade?!”, you yell at him as you stand up from the ground:” What the actual fuck?! You couldn’t just fucking warn me?! Couldn't have told me this over the phone?!” Tears are streaming down your face and they make your friend take a step back. You have never cried in front of him before. “What the fuck?!”, it’s the final thing you declare before you storm out of the apartment.

[clawsdevour]

do what?

wc: 2.6k content warning: post-time skip, childhood bestfriends to lovers, oikawa x reader, smut, caught mid masturbation, oral m!receiving, also confession, not proofread

࿐ ｡˚.

Earbuds in, moaning echoing with each sound rolling off the actor’s tongue whenever the larger figure pumps his cock into her. Your shorts at the end of your ankles, baggy t-shirt pulled up enough to expose your bare chest while your left hand’s gripping onto your phone with your other hand working diligently to satisfy your craving.

The loud mixed whimpers stimulating you more the louder they got. The faster her ragged breaths mixed with hislow breathy grunts. The quicker the pace your fingers pick up trying to chase after your release at the same time as the actors in the video. 

Eyes half lidded, soaking in all the numbing pleasure at your rapid pace your digits swamped in at the wetness. Squelching noises breaking through your earbuds, subtle creaking of the floorboards in the hallway that somehow didn’t catch your attention. That was until the doorknob twisted from the corner of your eye.

Stopping in your tracks out of fear, you immediately shut off your phone and chuck it under your pillow. Trying to hastily put your shorts back, struggling to ride them up it was too late when wide and surprised eyes peered at you from the little distance between the door and wall was created.

Your childhood bestfriend came to visit you like always, Tooru Oikawa, that prick just likes to show up whenever he feels like it. His dark brown eyes that matched the color of his hair quickly being shut out of your vision when he slams the door shut after realizing what you’re up to, the tension rising between the thin walls.

Pulling your shorts all the way up hastily, you can’t help but feel ashamed and absolutely humiliated that he just walked in on you in that vulnerable state. He’s outside, waiting with his hand on his mouth trying to comprehend what he just saw, his face turning a blazing pink hue.

“Tooru… um you can come in now..” taking out your earbuds while you weakly shouted at the door that stared back at you blankly.

He’s slowly opening the door, peeking his head in first to see you sitting at the end of your plush bed with your head down, face absolutely red as a tomato.

“...hey, sorry about that. I should’ve knocked first,” closing the door behind him, a hand scratching the side of his neck with an awkward smile to ease into the awkward tension that continued to increase now that he’s in the same room as you.

Sitting next to you on the end of your bed, the silence is loud. You’re both uncomfortable from what just happened but want to overcome it as it became dense and overbearing.

“So-” Oikawa cuts you off. Whipping your head at him with a concerned face, unprepared for what he was about to say next.

“Were you watching something while doing it..?” His shaky doe eyes searching for the truth. Catching you mid gasp, you’re burning red hot while nodding out a yes.

He’s huffing out a small chuckle under his breath, making you glance at him with narrow eyes. 

“What? It’s already embarrassing enough getting caught jacking off my bestfriend” loudly saying like you always joked around with him, hitting his arm playfully. Oikawa’s lips are curling at the ends while he tilts his head to look at you.

“Look, I'm sorry. If it makes it any better, or less embarrassing.. I do that too” he’s doing one of those mind games again. You can’t tell if he’s playing around with you or if he really meant what he just said about doing the same while you batted your eyes.

Oikawa’s got this reassuring look on his face that always made you feel more comfortable and safe with him. It might be that you had a vulnerable side for him that you’ve just been ignoring for long because of the fact that he’s your childhood best friend. And not to mention, somewhat a player at the front of your head. But at the back, you know deep down, there’s some lingering feelings pulling strings in your heart for him.

“Do you really, Tooru? I thought you only go around sleeping with girls like the guy you are..” letting out a deep breath, finally saying what you’ve always wanted to say to his face. 

You’re turning your whole body away from him, if you can’t face the truth then you couldn’t face him.

“I don’t. There’s no reason for me to if they aren’t you!” Spurting out what was on his mind without a second thought, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape the moment he realized what he just told you on impulse.

Whipping your head back at him, his eyes are big from shock, mouth slightly parted. His eyebrows are furrowed from all the pent up frustration due to having your back turned against him for the first time in forever.

“Me? Tooru, what do you mean?” A small smile slightly appearing on your lips, unable to cover up the sheer excitement and assurance his words gave you. 

Shuffling your body to face him once more, his facial features start to relax when your eyes started to scan him up and down. His lips quivering, trying to form sentences to speak.

“Well.. there’s no better way to cover what I just said. I like you, okay? I always have.” His dark brown eyes stern and focused, a slight pout on his lips like always whenever he has to admit the truth.

You’re wrapping your arms him, your weight falling onto his body with your knees landing on the fluffy covers. His large hands moving onto the sides of your waist, reaching lower.

“So.. what does that make us then?” A big toothy grin appearing beneath your content face. Biting down on your lower lip, anticipating your answer that could make things official once and for all.

“Well, I don’t know.. Maybe think about why I would hug you like that right after you just confessed” you responded tauntingly, just slightly hovering over him with your face a few inches away from his. Your bare chest grazing on his, the fabric of your baggy t-shirt drooping down showing him the top of your breasts which he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

“Hmm.. do you still need help?” A snarky smile plastered on his lips followed with his assertive brown eyes.

You feel his hands move down to grab handfuls of your ass. A knee rising in between your legs, pressing against your shorts leaving you open-mouthed. Looking back to see the position he put you in, you can’t help but make a face at him while he giggled from beneath.

“I guess we could continue where you stopped me at..” leaning your face towards his, the heat radiating off his pink face.

Grazing the surface of his soft lips for a kiss you both longed for since you two first met. It’s hot and dizzy, his tongue exploring all the little crevices in your mouth before twisting around your tongue to spark further arousal. Your hips are rocking against his hard knee, creating more wetness in your panties. His hands are massaging your dough-like ass.

Losing yourself to his lips, sloppily letting him slowly take control over you as you moaned into the kiss. A subtle stop to catch your breaths, the only thing connecting you two was a string of clear saliva. The cool air hitting your face throughout all the tension that continued to heat up from the warmth of your bodies mixing.

Oikawa’s not wasting any time though, he’s making his way down your exposed neck which gave him free reign to conquer. Gradually nipping and leaving small red marks while you bit your lip to resist whimpering, feeling the wet and warm areas cool off with the crisp air. 

“Tooru..” you groaned out whilst getting up. Licking his swollen lips watching you rise off his body, analyzing your next move. 

Readjusting your positon so you’re sitting on his lap, looking down at him while he’s looking up with his piercing but warm eyes. His eyes are filled with lust, face heated from all the kissing. His hands are back on your waist to bring you closer to him. Nose in between your tits, gazing at you now that you’re his.

“Wanna do it?” seductively letting the words roll of your tongue.  

“Do what?” mumbling in your chest, his arms swaying you back in forth.

“Fuck..” 

Shaking him off for a moment. Your hand lays flat on his chest, pushing him down while he watches in satisfaction. Something starting to grow in size beneath you.

Oikawa’s head is spinning, this was what he’s ever dreamt of since he first started developing real feelings for you. His complexion turns a darker shade of red while he’s absolutely astonished with how you also felt the same way about him.

His hands come back and make their imprint on your hips to grind onto your heat emitting core causing you to groan in pleasure. He’s harder than a rock, his erection at its peak underneath your weight. With the temperature levels increasing with your two bodies on each other you’re taking off your t-shirt and throwing it off the bed. Leaving your bare and exposed breasts for him to gaze at with every bounce that was created.

“You look so hot from down here, y’know that?” a low voice coming out from underneath. A warm big hand reaching for your right tit, massaging it and playing with your perky nipple.

“I want you in me, Tooru..” a breathy response was what you gave him. 

A sly and cunning smirk started to appear on his lips while he’s slowly lifting his body up with you still in his lap. He’s taking off his shirt, letting you observe his toned and muscular volleyball bod before you hopped down and onto the floorboards. Looking up at him while he’s sitting, head level with his painfully hard erection before pulling down on his waistband to reveal his large length.

“Holy shit this is a weapon!” you choked when you managed to pull his shorts down to his ankles. Well, you weren’t kidding. You truly didn’t know if you could fit it all in your mouth.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna” a somewhat stern face staring at you in all honesty.

“But I want to?” you huffed before stuffing his tip in your mouth causing him to squirm from the unexpected stimulation. 

You can’t help but watch his reactions twist and turn the more you put in effort to pleasure him further, satisfying yourself in the process. Pushing yourself to fit in all his size till you’re at the base of his cock, he can’t help but start to twitch inside your warm and wet mouth.

“Stop or I might just shoot my load in your mouth!” trying to pry you off his dick with his hands while you held your ground.

Accepting what you chose, he’s spraying hot thick ropes of liquid into your mouth that cover the inside of your plush sopping walls with a milky bitter white. His body relaxing the moment of his release while he stayed breathing heavily trying to cool down for a moment while you’re still onto him, attempting to swallow all of his seed.

Pulling yourself off, a loud gulp was heard while you wiped your lips with the back of your hand. Oikawa’s looking at you with awestruck and amusement from being able to see his childhood bestfriend go down on him.

Standing back up on your feet half naked, you strip the remaining articles of clothing off your body. His brown eyes staring at your bare body that hissed against the cool air, drawing lines around the curves of your silhouette. His cock starting to rise once more from his crotch in arousal.

“Fuck.. I didn’t know you were like that” gazing at you from beneath while you wrap your legs around his torso, his dick in between each others’ stomachs. 

Face to face with your bestfriend, his hands slithering back down to pull you closer towards his heat radiating body while you exchange playfully taunting looks like you’ve always have. Hips slightly starting to grind down on each other while the intimate atmosphere started to increase.

“Stop teasing me..” whispering seductively into his ear, your hot breath tickling the grooves Letting out a subtle whine roll off of your lips when your sensitive clit rubs against his tip, leaving your wet glistening juices.

“Fine then” a frisky expression appearing from under you before feeling his hands pull your legs up, exposing your whole intimate area to him. 

He's licking in lips before aiming his tip at your gaping entrance. Using your collected slick, his cock goes in without any issue, besides the fact that the position you’re in makes you feel all of him on a deeper level. Immediately letting out a loud moan of relief, you realized that you didn’t know if you could take all of him.

“You’re so tight..! I think my dick’s boutta snap in half if you keep squeezing on me” his whiney voice roared the moment he dove into your dripping cunt, still attempting to wiggle his way in.

“Don’t say that that’s weird Tooru..” giving him a pout after you’ve adjusted to his girth.

Rocking your hips into him slowly, his head’s already tilted back from all the stimulation he’s been dreaming of. His large hands holding onto your waist to support you while you rode him. Hot and twitchy, he’s more than just overloaded with excitement and joy. 

Peering down, he’s loving the sight of your tight cunt swallow his cock whole with every time you bounced up and down. Your sopping wet folds squelching with each movement clinging onto his size. Groaning with pleasure, he doesn’t even know how long he could go when his eyes moved up to look at your expression that twisted in knots as you used his dick like your own toy.

Your nails dig into his shoulder forming small cresents while you whimpered with every stroke your pussy swipes down on him. Making eye contact with his lustfilled eyes you can’t help but give him a sly smirk while you started to quicken the pace.

“Oh, you wouldn’t” Oikawa mumbled under his breath, as if he’s accepting a challenge.

Putting a halt to your hasty speed, he starts to thrust up with all his might. Staggering out of rhythm you’re at a complete stop trying to take all of his overstimulating thrusts that made your mind go numb. Grazing over your bundle of nerves over and over, stimulating your nether regions, you were just so close.

Muttering his name in between gasps for air, he’s going crazy with the sight of you taking in his hard poundings with his name escaping your mouth in that breathy and arousing tone. Your moans were music to his ears that made his cock twitch just as much as your bomb was ticking deep within.

“T-Tooru.. I’m gonna cum!!” moaning out, your arms reaching for his shoulders to hold onto while you reach your high that sparked your flames.

“Me too..” he managed to groan, continuing to move at a rapid pace.

Orgasming on his cock, he does the same. Though right before he was about to spurt his second load inside, he instantly pulled it out and starts squirting his seed where it catches onto your stomach and his abdomen. Letting you rest on his shoulders while you both calm down, sticky from sweat and cum. Oikawa can’t help but smile knowing he’s finally reached his end game. “I.. love you” a croaky voice said from behind, feeling a reassuring smile on your shoulder.

masterlist here

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.

content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.

word count: 4k+

masterlist

original request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

My Good Girl

The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere. 

With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room. 

‘I want to try something new tonight.’

The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming. 

Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more. 

You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order. 

But you were almost too perfect. 

One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you. 

You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy. 

The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed. 

Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…

Fuck. She was getting worked up again. 

Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message. 

‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’

You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag. 

‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’

Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her. 

‘And if I break one of those rules?’

Oh, it was almost too easy.

‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around. 

The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules. 

And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up. 

At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption. 

The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants. 

Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate. 

The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home. 

The anticipation was killing her. 

—

Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching. 

The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock. 

Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her. 

“Hello, darling.”

Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath. 

Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her. 

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow. 

“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room. 

Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs. 

“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you. 

“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now. 

“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”

Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered. 

“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head. 

“Too late, darling.” 

You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you. 

“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”

A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda. 

“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips. 

Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels. 

You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs. 

You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait. 

The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment. 

So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp. 

You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier. 

You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you. 

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise. 

“Look at me.”

Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails. 

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon. 

“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut. 

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.

Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready. 

“And which rule was that?”

“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest. 

At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons. 

“And you know what this is, correct?” 

“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing. 

Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.

Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure. 

In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch. 

A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand. 

You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days. 

“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass. 

The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside. 

When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp. 

“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips. 

The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow. 

A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh. 

“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit. 

A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs. 

“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”

Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward. 

A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action. 

“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”

You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside. 

“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them. 

“Beg for it.”

The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside. 

You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum. 

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”

The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again. 

The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”

You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow. 

“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey. 

“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word. 

“Mommy, please.”

Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t. 

Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right. 

“Say that again for me, darling.” 

You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits. 

“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”

Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat. 

Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center. 

Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure. 

Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face. 

“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”

You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list. 

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.

The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs. 

“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit. 

It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints. 

Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…

Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology. 

“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense. 

Her mouth disappears. 

Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”

Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…

“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you. 

You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…

A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue. 

You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close. 

After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction. 

Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips. 

“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain. 

“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”

Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from. 

Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…

—

You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.

“Mommy?” 

Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent. 

“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern. 

“I still really want to cum.” 

Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs. 

“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.

Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes. 

Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so. 

You’ve never felt more loved. 

Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm. 

Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

---

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Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 2: A Million Shades of Red ✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you chapter two! I’ve been working long and hard on this, so I hope you do enjoy it. As always, I LOVE to hear your thoughts so comments and reblogs really make my day 🩷 I loved getting to write the last half of this in Joel’s POV. No beta for this one. Happy reading! I have reached my max number of tags for this, so please go follow my updates blog if you'd like to be notified for future updates @mermaidgirl30-updates

Summary: Trying to figure out your way through grief is hard, but Joel seems to give you that first flicker of hope that you need.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, violence, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day you don’t leave your room, can barely stand to get out of bed. So, you don’t. You just stay curled up in a ball between the twisted sheets, listening to the soft drizzle of rain and the howling wind that taps at the glass window. You tossed and turned the entire night while nightmares tore their way through your worn body, reminding you that your life was ripped from your hands more than a year and a half ago. 

   You’re not hungry, can barely even choke down a glass of water. But Joel goes out of his way to make sure you get something down, even going as far as helping you hold the glass, encouraging you the entire time. You never asked him to; he just does it.

   He brings you food to your bed. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And even when you can’t stomach anything, he leaves the plate next to your bed in case you change your mind. He checks on you every hour of the day, even if that’s just him walking by and peeking his head in the doorway to make sure you’re still breathing, alive. 

   You don’t feel alive, but maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you won’t wake up and immediately feel like dying.

   One day. It’s only been one single fucking day since you’ve been pulled from the reins of Angela and all her grimy men, saved by the hands of Joel Miller. And you still don’t understand why he picked you. Of all the girls he could’ve saved, he chose to save you…

   He saved you. And you’re eternally, forever grateful. Even if you can’t express that. Joel Miller is your hero. And even though you don’t exactly trust him yet, maybe one day you will. For now, this is enough. 

   Take it one step at a time. That’s what he keeps telling you. And you just swallow it down and stomach the pain like hot wire scalding your skin. 

   One day at a time. 

   When the night comes around, so do the nightmares. They leave you soaked in sweat, hair sticking to your damp forehead, eyes wide when they drag you from sleep. Blood curdling screams leave your lips, the raspy wails choking you as the tears pour like raindrops down your face. 

   And then there’s Joel slamming the door open, watching you with those sad brown eyes locked on yours, his soft voice calming you down from the brutal memories of the past that try to drag you back to the awful, pain-filled house. You’ll never go back. Not ever again.

   Again, he doesn’t leave until you’ve calmed down enough. He asks if you want him to stay, sit in that same chair he sat in the entire night the evening before. But you shake your head and tell him you’ll be okay. But you’re not okay. You’re far from okay. And when he nods and walks out of the room and closes his bedroom door, you let the tears soak the sheets until you’re dragged back down into darkness. 

   That’s exactly how the next three days go. You stay in bed, only dragging yourself from the cool sheets to crawl to the bathroom. You have no strength, no will to do anything. So you stay in the safety of your room and just sleep, praying the nightmares will leave you alone for just one fucking day, but they don’t. They come like creatures in the night, swallowing you whole with their sharp fangs and feasting on your misery. They bleed you dry just like all those men did. 

   And then there’s Joel and those sad doe eyes… He scares away the nightmares sometimes. But you don’t dare tell him that. You just stay silent, letting him stalk the halls day and night until you’re pulled down to sleep. 

   It’s a repeated cycle that you can’t break: wake up, get a teeth clenching migraine, cry, fall back to sleep, wake up with nightmares clouding your mind, cry, let Joel talk you back to sleep, cry. But you can’t stop, can’t shake it. It’s like it’s ingrained deep in your mind, becoming a part of your new identity. 

   You’re completely hopeless.

   And still Joel doesn’t push you, doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to. He’s just a crutch that he’d gladly let you use, if only you’d touch him. But you don’t. You stay far far away from his tanned skin, his rough hands. You don’t want to be touched, and he doesn’t dare go there. He just stays like a lingering shadow in the hall, making sure you’re still here. Alive. He wants you alive, breathing. And you don’t know why…

   When the fourth day comes around, you make it your goal to get up. You have to try; you can’t stay in bed forever, even if your weak body is completely revolting against any sort of movement. You ignore the blinding pain of your aching bones and push yourself out of bed. And that in itself is a step in the right direction. 

   With messy hair, sweatpants, and a purple hoodie, you take a deep breath and make your way out of the room, praying you can make it all the way downstairs. Every step feels like sharp glass shards cutting the bottom of your heels, but you fight the burning pain and walk on. You have to make it downstairs. You just have to.

   Take it one step at a time. Joel’s soothing voice floats through your mind, and that alone is enough to get you down the steps and into the kitchen. 

   When you turn the corner and see him slumped against the counter, one elbow leaning against it and his other hand skimming the newspaper intently, you freeze in place. He must’ve not heard you tiptoe in because his eyes are locked tight on the folded black and white paper.

   He’s focused, jaw tense as he reaches for his cup of coffee. It’s black. No cream, no sugar. Just black. And you can smell the fresh brew lingering in the air. His green flannel hugs his broad shoulders, the rolled up sleeves leaving his tanned forearms exposed to the light. His eyes have dark shadows underneath them, and he looks like he’s gotten just as much sleep as you have these past few days. Basically none at all.

