#and the duck face 💋

[nicoscheer]

🎵black rebel motorcycle club- spread your love

The little hidden sticker of himself in the upper left corner 😂

A new pic of Miles in Rome

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (02)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a tease !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecameron and 1,129 others

yourusername me and gf on a mermaids date  🧜‍♀️ 

view all comments

sarahcameron GF 🙈🙈🙈 most beautiful girl ive ever seen ↳ yourusername BABYYY ily

sarahcameron do you want to be my wife ↳ johnroutledge Uhm ↳ yourusername leave little boy she doesnt want you 🧏‍♀️

sarahcameron cant believe we met its been SO long ↳ yourusername still in shock could you kiss me to make sure this is real?  ↳ sarahcameron come to mama 💋 

ryanontop God your ugly ↳ yourusername you’re*… spell right you illiterate fuck ↳ ryanontop Fuck off it was a typo ↳ yourusername you know damn well!!!!

cleoanderson WAIT WHAT

kiecarrera ??? HUH

kiecarrera IM SO CONFUSED ↳ cleoanderson ME TOO ☹️ ↳ sarahcameron hey 👋  ↳ cleoanderson girl you both got some explaining to do ↳ yourusername trust me i was as shocked as you are 😓

popeheyward Insane ↳ yourusername PIPE down fella (get it ahahaha) ↳ popeheyward That wasn't funny ↳ cleoanderson be nice to my girl >:( ↳ popeheyward Baby you're supposed to defend me ↳ yourusername YEAHHH CLOCK THAT HO

jjmaybanks whats for supper  ↳ yourusername saltwater

user1 PRETTY!!!! 

user2 so lovely 🥹

user3 DRESS ATE DOWN ↳ yourusername YEAHH tryna impress the hoes ↳ ryanontop Crickets ↳ sarahcameron not cool Ryan. ↳ ryanontop Sorry Sarah Cameron.

rafecameron Hey 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 ↳ yourusername uhhh uhmm  ↳ rafecameron ??? What ↳ sarahcameron what are you doing here ↳ yourusername yeah get out of my comment section ↳ rafecameron I’m not even doing anything 

rafecameron Sarah looks like a duck  ↳ yourusername shes my little duckling 🐥  ↳ rafecameron Oh I didn't mean that in a cute way ↳ sarahcameron hey >:( ↳ yourusername insult my gf one more time and ill fuck you UP ↳ rafecameron Oh?  ↳ ryanontop Uhh  ↳ rafecameron Yo wsg baby ↳ yourusername flirt somewhere else please dont start sexting in my comment section ↳ rafecameron Awe man :( but it's way more fun in public ↳ yourusername pardon me! there's children in my comments, please refrain from having sex here ↳ rafecameron You're the one talking about sexting, not me...

Involving yourself with Rafe Cameron, whom you later found out was good friends with your brother, was definitely not a part of your plan. 

Spending the next two months with him meant coming to terms with your actions, perhaps take responsibility for the mess you created out of this situation. Had you further dug into his information, paid attention to the last name splattered across your screen, you would not have ended up in the bathroom, contemplating whether going downstairs was a good idea. 

Avoiding him could be an option right now, but you knew you'd have to face him one day, whether it was today, or another. And while he stayed oblivious to the incident, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flushed your face everytime his eyes would lock with yours.

You somehow spent the afternoon together, his lingering gazes leaving you a nervous mess every time his eyes fell on you. He’d stare at you for a few seconds, letting tension heave through the air, almost as if it was the most casual thing ever, as if he’s not your brother’s best friend, someone so off limits, forbidden to the touch. 

Besides that, it was nice, you got to spend more time with Sarah, catch up with the girl and everything you missed out on in the past few hours she was gone. It distracted you from your embarrassment, eternally grateful, because you don’t think you’ll be capable of spending another minute within Rafe’s presence without exploding. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up the courage to head downstairs, taking each step with haste. Sarah perked up when the hardwood creaked underneath you, causing you to come to a halt. Sarah called out your name, addressing you with the hand she waved in your direction, her excitement instantly replacing the frown spread across your face with a smile. 

“What took you so long?” Her lips jut into a pout, tucking her hair behind her ear. She welcomed you with open arms, chuckling when you accepted the embrace with a content hum “You know, I missed you.” 

“You were jus’ talking to me.” You muffled out, relaxing as the blonde rocked your bodies back and forth. 

“It’s not the same!” She exclaimed, pulling away for a moment. “It’s not everyday I get to see you in real life.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, in an attempt to earn yours and Sarah’s attention. To his satisfaction, he did, causing your gaze to shift back to the latter, instantly detecting the disgusted expression he had splattered across his face. 