   Your eyes avert to the floor, your fingers nervously twisting into the soft fabric of the hoodie. You don’t know what to say, so you just take one more step into the lit up kitchen and clear your closed-up throat. 

   Joel’s eyes snap up, and he immediately drops the newspaper, pushing back his sturdy mug of black coffee. “Oh, hey. You’re up.” A ghost of a smile meets his lips and then those soft doe eyes appear. 

   He needs to stop looking at you like that, like you’re a lost puppy. But you won’t lie, they do make you feel a little safer. 

   Nodding your head, you push your hands inside the pockets of the hoodie, twiddling your thumbs mindlessly because you don’t know how else to act when anxiety and fright sit tucked away in the back of your mind.

   “You hungry?” he asks, tilting his head as he studies you with soft eyes. 

   Those soft brown eyes… 

   Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. You’ve barely eaten the past few days, unable to stomach anything under than choking water down and only able to tolerate a couple pieces of toast. Anything else was left untouched, and all Joel would do was sigh when he kept seeing the full plates of food left on your nightstand. But again, he didn’t force you to eat anything, only encouraged you while he asked if you felt okay. 

   He was… too good. Why on earth did he choose to save you…

   “Mhm,” is all you can hum out. 

   “Okay then. Why don’t you sit down, sweetheart. I can fix you somethin’ up real quick,” he answers from across the lavish kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the refrigerator. 

   You slip into one of the barstools at the kitchen island and lean your elbows against the white quartz that reflect against the bright lights displayed high in the room. Your back is as stiff as a board, and your fingers knot together like you don’t know how to act when you’re in the presence of Joel. He won’t hurt you, yet in the back of your mind there’s always that little alarm that says you can’t trust anyone. 

   You can trust him. He’s safe.

   “Apples or blueberries?” he calls out behind the open refrigerator door. 

   “What?” you ask confused as your eyes flick back up to him.

   He leans his head out and smiles softly. “Which one do you like more, sweetheart? Apples or blueberries?”

   You take a second to think on the question. He’s asking which you like more. He’s giving you a choice. Something you haven’t had in almost two years. Do you even remember how to choose anything for yourself? You doubt it.

   “Oh, ummm,” you sputter out, fingers locked tight around each other. You almost think they’ll break with how hard you have them knotted together. “Blueberries,” is what you finally decide on through your racing mind.

   He nods his head and grabs a container of fresh blueberries and sits them on the counter, pulling out other ingredients like butter and syrup. You sit there motionless while he gathers a couple of pans and glass plates out of the cabinet. And you just don’t know what to think about any of this. 

   After a couple minutes of just listening to him bustle around the kitchen, he breaks the silence. “You want some coffee? Just made a fresh batch a few minutes ago.”

   Coffee. You don’t remember the taste of it anymore or how you even liked it. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I could take some coffee,” you say shyly with your hands still shoved deep in your pockets. 

   He wastes no time and pours you a cup, sliding a spoon in as warm steam escapes from the black liquid. “How do you like it? Black, sweet, lots of creamer?”

   Your lips mold together in a tight line as you try hard to remember how you used to make it. You can’t recall anything you used to like before you were taken, and it makes you want to beat your fists on the countertop and spill the tears you’re trying so very hard to hold back. 

   “I don’t—I don’t remember how I like it,” you whisper, eyes dropped to the shiny island, legs trembling beneath you. 

   Joel takes a step in your direction and sets the steamy cup of coffee down in front of you. You can feel his body looming across the island, his large hands leaning against the quartz material, and those eyes. You feel how soft and sad and intently he’s looking at you, like he understands your pain.

   “Sweetheart, can you look at me a second?” he asks quietly, his deep voice a staccato in the heavy air. When you lift your eyes, he gently encourages you by saying, “There ya go. Attagirl.” And for some reason, that makes you want to cry even more. 

   “S’alright, sweetheart. How ‘bout I leave out the cream and sugar, and you can make it sweeter if you don’t like it plain. That alright with you?” he asks softly, his gentle brown eyes locked on yours. You sniffle out a yes, and he gives you a small smile as he turns to grab the creamer and sugar. 

   You drag the coffee cup closer to you and tap your nails against the ceramic material, thinking long and hard about everything you’ve lost. What did you even like doing anymore? You can barely remember what you liked before the last couple of years were snatched away from you. You can’t even remember your favorite color…

   When he returns and sets the bottle of creamer and a shaker of sugar down in front of you, you crack. A tear slips down your cheek, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. “I can’t remember what I loved to do before they—before they took me. My hobbies, my passions, my likes. I just don’t remember…” Your voice is barely audible as it shakes beneath your broken stature. 

   God, you’re so broken. 

   His jaw flexes and his knuckles tighten into closed fists. He seems angry, but those sad brown eyes tell a different story. He’s not mad at you; he’s furious about the ones that took your life away. The murders that tainted and destroyed your life, your mind, your heart. They took everything from you, and Joel knows this. He hates it as much as you do. 

   He takes a deep breath and relaxes his fingers against the cold material of the kitchen island, his brown eyes focused directly on you. His bottom lip twitches, and then he sighs as he speaks. “It’s gonna take a while, sweetheart. Gonna take time and work to remember what it was you loved before, what you lost. But I have no doubt that you’ll get ‘em back. You’re gonna discover new loves, new passions, new hobbies. And trust me when I say that you will thrive. One day, you’re gonna be soarin’, and all this pain and sufferin’ will be gone. Maybe not completely, but you’re gonna fly, sweetheart. Wings and all.”

   Another tear escapes your lash line, and you nod up at him slowly. “Thank you…” is all you can muster out of your highly emotional state. Thoughts are hard after he just painted a masterpiece with his words. 

   You’re gonna fly, sweetheart. The words stay sealed in a safe space deep inside your mind. No one can take what he just said away from you. Words that were spoken straight from your savior. Words meant just for you. Wings and all.

   “Why don’t you take a sip of your coffee? See how you like it.” He encourages you to try while he stands back and watches. 

   You bring the curve of the cup to your lips and take a small sip. As the warm liquid washes down your throat, your nose instantly crinkles up. Joel’s laugh floats around the room, bouncing off the stained cabinets and right back to you. You almost want to laugh back because his laugh is so infectious and light, but you don’t. 

   “Take it you’re not jus’ a plain cup of coffee type of girl,” he chuckles as he pushes back his sandy tousled hair, a couple strands of silver flashing beneath the bright lights. 

   “Guess not,” you reply as you reach for the sugar next. When you pour a large spoonful in and mix it up, you take another sip. It’s closer to your liking, but there’s still ingredients missing that you can’t recall. 

   “Not sweet enough for you yet?” he grins, taking a sip from his own coffee cup, watching you struggle with finding just the right mix. 

   “Not yet,” you sigh, annoyed with your own self from not knowing how to make your coffee anymore. 

   “S’alright. Try the creamer next. Maybe that’ll do it.” 

   As you start to pour the thick creamer into the warm liquid, he sets a shaker of cinnamon in front of you. And again, he just watches you with those warm milky-brown eyes. 

   You look at him all gawking and wordless, speechless because he’s trying to strike your memory, make you remember what you liked. He just stands there and smiles, watching you pour some cinnamon in next, like that’s what you needed. You don’t know why, but it makes your heart race just a beat faster.

   “In case that’s what you were lookin’ for,” he replies, flicking his soft eyes down to the brown cinnamon atop the now lighter-colored coffee.

   When he turns back around, a hint of a smile curls against your pink lips. In case that’s what you were looking for. He’s so… kind. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve him.

   You take a sip of your creamy, sugared-up coffee and hum at the sweet taste. Almost there, almost how you want it. You toss in some more cinnamon, mixing it into the almost white liquid. And when the delicious flavor meets your tastebuds, you freeze. 

   Caramel. That’s the ingredient you’re missing. It’s like a lock clicked right into place. A lost piece that was missing, and Joel helped you find that piece of yourself again. 

   “Joel?” you call. His body whips around, and then those soft brown eyes are on you. Those doe-colored irises that make your mouth run dry. 

   “Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, like he’s right at your beck and call. 

   “Do you by chance have any caramel?”

   His eyes light up at that request, and he smiles warmly. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he grins. 

   He walks over to the refrigerator and pulls it open effortlessly, digging around until a small bottle of caramel materializes and lands in front of you, his fingers brushing past your coffee cup as he takes a step back. 

   “Hope you found what you were lookin’ for.” The way his deep timbre and the meaning of his words leaves you smiling behind the hand that’s leaning against your mouth. 

   “I think I did,” you say shyly up at him.

   He chuckles and nods, knowing exactly what that means. “I’ll make sure to always have caramel stocked in the fridge from now on. Jus’ for you.”

   Just for you.

   A smile ghosts over your lips, and another tear leaks when you realize what just happened. You actually smiled. You smiled. Even just a small one is progress. Joel made that progress happen. He made you smile…

   After pouring in a glob of syrup and stirring the sugary goodness with your spoon, you almost moan from the way the savory coffee hits you like you just swallowed the best piece of cake in the world. This is how you liked your coffee. Caramel, sugar, lots of creamer, cinnamon, warm. You just unlocked a forgotten piece in your mind, and it’s all because of Joel…

   The way he’s looking at you, soft doe eyes and a big smile curled against his plush lips, makes you give him a small nod. And in that moment, you see a ghost of a tear in his clear brown eyes. He knows you just found another lost part of yourself, and he loves to see you discover it once again. 

   He ends up making you blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and you have to admit that these are the best pancakes you’ve had in your entire life. While you indulge in the sticky, syrupy plate, Joel joins you at the kitchen island after a few minutes. He’s careful to sit one barstool away from you, knowing very well that you need your space. And that’s exactly what he does. Gives you space while also being close, present, in the moment. And you appreciate that about him. He’s respectful of your boundaries when no one else has ever been before.

   He gives you a smile every once in a while as he sips his black coffee, barely touching his own pancakes. You think he just likes watching you eat, for whatever reason that may be. You know damn well you don’t look pretty shoveling a huge forkful of pancakes in your mouth, but you let him watch anyway. Maybe it’s because you aren’t used to being fed like this, only used to being starved to death. He’s trying to give you the freedom and enjoyment back in your life, you think. And that alone almost brings tears to your eyes. 

   Another couple of minutes goes by, and that’s when you decide to break the silence. Maybe he could answer some questions that’ve been crawling under your skin since the moment you stepped foot into this house. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums, taking one more sip of his coffee and setting the mug down on the quartz island. 

   You take a second to breathe, tapping the fork nervously against the glass plate, gathering your words together. And then you ask the question that’s been eating you alive at night. “What were you doing at the auction, really?”

   He taps his thumb against the brim of his coffee cup and stares off into the blue silently, his jaw slightly clenched. “I was there for business.”

   “Business?”

   “Yes,” he answers blatantly.

   “Seems like you’ve done it more than once. Been at auctions, I mean.” You drag your fork over the syrup-filled plate, wondering what he’ll say next.

   “That’s ‘cause I have,” he says as he swallows a sip of coffee, setting it back down carefully. Like he might break the glass if he’s too loud. 

   That doesn’t answer your question, so you grit your teeth together and ask again. “Why were you there, Joel?”

   He sighs and runs his fingers back through his tousled curls, making it messy and disheveled as thick lines map across his tanned forehead. “Was tryin’ to find someone. A girl named Rebecca. Her family, they reached out. Told ‘em I would find her and bring her back home.”

   Words get lodged in the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as a desert. He was looking for someone but instead found you. He could’ve left you to the awful blonde man. The nameless face that still haunts your nightmares, depriving you of adequate sleep.

   “Oh. I see…” you say quietly. “But you found me instead?”

   He nods slowly. “S’right, sweetheart. Found you instead. Got you out jus’ in time, too. Glad I did.”

   Your bottom lip quivers as tears prick the back of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He should’ve left you there to die. You already feel dead, so why does he want to bring you back to life? 

   “You could’ve just left me there. You could’ve just—” Your words are smeared with guilt because he shouldn’t have wasted his time and money and efforts on you. But he did, and you still don’t think you deserved it. His kindness. Just everything he’s done for you. You don’t deserve any of it.

   “Whoa. Hold on there, sweetheart,” he says as he halts you from finishing your sentence. “I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you. So don’t for a second think I would’ve.”

   His sad brown eyes don’t help your trembling, but you just nod and brush away any trace of tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

   “Okay,” you choke out. 

   His fingertips brush against the edge of the kitchen island and after another minute of silence, you ask the next question that you’ve been wondering. “What exactly is it that you do for work?”

   He blows out a deep breath and answers. “I was a former CIA agent. After Sarah was taken, I did everything I could to find her and get her back. Turns out when I found her, I found ten other girls that were missin’. I decided then what my line of work was gonna be. Opened up my own private business that focuses on huntin’ down sex traffickers, shuttin’ down auctions, findin’ missing girls. A lot of families hire me to help bring their daughters home, and that’s what I do.”

   Your eyes widen as you take in the information. Joel does this sort of thing on a weekly basis? “So, you’re kind of like a bounty hunter?”

   “Something like that, I suppose,” he chuckles. “It’s almost like I never left my former position sometimes. But this seemed more important. After Sarah was taken, I made it my life’s mission to take down as many traffickers as I could. And trust me when I say I will find every single fucker that ever laid their filthy hands on you, and I will destroy them.”

   You swallow back a lump in your throat and gawk at what he just said. “I don’t know what to say, Joel. That’s uhh—that’s…”

   “Don’t gotta say anything, sweetheart. That’s a lot of information to take in.”

   “You kill people?” you ask quietly, dropping your fork as it clatters against the glass plate. You’ve suddenly lost your appetite. 

   “Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs, dragging his palm down his patchy beard in deep thought.

   “A lot?”

   He nods. “I’ve killed a lot of bad men, sweetheart. Both for the CIA and for my own business. After knowing what most of ‘em have done, that’s the only thing you can do sometimes. ‘Cause if they go to prison, they’ll jus’ get bailed out and do it all over again. I’ve witnessed it happen quite a lot, unfortunately. So, the only way is to get rid of ‘em for good.” 

   “I see…” you whisper, twiddling your thumbs together mindlessly as your eyebrows knit together in concentration.

   He kills people. Bad people.  

   “Look, if you’re uncomfortable with this topic we can—”

   You stop him right there by shaking your head, your eyes snapping up to look him intently in the eyes. “No. No, I just—that’s gotta be heavy, Joel. What you do.”

   He groans under his breath and nods, his brown eyes heavy with years of dealing with traffickers. “It is, sweetheart. But I do it to make a difference. Seein’ those girls go back to their families, watchin’ ‘em get back to living their lives is truly worth the long nights and heartache of this job.”

   Your eyes get a little foggy as you look at him like a lost puppy, admiration and sadness swirling through your irises. You don’t have a family to go back to. You don’t have anyone. But you don’t see Joel rushing to kick you out. In fact, he hasn’t even said anything on the topic yet. You don’t even know where you’d go, what you’d do. 

   How can a person get by in life if they don’t even know who they are anymore? You’d probably just wither away into burnt ashes if it wasn’t for Joel…

   After a beat of silence, Joel digs around in the pocket of his denim jeans and takes something out. “Oh, and this is for you.” A new iPhone appears on the clean counter, and then he slides it over to you. 

   Your mouth drops open as you unlock the screen, your index finger flicking through the different pages.“You really got me a phone?” you ask with disbelief in your voice.

   “Sure did, sweetheart. It’s got my contact information in there, and I put Sarah’s in there for ya. In case you wanna reach out. Or I could do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And Tess’s number is in there. Whenever you’re ready to talk to her, she’ll be there. Jus’ don’t push yourself. Only when you’re ready. You’ll know it when you are.”

   Your lips tremble as you swallow back fresh tears. He’s already done more than you deserve. “Thank you, Joel. This is… this is more than I could’ve asked for. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

   He holds up a palm to stop you, scoffing at the last sentence. “‘S’not necessary, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a dime.”

   “But I—.”

   “Hey, listen to me. You don’t owe me anything ever, sweetheart. Not a damn thing. The only thing you could possibly give me is the chance to see you healing from all this trauma. Learning to love life again is all I wanna see. Understand?”

   He wants to see you enjoy life again. He wants to see you healing…

   “Oh. I uhh—okay,” you stammer out quietly.

   “Go on and finish your pancakes. You want some more coffee? I could—”

   Before Joel can finish his sentence, the front door opens with a bang, and you jump in your seat, your fork going flying to the ground.

   “Joel! Hey, Joel. We need to talk. I…”

   Your eyes widen in fright as you see a tall man with slicked back dark, greasy hair standing in the hallway. The breath gets knocked from your lungs like you’ve been kicked in the chest, and adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. Fear sets you on edge, and all you can think is that this man is here to take you away or worse, hurt you. 

   No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening! 

   “Jesus Christ,” Joel growls as he slips off his barstool, stalking toward the man with a matching pair of dark brown eyes. But they’re much darker than Joel’s.

   “Joel, I—Oh.” The man freezes as Joel stands over him, clearly upset that he appeared out of thin air. 

   Your body tells you to run, to hide. So you slide off your stool and start to move quickly. Before you can get out of the kitchen, Joel stops you in your tracks. 

   “Hey, s’alright. He’s not gonna—” Joel coos, trying to calm you down, one arm outstretched like he’s reaching for you. 

   Your hands lock around the edge of the wall, trying to grip onto something that’ll ground you into place. 

   Calm down. He won’t hurt you. But you don’t know that. You don’t know this man. And you can’t trust any of them. Can you even fully trust Joel? You don’t know now.

   “Tommy, I told you to call first. Don’t jus’ show up. You knew she was here! The hell’s the matter with you?” Joel growls, shoving him hard in the shoulder.

   “Shit, Joel. I wasn’t even thinkin’. Sorry, I just assumed you talked to her already,” he apologizes, brushing off the spot on his leather jacket that Joel moved out of place. 

   You watch the banter between them, not knowing what to do or where to run. 

   “Well, I was ‘bout to. I said four in the afternoon, Tommy. Not the fuckin’ mornin’. Christ,” he scoffs, hands on his hips while his lips form into a tight line. “Now you apologize to her.”

   “Darlin’, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy sighs, taking a step forward in your direction.

   “Stay back,” you warn, trying your best to sound brave, but you’re anything but that. 

   “Hey, s’alright, sweetheart. He’s not gonna hurt ya,” Joel soothes slowly, stepping forward as his brown eyes soften when he looks at you. “This is Tommy. He’s my brother. He works with me. Actually helped me the night I got you out.”

   Your eyes flick quickly between the two of them. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you realize what he just said. He was there too? “He… helped you?”

   Joel nods, keeping his distance to make you feel more comfortable. “S’right, sweetheart. Helped me get you out safely.”

   “What…” you whisper, your eyes wide as you look at Tommy. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do right now as he stands between you and Joel, trying to figure out if he’s too close.

   “It’s true, darlin’.” Tommy has the same mannerisms and Southern drawl as Joel. They really must be brothers. 

   “Th—thank you,” you say directly at Tommy, your hand dropping from the wall as your guard drops.

   He smiles and stuffs his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Don’t mention it, darlin’. Glad you were able to get out of that hell hole.”

   “Me too…” you answer back in a whisper.

   “Joel, I need to speak with you for a minute.” Tommy nods his head toward the living room, and Joel looks between you and his brother, brows furrowed together undecidedly. He obviously knows how uncomfortable and uncertain you are with a strange man in the house. But this isn’t your house. It’s Joel’s.

   “Is it alright if he comes in, sweetheart?” Joel looks over at you with soft brown eyes. And God, those fucking eyes will be the death of you.

   “Why are you asking me? It’s your house. Why are you—.”

   He rakes a palm down his thick beard and sighs. “‘Cause I don’t want you scared, sweetheart.”

   You just stand there like an idiot looking between him and Tommy, deciding how this will go. Your body screams for him to leave, but half of you trusts Joel. And if he says he won’t hurt you then you know he’s not lying. 

   “It’s okay, Joel. He can come in,” you say hesitantly, your fingers curling in, making half crescent moons against your skin.

   Tommy smiles while you just stand there silently, watching like a hawk. “Thank you, darlin’. You know you’re a brave girl, don’t you?”

   You give Tommy a bewildered look and just shake your head while Joel watches the interactions between the two of you. “I don’t feel like one,” you half whisper out. 

   “Well, ya are,” he confirms.

   Again, you stand and stare. Fingernails embedded into your palms. You might as well be drawing blood now.

   “C’mon, Tommy.” Joel leads him into the living room, leaving you to an empty kitchen with half-eaten pancakes on the countertop. But your appetite has sailed away. And suddenly, you can’t even catch your breath.

   You make your way over to the barstool, knocking the knife to the floor with a loud clatter. There you go again making messes. When will you ever learn? 

   You twirl a piece of hair anxiously, awaiting whatever the conversation is to be over. You don’t like not knowing what’s being said, especially when it’s two large men that could take you down in a matter of seconds. 

   Joel would never. At least you don’t think. It’s weird, the thing between you two. He saved you, continuously tries to comfort you in a way that you’ll accept, tries to take care of you. And you haven’t even been here a fucking week yet. 

   He’s… different. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not ever. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. But his actions match his words. And he feels safe. But are you ever really safe anymore? Your body thinks not, and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

   You saunter over to the edge of the kitchen, leaning your ear against the edge of the wall, hoping to get a glimpse into their conversation. You have to know what’s being discussed. For your safety and the comfort of your mind. They could be discussing anything.

   Leaning a little closer, you get a drift of their conversation.

   “You sure, Tommy?”

   “Positive. We got ‘em, brother. We found ‘em. And they’re not gettin’ away this time.”

   Blood pumps like a fountain through your ears, and your nails dig in deeper into the painted wall. Who did they possibly find?

   “You found ‘em. Shit.”

   “That’s right. Now it’s time to give them what they deserve.”

   You whip around the corner in a whirl and stomp into the room, arms crossed and on guard. Joel and Tommy snap their heads up, and Joel meets your eyes that are swirled with a look of desperation. A plea for him to trust you enough with whatever this is.

   “You found who?” Your bottom lip trembles and your hands shake. You’re so fucking worked up over nothing. 

   “Oh—uhh.” Tommy looks from you and back to Joel, not able to make a decision. 

   “Tell me.” It isn’t a question but a demand. Not like you’re in a place to be demanding answers, but you deserve them. All the secrets Angela and her men kept left you vulnerable and in a dark place. And for fuck’s sake, you deserve to be told things. 

   Joel steps in and saves Tommy from the decision. “S’okay, Tommy. She has a right to know.” His dark eyes flick over Tommy and then back up at you, and they look a little softer when he’s specifically looking at you. “Some of the buyers. Tommy was able to track ‘em down. He was able to help shut down another auction last night, and some of the same men that were at yours were there.”

   You stand there stunned and wide-eyed like you’re frozen to the wooden floor. Even… the blonde one?

   Before you can ask, Tommy steps in. “Wasn’t jus’ me. My brother here helped. And some of our other men.”

   Joel helped. But he was here? How could he…

   “What umm—what happened?” you choke out. You can barely speak. Too stunned to barely even blink.

   “Was able to take some of ‘em into custody. Got some of our other workers watchin’ ‘em. Makin’ sure they don’t see daylight again. Not until Joel—well, steps in.”

   You drag your tongue gut wrenchingly slow over your bottom teeth and just stare with a locked jaw ahead at Joel. His eyes are the color of honey, fluorescent onyx swirling in those stormy eyes. But they’re still so fucking soft. Even though his jaw is clenched and his dark eyebrows are knit together. 

   He always looks at you so fucking soft. It’s hard not to just sink to the floor even though your heart is in your throat thinking about those filthy men.

   “What guys exactly?” you grind out through your teeth.

   Joel’s jaw clenches, his broad body becoming stiff and upright in the leather chair, palm raking heavily over his mouth. His dark, sad eyes tell you enough. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know who exactly he’s talking about. But you hold your breath nonetheless.

   “The blonde…” he whispers out, his deep voice barely making a sound. But you hear it like a loud, booming crash of thunder as he nearly knocks you back two steps. 

   The blonde… the man that couldn’t fucking keep his hands off you. And those piercing blue eyes that dragged scars down your body. 

   Fright. Pain. Memories. You feel everything all at once. Suddenly, you don’t feel brave at all.

   And then there’s Joel who’s looking at you like the lost kitten that you are. 

   “What about Angela or Garrett?” you spit out quickly, your hands trembling as every syllable scratches the surface. Their names feel like fire on the tip of your tongue.

   “Haven’t been able to track ‘em down yet, sweetheart,” Joel sighs, his palm skimming over his patchy beard, brown eyes in a far away place.

   “You mean they’re still out there somewhere…” you mutter, tears pricking at the back of your eyes just threatening to spill.

   “S’alright. We’re gonna find ‘em. And when we do, you’ll be the first to know,” Joel confirms; Tommy nods beside him.

   You and Joel continue watching each other, eyes never leaving one another. He looks like someone just stole the last piece of pizza from a box and tossed his dog out in the street. He looks just as wrecked as you do. 

   Lost. Abandoned. Betrayed.

   You can’t seem to keep your footing, so you grab onto the railing of the staircase to keep yourself up. “I’m just—I’m going to go lay back down again.”

   Joel gives you a nod, understanding hitting his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t want you to go back up just yet. “You gonna finish your pancakes?”

   “Lost my appetite,” you shrug, your grip tightening against the smooth railing so you don’t fall back and crumble to the floor.

   He looks at you for a good five seconds and nods, his jaw flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t. “Alright, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.”

   “Okay,” you shutter as you start to climb the marble steps.

   “It was nice to meet you, darlin’. Take care now,” Tommy yells, but you don’t even stop to say goodbye to him because the tears come swimming in your vision.

   By the time you get to your room, your eyes are heavy and blurry as tears stream down, tunneling your vision. You throw yourself against the sheets and get lost in the memories all over again. 

   There you are like a pretty diamond on display, men drooling and catcalling you as you cross the polished stage. And then the blonde’s hands are on you, his hot breath blowing down your breasts, hand sliding up the skirt of your dress, dipping underneath your lace. But Joel stopped him before he could go any further. 

   Joel stopped him. 

   You cry all over again from the night of the auction, the past hundreds of days you’ve been trafficked from state to state, not even knowing where you were most of the time. And then there was that house. That fucking rundown house where you were used and abused with the rest of the girls. Some didn’t even make it out alive…

   You stay in the room the rest of the day. Mostly in bed. Except when you drag yourself up and force yourself to brush your teeth, wash your face, run the brush through your messy tangles. You need to do something other than rot in that big, comfy bed but for now, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

   When 9:00 p.m. rolls around and the full moon is high in the sky, twinkling lights shining through the open window, Joel materializes in your doorway. Blue flannel buttoned up, hands deep in the pockets of his denim jeans, his greying curls disheveled, a concerned look on his tanned face. But the thing you notice is the jangle of keys in his pocket.

   Why does it look like he’s leaving?

   “Joel?” You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes as you sit up. 

   “Hey, sweetheart. You still up?” Joel leans against the doorway, biceps flexing beneath his flannel, the black Rolex on his left wrist glistening under the dim hall lights. 

   “Mhm. Still up. Barely.” You yawn and push yourself up to where you’re leaning against the intricate headboard with gold flecks splashed into the dark wood.

   “Listen, there’s somethin’ I gotta take care of tonight. Should only be gone for a few hours but—”

   You flinch at his words and swallow the lump that’s forming in the back of your throat. He can’t just leave. Not in the state you’re in. “You’re leaving me here? All alone? What if—”

   He shifts his weight and takes a step forward, barely breaching inside your room. “S’alright. Maria, Tommy’s wife, is gonna come over while I’m gone. Didn’t think you’d be comfortable bein’ alone, and she was my next best thing. If you’re okay with that.”

   You sit there tumbling his words over again in your head, repeating what he said. He’s not leaving you alone with a man but a woman. He thought you’d be more comfortable that way. Even though you don’t know her, Tommy was nice enough, or so it seemed. And if Joel trusts Tommy enough to be around you, then you think you’d be okay with Maria.

   “I think so,” you muster out.

   His chocolate eyes soften, and the crow’s feet pull tighter as a small smile spreads across his mouth. “Good. That’s good.”

   “Where are you going?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as you watch him stiffen up at the question. 

   “Jus’ ‘bout forty minutes south of here. Shouldn’t take me too long.” He doesn’t answer specifically what he’s doing, but you have a feeling that it involves the blonde man that haunts your dreams.

   “Is it dangerous?” You shift in the sheets and pull the velvety blanket tighter under your chin.

   “Not tonight it ain’t.” He hesitates a little, and that makes you wonder if he’s not telling you everything because he doesn’t want to set you off again.

   “Only a few hours?” you ask softer, voice low as your stomach twists and turns. 

   “Only a few,” he confirms.

   “Okay.”

   He hooks his thumb around one of his belt loops and pushes his other hand through his tousled curls, his brown eyes never leaving yours. There’s something heavy in his stare, but you can’t quite place what it is.

   “Well, go on and get some rest, sweetheart. Shouldn’t be much longer until Maria gets here. I’ll introduce you before I leave for the night. But for now, I’ll let you sleep.”

   You sink back under the sheets and get comfortable, the nightlight plugged into the wall the only thing glowing except the dim lights in the hall. As he turns to walk out, you stop him. “Joel?”

   “Yeah?” He turns and smiles, and you can’t help but to feel a little flutter in your heart. He really has a beautiful smile. 

   “Promise me you’ll come back.” Your eyebrows thread together in concern, fingers curled firmly under the sheets. 

   “I promise,” he nods, flashing you another smile. There’s no lie in those brown eyes of his.

   “Okay.” You give him a tight-lipped grin and let out another yawn, sleep about to take hold of you once again.

   “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He pulls the door closed and when it shuts with a soft click, you call out goodnight too.

   In another half hour Maria gets to the house, and you get a brief introduction with her. But sleep is all you can think about, except for Joel leaving. You don’t want to think about that, so you fall back into bed and force yourself to succumb to the darkness. Maybe when you wake up then Joel will be back home.

   Please, come back. 

   Joel makes his way into the private warehouse, one that’s small and tucked away north of Austin. No one ever lurks around these parts. If they did, Joel would know instantly because there’s cameras all around the perimeters.

   The metal door slams closed as he stalks in, pushing past empty boxes and wooden crates that sit scattered next to dusty shelves. He pushes himself forward deep into the warehouse, close to the back where he knows the fucker is at. He’s going to fucking rip his icy blonde hair from the scalp and kill him for what he did to you and every other girl he’s gotten his filthy hands on. 

   Blood boils like lava in his veins and his hands are fisted at his sides, ready to finish what he should’ve that night of the auction. One punch wasn’t enough. Not when he was defiling you like a dog. 

   Joel hates him and everything he stands for. But tonight, Carter Williams wouldn’t get away with what he’s done. No. Joel would end him. 

   The dim lights overhead pop and flicker, anger brimming in his blood-red eyes. When’s the last time he got a full night’s rest? Not since he rescued you. No. He’s been too worried sick over you. 

   God. He’s never going to get the memory of how absolutely terrified you looked that first night. Won’t ever get the image of your pretty eyes filled with tears, blood running down your soft skin all because he wouldn’t call you a whore and wouldn’t dare ask you to get on your knees. 

   Goddamn it. He won’t ever forget that. He wants to strangle every single fucking person that ever gave you that mindset. Wants to completely ruin them for making you feel like all you were worth was for getting used and abused by disgusting men. 

   You’re not any of those things they made you believe. You’re a beautiful, broken woman that needs time to heal and fall in love with life again. He’ll help you get there as much as he can. He thinks he’d do just about anything for you and those big doe eyes. 

   Fuck. He’s going to break every single one of them. Starting with Carter.

   As Joel rounds the corner and kicks a metal pole forcefully, he comes face to face with Carter. The fucker that’s going to die tonight. 

   His hands sit bound behind him tightly. Wrists, ankles, and chest restrained around the cold metal chair with sharp-edged rope. Blonde hair is slicked back with a tinge of blood perspiring down his sweat-drenched forehead. His stormy eyes widen when he sees Joel appear before him like a dark shadow. 

   “You!” Carter accuses, glowering at Joel who lives a double life night after night. “You were the one at the auction!”

   Joel crosses his arms across his broad chest and smirks, eyes darkening as he focuses on the man that caused you pain. It makes his fingers twitch from anger. “I was.”

   “Let me go, man! I didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve got the wrong guy,” Carter shouts, twisting in his confines, thinking he can escape his restraints. He’s not getting that lucky tonight. 

   “Didn’t do anything wrong, huh?” Joel asks, raking his fingers slowly through his patchy beard, trying to hold on for just one more second before he explodes with rage. He chuckles and shakes his head in unbelief, and then he throws a punch against Carter’s jaw. Blood spews from his mouth and lands across Joel’s button-up, but he could care less at the moment.

   “Shit! What was that for?” Carter chokes out, a purplish, red tinge bruising his now swollen face. 

   “That’s for touchin’ what doesn’t belong to you,” he scowls, jaw locked tight like a hidden safe. 

   “Oh, I see. This is about that bitch you bought,” Carter spits.

   Joel jumps as fast as lightning and grabs Carter by the throat, his hold firm as he squeezes just enough to get his point across. “Call her that one more time and see what happens,” he warns, glaring at the pathetic man who got caught. 

   Carter gasps for air the second Joel releases his hold and howls out a raspy laugh that sounds like poison to Joel’s ears. When he finds his voice again, he smirks like the bad guy that he is. “Go on then. Do your worst. I’ve already seen her on video. Legs spread, tight pussy being fucked by some—”

   Joel takes the back of his hand and smacks him across the cheek so hard that blood spews from his mouth. “I said shut the fuck up!” he screams, his angry words echoing around the walls of the stuffy warehouse. 

   He’s going to fucking kill Carter. One more word and he’ll end it with the snap of his finger. He just needs that tiny push over the edge. One more revolting comment about you and his life is over. 

   Hell, it is already over. 

   Joel paces back and forth uncontrollably in front of the man whose face looks like it’s been through a bar fight. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side, jaw locked, narrowed eyes that could kill with a single stare. He’s livid, way over the edge of being angry. He could kill a whole goddamn room of traffickers and buyers at this rate. If more were here, they’d be finished.

   Carter rudely interrupts Joel’s chaotic thoughts and murmurs lowly. “Is she really worth the trouble, man? What? You gonna beat me to death because of her? She’s not worth it.”

   “She’s worth everything!” he shouts, his deep growl echoing around the room. He can almost feel his blood boiling beneath him like he’s already on fucking fire. 

   “So, this is what it’s about? You want to ruin me because I tried ruining her,” he chuckles darkly, like he has no remorse in any stiff bone in his body. 

   Fucking bastard. 

   “It’s part of it,” Joel says with a clipped tone, his fingernails digging into the denim of his pockets like he’s about to rip them clear off. 

   He needs to calm down, but he can’t. Not when he’s in the presence of a beast who tried to dig his claws into your delicate skin. So, he won’t be calm. He’ll be chaotic instead.

   “Don’t act like you know me,” Carter shakes his head, tendrils of smeared red strands falling over his cloudy eyes. 

   “Oh, I fuckin’ know you alright. Read up on your filthy past,” he growls. “How many women have you taken? How many have you kidnapped, raped, murdered? How many did you fuckin’ wreck? More than ten, you son of a bitch,” he storms, kicking over an empty bucket and cursing under his breath when he walks off the pain that spreads like wildfire through his foot.

   “Was worth it, and I’d do it all over again,” Carter replies with a smirk.

   That does it. Something snaps inside Joel. Hard. A feral growl leaves his throat and then he’s jumping in front of Carter, his hand wrapping tightly around his neck until he sees red flash in Carter’s dead eyes.

   “You sick fuck. You know what I do to men like you?” he screams, wrath swirling off his tongue and making his fingers curl extremely tight around Carter’s pale skin.

   Carter hacks violently under Joel’s grip. He’s only able to get dry coughs and garbled words out until Joel backs off just enough to where he can speak. “What, kill them? Go ahead. Fucking kill me. It won’t make a goddamn difference because there’s one of me all over these states. And the trafficking isn’t going to stop with me. The buying isn’t going to stop. It’ll keep happening over and over and over again.”

   Joel fists Carter’s short locks until he’s cringing in pain, snarling a pit bull glare into his piercing blue eyes that are laced with pain. 

   “Well, it ain’t gonna hurt when you’re dead and buried six feet under the ground!” Joel says with bared teeth, blowing hot air into Carter’s clenched face.

   “You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her.”

   That strikes a nerve in Joel, a sharp ache stabbing him directly in the middle of the chest. He drops his tight hold on Carter and takes a step back, eyes blown wide with guilt. 

   He couldn’t save them all. He didn’t… he couldn’t. He couldn’t save her. But through all the pain that’s flaring in his body, all the lost souls that he’ll never be able to avenge, one thing still rings clear. He saved you… when he couldn’t even save himself. But he still saved you.

   He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh, holding back tears he refuses to shed. He’s not a weak man, but he’s so weak for you. 

   “I have to try…” he whispers, his voice broken and muddled against the slight echo and dripping sounds from the leak in the ceiling.

   For a moment it’s silent, only the screaming voices in his head breaking the stillness. He almost forgets that Carter’s there, until he hears his choppy voice gritting against his eardrums.

   “You’re going to fail, you know,” Carter whispers, taunting him again with the rasp of his throat.

   “What did you say?” Joel asks, whipping around to face the blue eyes of a killer. A killer he’ll surely strangle to death.

   “You’re going to fail her. You’re going to fail her so hard that she goes running when you try to fix her. She’s beyond repair, and you know it,” he spits out, smirking like a madman who’s lying through his bloody teeth.

   “No, she ain’t,” Joel snaps, eyes narrowed and fists clenched at his sides.

   “Yeah, she fucking is. You know how many men fucked and abused her? Do you know what her handlers put her through? Do you know how many women she’s seen murdered right in front of her eyes?”

   “I fuckin’ know enough! So jus’ stop! Jus’ shut your fuckin’ mouth!” He’s way past angry. He feels feral with the need to choke this man out just to silence him enough to where he won’t hear how broken you really are. Joel knows this. He knows the unimaginable pain you’ve been through. The abuse, the torture. They tried to fucking destroy you, and this fucker was one of them. 

   “I was going to give her a nice home, you know. Yeah. Was going to treat her real nice. Like a brand new dog. Maybe teach her some table manners. Bitches always get on their knees before their meal is served,” Carter chortles with wicked eyes. Eyes that could burn icy flames out of those hellish blue pits. But Joel would burn them out first. Maybe jab a knife through his skull. He wasn’t about to let Carter win this war. 

   “Fuckin’ stop,” Joel warns with a deep scowl, teeth clenched as he fists the front of Carter’s blood-soaked shirt.

   He slips the semi-automatic handgun from the back pocket of his jeans and triggers the safety off. His arm darts out as he shoves the barrel of the gun to Carter’s sweat-soaked forehead, daring him to say one more goddamn thing about you. He swears he’ll shoot. He won’t even flinch. Not when it comes to protecting you. 

   He only needs one fucking reason to blow Carter’s head off, but he has more than enough reasons now. “I swear to God if you don’t stop—.”