“Can you save this for later, and please help me out?” Ryan questioned, making you roll your eyes. “You think I called you down so you could be all over each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sarah stuck out her tongue, teasing the latter from where she stood. 

You scrunched your nose, tensing when you sensed Rafe’s burning glare from the corner of your eyes. The boy’s glances were intense, almost as if he was staring at you for the purpose of undressing you with his gaze, and that, yeah, it never failed to knock a breath out of your chest, creating a flustered mess out of you. 

Sarah returned to her old position, standing behind the counter with you following in her steps, striving to see what they were up to. Your lips formed into an ‘o’ shape, peaking with interest when you noticed the deviled eggs Ryan was plating.

“That looks good,” you hummed, turning in Ryan’s direction, who conceitedly nodded, proud of the dish they had displayed on the counter. “Don’t people usually make these for thanksgiving, though?”

“That’s what I said!” Sarah agreed, giggling when Ryan grumbled, disapproving of your statement. 

“You’re acting like you’re not gonna eat them!” He elbowed your side, acknowledging you with his chin when you hissed, faking a pained expression. “Stop complaining and grab more plates, we need them for the mash potatoes.” 

“The only thing missing is the turkey, at this point.” You scoffed, mumbling to yourself, though Ryan could still hear you. “Where’s the plates?” 

“Uhh,” Sarah started, observing the cabinets behind you. She pointed to one of them with her finger, your eyes instantly following where her digit landed. “You can find some in there.”

With a nod, you shuffled to approach the stacked cabinets, aiming for the one Sarah was referring to. A groan instantly escaped your throat, gaze trailing up to the plates positioned on the top shelf. 

“Why on earth are these cabinets so high?” You whined, standing on your tippy toes to grab the dishes, merely to end up with nothing in your grasp. “And why are you putting plates on the top shelf?! None of you could reach them!” 

You extended your arm once again, stretching out your body in an attempt to seize the plates, losing your balance when you maintained the same position for a little too long, eventually failing to achieve what you were aiming for. 

Ryan mumbled a few words of complaints, rushing you to grab the plates faster, though he noticed that you were struggling, not offering to step in and help you. You paused for a second, calculating how you were going to capture the plates without asking for help, as that was a no in your watch. 

Right, you could use a chair, and although that was quite the embarrassment, it was the only option you had, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself. 

“Here, lemme try.” 

You tensed where you stood, breath hitching when Rafe shuffled behind you, his broad chest colliding against your back. Your vision blurred as you inhaled his scent, his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. 

Your gaze trailed up his arm, where it hovered over your shoulder, the brief contact sending goosebumps down your spine. And if you weren’t aware before, you definitely are now, enjoying the sight of him towering over you a little too much for your liking. 

The latter grunted as he reached for the plates, capturing them with a little difficulty. The sound instantly echoed through your ears, blinding you whole, that you had no right being this into it. Your mind wandered with thoughts you shouldn’t even ponder about, not as the boy was innocently stepping in to help, when your own brother couldn’t. 

“There you go.” Rafe muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He placed the plates on the counter in front of you, moving to catch sight of your reaction, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you were, mouth slightly parting with an exhale. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I was jus’ tryin’ to help.” 

“Right,” you said through a breath, blinking far too many times for your liking. “Thank you, I– that was really nice.” 

“Mhm.” He leaned his arm over the counter, admiring you with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He stood still for a moment, almost as if he was seeking something out of you, perchance a reply, if that was even appropriate in this situation.

“What?” You asked, cluelessly staring back at him, fingers clutching the plates you had in hand. 

“Could you hurry up!” Ryan interrupted, causing you to jolt from where you stood, leaving Rafe hanging as you headed in your brother’s direction. “The food’s about to run cold.”

“You could’ve helped me grab them, dickhead.” You scoffed, failing to keep your eyes to yourself as you stole a glance in Rafe’s direction, breath catching in your throat when you spotted him yet staring at you, with the same mischievous smile he had from earlier. 

He’s only helping, you’re acting like this because it caught you off guard, right? Fuck, you were totally screwed, how were you supposed to act normal when Rafe was behaving like a gentleman, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, whether it’s him helping you grab the plates, or him offering you a drink with the scorching hot sun. 

Either way, this was bad, for your mental being, and the boundaries you created for yourself. It’s only been a day, what will happen in the next few weeks you’re spending with him? You don’t know, but what you do know is that they’ll be hell, tortuous, even.

Sarah passed you the pot of mash, politely asking you to plate it, making it hard for you to refuse the request. You did as told, doing it as neatly as physically possible, with Ryan nagging over your head, telling you to be more cautious in the process. 

You managed to get what you were asked for done, with the boy pestering you nonstop throughout it, creating a frustrated mess out of you. Rafe offered a helping hand, arranging the plates on the table, for each person they were serving. 