   Carter gives Joel a devious smirk as he watches Joel’s finger hover over the trigger. He knows Joel won’t hesitate. He’s just pushing him to the edge until he snaps. 

   “You want me to stop? Not until you hear all the filthy ways I was going to fuck—”

   “I said enough!” Joel seethes, anger taking over every single nerve ending in his body until he completely snaps. He pulls the trigger and watches the bullet fly through Carter’s forehead, spewing blood all over the front of Joel’s button-up, sloshing droplets of crimson on his wrinkled forehead. He’s too worked up and furious to even care. 

   He’s fucking wrecked. 

   He steps away from the pool of blood at his feet, teeth bared as he clicks the safety on, sliding the gun into his back pocket once again. But this time, blood is smeared across the metal barrel, reminding him of the mess he just made. 

   His head is fuzzy, shapes foggy, and he’s got a raging migraine that could take him to his knees in an instant. He needs sleep, needs to wash off the blood of the day, bask in the darkness where he lingers most sleepless nights. He needs to get a handle on this grief that eats him alive night after night. But he can’t. And ever since he took one look at you, his mind has barely thought of anything else.

   Scared. You were so fucking scared. The way you walked sheepishly across that stage, high heels dragging while you held back muted tears. And in that moment, he wanted to kill every goddamn man in that room of sinners. 

   Isn’t that what he’s doing now? Avenging you and every other girl those vile men did unspeakable things to. He’s going to fucking…

   “Joel?” 

   Joel’s name pulls him out of the fog just long enough to realize Jimmy, one of his workers, was calling his name.

   “Clean up this mess. I can’t be here right now. Gotta get home,” Joel replies quickly, voice strained as he clenches his jaw tight.

   “Sir, you good?” Jimmy tries again, dark eyes trying to read Joel.

   “I’m fine. Call me when you’re done here. Make sure no trace is left.” He walks out of the room, passing a few of his other workers until he’s making his way out of the stuffy building, letting the door slam behind him with a bang. 

   Once he’s in his truck and turning the key in the ignition, he slams on the gas and makes a run for it, leaving behind the giant mess he just caused. Carter was going to end up dead either way. Joel just decided he couldn’t stand another fucking word out of that bastard’s mouth. 

   He clenches the leather steering wheel so tightly that he leaves claw marks in the black material. A hand rakes slowly down his patchy beard, trying his best to alleviate some of the rage, but nothing helps. Maybe seeing that you’re sleeping peacefully tonight might help him calm down a bit. Maybe just maybe you’d be the cure to his never-ending suffering. 

   When he pulls up in the long driveway and kills the gas, he hops out and rushes to the front door, barely stopping at the bottom of the stairs to even say hi to Maria. Right now he just needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still breathing, still in one piece, still alive. 

   “Whoa there. Everything go okay?” Maria asks as she shoots off the leather couch and paces toward Joel, a look of worry flashing across her wide eyes.

   “As good as it could’ve,” Joel rasps, wiping the dried blood from his forehead. 

   Maria looks him up and down, taking in the stained flannel and tendrils of messy curls that stick to his sweaty skin. “By the looks of your shirt and your face, guess you got him.”

   He nods, letting the ice settle deep in his bones. “I got the son of a bitch alright,” he growls.

   Maria stares at him with concern swirling in her dark eyes, her body stiff as she folds her arms over her chest to take a good look at him. As if she’s just seen death in his hazy eyes. “Hey. You alright? You look—”

   “Tired? That’s ’cause I am,” he sighs, lacing his fingers back through his dark locks.

   But the wavering stare she gives him makes it seem like tired isn’t the word she was going for. Defeated might’ve been a better word. Because right now that’s exactly how he feels. 

   Destroyed. 

   “I’ll just get out of your hair,” she murmurs, leaving him with a light pat to the back of his shoulder. But before she can grab her keys off the coffee table, he stops her.

   “Maria, wait. Thank you. For watchin’ her for a few hours.” He gives her a tight-lipped smile, and she nods back in return. 

   “It was no trouble, Joel.”

   “How is she?” he asks, letting the stuffy air settle while she shifts her weight on the wooden floor.

   “She’s sleeping. She’s fine,” she confirms with a smile. 

   He lets a puff of air leave his lungs, thankful you’re safe and sleeping.

   “Good. That’s good. Thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Maria. I know it was last minute and all.”

   She presses a palm into his bicep, giving it a light squeeze, letting him know it’s all fine. “It was really no problem, Joel. Whenever you need me to come back over, I won’t even hesitate.” 

   Joel nods in thanks, letting her walk toward the front door. But before she decides to leave, she turns and leaves him with one more thing. “She’s a lovely girl, Joel. Nice, sweet, a little shy. She’s lucky you found her.”

   His spine goes stiff, a lingering sensation crawling up his skin, bubbling its way into his brain. She’s lucky you found her. 

   “Yeah… she is.”

   “Well, goodnight. I’m going to head back home to Tommy. I’ll see you later.” She makes her way out the door, the lock clicking in place once she’s gone. 

   “Night, Maria…” he finally croaks out, throat suddenly tight as he hears the creak of bed springs and a tiny whimper float down the end of the hallway upstairs. 

   He rakes a hand slowly down his patchy beard, sighing as he climbs the marble staircase. He’s prepared for another restless night, knowing you’ve been having nightmares every single night since you’ve been here. Every single time he makes sure to check on you, wake you from your violent nightmares. And every fucking time you wake up with bloodshot and tear-soaked eyes, it makes him want to wrap you in his arms until he can soothe the nightmares away. But he can’t. He just can’t. 

   When he makes it up the staircase and down the hall, his foot hits a particularly creaky spot in the floor, and he curses under his breath when he hears you shift in the bed and stir awake. 

   “Joel?”

   Fuck. He didn’t want to wake you. He didn’t want you to see him like this. Looking just as much of a monster as Carter did. 

   The blood. It’s going to fucking terrify you. And that’s the last thing he wants. You to be scared of him. He doesn’t want you to fear him because he’d never ever hurt you. Never dare lay his fingers on you without your consent. He’d rather chop his own hand off with a dull blade.

   But you’d still be scared either way. Blood or not. 

   He takes a deep breath and spins around, hovering in your open doorway and giving you a strained smile. “Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

   “It’s fine. I was just…” You gasp, eyes wide and wild as you take in his bloodied flannel and disheveled hair. “Your shirt. The blood. Are you hurt?” You look scared, worried, and it makes his heart clench at the sight. You don’t need another thing to worry about. He’ll be fine, even if he doesn’t feel fine.

   “Nah. It’s—not mine,” he stills, fingers clenched around the stained material. 

   You knit your brows together, studying him closely as you analyze the splattered blood stains on his cotton material. “Whose is it then?” 

   He flinches, not wanting to tell you what he did. Even if Carter deserved a thousand deaths, each one worse than the other, he doesn’t know how you’ll respond to this. He doesn’t want you afraid. 

   He takes another deep breath, inhaling as much oxygen as his lungs can take in. Because in the next moment, he might not have any left.

   Carefully, hesitantly he lets his raspy voice choke out. “Oh. It’s ummm. It’s the blonde’s blood…”

   You still, eyes blown wide, mouth dropped open like you’ve just been shocked by lightning. Your body becomes stiff, as stiff as a wooden board, fingers curling nervously against the lavender comforter. You look lost, wading off into the distant sea, waves carrying you far far away until he can’t reach you anymore. Until the sea swallows you whole.

   Damn it. 

   “Oh. Oh… I see,” you whisper out, jaw tight as your eyes travel up to his.

   Jesus. Those fucking sad eyes. It could bring a man to their knees. They’d bring him to his knees.

    “What was his name?” you ask hesitantly.

   “Sweetheart. I don’t think—”

   “Tell me,” you plead adamantly. “Please...” Your voice is a breath of a whisper, just loud enough to stir a hurricane inside his hollow chest. 

   And then he breaks as a wave of grief washes over his slack jaw.

   “His name was Carter,” he finally says, breath shaky as his eyes momentarily fall to the dark wood, until he’s looking right back at you and those fucking eyes that are full of fear and hurt. 

   “So he’s dead?” you ask muffledly, your features frayed as you contemplate his answer.

   “Yes,” he confirms, his blood-stained shirt suddenly feeling too suffocating and tight, like someone is trying to strangle him to death. 

   Another beat of silence falls over the dark room casted in shadows, ghosts of green trees swaying in the moonlight behind the glass window that overlooks the slumbering forest. 

   You lick your bottom lip slowly, fingers twisted against the sheets, your eyes looking vacant and lost as you contemplate. “How many—how many women.”

   He knows exactly what you’re asking. How many women has he hurt, killed, mutilated to shreds.

   “More than a dozen…” he says calmly, his fists tight at his sides as the flash of a bullet and blood invade his thoughts. 

   You slowly nod and curl in on yourself, your knees folding into your chest, blanket tucked up under your chin, your eyes vacant as he sees your trembling form relive the past all over again. 

   He can’t see you like this. Like you’re being tortured all over again. Like there’s not a single thing he can do right at this moment to make you feel better. He wants to wrap you in his arms, tell you it’ll be okay, that no one will ever hurt you again. He wants to take the pain away from you; suck it all out so he can carry the burden instead of you. 

   You… how could they ever hurt you? You’re too… special. They took everything from you. Took every last fucking piece until you were left on the floor like a broken vase, glass shards unrecognizable until all the glitter and shine was scraped off and covered in dirt. They wrecked you, and he fucking hates them for it. 

   Diamonds aren’t supposed to break or lose their shine. They’re meant to be treasured, taken care of, meant to never be broken. But you… you’re so very broken. And all he knows at this moment is that he’d do anything to see you smile again. He’d do anything to put all the shattered pieces together until you’re sparkling like glitter even in the darkness. 

   “Are you… okay?” he asks hesitantly, like he might crack you like the spine of a new book if he talks too loudly.

   “I’m… yeah. I’m okay,” you reply with a muted response, lips quivering, tears licking at the edges of your waterline. You’re not okay. You’re far from okay, but you put on a brave face anyway. Even if you’re lying through your teeth. You want to be okay, so that’s what you say. Maybe if you let the words fall off your quivering lips then you’ll believe them. 

   But he knows the truth. You’re fragmented and defeated. This much he does know. 

   When you look up with tears welling in your eyes, he freezes, jaw clenched as he stares at the face of a woman who had her entire life ripped from her own hands. Hands that were never meant to be ripped open and scarred from filth and grime. Your life was never theirs to take, but they took it anyway. 

   Your big doe eyes sear into him, splitting him in two until he feels pain radiate down his chest, suffocating his insides like oxygen is being stolen from his lungs.

   Stop that. Stop looking at me like you want me to fix you. Like you want me to wrap you up in my arms until all the pain is gone. That’s what he sees when you look at him like that. Like you want him to make it all just stop. Drown the noise out until you can’t hear the world tilt on its axis anymore. Until you just feel peace.

   He wishes you wouldn’t look at him with those beautiful doe eyes, your held back tears making them glitter in the moonlight. God, he’s never seen such big sad eyes. Eyes that could make a grown man crumble into tiny pieces by both heartbreak and awe. 

   He can’t fix you, can’t make the pain stop, can’t wipe your memories from the hell you’ve managed to survive the past almost two years. He can’t even… fuck. He can’t even hold you the way you should be held. Gentle, tender, affectionate. That’s what you deserve. And he can’t fucking do that because you’re so traumatized and fragile that even one light caress would send you into an unbreakable panic attack. 

   He just… cares. He cares a lot. And there’s nothing much he can do except slowly show you how good life can be again. He just wants to see you smile. And that’d be enough. That’s honestly all he wants — you happy again. He knows you can bloom. And one day you will. Just like a pretty sunflower that thrives in the giant Texas fields. 

   One day you’re going to be that sunflower. And he’ll be there to see you blossom and sprout. 

   They might have cut down your stems, ripped out your strong roots, destroyed your green leaves, crushed your beautiful bright petals. Making sure to kill everything that was good inside you, but Joel would replant you. He’d watch you grow until you bloomed into the most lavish garden he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

   You’re going to thrive. One day at a time, you will get your petals back. He’ll put his life on that promise.

   The weight of your heavy stare and the thick fog that hangs in your room makes him dizzy, makes him a little off kilter every time you flash your teary eyes his way. He can’t see you cry. Not right now. Because then he’d want to wrap you so tight in his arms that all your pain would fade away. But he can’t do that, and he knows it. So, he’ll do the only thing he can before he breaks in two himself. 

   Leave. Not the perimeters of the house, just your stifling room.

   “I’m gonna jus’—go lay down. You know where to find me if you need me,” he mutters under his breath, his hand finding the edge of your solid door until your shaky breath stops him cold.

   “Joel?”

   He can barely turn his head, too afraid that if he looks at you one more time tonight that he’ll finally crack. “Yeah?” he chokes out. 

   “Thank you…”

   One more look at your starry doe eyes and he’s gone. 

   His hand finds the cold doorknob while he gives you a tight-lipped smile and gently closes the door behind him. Your wide doe eyes will surely haunt his dreams tonight. If he even gets any sleep. He thinks he won’t, even if his body is screaming at him, wanting to drag him down until he sees nothing but the backs of his dark eyes. 

   When he finally releases his hand from the doorknob, he stops in his tracks, back suddenly rigid when he hears the faint sounds of your voice cracking, finally letting the tears shed from your eyes. The sound nearly takes him to his knees. 

   He slides down to the ground, back flush to the closed door, sinking lower until he’s sitting against the hard floor feeling completely defeated. He feels as if a large anchor got thrown down on him, chaining him to the cold wood, imprisoning him to hear your muffled cries through the cracks in the walls. 

   He’s so fucking weak. Every part of him is telling him to run into your room, take the pad of his thumb and wipe the tears from your eyes, hold you against his firm chest until you’re quiet and calm, until he can rock you to sleep and take every ounce of pain you feel. 

   But instead, he sits there like a fool with his head hanging low between his thighs, elbows resting on his aching knees, fingers lacing roughly through his mess of greying curls. He needs to get a grip on himself, needs to find just one speck of courage to drag himself to his room. But he finds none, letting the grief and despair chain him right against your door. 

   He can’t stay like this forever. Can’t stay glued to this spot where he can hear you cry yourself to sleep. But he just can’t shake how scared and vulnerable you looked the moment he told you about Carter. Or yet, even just the look on your face when he walked over and you asked if he was hurt. 

   He is hurt and he feels a sharp blade slicing straight down his spine, opening him up and cutting out his nerve endings until he can’t feel the weight of those sad fucking doe eyes. 

   Your pain is now his because he feels everything that you keep bottled up inside. Just like spilled perfume, he’ll soak you up until your pain is no more. He’ll swallow all of it like a spoonful of cough syrup until every last drop is gone. 

   After half an hour of sulking on the floor, your cries die out, and then you’re sound asleep, escaping your pain for just a little while. Until the nightmares run rampant. So, he drags himself to his room, doesn’t even bother shedding his clothes, too tired to do anything but sleep. And when he falls into his bed, he instantly passes out and lets the pain swallow him whole. 

   The last words he hears echoing in his head are ear splitting. You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her. 

   But he’ll try. One way or another, he promises to save you. 

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[hungharrington]

Steve thought! I’ve thinking about steve lazily fucking you in spooning position 😇

yeah this has crossed my mind maybe several thousand times so hope u wanted some sweet sweet LOVIN anon cos that’s what i’ve GOT for u !! MDNI this entire blog is 18+, gn!reader, ooey-gooey loving, that’s all enjoy <3 this one goes out to @boyfriendstevie

Some mornings with Steve are just pure warmth. Sleepy cuddles, neither of you that awake, but still reaching out to one other. Love intertwines both of you easily, warming you as much as the pillowy duvet and when you kiss his skin, it’s with your eyes closed. You could find him in the dark.

Other mornings, there’s this sweet alluring lust that intermingles with the love. You love it — how you and Steve always seem to be on the same wavelength, how you both seem to know.

This morning, you know from when the first moments of consciousness trickle in. His lips scrape along the nape of your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. You can feel the shape of him up against you, his hairy chest scratching lightly at your shoulder blades, the two of you cuddled close together.

“Good mornin’.” Steve murmurs against your skin, his voice low and gravelly with sleep. You smile, eyes still closed and let yourself bask in the warmth as his hand sneaks over your waist.

“Mm, it is a good morning,” You says as you shimmy back into him, your ass pressing into his crotch purposefully. You hum, pleased when his hand on your middle tightens in response. You feel his lips against your skin quirk into a smile.

“Oh, is it that kind of morning?” He asks knowingly.

You cover his hand with your own and guide it, beginning to push the waist band of your pyjama shorts down an inch. You grin, eyes still closed as you hear his breath catch.

“I don’t know…” You tease. “Is it that kind of morning?”

Steve’s hand finishes what you started, pushing the fabric down your thighs until you’re wiggling to kick them down yourself, lost beneath the covers.

You finally peek your eyes open, just to close them again in a sigh when Steve soothes his hand up your thigh. He sweeps it back down and this time when he drags it up, his fingers slide eagerly closer to your inner thigh.

“Do you need…”

“Mmhm,” You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his question. You twist to peer over your shoulder, relishing in the sight of his mussed hair and chocolate eyes. “Was already dreamin’ bout it, Stevie.”

It’s worth craning your neck to see the arousal flutter over his face as Steve groans, tucking his head against your neck. Head flopping back against the pillow, you can feel him shuffle behind you, his heat leaving you for a brief moment, to shed his sweatpants— and when it returns, your stomach blazes hotly at the skin-to-skin contact.

Another kiss to the back of your neck. Steve hums against your skin as his hand travels up, skimming your hip and trailing up your chest. His thumb brushes your peaking nipple and you gasp appreciatively as he pinches it, pairing his rubbing with sweet words. “Baby, my baby, so good f’me.”

You keen softly and your hips rock backwards. Steve gets the hint— another kiss on your neck, then your shoulder as he moves to touch your hip, drifting down to hold your thigh. He urges your legs apart.

The pillow crinkles as you push your face into it, capturing your sweet sigh as he eases himself into you, slow and gentle. It burns deliciously, his hard and achingly hot cock stretching you out just the way you like it. A dozen more kisses melt along your shoulders, like little lightning bolts, as he pushes in further, his breathing a little heavier. He stills to give you a moment.

You breathe in, feeling your tummy boil up with desire before eagerness takes over and you push back against him. Steve moans softly, his breath stuttering as he bottoms out inside you. You moan, clenching around him.

His hand slides off your thigh to wrap back around your middle, properly spooning you as he cuddles in closer. Your hand moves to clutch his, lust spiking as he starts to move, deep, lazy thrusts that force sweet little noises out your mouth that mix with Steve’s low moans.

“Fuck,” Steve curses breathily. He’s moving slow, rocking in and out, but it’s enough to have both of you unravelling into each other. Slick, wet sounds fill the bedroom. His kisses get a little sloppier, messy marks of love all up your neck. He squeezes your tummy. “Fuck, honey, y’feel so good, baby.”

You moan, your hips rolling back with a mind of their own, meeting him in the middle. It’s a perfect haze of lust and warmth and love and you shiver in his arms, already feeling the coil in the pit of your belly. It won’t take much for either of you this morning, you can tell.

“You feel so good,” You whisper back, words tainted with a moan. “You, fuck, Steve— ngh, you’re so deep, fucking me so good,”

Something close to a growl scrapes out Steve’s throat and he grapples you closer, his thrusts speeding up a fraction —but still deep and lazy, enough to make you want to squirm beneath him. You keen back into him, back arching to get the angle just right and Steve’s hand slithers out from under yours, reaching up to toy with your nipples again. You gasp loudly and Steve whines a little at your obvious arousal.

“Can I—” He starts, voice choppy from his pants. His cock is achingly hard inside you and when you clench down on him, you adore the twitch and resounding whimper it draws out of him. “Can you kiss me?”

Your heart burns for him and you don’t waste a single second to twist around, capturing his hungry lips with your own. Steve groans into the kiss, his fingers flexing on your skin. Heat flushes your body as the kiss breaks and his forehead presses to your own, his hazel eyes gazing into yours as he fucks into you. You moan brokenly, pleasure screwing the coil in your tummy tighter. It feels good, so fucking good, Steve always makes you feel fucking good.

“Steve,” you whine.

“Yeah,” He rasps back, voice all whimpery now. “Yeah, I know, baby. Me too— shit, me too.”

You want to stay like this, spread open on his cock while he holds you. While he takes and gives, kisses and moans and wraps the both of you in the warmth of the morning. You pant into his mouth and lean forward to kiss him again.

Steve hums and this time, when the kiss breaks, he nudges your head back forwards— his hips still for a moment as he rolls you both forward onto the mattress so you’re facedown.

“S’okay?” He checks, even though you can feel him still pulsing inside you. You nod, breathe jagged and try to raise your hips to signal him further. Steve needs no more invitation.

He settles down on you, his chest pressed against your back once against but this time when his thrusts start up again, you’re pushed downwards as he fucks you into the mattress. His arms bracket your body and one shifts, scooping around your torso to lift your hips higher. You cry out, the angle perfect as he finally picks up the pace, drilling into you, slick gathering at your thighs.

“Steve, ah! Steve, fuck, feels so..” Your words dribble off, muffled by the pillow as you bury your face in it. Heat flashes through you, fuelled by Steve’s whiny moans, all his fucked out rambles.

“F-Fucking love it when you moan my name,” He praises, barely speak coherently through his whispering panting. “So fucking good f’me, taking— ngh- shit, fuck, taking me so well.”

You wail, burning hot want crawling up your stomach so suddenly that you don’t even get a moment of warning before the heat explodes and your orgasm breaks— you cry out his name and clench down, hard, cumming on his cock.

Steve tucks his face in your shoulder and whimpers at the feeling, fucking the snugness fast and hard. It takes only a couple more thrusts til he feels himself fall apart with a strangled moan, burying his cock deep inside you. He milks it, fucking you gently both through the waves of pleasure, until tiredness saps his energy. He slumps, resting atop you for just a moment. You’ve never felt more safe, squished beneath him and filled completely.

He kisses behind your ear, then nuzzles it with his nose. Faintly, you think about how no one has ever kissed you there ever before — just Steve and the sun.

“I love you.” He says, nearly a whisper. Words just for you.

There’s not an ounce of a lie in your words when you cheekily say, voice still out of breath, “Hm, I think I love you more.”

[miioouu]

Ghost's tattoos

This was supposed to be a sweet, wholesome little idea, but like…it’s me, what else did we expect? Also, I’m trying to fight my months long writer’s block so I'm sorry if this sucks, let me get some practice in before I tackle the Mean dbf ghost series.

Warning: suggestive, genre of reader not mentioned, lowkey condescending

Wc: 963

Everyone around the base has had a glance of the Lieutenant’s tattooed sleeve. He usually prefers to keep it covered, although most of his tattoos don't have a deep meaning behind them, or at least that’s what he says; it still felt too personal, too vulnerable to show around.

But you, you were the only person who had seen it all. Not just the tattoos, but the scars, the wounds, the scratches that all decorated his arms; and no matter how many hours you spent tracing every line on his body, you could never get enough of it, it's just so fascinating.

So surely it's no surprise to either of you (or anyone, it's not like you kept your relationship hidden), when some sergeant loses you, only to find you in Simon's office, sitting by his side as he signs whatever paperworks that have occupied his whole attention for the past couple of hours, your eyes trained on his hand, watching as the veins twist, disappear and appear again with each movement, tracing up to his wrist, a little up to the sliver of skin showing; a beauty mark here, a small raised white line of a scar there, dark ink…everywhere. The beginning of a skull tattoo peeking out his sleeve, some roman numbers that you never bothered to question its symbolism, knowing he'll say something along the lines of ‘nothing important’ or ‘don't worry about it, sweets’. You two were close, yes, but Simon and his secrets were closer, he loves to keep his privacy, his walls built strong and high, and although you managed to slither through some bricks, it wasn’t enough.

But you’re not one to dwell on this, not when people leave you alone with him, not when he groans as he stretches; his fitted black tee lifting up and exposing a glimpse of his happy trail. Your eyes would’ve strayed further south, remembering what he has hidden under those army pants, if it weren’t for his fingers grabbing your chin, making you hold his gaze for a moment before he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?”

Simon was sweet to you, always, no matter what, and you loved that, you really did, but not when you’re so obviously desperate for him. Not when your thighs are rubbing together, not when your lashes are batting at him, not when you’re pouting, too frustrated to word your needs out. And he knows it. He knows you don’t want him to dote on you right now; it’s all his fault, he assumes, not having given you the attention you deserve lately.

So he did what he always does, what he knows will get the tender smile back on your face; he leaned back against his chair, it squeaked under his weight, he spread his legs, enough for you to sink to your knees between them. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, feeling the slightly chapped skin under his finger, chuckling “Sweets, you need to stop biting those precious lips of yours, hmm?” but he doesn’t mean it, of course he doesn’t. There’s nothing hotter in his mind than your pearly whites digging in your pinkish plumpness, especially when you’re looking up at him with those fake innocent eyes, like you were doing right now.

His thumb pushed past your lips, feeling the edges of your front teeth before rubbing against the tip of your tongue. The action itself was lewd, but something about Simon’s softness made it so much more wholesome; like a kiss to the cheek, like the rubbing of noses against each other, like a caress of a hand against an arm… How does a man so big, so full of violence and tragedies be so…kind?

And you need to appreciate him, right? That’s the right thing to do; wrap your lips around his digit, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of his skin, and you suck, softly, sweetly, as if you’re savouring the last bite of your favourite dessert; the only difference is that Simon would never deprive you have him. You pull out slowly, a pop echoing in the room, his finger glistening under the white light of his office, but you’re not done coating him with your spit, far from it. Your tongue darts out, licking a strip all the way to his wrist only to later on, then press kisses to his palm and then back up. Your eyes zero on the black ink; a thick line that slowly thins out as it curves, depicting a skull, you follow it with your hot muscle, retracing every line etched on his flesh, and you feel him stiffen under your touch, his breath hitching and he mumbles out a curse “Bloody hell, sweetheart… you’re being so good.” This man has the audacity to smile, a warm one that has your heart skip a beat, that has the knot in your stomach tighten even more, and it makes you want to slap it off his face; why is he acting like an angel when you feel your blood hotter than the flames of hell?!

You scoff, pulling away, and you know you should ask permission before guiding your hands to his belt, but come on, he can’t expect you to be proper now. Although it's your fault for taking advantage of his kindness, in a swift motion he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks together to stop you; he knows you, you’re predictable, he slips his fingers, two this time inside your mouth again “Ah, ah, lovie. I still got so many papers to read…be a good one and suck on my fingers for now, can’t let you distract me too much…”

[cybergirrll]

fuse

hamzah x reader

synopsis- power goes out in your apartment complex, your friend hamzah who lives on the floor above you stops by in the middle of the night

fluff?!!! friends to lovers?!! (p.s. i personally think if you listen to pretty girl by clairo while you read it makes the whole thing a lot cuter)

-

about 5 minutes ago, you’d woken up for no apparent reason. you figured you’d drift back into your previous ever so peaceful slumber, but you were wrong.

so now, annoyed at your minds inability to fall back asleep you stared at the wall, mindlessly observing how the moonlight ever so slightly lit up the back of the curtains, the drapes allowing the softest light to mix amongst the darkness the room withheld.

usually when you awoke in the night like this, you fell back asleep almost immediately, having no memory of it in the morning. this time however, your heart fluttered in an exhilarating way. maybe it was the overload of coffee you had that morning, or maybe it was the boy upstairs.

hamzah lived on floor 3 in apartment A. you lived on floor 2 in apartment A. you’d met about four months ago, when there was a mix up with the mail addresses and you were getting coupons for cat litter. quickly, you became great friends. you were kind of lonely, with your friends living on the other side of town, and him being alone most of the time with his two cats. you loved having movie nights, going grocery shopping together at the store down the block, pet sitting red and blue, meeting on the balcony, complaining about your annoying neighbors, talking about movies, music, games and everything. it was one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had.

however, in the past week, something felt different. you tried to suppress the growing attraction that swelled your heart, twisting your stomach with butterflies whenever you saw him. it was so corny you felt sick. he was only a friend, you’d never even thought about liking him like that before but it crept up on you so suddenly, like an unexpected wave that hit you from behind, knocking you over and drifting you out into the cerulean blue sea. you weren’t used to feeling like this. so, you ignored it.

he was the last thing on your mind when you went to sleep and the first when you woke up in the middle of the night. you couldn’t help it. he was so awkward but in his own way where it was funny and sweet and so charming and hes so gentle and nice and so funny and he laughs at all your jokes and makes you laugh and his smile was so cute and his hair is adorable and he’s so smart and cute andUuooaagghhhh my god. he was driving you absolutely insane.

you felt so nervous to be around him, like he might sense what’s in your eyes and then you would implode right then and there. when he talks to you about how he used to be so depressed living on his own and how it got better but he still feels that empty void in him sometimes, you just want to kiss him on the mouth right then and there and tell him everything’s going to be okay and that you loved him so much and you wanted him to be happy forever. these kinds of thoughts kept you up the past few nights.

you checked the time on your phone 1:15 AM. welp. you were already up. you leaned over, clicking your lamp on. the bulb didn’t light up. you clicked it off and on again and still, there was no dim glow you hoped for. you peered down at the wall where the lamp was plugged in. “hmmm.” you got up and flicked the light switch by your door, your overhead light unresponsive.

a soft knock on your front door.

you were creeped out now, sure you were about to have some true crime documentary made about you. you waited for a moment, another soft knock. it wasn’t in your imagination. taking another deep breath, you slipped out of your room and over to the front door. you peeked through the peephole, relieved, and a bit nervous, to see hamzah.

you opened the door. “you scared the shit out of me.” his eyes looked sleepy, curls unruly. “sorry,” he smiled softly “i just wanted to check on you. i think a power line broke or something.” you stared at him for a moment, gripping the door a little tighter when you realized you were only in your underwear and an oversized t shirt.

“um- yeah. yeah, i’m okay. why were you up?” you tugged your t shirt down a little bit to cover the tops of your thighs. thankfully his gaze stayed fixed on your eyes. “i was editing a video, and then uhh- everything went dark. yeah.” he chuckled softly

“yeah you look tire-“ “why were you up?” he blurted.

��oh- i, no sorry what were you saying.”

“oh nothing,” you giggled a little.

“i just woke up in the middle of the night, couldn’t go back to sleep.”

he nodded, smiling softly, a little flustered.

you two stood there for a few quiet moments, just looking at each other. you felt so fluttery, like you were in a dream. maybe it was the eeriness of the situation, the fact that it was one in the morning and he was at your door like he’d usually be during the day. you weren’t sure if you should invite him in, or if it was a stupid idea because he looked tired. but then why was he here? it was almost the middle of the night and it’s not like a power outage would wake you up, so he would’ve assumed you were asleep.

he smiled softly at you and turned to walk away, taking a few steps before you ran out and grabbed his hand. “wait.”

he turned around, his eyes wide and soft in the darkness of the hallway. shoot. now he was looking at you and now you had to explain yourself but you don’t even know why you did that, you just couldn’t let him leave. you were still holding onto his hand

“stay.”

“you want me to?” hamzah’s voice was gentle, soft, drizzling down your spine like warm honey. he was talking to you this way, his eyes glimmering, so relaxed, so sleepy, so dark, so him.

you nodded, calculating your next moves in your head. this moment felt so perfect, you didn’t want to let it slip through your fingers.

you could lead him inside, just to go back talking again like the friends you were but something about this, standing in the hallway now made you want it to last. you wanted to capture this moment and keep it in a jar and live in that jar forever, you wanted to pour whatever was in that jar into your tea every morning, hoping it gave you that same unreal feeli-

his hand in yours. he squeezed it softly.

without thinking he laced his fingers with yours, slowly led you back inside your apartment and closed your door. you turned to face him, your back against the door. he moved closer, big brown eyes peering into yours, trying to figure something out.

you just looked and looked at him until he smiled at you. he’d never been like this with anyone, really. but he liked this feeling with you. you place your hand on his shoulder, awkwardly moving up to the side of his neck.

his hand fell down to your waist, other hand still holding yours tightly. he looks at you, a little nervous. you nod. he mumbles your name softly, hand fisting the side of your cotton shirt.

“you’re my favorite,” he mumbles again, under his breath. you bury your fingers in the back of his head and gently pull him closer until his nose brushes against yours. you can tell he’s a little nervous.

you kiss his lips softly and then pull away a little, looking into his eyes. he leans back in, hand cupping your face as he kisses you again. he was so warm and gentle against you, afraid you would shatter if he wasn’t soft enough with you.

he didn’t think he was much for affection, but the way you sighed against his mouth when he kissed you made him want more of you. he wanted to kiss you all day all the time forever. god he liked you so much. how did he go so long without this?

you pulled away a little, forehead against his. “hamzah i-“ a car alarm starts blaring outside, red headlights pulsing and flashing faintly from outside, piercing the dark. you hear muffled chatter and complaints from outside. hamzah pulled away, glancing towards the window and muttering something about bad timing.

“i um- i should head back to my place.” he shoved his hands in his pockets. you open your mouth to speak, hesitating and then just nodding. “okay, yeah um-“ you slide off of the door and open it for him. he looks at you quickly and mumbles a “night” before he slips out of the door and you close it behind him.

you slide down against the door, knees tucked against your chest on the floor. the car alarm finally died down outside. what were you even supposed to do now? go back to sleep?

-

hope u enjoyed!! sorry if this totally sucks 🤧

[ggidolsmuts]

Fromis App Part 15: Cost of Free - Fromis_9 Seoyeon

"I'm busy."

"Don't mind me," you answer smoothly. The room is dark save for a single desk light, letting Seoyeon see and write. The justifiable reason fed to Saerom is that Seoyeon needed it to focus and make good jingles for Marketing, but it also had other side benefits. "Keep going."

Hey you, what are you doing right now?

Seoyeon scribbles on her notebook as you wrap two hands around her waist, lightly and quietly unbuttoning her jeans.

Come out for a bit, I want to see you.

Seoyeon's cheeks match the color of her panties as they peek out in the darkness. She wiggles her hips, helping you slide them past her thighs. You rub two fingers against her, making sure she's wet enough to welcome you in.

Hello come into my place, yeah yeah, yeah yeah.

Seoyeon squirms in your arms, but she keeps her hands on the desk, doing her best to write. 

How far do you want to go?

You answer her with action, driving two fingers deep inside her to make her gasp. Her lips are dewy, wet, and her walls are hungry—subtly she pushes her hips back, leaning over her desk.

I just wanna have some fun.

There is an errant stroke at the very end of the sentence, one of many people would find if they read her notebook: One when you smoothly enter her for the first time; One when you brush against her g-spot, stroking it with your head; One when you besmirch her flawless neck; And finally—

Come with me now.

One when you make Seoyeon drop her pen, filling her reservoir with your ink as she is consumed by her own peak, her body rolling against you, like the pen rolling across the page.

Seoyeon braces against the desk as she recovers, legs going weak when you pull out. You silently pull her panties back up, soaking up your load. Buttoning up her jeans again, you kiss her neck once more.

"Sorry for the disturbance."

"Mm." Seoyeon already has her pen back in hand, scribbling something.

Ping pong, on repeat.

Like nothing ever happened.

You let yourself into Seoyeon's place. There's a loud thumping sound, and you find Seoyeon in the kitchen, pounding some dough.

"Making something?"

"Chaeng wanted mochi, so I'm making it for her."

"That's sweet of you." You get a sense of just how sweet Seoyeon is when you pull down her boy shorts and kneel between her legs, pulling her underwear aside and helping yourself to her nectar. It is a slow flow at first, but once she warms up the liquid begins to flow.

"Nngh..." Seoyeon groans, fingers kneading into the dough, twisting and tearing at it. Oh how she wanted to grab your head, to push your tongue into her! A jolt goes through her as you swirl your tongue tip around her clit, but the feeling is gone soon after.

"Don't tease."

"Not going to. Tear a piece for me?" you ask as you stand up and lower your jeans and boxers.

"It's not ready—"

"Just do it." Seoyeon tears a piece of the mochi dough off. Her breath hitches as you dip two fingers back into her before bringing them back up. You slather the piece with Seoyeon's juices liberally, rubbing it into the dough. It is filthy, unhygienic, and—

"You're going to taste so sweet." You yank her hips away from the counter, and in one sob-driving stroke plunge fully into Seoyeon.

"Keep pounding." It is both your instruction to Seoyeon and yourself as she weakly thumps on the dough while you start fucking her from behind. With the sturdiness of the counter (as opposed to her work desk) you slam into her with loud claps, driving unbidden moans from the baker with her batter.

You can't see her expression, but her hands express her pleasure well enough—one hand works the rolling pin, thumping away mindlessly while the other hand jerks and convulses in pleasure. Sometimes she reaches back, as if intending to stop or slow you down, but on the next meeting of your hips you watch her hand hesitate, jerking back in front of her, as if to say:

Fuck it, just fuck me.

Seoyeon's fingers dig into the dough again, and eventually her other hand just lets the pin roll, giving up all pretense and just tearing chunks of the dough out with both hands.

"Cum for me." She sinks her teeth into the uncooked dough, muffling her moans tastelessly. Seoyeon makes a mess of her counter, sputtering and spitting raw mochi everywhere as you command and fuck her to her peak. Her legs go weak, but as a testament to both your strength and her petite frame, you hold her hips up, letting her feet dangle off the floor while you fill her with your baby batter.

You slide out, and her underwear slips back into place, keeping the load in her. Seoyeon lands gingerly on her feet, and she resumes her work as you pull her shorts up again.

"Are you coming by later tonight?"

"Is that an invitation?"

"No, I'll just be washing my hair from 9 to 10 pm."

"Got it." You'll definitely drop by then.

You're back at Seoyeon's place at half past nine, letting yourself in and heading to her bathroom, the shower loudly running. You leave your clothes in a pile on the floor and join her in the shower. The sight is breathtaking—Seoyeon's nude form dripping wet, her hands running through her hair giving you a perfect look at her body.

"Let me help." Seoyeon hands stay on her head, thoroughly shampooing her hair as your hands lather the rest of her body with soap.

"Mmmm..." She leans her head back as your bring both hands to her neck, giving her an impromptu massage before working your way down her body—her chest, her tummy, her sides, her thighs, the insides of her thighs; you make sure Seoyeon is clean for the filth you'll be doing to her.

"Mmm!" Her moan bounces across the shower walls as you push into her, pressing her flush against your body as you move her to the wall. "Ahh, sensitive!" Seoyeon cries as you rub her nipples on the cold glass wall. Oops, something you've forgotten about her body—you rarely took her naked anymore. You make it up to her by flipping her around, warm breath and hot tongue playing with her breasts, feeling her tighten around you just from your mouth work alone.

"Gonna, gonna cum..." Seoyeon whines, and she clenches around you hard when you gently pinch a nipple, tweaking it just enough to trigger her climax. She pulls at her hair as she cums, no doubt tearing loose a strand or two in the process.  She wraps a leg around you for support, trusting you to keep her steady.

"Shampoo my hair?" Seoyeon nods, pumping a dollop of shampoo in her palms before working it into your hair. You start working on her as well, moving your hips and feeling her scalp massage increase in intensity. Seoyeon's back scoots further up the shower wall as you fuck her higher and harder. She tugs on your hair painfully, so you sit her deeper on your shaft.

"Cum, nngh, already!" Seoyeon tightens around you exponentially, and she pulls your face into her chest as you cover her walls with man-made Cetaphil. Her fingers massage your scalp languidly, the fuzzy sensation squeezing a few more spurts out of you. You open your eyes to Seoyeon's neck breathing heavily, and you leave your mark on her before letting her down.

"Don't forget to lock the door," she reminds you as you exit the shower.

One Wednesday you're working from home, typing away and working on your report when you hear your door being opened.

Slam. Seoyeon was always careless with your door. 

Tchpshh. She's drinking your beer.

Crinkle. She's eating your chips.

Knock. She's in your room.

"I'm working."

"Sure, don't mind me." Seoyeon slithers her lithe and petite body under your arms and into your lap—the situation is now SEBCAK. She's dressed in a casual spaghetti top and short skirt, her hair a little messy from the wind outside.

"Won't you catch a cold," you ask, trying to look past her pretty face and at your work.

"I wore a jacket." Of course, she must have tossed it somewhere on your couch.

"Good," you manage to grunt out as she pulls your shorts down enough to reveal your stiffness.

"Yes, very good indeed," Seoyeon grinds on you briefly, letting your cock feel her get wet in real-time as your productivity grinds to a halt. You make a typpo as she sinks herself over your head, your brain short-circuiting while Seoyeon makes a closed circuit between the two of you, her lips capturing yours playfully.

You pull away, rebuking her with a flick of your tongue on her lips.

"I'm at work."

"Fine, I'll finish fast." 

You keep your hands attached to the keyboard, haphazardly typing shit that doesn't make sense—it is appropriate, as Seoyeon moves her hips in ways that blow your mind, snapping back and forth, making her walls massage your shaft in time with her movements.

You look down briefly, and it is a mistake. You're mesmerized by the mole on her abs, her midriff moving hypnotically, thoughts of work replaced with nothing but pleasure.

"Gonna cum, cum with me?" Seoyeon moans softly, and you hiss approval, already on the edge yourself. With a sharp thrust Seoyeon slams her hips into yours, driving your cock all the way before she peaks wetly in your lap.

"Yesss..." Joining her, you let out a strained breath, ropes of cum turning into strings of cum as Seoyeon milks you for everything, leaving you a drained mess in your chair. She pecks you on the lips before getting up—

"Wait, tissues!" But it's too late, the load leaking out of Seoyeon has dripped all over your clothes and chair and floor. "Damn it I have tissues right here, you always make such a mess."

"Can't help it, you always feel so damn good, my orgasms aren't normally this wet," Seoyeon answers like a wronged puppy. "And blame gravity for the rest, and you! You always cum so much in me, how about cumming less next time!" She storms off petulantly.

"Fine, maybe I'll fuck Jiwon or Saerom before you come over, that way I won't have as much for you!" Seoyeon whirls around violently, coming back around and grabbing your chin.

"Don't you dare." Despite appearing aloof, the tsundere in Seoyeon rears its head when you bring up other members of the company. Of course, she knows your relationship with all of them, but mentioning it in earshot of Seoyeon drives her possessiveness to eleven.

"It was your suggestion," you challenge.

"Hmph, I take it back!" Seoyeon fires back before walking away again. You watch her stride closely—a long stride meant she was pissed, and you'd have to really make it up to her somehow; a short one meant she wasn't pissed, but she would be if you actually let her leave now. The stride is short.

"Seoyeon," you call out. The first offering you know she will reject. She keeps walking. You wait a little longer.

"Seoyeon!" She takes a longer stride, as if urging you to quickly call her back. You get up from your chair, timing your own strides just right so that she'll get to the door before—

"Lee Seoyeon!" You reach her just as she opens the door, and you swing her around, slamming her against it and smashing your lips into hers. This is the real price of a free panda; reciprocity is a given, and Seoyeon is free to hop in your lap whenever she wanted. More importantly, you needed to make her feel wanted, and nothing demonstrated that more to Seoyeon than to take her whenever and wherever, and you learned that there was no better way of doing so than threatening to take her in public.

You've fucked her in the middle of her online meetings (hastily she had to turn off video and mute her audio); you've pressed her between office cubicles midday (you made her cum just by playing with her nipples for the first time then); you've slipped a hand beneath her pencil skirt in the company elevator (just before pulling her to the nearest stairwell, bending her over the railing, and fucking her up and down the building). The only reason you haven't used her in front of others is because the two of you were in the wrong meeting room, and Seoyeon had to muffle her moans as you pumped her full of cum while Saerom was discussing KPIs on the other side of the wall.

Which brings you back to now. You take off her top and throw it on the floor, pinning her wrists above her head with one firm hand. The other one goes under her skirt, feeling what you already knew to be true—Seoyeon's soaking wet and dripping by the second. It's not that Seoyeon had an exhibitionist kink or wanted to be used in public, it's that she wanted to be used in public by you.

"God, look at you Seoyeon, so small," you emphasize it by pulling her up slightly, getting her up on her toes. "Do you know who lives next door? It's a nice middle-aged couple, very nice, quiet people." Seoyeon's eyes dart to briefly look at the hallway through your open door. "And next to them? A kind old man, his son visits him every week." She tightens around your fingers. "And across from me? A small bakery operating out from that apartment, the ajumma's home bakery, it always smells so good. She sometimes comes over, bribes us with baked goods to keep her operation a secret." The implication was clear, and Seoyeon's juices are leaking on your hand—anyone could come by and see her, arms pinned above her head, topless and powerless, your hand underneath her skirt doing god-knows-what. They would know, would see you using her like your own personal plaything—

Ding!

"Oh, looks like someone's coming now." You raise her leg higher, making sure she's opening herself to the hallway, for anyone to look at, to show whoever's there just how many fingers deep you are inside her. "I ought to just fuck you right now, maybe I'll say hi to them as they come by, introduce you to them properly." Seoyeon's sputtering, mouth opening and closing, as if she can't decide if she really wants to go through with this. The thrill of it goes up her spine, god she might actually cum just from imagining things, and now she hears the rustle of a plastic bag—groceries perhaps? The son bringing his dad some food, or the ajumma buying baking supplies, or maybe just some random delivery person, a complete stranger coming to watch her get fucked—

You kick the door closed just as whoever it is turns the corner. With a hand around her shoulder and another under her knees you're bridal-carrying a climaxing Seoyeon to your bedroom, leaving a trail of her juices on the floor. You drop her on the bed, stripping yourself naked while she manages to recover and squirm her skirt and underwear off. Seoyeon is just as urgent and needy as you are, wrapping her arms and legs around you as soon as your tip rubs her entrance, wanting you to split her in two since about 10 seconds ago. You do just that, and her breath hitches against your lips, walls contracting around you in another orgasm already—you can never get used to how easily Seoyeon cums for you.

Seoyeon shakes her head as you start to move your hips, even while she's still cumming—not because she's overstimulated and wants you to stop, but because she's overstimulated and wants to say Don't slow down! Her legs spread on their own, and your own hands push her thighs further apart, pulling her against you on every thrust. You drive her mad with pleasure, your pillow subjected to Seoyeon's shear stresses of sheer satisfaction.

"God Seoyeon, so fucking tight, so fucking wet, all for me right?"

"Mm!" You take that as a yes, her hips bucking in confirmation, wanting to take more of your cock into her. "Ah, oppa! Oh— Ah! Nngh, yes..." Her moans, light and airy, almost girly sometimes, becomes huskier and come out almost as a rasp, revealing the raw voice of the songwriter—you're not freely using Seoyeon, you're freely taking her. You pound her small frame so hard, bruising her hips and grabbing her so tightly that any other onlooker would worry for her; but you don't, you've already done this, done her, before just like this. She begins to gasp and grunt, unable to keep up with the pleasure as you begin your own ascent.

"Hey," you huff, wanting to get her attention. "Seoyeon!" She's unresponsive, not unconscious, but just minding her own business and cumming once again. "Lee Seoyeon!" She manages to open her eyes, the bright, aloof glint you would normally see dimmed and dulled by pleasure.

"I want to fucking cum in you."

"Ah..." That's all she manages before her eyes roll into her head while you do just that. You freely help yourself to the space in her womb, using it as your personal cumdump and unloading an even larger torrent of cum than earlier in a few violent thrusts. Seoyeon cums with you, milking you for all that you have. Mid-orgasm she does the most possessive thing she can think to do, biting you shoulder, breaking skin, like a puppy that hasn't learnt how to control her strength.

"Fuck that hurts Seoyeon!"

"Mm, nngh, sorry, sorry." Painfully you come down from your orgasm, but having fucked your brains out right into Seoyeon, she's the first one to recover, gently removing herself from your cuddle. "I'm going to go." The aloofness is back, and you watch Seoyeon carelessly walk around naked in your apartment, picking up her clothes while dripping your load all over your floor.

"Bye."

"Lee Seoyeon."

"What."

"Text me when you get back safely." A small blush is the only sign of her acknowledging your concern.

"Fine, see ya."

You slowly take account of things as you sit up in bed.

Beer, drunk by Lee Seoyeon.

Chips, eaten by Lee Seoyeon.

Work, incomplete, distracted by Lee Seoyeon.

Clothes, in need of washing, dirtied by Lee Seoyeon.

Floor, in need of cleaning, also dirtied by Lee Seoyeon.

Balls, drained by Lee Seoyeon.

Lee Seoyeon, happily and thoroughly fucked.

Worth it.

A/N: Wanted to make this a shoutout to Free Panda (really hot series!) so a free use Seoyeon is a given! Originally the title was going to be (Hands) Free Panda, so there's a lot of emphasis of the sex not involving the hands, that both you and Seoyeon are resolutely focused on not being "distracted" by the other, hands doing whatever they're supposed to be doing (I had read a separate fic for this that is done really well!). But then it kinda spiraled into "why" you have this arrangement with her, and so "Cost of Free" made for a more interesting title. Thought about making a Mastercard reference at the end but eh, too on the nose lol. Thanks for reading!

[alvfr]

🌹 hii! Any Marvel content?

Btw the Rot snippet!! Amazing!

Aaah, thank you ❤️ And I thought for sure I had some Marvel-writing laying around, but I couldn't find it so I decided to act on my impulses and write this little thing I've had in the back of my mind for a while. It went slightly beyond a snippet, but I am who I am unfortunately. also I headcanon that xavier does not read minds unless permitted, which is in line with how this movie ended originally. paring: logan | james howlett/reader cw: fem mutant!reader, no use of y/n, set after days of future past, implied memory loss or time travel shenanigans, profanity, no smut wc: 1.9k

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

It is considered cliche to start a story with someone waking up, but that is nonetheless where this story begins. When everything you knew or thought you knew about the world changed. And out of every way your life could be turned on its head, you never thought it would be to the soothing tones of Roberta Flack playing on the radio. From the depths of your subconscious rose a tiny voice asking a question. What radio?

Roberta’s voice overpowered your internal one and became the first thing to wake you from a deep and comfortable slumber. Too deep and too comfortable, perhaps, compared to what you were used to. The same went for the bed — too soft and too warm and too nice smelling. A part of you tried to piece it together and failed. What bed?

For several long seconds before you fully woke, you pondered if you had died sometime during the night and woken up in heaven. More and more of your body stirred, though, indicating vitality. Including your eyelids that blinked open only to immediately squeeze shut at the incessant sunlight streaming in through the window. Faint alarm bells chimed in the back of your groggy mind. What window?

Still, not enough to break through to the rational part of your brain, you settled further into the fluffy pillow and closed your eyes again. A slight breeze tickled the back of your neck though and you twitched in annoyance. You twisted your head this way and that, but the tickling continued so you tried turning around to pull the covers up over your shoulder. Except you found yourself locked in place by something warm and heavy. Someone warm and heavy whose breath continued to tickle the back of your neck.

Your eyes burst open, and your entire body froze, not daring to even breathe. Your mind finally caught up to the unnatural warmth that came from the way your body slotted together with someone else’s in the large, comfortable bed you had never seen before. In a room you had never seen before. You twisted your head to peek at the person behind you, the one pressed flush up to your backside. With their hairy legs entangled with yours, with their scruffy face nestled into your neck, and with their muscular, heavy arm splayed over your midriff. 

First, you saw nothing but large tufts of dark brown hair, but your movement must have woken him. Definitely a him. Sun-blessed skin, a solid, rugged jaw covered in something that went way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and deep-set, weary eyes that remained closed for now. He grunted and groaned as if wordlessly admonishing you for disturbing his peaceful sleep, and his arm around your waist tightened. Much like yourself, he squeezed his eyes shut first and rubbed his face back down into the pillow and your neck, scratching his scruff onto your bare skin. Shockwaves spun through both your mind and nerve endings when he absentmindedly placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, not really sure why you had not bolted from his grip. It was almost like that even if your mind could not comprehend what you were doing in this strange bed with this strange man, your body had no qualms about it. “What the fuck?”

“Hng?” the man grunted again and took several tries to blink his tired eyes fully open. Unfamiliar hazel eyes stared at you, and you stared back, watching his lip curl in irritation and his heavy eyebrows pull down to a scowl. Somehow, the sight of you did not seem to disturb him, quite the opposite, in fact, as he leaned over with eyes half-closed and kissed you right on the mouth. Soft, chaste, warm. Familiar in a completely unfamiliar way and gone before you could even comprehend what had happened. A sound vibrated through the man’s chest, almost a growl before he promptly closed his eyes and laid back down. “Hrmm.”

Every part of you burned, a hot blister running everywhere you still touched and where you had touched. Your mouth hung open from where his kiss had landed, a hint of wetness on your bottom lip that chilled in his absence. Both the intimate act itself and the strange nonchalance with which he did it made you want to implode. 

You held your breath, unable to either inhale or exhale, with your head reeling at the idea of being kidnapped by some weirdly cuddly pervert before his grip on you tightened and his eyes snapped back open. The confusion shone off of him, and you stared at each other, both unblinking and unmoving.

His voice came gruff and heavy with sleep, “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are you?”

His focus danced around the room, not settling on either you or the interior. He tilted his head backward in the direction of the radio but did not fully turn, probably because you pinned him down with the way you lay. “What year is this?”

“What year is this?”

Now he did turn around, flipping over so you fell back onto the mattress. The movement tugged down the covers, revealing his hairy muscular chest that your fingers itched to run your hands over, and you dug your nails into your palm instead because what the fuck? You didn’t even know this guy, and even so, you could feel the way your stupid body pulled toward him. 

For some reason, the man stared at the fancy radio that declared it was playing ‘Golden Oldies’ on the holographic display and let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Twenty-twenty-three?” he asked you as if that was the most important question where you lay half-naked in bed together. “Is this twenty twenty-three?”

The earnestness of his question made your own take the backseat for a spell. You sat up, noting how you had on an unfamiliar black t-shirt, and rubbed your face. “I thought it was, but with the way you’re asking, I’m not sure anymore.”

“Is everyone,” he swallowed, and you noted the way his throat moved, “alive?”

“Define everyone,” you mumbled, but something glinted on your hand, and you pulled it away from your face to look at it. That had not been there last night, either. A ring. A simple, nondescript golden ring. Almost like a wedding ring. “What the fuck is this?”

The man raised an eyebrow, seeming unconcerned, and ran a hand over his scruff. “Hey, no judgment.”

Ignoring him, you pulled off the offending object and gave it a critical glance. “Who the fuck is,” you squinted at the tiny text, “James Howlett?”

“What?” His panicked tone spoke volumes, and you turned to stare at him. Was he James Howlett? When you said nothing, his voice grew tighter. “What did you just say?”

He had frozen with his hand still up by his face, and you both noticed it at the same time. The disturbingly similar ring on his finger and you wrenched it off him before he could protest. It was the same cut as the one you had, just larger and thicker, and with a different engraving, this one containing your name.

“What the fuck?” you snapped and tore out of the bed, mind overriding your meddlesome body as you hurled the rings at him. Then followed with the books from the overfilled bookshelf by the window. “What kind of disturbed, twisted, pathetic loser are you? You kidnapped me to live out some—”

He dodged the incoming projectiles, sounding more weary than angry. “Hey. Hey! Calm down!”

“—stupid handmaid’s tale bullshit fantasy—”

The man grabbed a book from mid-air and yelled, “Hey! I didn’t drug you or kidnap you, okay? I’ve never even seen you before!”

“Right! Sure! You just happened to have a ring lying around with my name on it in case I happened to wake up in your bed for some reason? You’re sick, mister! Sick!” You reached for another book but grabbed hold of a picture frame instead and were about to fling it at him. Except you caught sight of the picture, eyes widening to an unnatural degree, and held it up. “What in the ever-loving reverse Stockholm syndrome is this?”

The picture showed you, in a wedding gown, next to him, in a suit. Remarkably realistic, down to the genuine smiles on both your faces and the flurry of confetti that rained down over you from beyond the frame. 

“Whoa, hey, I’ve never seen that before. Lady, listen to me, last thing I remember, I was in 1973 trying to fix the future.”

“Oh my god, you’re insane. You’re completely out of your mind! I’m leaving and so help you god or anyone else if you try to stop me! I’m a mutant, you know; I can kick your ass seven ways to Sunday!”

The man’s face locked somewhere between confusion and amusement from where he sat in the bed, surrounded by books and messy covers. It did not occur to you that you should have been scared of him before you strode across the room, heading for the door. Almost as if your body overrode that particular feeling, as if deep down you knew this man would never hurt you.

Your brain was fully onboard with the getting-the-hell-out-of-here-plan, however, and you tore the door open only to reveal a hallway you had never seen before filled with kids you had never seen before. All kinds of kids, really, some of them obviously mutants and some at least human-looking. The myriad of noises and displays of powers momentarily distracted you from the bald man in the wheelchair right outside the door that you were sure you had seen before.

“Good morning,” he said with a polite smile, fingers steepled in front of him. “I’ve come to inform you that we’ve regretfully had several students complain about noises from your room. Again. I must ask you, again, to please keep it down as long as you are staying here near the dormitories. I know this is an inconvenience, but the refurbishment of the teacher’s lodgings is expected to be completed within a few more days. We have, wisely as it seems, included several layers of soundproofing.”

“Charles?” 

“Holy shit, you’re Charles Xavier.”

“Language, Professor Howlett,” Charles fucking Xavier said with a raised eyebrow. To you. He called you Professor Howlett and you could not even think of a reply while he raised a wrist to check his watch. “Speaking of, don’t you both have classes to teach?”

You only stared and let out a strained whispered, “What?”

“Charles,” the man behind you — presumably James Howlett — repeated, and you heard the rustle of cloth as he got out of bed. He sounded breathless when he said, “You did it.”

“Did what, Logan? ” 

Okay, maybe the man was not James Howlett? Either way, he came to stand next to you but paid you little attention from where he stared at Xavier. Open-mouthed, in awe, relieved, happy?

When Logan said nothing, Xavier gave you both a short nod. “Just keep it to an acceptable volume, please. Everyone knows you are happily married; there’s no need to remind everyone quite as frequently as you are. And get dressed, please! Class starts in five minutes.” 

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

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[melon-fodder]

-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-

♡ WARNINGS: fem-bodied reader, body insecurities, written with chubby!reader in mind, fingering, praise, Hiragi feeds you strawberries, all in front of a mirror

♡ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

♡ NOTE: god, I love him. That’s it. That’s the author’s note.

He’d caught you pouting in front of the full-length mirror again, twisting and turning, adjusting the straps of your new bra so that they wouldn’t dig in so much. Your breath had been shaky, mean swears tumbling from your lips as you pinched the skin of your upper arm, pulled the pudge peeking out from the elastic band under your breasts.

“Stop lookin’ at yourself like that,” Hiragi had said, stepped up behind you to hold you gently by the hips. Hips that you think are too wide, your underwear cutting into the fat of their curves.

“Like what?” you huffed, irritated at both yourself and your boyfriend.

“Like you hate yourself.”

You didn’t. You don’t. Usually. Some days are harder than others, but for the most part you’re okay with what you see in the mirror. Today just… isn’t one of those days.

Or, it wasn’t one of those days. However, an hour after Hiragi found you close to tears, you are much more than okay with what you’re seeing, unable to cringe at your reflection as you sit on the ground in front of the mirror, back to Hiragi’s chest, legs spread wide open. He traces calloused fingers up and down your thigh, refusing to touch where you need him to.

His other hand dips into the bowl next to him to retrieve a sliced sugar-coated strawberry, holding it close to your mouth while speaking low in your ear, “take a bite, baby. Lemme kiss the sugar off you.”

You want to whine. Want to giggle. Want to do a lot of things. Mostly though, you just want him to touch you.

Carefully, you sink your teeth into the fruit, silently happy he didn’t go overboard with chocolate or whipped cream. Sugar is good. Simple. Sticky until he licks it off your lips.

You take another bite to finish the strawberry, stare up at Hiragi through your lashes in a way you know gets him bothered. He catches a drop of juice on his thumb and brings it to his own mouth to suck it clean (much to your disappointment–that’s your job). As promised, though, he pulls you into a deep kiss. You can taste the sweetness on his tongue, savoring it with your own and moaning when you feel him dip a finger between your folds.

“So soft,” he murmurs, “don’t think you know how soft you are…”

Hiragi slides a long finger into your hole, swallowing the sounds of pleasure that he pulls from you, and once he gets into the rhythm of curling his fingers against that perfect, doughy spot inside of you, he pulls away from the kiss.

“Look at you,” he commands, voice soft yet full of gravel. He bumps his nose against your face to make you turn your head, make you stare at your own reflection. Your thick thighs are already starting to tremble, muscles flexing and relaxing with every stroke of his finger. When he adds another, you watch your hips buck into his touch.

You feel hot for a multitude of reasons–your boyfriend radiating desire through the fabric of his t-shirt, the look in his eyes when they lock with yours, dark and lustful, the sight of your dripping, clenching pussy. It is quite pretty, you think, admiring your petal-like folds as Hiragi makes a mess of them.

“Play with your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good,” he breathes into your neck, still holding eye contact in the mirror. “Show me how you love yourself.”

He’s trying to teach you a lesson, something about self-worth and seeing your unique beauty in the mirror, blah fucking blah. It’s hard to truly appreciate what he’s trying to do when he’s knuckle deep in your cunt.

“Ragi~” you whine.

He grins and kisses your shoulder. “You heard me. I wanna watch my girl play with herself. Go on.”

The sigh you let out is less dramatic and more pathetic as your breath hitches in your throat. You lower a hand between your legs, softly rub the pad of your finger over your clit, moaning at the added stimulation.

“Good girl–so pretty like this…”

You can feel the outline of Hiragi’s cock hardening against your lower back, but he makes no move to relieve any of the building pressure in his pants. He’s focused solely on you, picking up another strawberry and holding it to your lips.

“Keep playin’ with yourself–no, no, open your eyes for me, baby. I want you to see this.”

You do, eyelids heavy with want as you stare at yourself, at your cunt leaking around your boyfriend’s thick fingers, at your tits rising and falling with every staccato breath you take, your mouth as you open it to suck the fruit between your teeth.

You look like–like art. A female deity or royalty being fed and pleasured. Juice runs down your chin, dripping onto your chest and disappearing in your cleavage.

“You see how pretty you are?” Hiragi grunts in your ear, finally giving in and rolling his hips against you. “Anytime you look in the mirror, I want you to think about this. Remember this, ‘kay?”

You nod, feeling your climax begin to build as you rub your swollen clit a little faster. Your muscles are spasming, slick arousal leaking from your pussy, squelching lewdly with every thrust of Hiragi’s fingers.

“Fuck, fuck–...”

Another strawberry is placed against your lips, but all you can do is suck on it, swirling your tongue around its point and cleaning it of sugar while gazing at Hiragi in the mirror.

“God dammit, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, eyes rolling in his head as if he’s the one being pampered. He should be. As soon as you cum, you’re gonna jump his fucking bones, shove your fingers in his blond hair and kiss him until your lips bleed.

“M’gonna–I’m close, baby,” you whimper, fingers faltering between your legs. It doesn’t matter though as your boyfriend replaces them with his own, both of his arms now locked around you as he uses one hand to plunge in and out of your cunt and the other to swipe over your clit.

“Oh, god… Oh, fu–”

“Try to keep your eyes open,” Hiragi says. “You’re so pretty when you cum, so p–oh, there it is, baby, good fuckin’ girl,” he moans against your ear as you unravel around him. You only get a glimpse of yourself before your eyes roll back, head lolling to rest on your boyfriend’s shoulder as you fall apart in his grip.

“So good for me, fuck, look at that pretty pussy,” he purrs, still moving his fingers inside of you to help you ride out your climax.

Hiragi chuckles when you catch him by the wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before you’re too overstimulated. Opening bleary eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, a goofy, post-orgasm smile spreading across your face.

You don’t focus on your plush thighs or how pudgy your stomach might look in this position. All you care about is how good you feel being held like this–how pretty you feel being held by him.

[heizlut]

Monsterfucking with full form enjou

i’m obsessed with this and with everything you added when you messaged me! so i present to you:

Sacrificial Lamb

cw: blood, monster fucking, two tongues, degradation, size difference, belly bulge, squirting, loss of virginity, breeding, corruption, insecurity/comfort, labelling this as dark due to the blood

tags: virgin sub fem!reader, dom!enjou/abyss lector, mostly proofread (i tried my best)

m!list here

nsfw under the cut

a/n: this is a long one, so buckle up, keep both hands on the device, and enjoy the ride😉

.𖥔 ๋ .•⋆.𖤍.⋆•. ๋𖥔. .𖥔 ๋ 𖤍.

You weren’t unaccustomed to the traditions your people from the Dark Sea had when it came to worshipping those from the abyss. You grew up being told that in order for the abyss to live on and grow even stronger, women of your people were sent as a sacrifice to become an abyssal being’s bride. Whether that was a fact or not, the information intrigued you.

As you grew older, your fascination with the abyss and the creatures that come from it grew into an obsession. You prayed to whatever was listening that you, too, could be the sacrificed bride to one of their beings. Little did you know, your prayers were being answered.

Enjou was the one who heard your pleas to the abyss and he had taken quite an interest in you. He made sure to stay hidden as he watched you go about your days; enamored with the way you looked, talked, laughed, especially the way you often had your head buried in piles of books as you read anything you could find that had to do with the abyss. You were perfect for him.

It didn’t take long for you to get the news that your dreams were finally coming true. Your people dressed you in beautiful, thin white dress that grazed the ground as you walked. When they were done with their preparations, they wished you all the best with bright smiles, yet you failed to catch the hint of fear in their eyes. They knew it wasn’t likely that they’d ever see you again.

Once you reached the edge of your nation, a dark, swirling portal appeared in front of you. You were practically shaking with anticipation; the moment you've been dreaming about for years... From the portal steps a...regular looking human? Sure he stood tall at 6'1", but he seemed so..regular for something that was coming from the abyss.

He looked down at you with the most elated expression, but quickly schooled it as to not alarm you. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gives a soft smile, "Hello, dear~ Let me introduce myself, I am Enjou." You study him for a moment with furrowed eyebrows. Although confused by his appearance, you feel something in your heart pulling you to him.

Your expression shifts into one of sweet innocence as you smile and introduce yourself, "So, I'm your bride or..." You peek around his shoulder at the swirling portal. Enjou chuckles, amused by you, "Are you not satisfied with what you see? Were you expecting me to appear as a monster for our first introduction?" Your cheeks go red and you look down, too embarrassed to meet his golden eyes.

You were so innocent... Twisted thoughts flooded Enjou's mind and he reaches out, gently taking your jaw between his fingers and raising your head, "No need to be embarrassed, darling~ Come with me and I'll show you everything." The sound of his voice and the way he interacted with you made you feel as though you were melting. He releases your jaw, holding his hand out for you to take. With your hand in his, he takes you through the dark portal.

You feel a bit dizzy once you make it through, instinctively leaning your body against his toned one. Enjou laughs softly, feeling like he's falling even harder for you. You were so sweet, naive, and fragile. He wanted to ruin you, but with the best of intentions of course. Once your blurry vision adjusts and you regain your footing, you find yourself in a grand hall. It was dimly lit and seemed to pulse with the energy that feeds into the abyssal realm.

Your breath seems to get caught in your throat from the overwhelming power within and you wince. Enjou stops, standing in front of you now with a look that seemed to be a combination of pity and perverted delight, "You'll get used to this feeling." He leans down, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks in a low, suggestive tone, "You may even grow to crave it." You shiver at his words, but can't help the arousal that begins to pool between your legs.

Enjou straightens up and beckons you to follow him. He leads you to a large bedroom that was bigger than the home you used to reside in, "Welcome home, darling..." You look up at him with round eyes, your lips parted slightly, "This is for me?" That look on your face made his cock twitch and he has to restrain himself from ruining you right then and there, "For us", he corrects you.

Your gaze falls to Enjou, studying him once more, "Can I... See your other form?" Enjou's smile grows wide as he takes a step back, "Eager to see your husband in his true form?" His laugh is dark as his transformation begins. Now standing before you, much taller than his human form at almost 10' tall. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the pyro abyss lector with sharp, long fingers, a dark mask adorned with five curved horns that hid his face, and glowing orange eyes.

Enjou's laugh is much deeper now, "See something you like?" Even in his abyssal form, he was still a tease. You nod timidly and he steps towards you, "I'm sure you're aware that in order to consummate our marriage, you'll need to take me in both forms. And once we do so, the abyssal energy will make you immortal like me." "Yes, I'm aware...", your voice was soft as usual, but your cunt pulsated at the thought of taking him in his current state. "Then be a dear for me and take off that dress~"

You freeze. Obviously you knew you had to be bare before him, but you had always been particularly insecure about the little scars left all over your body from insect bites and the body hair between your legs. You feared he would find you unappealing and send you back. Sensing your hesitation, Enjou tilts his head slightly, "Is something the matter?" You sigh as you fidget with the material of your dress, "What if you don't like how I look? What if you..." You trail off and he takes your small hand in his large one, "I highly doubt that."

His tone was so sincere despite being distorted by his abyssal form. You chew at your bottom lip and finally give in. You slowly slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting the thin, white material fall gracefully to your feet. Enjou is speechless at the sight as he took in every inch, every scar, and the cute patch of hair between your legs. You took his silence as disgust and you quickly reach down for your dress, but he stops you with the sound of your name.

You look up at him in shame that you had no real reason to be feeling. "I've never seen one as beautiful as you. Please... Don't cover yourself from me", his voice deep, but soft. You look up at him as if he hung the stars themselves, "Then... Where do we begin?" If Enjou could smile in this form he would, "Lay on the bed and spread your legs." Your breath catches once more as you lay on the bed, shaking slightly when you spread your legs open for him. The view alone made him want to devour you, but he couldn't discount the fact that you were a virgin. Oh how he planned to take his time teasing and corrupting your sweet little body and mind...

Enjou squats down, now eye-level your untouched cunt. Your eyes widen when two unnatural, pointed tongues slithered out from under his mask. Enjou chuckles darkly, "You'll enjoy this, darling. Trust me." Before you could protest, one tongue begins to leisurely flick against your clit while the other begins to prod at your tight hole. A drawn out moan escapes your lips, a noise you'd never heard yourself make before.

The sensations were so overwhelming, you dropped your hold on your thighs, making them squeeze against Enjou's mask. Without pulling away, he smacks your thigh and his voice growls from within him, "I told you keep those legs spread." With a whimper, you regain your grip on your thighs, trying your best to keep them spread as he demanded. "There's a good girl~", his tone dark and dripping with lust as his tongues begin to move with more fervor.

It doesn't take long for you to come undone, your juices coating the tongue that had been poking at your hole. To his surprise and great delight, the taste of your virginal blood was on his tongue. Your legs shake with overstimulation when Enjou gives a final flick of his other tongue on your swollen clit.

He leans back, satisfied with his work, and begins removing his cock from under his armor. Your lips part slightly as your eyes take in the throbbing length. Enjou's large hand encircles it, squeezing the clear pre cum from it's tip as he lets out a breathy groan, "Look at you... Fucked out already when I haven't even gotten to the best part~ Go on. Lemme hear you beg for me to ruin you." Your own arousal begins to leak onto the sheets, "Please make me yours..."

Your sweet voice carrying such a naughty request drives him wild and he wants to keep teasing to hear more filthy things comes from your lips, "Be specific, dear~ What do you want and where do you want it?" Your voice trembles, not just from nervousness, but from unbridled desire, "I... want your cock in my pussy." Enjou's laughter is twisted and dark as he positions his large body over your small one. One tongue licks its way up your neck while the other trails over your breasts, "As you wish~"

Enjou lines his reddened tip against your glistening entrance, gently pressing against it. You squirm as you feel a newfound pressure, "Wait, no! It won't fit, please!" "I'll make it fit", and with that Enjou, pushes his length into your tight, gummy walls with growl that claws at his throat. You cry out as you're stretched beyond what you could handle and you desperately claw at his shoulders. Once his cock is buried to the hilt, he speaks, "I'm going to move now."

You try your best to protest, but he begins to thrust in and out, slowly at first. Enjou looks down to where you two are connected, letting out a choked laugh that morphs into a groan when he sees your blood and sticky arousal cover his cock, "Look at the mess you're making all over my cock~ I want more."

He pulls out, leaving just the tip inside, then slams into you, beginning a ruthless pace. He was going feral at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging with the outline of his dick. If Enjou had been in his human form, you certainly would have drawn blood from the way you clawed at his back.

Your cries morph into moans of pleasure as his cock bullies into you, shaping it to fit only him. The flood of abyssal energy bleeds into your mind as something begins to shift inside of you. What was originally blinding pain came a new, dark and twisted sensation of uncontrollable lust. You wrap your legs around Enjou's toned waist, pulling him ever closer to you. Needing to feel every inch of his cock as it ruined you forever.

With a deep growl, Enjou's cock throbs wildly inside of you as his orgasm draws closer, "I'm gonna breed this slutty hole. Fuck you so full of my cum til your stomach aches with how full it is." He presses his hand to the outline in your lower abdomen, "Look how full of me you are already. Your body is so greedy~" Your eyes roll back as you let out a loud moan. Your cunt clenching around his length as you reach your climax, squirting all over his cock.

The mess before him and the way you clench so tightly around him bring him over the edge. Seemingly endless spurts of hot cum fill you up as the abyssal energy surrounding you two grows even stronger. After giving you both a moment to catch your breaths and come down from your highs, he slowly pulls out of you. A mix of both your releases and blood leak from your ruined hole. He simply can't resist using one of his tongues to lick it up, not caring that his own cum was amongst the mix.

After licking you clean, Enjou stands up and shifts into a semi-human form. Your eyes were glossy as you tried to prop yourself up on your forearms. You were fully affected by the abyssal energy that consumed the both of you and you needed more. Needed him. Enjou's golden eyes take you in. You looked even more beautiful panting and looking so desperate. He gives you a soft smile as he gets on top of you again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I hope you haven't forgotten that you need to take me in this form too."

Your lips curl into a tired smile, the new energy within you giving you confidence you didn't know you had. You take Enjou by surprise when you straddle his lap, grinding your pussy against his still oversized length. Enjou's surprised expression turns to a smirk as he places his hands on your hips, grinding up into you to meet your pace, "My beautiful bride... Are you really so needy for me~?" You nod you head as you keep up your movements on top of him, letting your slick coat his length.

Enjou chuckles, his voice gritty and low, "Then by all means, take what you desire." You reach behind you, taking hold of his thick cock, lining it up to your core once more. Your head rolls back and your eyes flutter as you sink down onto him. His grip on your hips tightens, letting out a hiss when he fills you up. Once you adjust to the feeling again, you being to move. Bouncing on his cock with your hands on his chest to keep you steady.

Enjou is mesmerized by the way you move. He leans up, opening his mouth to let his two tongues explore your breasts. One tongue flicks one nipple as the other wraps itself around the other nipple. You open your eyes, meeting his lustful gaze makes him smirk at you. Fuck, he was really something else. The tongues toying with your breasts and the way his cock makes your lower abdomen bulge as it drags against your walls...

It doesn't take much longer for your cunt to squeeze his length again as you let out a such a filthy sound when you cum. Enjou groans deeply when he releases inside of you for the second time that evening. You collapse on top of him, breathless and not caring that he was still inside of you. Your head rests against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Enjou runs his fingers through your hair, peppering your forehead with kisses. The action makes you nuzzle into him with an embarrassed groan, "Quit that..."

You were so cute, Enjou couldn't help the laugh that escaped as he puts his fingers under your chin to have you look up at him, "Why would I quit kissing my bride when she's the most beautiful and sexy thing that I'm lucky enough to have?" Your cheeks blossom with red, but before you can hide your face in his chest once more, he kisses you on the lips with a gentle passion that makes you feel whole. Enjou looks deep into your eyes with a look of undying love for you, "My sacrificial lamb... Forever mine."

.𖥔 ๋ .•⋆.𖤍.⋆•. ๋𖥔. .𖥔 ๋ 𖤍.

a/n: whew, i put my heart and soul into this one. i would’ve kept going but it’s long enough as it is 😅

[the-californicationist]

Picking Flowers

@pricesugarwife left this amazing comment on one of my posts and i couldn't get it out of my head...

pricesugarwife: Nos complaces con un smut Hades!Price x Persefone!Reader??? *se arrodilla*

te amo griss!! espero que te guste esta historia que escribí para ti, nena. 🩷🩷

TW: rape/non-con/cnc elements, loss of virginity, corruption, very bad greek mythology knowledge (sorry, it's just make believe okay jeez)

In a grove in Hellas, long, long ago… 

Before you opened your eyes, you already knew what you would see. Slowly, as sleep fell away from you, like the warmth of a blanket being pulled away from your body, a heavy darkness giving way to light, you could see a warm, egg yolk glow behind your eyelids. The sun had cut a path through your windowpane, and now it cast itself like a spell, masking its burn over your face. When you opened your eyes, you would squint through your lashes, looking up through the green mottled leaves, neon, blinding, of the twisted yew outside of your window. You could smell your mother’s bread baking in her old dutch oven, hints of oregano and pepper wafting through your room, bringing the warmth of the hearth with them. You could almost taste the crispy crust, roasted to perfection, protecting the soft, textured middle. 

Finally, you peeked between your lashes, and before you, your self-made dream came true. The sun filtered in through your glass a little less bright than what you had imagined, but the greens were there, and they reminded you that today was your favorite day: the arrival of Spring. 

“Sephie! Are you awake?”

Your mother’s sing-song voice fluttered down the hall and tucked itself through the crack of your bedroom door. She always knew when you woke up, and although you’d never questioned it, you had to admit it was uncanny. You chalked it up to the wonders of motherhood. She seemed to know every other thing about you, so why question it?

“Yes, Mom. Coming!” You called back, your own voice a little stronger, a little less like a delicate lark, a little more like a robin. 

You were very much a late bloomer, still living with your mother at almost twenty years of age, especially when most of the girls in your village had suitors or proposals by sixteen. But, you didn’t let it bother you. As your mother was ready to remind you, the thread of your life was your own, and you would follow its path until the end, whether you wanted to or not. If Lachesis had measured your life out to be this way, then that was that. Why question it?

You pulled on your robes, woven on your family loom of the finest silk threads. You had begged your mom to add a tight spiral of cyclamen along the hem, the flowers so familiar, their pink heads watching you as you followed your daily path to the river. So, she had insisted that you try. You were well enough a woman now, and more than skilled enough to craft your own clothes. And you had; it had been easier than you thought, and you added a few glass beads in that same heart-shaped petal to the tips of the cord of your belt. 

You owned no looking glass, but you never noticed its absence. There was so much more to do than to stare at something you couldn’t change. Focus on what you can do, your mother’s voice haunted your mind, not on what is already done. Besides, your mother insisted that you were beautiful, so why question it?

“Here, my darling,” your mom tapped you under your chin, handing you a cloth satchel full of bread, fruit, seeds, and dried meats, “Before you go to the river, please check on the well. It should have clear water for you to fill this skin. Fill it again on your way home. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, Momma. I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.”

You were out of the door and heading down the hill to the well before you knew it, the feel of the soft grass comforting your heels, cold and damp from the morning dew. The village below you was coming alive, its people tending to their new lambs, planting seeds in the black, fertile soil, carrying buckets of water to and from the olive groves, pruning the dead branches away from the new growth on each branch. Their bustle and laughter as they worked together made you long to live in town. But, your mother had insisted that the town and its people would just be a distraction, and you’d never experienced such a thing; why question it?

When you approached the well, you were alone. You let your hands trace their way along the rough, grey stones, feeling the familiar edge, reaching for the thick rope to pull up the bucket. The worn hemp gave way, and the echo of the old wooden bucket hitting the sides of the well rang out like shrouded bells. You reached for the handle of the bucket, pulling it up to the rim, carefully filling your waterskin, making sure not to waste a drop. You used the rest to wash your face and hands, letting the cool water soak into your cheeks, adding moisture back to your body after a long sleep. 

Suddenly, your eyes darted up to the treeline just beyond the well’s clearing. You thought you saw a shadow that stretched just a little too long, shaped just a little too wrong… but when you studied the dark spaces between the trunks, there was nothing but lush overgrowth. You packed your waterskin and tossed the bucket back into the water; you were eager to get down to the river. The light always played tricks on you in this glade, so why question it?

You walked quite a ways through the valley, using your fingers and the softness of your touch to coax the flowers to bloom and grow as you let your hand fondle its way through the tall grass. When you reached your river, you savored the sight. The way that it curved into a deep ox bow was your favorite thing. It was as if the river had carved out a small, circular stage just for you. In it, you worked on your crafts, practicing growing buds from seeds, trees from roots, ivy from the palm of your hand. Then, you sent it out, down the river towards town, making sure the village was well-shaded, well-fed, and well-protected from the elements. 

It was hard work, and you always slept after a long afternoon of using your magic, but your mother always said that no one else would be able to do a better job than you, so you kept at it, and it was the one thing you never questioned. 

This time, when you woke up from your nap, you knew you weren’t alone. As you sat up, you looked around, thinking that a striped kri-kri or a golden jackal would be nibbling at the food in your pack. But, sitting with his legs crossed, was a man dressed only in a dark blue chilton, the shoulder of which hung loosely around his waist as if he were a farmer who had been toiling in the field. He was no farmer. Not with those inhuman eyes of ice fire, pale and bright, glowing although the sun was at his back. His body was that of a giant, muscle-bound and heavy, full of power just rippling beneath the surface. He reminded you of the well. How deep did his strength flow? His beard and chest were furry but well-groomed, just like that of a nobleman. 

You greeted him, apologizing for your slumber,

“Good day, sir. Forgive my sleeping. I was just tending to my flowers, and I must have dozed off.”

“No trouble,” his smile came to him easily, and you enjoyed it, basking in it, “I enjoy watching you work. It is a gift to see it up close.”

He reached out his hand and plucked one of your most vibrant hyacinths from its stem, cradling your art in his huge hands. 

“Beautiful,” he purred, speaking of the flower but looking at you. 

“Thank you, sir. Can I offer you some bread or fruit from my pack? I carried clean water from the well this morning.”

“How generous you are,” his smile showed his straight, large teeth this time, and he tucked your own flower behind your ear, letting the delicate petals tickle your sensitive flesh.

You prepared a small piece of bread for him, decorating it with nuts and juicy lobes of fruit that you had carefully peeled with your hands, tearing off a piece of dried meat for him to try as well. You ate with him in companionable silence, watching him as he chewed. Whereas the kri-kri would have greedily gobbled up the bread from your palm, this man seemed unsurprised by it. What was a delicacy for some of Gaia’s creatures was a mere appetizer for others. But, it may be that he had much finer fare at home, so why question it?

“Do you live near to this glade, sir?” You asked, hoping to learn more about your handsome stranger. 

His hands peeled the delicate pith from the citrus lobe you had given him, expertly trimming it as if he had done it for a thousand mornings, knowing exactly how hard or easy he needed to pull the flesh for it to yield, feeding it into his mouth in a wet, juicy bite, letting the sweet nectar soak into his beard and become sticky. 

He chewed slowly, eyeing you carefully as he did, seemingly in no rush to answer your question. So, you tacked on another one, impatiently, 

“What should I call you?”

“I have been called many names,” he spoke, looking down at his hands, staring at his open palms as if to divine some sort of future before his eyes shot back to yours, pinning you where you sat.

“Hm,” you smiled, inching closer, pretending to get a better look at him, studying him like a statue at a temple, “You do not look like an Akakios, nor an Eirenaios…”

“No,” he chuckled, his laugh rolling like a volcanic crag inside of his throat, “I should think not.”

“I cannot imagine naming you Melanthios, though it fits your face,” you giggled.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that, little petal.”

His laugh was still jovial, so you pushed him further, 

“Perhaps Kleisthenes. Your strength is apparent, as is your status. Surely, that must fit you.”

You leaned back, biting off another chunk of bread, saving the crust for last, satisfied with your naming ritual.

He shook his head, 

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s very brief, or at least much less trouble than Kleisthenes.”

“Bion, then.”

“Mm,” he frowned a bit at the edges of his smile, “Quite the opposite in essence, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps you are a foreigner. One of Troy, or Rome, even? Something brief, like John.”

“I am foreign enough to this land, so I suppose John is close enough,” he sighed, allowing you to finally take your win. 

You hadn’t realized how close you had drawn yourself into him. You were now near enough to smell the oils on his skin: laurel, salt, and something akin to tarnished silver. His hand reached out to touch the curls of your hair, carefully braided by your mother, entwined with small flowers and ivy stems to keep it off of your neck. But, after your nap, one lock had escaped and was now being delicately twirled in this man’s immense fingers. 

“And what should I call you, little flower? Marjoram is too serious for you. Iris, not serious enough.”

“Persephone,” you offered, unwilling to force him to endure the same naming torture you had just gone through. 

“Ah!” He gasped, leaning toward your face as if seeing you for the first time, “Persephone.”

Then, before you could even know what was happening to you, your lips were tasting his. He was cradling you in his arms, holding your limp body against his bare chest, the gold of his necklaces and armbands warm from his body heat as they pressed into your skin. He was kissing you, moving his mouth against yours, forcing your jaw to yield to him, to take his tongue into the hollow of your cheeks, to suck the citrus juice from it, the memory of his food still fresh on the muscle. 

You had never been kissed before, even though you had practiced on two of your fingers held tightly together, watching lovers sneak up to the well on hot days of work to do to each other what you longed for someone to do to you. It was so much more satisfying to feel another’s lips move against your own, nothing like the static, chaste practice you’d tried to mimic. 

Only now, after you were left gasping, feeling his hands wander along the edges of your chilton, his fingers beginning to dig into the loose gaps in the fabric, did you question whether you should be kissing this man or not. But, it felt too good to stop. 

John, or whoever he was, pulled away for a moment, and his eyes seemed to study your mouth, inspecting your plump, swollen lips as if something was wrong. You wrapped your hands around his neck to steady yourself, and he lay you back, letting your head be supported by the plush grasses beneath you. He spoke to you in a hushed whisper, even though no one was around for miles, 

“I have been watching you, Persephone. I see you growing your lush gardens, creating a world full of life, all for me to take. And I come back every autumn, when the sun is shy and the sky is dark, just to inspect all of the gifts you have given me,” he kissed you again, his hand finally snaking its way under the shoulder of your robes, peeling it down slowly to reveal your full breasts to the open air, “And I eat them up. All of them, and I take them home. I’ve been keeping them for you. All of your treasures from years past. They’re still there for you to see.”

Then, before you could ask him what he meant, his mouth latched onto the dark nipple of your breast, suckling at it like a babe. And then, very much not like a babe. Like something else. Like a wolf digging the marrow from a bone. Like an otter clawing at a clam, slurping up the tender meat inside. 

And then, he stopped. He sat up, holding you by the shoulders and helping you sit up with him, fixing your top so that you were covered again, dizzy and reeling from his attention, the wet skin of your aching nipples sticking to the silk fabric of your gown. 

“Sir, I…”

“Come with me, love,” he held out his hand, “Don’t you want to meet your old friends?”

You didn’t know what to say, but he seemed so friendly. There was a dark, twisted piece of wort inside of you, growing and twining itself around your belly that made you want to see if he might put his mouth on you again. It had been so lovely… Besides, you very much missed your old creations. You remembered hundreds and hundreds of seasons of creations you had made, trees and plants, fruits and flowers. It would be wonderful to be reminded of all of the things you had brought into the world. If he had kept them for you, it may even be rude to refuse his hospitality. He seemed so sure, so why question it?

So, you took his hand, and he led you through the earth, ripping at the dirt like a heavy veil, marching down into the darkness, leading you step after step down a winding, rocky staircase. Above your head, you saw the last bit of a ruby-colored sun, setting in the distance, illuminating the ceiling of roots and fungus that hung above you as you delved further into his depths. 

Then, your heart skipped a beat. You saw your river again, her wine-dark waters now black, curling in that same ox bow pattern, cutting the land in half. On one bank, the souls of the living waited to be ferried across, and on the other, fields and fields of your own flowers, frozen in time, neither growing nor dead, shrouded in darkness in the grey soil of the Underworld. 

He led you onward, towards his blue, gleaming castle, all of its walls made of shining glass, distorting the world outside, and concealing the one within. You marveled at the wide door, its ebon gate the only iron you could see, and all of the castle guards were the dead. Their lifeless eyes gray and cloudy, set inside of gaunt, bony faces, unseeing, unfeeling. You did not fear them, even though you were sure you were meant to. You knew them. You had made the food that fed them while they were alive. You had grown the trees and bushes that had sheltered them when they lay beneath your boughs, exhausted from their labor or their warfare. Who was afraid of an old friend?

Then, you watched your companion climb the long stair up to the throne of Hades, for that is who he was after all, and he sat on its plush seat, motioning for you to sit in an equally-crafted chair beside him. There was no difference between the two thrones. His was not higher, nor was it more elaborate. So, you sat, waiting to see what Hades wanted to show you. 

A delightful processional began, and you spotted some of your first flowers being brought to you on pedestals and pillows, you ooh’d and ahh’d at them, sharing stories and listening to Hades tell you all of his tales of how he brought them here to keep. How he’d waited so long for you to come and join him here, to rule in the Underworld beside him as its queen. 

“What do you think, love? My people are desperate for more of your creations. You are the only one who reminds them of home. They see your trees and your flowers, your fish and your fruits, and their souls finally know peace. Be my queen, rule beside me, help me put these souls to rest here in Elysium.”

“I am still a maid, sir,” you told him, “My mother is the one who would make that choice for me.”

He looked at you confused,

“You are a goddess most powerful. There is no one who can make choices for you. Even I am no match for your magic. I cannot bloom these fields.”

“When I return home, I will consult her wisdom, and she will help us marry.”

“Very well,” he sighed, “Perhaps you will at least allow me to show you the same hospitality as you have shown me. There is a feast that awaits you in my chambers. Will you join me, petal?”

You had no excuse. How could you refuse him the same thing you had provided. After dinner, you would return home and tell your mother about this handsome suitor.

You followed him from the throne room and entered his chambers, sitting on a wide lounge where platters of meat and fruit and honey in wide bowls waited for you to dig into them. You did not shy away now that you were in the comfort of his rooms, letting Hades sit beside you, as close as he could, feeding you berries and sweetmeats from his hands, dipping his fingers into your lips and letting you suck them clean, laughing and joking with you. 

He had done a poor job of tying your robe back onto your shoulder, and it kept falling down. Finally, when you were about to adjust it again, he stopped you, pulling it down even further to hang with the cord of your belt, letting your breasts hang free upon your ribs, heavy and full, sensitive from his earlier ministrations. 

“C’mere, love. Lay back and let me feed you. You must be so tired from your work today,” he murmured in your ear, allowing you to lay your back across his chest, his legs spread wide to allow you to sit between them.

You did as he bade, letting him feed you grapes dipped in honey, delicious fish and mussels, crab and octopus still cold and fresh. He ate, too, feeding you sometimes from his own mouth, bending to kiss you with sweet bites between his teeth. 

Then, when you had both had your fill, he used his hands to rub your sore muscles, easing the tension in your neck, down your shoulders, and then finally, he stopped,

“Alright, love. We should bring you back to Demeter. I’m sure she is waiting.”

“No,” you protested, ignoring the fact that he knew your mother’s name, “I mean… I thought we could stay a bit longer. I’m so full; a journey would be too arduous right now.”

“Oh?” He returned to petting you, letting his hands trace just outside of your breasts, fingers skating through your underarms and then up along the thin skin of your neck, “How should we occupy our time, my love?”

“Just… like this,” you let your hands wander to his strong thighs, massaging down his knees and calves, admiring the muscles there. 

“If that’s what you want, my love, then you shall have it. All that you want shall be yours,” his tone was dark in a way you had never heard from another person, but you felt so good, so why question it?

His hands were callused and warm as they covered your sensitive breasts, plucking at your nipples like the petals of one of your flowers, and you mewled from the pleasure, asking him for more and more and more.

Then, you felt his mouth on your neck, sucking and licking you, reminding you of how it felt when his mouth was on your tits, making your flesh tingle like the crackle of lighting, like the cold of the first swim of the season. 

So, you turned towards him, spreading your legs on either side of his hips, sitting proudly in his lap, hoping he would return his mouth to where it was needed. And he did. It was as if he read your mind, knowing you wanted him to suck and suck and suck against the softness of your skin, to use his tongue to press into the nub of your nipple, over and over until you felt your legs begin to shake as if you were shivering from the cold. 

“My pretty flower, it feels like you need something else, hm? What would you like? I will give you Olympus if you ask me for it.”

You weren’t sure what to ask for. When a flower asks to be picked, growing symmetrical and soft as it does, what does it know about the plucking? Only picked flowers know what they’re really asking for, don’t they?

“I don’t know… I just… I need…” You tried to make sense of your body’s wishes, and why you were rocking your hips back and forth, why you needed to feel something between your thighs. 

Hades’ smile widened, that dark beard pressed out of the way of his full mouth as it turned up into a grin, 

“How about this, hm?” 

He fumbled with your robes and his, and then you felt yourself sigh with relief when he placed some part of him between your legs, giving you something to rub against through your softest petals, wet with excitement and desire. You both sighed, and you could feel the heat of him as you rocked back and forth. It felt like his wrist, but then again, it didn’t. It was wide enough, but at the end, instead of a hand, it was the fleshy edge of another tongue, perhaps. Something that was licking your hole every time you passed over it. 

Eventually, everything was wet beneath you. His robes, your robes, his body, your body… it was a sticky, dripping mess. You had lost your breath, your heart beating out of your chest, your mind sparkling like a fire and then going blank like you had drank too much wine. Over and over, you felt everything and then nothing. It may have been hours, but you couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem like he was in a rush to be finished with your game, so you didn’t question it. 

“More, still?” He finally asked, kissing you on the mouth sweetly, sucking on the tip of your lolling tongue, “My greedy little flower…”

You weren’t sure what more there was. But, he showed you. This time, when you rocked back, he used his hand to notch himself at your hole, and if you pushed forward, you would have to press yourself onto him, to take him inside of yourself somehow. It was the same way you had used your fingers inside yourself to play in your bed or in your glade by the river, just touching yourself for the comfort of it. 

But, this was different. This was not comfort, it was magic. It felt like old magic, something from the world as it was before. And yet, he had promised you whatever you wanted, so you didn’t question it. 

As you slipped yourself over his fleshy knob, you experimented with your movements, rolling your hips back and forth, seeing how it felt to push him deeper and deeper inside of you, stopping when you felt like you were being stretched open. Then, you tried circles, turning your hips around and around as you sat in his lap, feeling him slipping deeper and deeper inside of you as you found your rhythm. 

He was busying himself with kissing you, or suckling from your nipples, but you could tell he was enjoying himself as much as you were. His grunting was that of a rutting deer, hoarse and loud. Finally, he reached some sort of limit, and he grabbed you, changing places, pressing you beneath him on the lounge, nearly ripping off your robes and his own, making you naked in front of him. 

Then, you saw what you had been using for your pleasure. His phallus stood tall and strong against his belly, ruddy and throbbing, shining with your wet nectar. You had never seen one up close, and when you cradled it in your hands, it felt alive, like it was separate from him even though its thick root was buried deep inside his body. 

Hades’ eyes glowed bright blue, his own magicks coursing within him, and he told you,

“Open your legs.”

So, you obeyed, entranced by his power and the feeling you were experiencing, weightless and floating in your own mind. He fed himself into you, as deep as you had gone and then deeper, not stopping when you hissed in a breath from the feeling of your muscles stretching beyond the point of comfort, delving far enough to cause pain. 

“Ahh!” You cried out, but he shushed you with his mouth, kissing you again and again, distracting you from the discomfort of his invasion. 

“That’s my good girl…” He praised you, just as your mother always did, for a job well-done or a chore checked off the list. 

But, you didn’t feel like you were doing a chore. In fact, you felt like you were watching him do one for you. His thrusting was violent and repetitive, his huge rod pounding into you with every snap of his hips, grinding his tip inside of you deeper and deeper. As you moved past the pain and back into a throbbing sort of pleasure, he looked as if he was taking your pain away from you in this ritual. His face was set in a grimace, his eyes ferocious and snarling, his voice growling and letting out only deep, throaty whines. 

So, you did what he had done for you. You kissed his furry chest and latched onto his soft nipple, listening to him cry out with a sudden shout. 

“Love, I can’t… ”

You didn’t know how to help him, so you kept sucking and sucking, hoping you would bring him the pleasure that you felt, that you might ease his pain. 

But, he grabbed your face in his huge hands, pulling you away from his chest, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips press into a helpless sort of pout. 

He growled down at you like a wounded animal,

“So beautiful. My queen. My perfect little flower.”

Then, you felt your body tumble into another one of your hypnotic phases; your muscles clenching, your toes curling, your breath neither coming in nor rushing out, helpless to your own reaction. 

“Unghff-fuck… that’s it. Persephone…” He looked at you with those eyes, the eyes of some unearthly being, the bright icy glow keeping you in that cyclone of pleasure, thrashing you with it over and over, making you feel a wet gush between your legs, warm and slick. 

He released your face and leaned backwards, peering down at your body from his kneeling position, letting you watch how he was pistoning inside of you, pressing himself through you and filling you up. He watched himself for a moment, staring down at where you were joined, and then he sank himself all the way in and tossed back his head with a bellowing shout.

You felt his prick writhing inside of you, pulsing and throbbing. You waited, panting with him, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow. He pulled himself out slowly, and lay it on your belly, letting you see the last of his seed drooled from his tip. There was blood on your skin when he pulled away, and as much as you tried to wipe it away, it stained.

Hades carried you to his bed, wrapping you in his dark blue silk sheets, cradling you in his arms until you both drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke to the sound of a woman crying. A voice calling your name. But, you were so tired, you must have been dreaming, so you didn’t question it. 

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