The elders came through the front door, having been gone for most of the time they’ve been here, excusing themselves for what you assumed was a business meeting. You embraced your mom in a hug, presenting the food to her with your free arm, snickering when she squealed, taken aback by all the food displayed on the table. 

Dinner was chaotic, filled with chatter and giggles as everyone bonded over the food, getting to catch up with each other. Ward was quite the man, and while you did dislike him, witnessing all the times he was harsh to Sarah, you couldn’t dodge his curious questions, not when everyone surrounding you thought of you as angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You kept to yourself for most of the time, amused by Sarah and Ryan arguing over who cooked each dish, fighting to claim their credit. And as for Rafe, well, he was there, sitting besides Ryan, who was across from you.

“You’re oddly quiet, Bug.” Sarah suddenly started, talking over the elders, who were chatting about business. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh, yeah!” You nodded, flashing her an endearing smile, one Sarah contently returned. 

“It’s only ‘cause there’s people around,” Ryan clicked his teeth, having heard the conversation. “Trust, she’s such a brat, don’t encourage her to keep talking, otherwise, she’ll never shut up.” 

“Can you not?” You muffled through gritted teeth, kicking his foot from underneath the table. “Could you also move? You’re all up in my space.” 

“That’s uh,” Rafe choked out, taking a sip off of the glass of water splattered across his side of the table. “That’s my leg.” 

You froze your spot, eyes widening with shock when you peaked under the table, discerning that it was Rafe’s leg you were kicking, Ryan’s far back positioned inches away from his chair. Sarah mimicked your action, chuckling when she caught sight of the ridiculous sight, entertained by the situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I thought you were Ryan.”

“It’s okay.” He dismisses, flashing you a gentle smile. “Sorry for ruining your uh– plans.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan jutted his lips into a pout, turning to glimpse at Rafe, whose face filled with concern. “You’re supposed to defend me. Why are you taking her side?” 

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, going along with the bit. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, cupping his face in a teasing manner. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry, I’ll be more cautious next time. Do you want a kiss, sweetheart?” 

Ryan nodded, nuzzling into the latter’s hand, letting his eyes fall shut when Rafe leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. The mere sight made you sick to your stomach, with Sarah just as cringed out as you were, grumbling with detest.

Looks like you had some competition. 

“Can you not?” Sarah huffed, “We’re eating.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” Ryan shook his head with disappointment, withdrawing from the touch. Rafe agreed by nodding, patting Ryan’s shoulder before he got back to eating, acting as if that was the normalest thing they’ve done over dinner. 

Fancy plating was all fun and games until you had to do the dishes, and with the little work you did tonight, it did not look good on your watch. Ryan excused himself out of the list, with Sarah following behind, informing you that they made dinner, meaning it was your turn to do the dishes. 

Which, truth be told was fair, you totally understood where they were coming from, because if that was you, you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I’ll help out.” Rafe joined in, the suggestion creating a nervous mess out of you. 

That’s how you ended up in front of the sink, watching as plates piled up with every dish Rafe brought, instantly joining your side after he tidied up the table, wiping it clean to ensure a disinfected setting. 

Your contained giggles seeped through the silence, observing as Rafe clumsily scrubbed a plate, stumbling as it almost slipped from his hands. A sigh of relief escaped his parted lips, tightening his hold around it before it could further slither through his fingers. 

“You don’t need to do it.” You uttered, catching Rafe’s attention, who turned to face you with a smug grin spread across his lips, oblivious to the teasing smile you flashed him.

“Why?” He curled one of his eyebrows with confusion, scrubbing the plate with all his might, though it was past its limit. “Do you not want my help?”

“It’s not that,” you playfully rolled your eyes, rinsing off the excess soap. “It just looks like you’re struggling.” 

“‘That so?” He shot back, mimicking your action, copying your each move to make sure he’s doing it right. 

“Mhm.” You mused, letting silence linger through the air, atmosphere heaving with tension. 

“You know,” Rafe started, eyes glued to his gloved hands. “You’re different over text.” 

You almost drop the plate in your hand, caught off guard by the latter’s statement. Rafe maintained a blank expression, continuing what he was doing while you tensed in your spot, too dumbfounded to move, or respond. 

“I–” you stammered, abandoning the dishes piled in the sink, and focusing your whole attention on Rafe. “Why are you bringing that up?” 

“Should I not?” He questioned, stealing a swift glance in your direction as he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by how the conversation was flowing. “I mean, you did text me this morning, am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You said it yourself,” you started, suddenly feeling your throat go dry. “Ryan’s my brother, it would be best if we didn’t discuss this.” 

“Why not?” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’ weird, y’know? I mean, you did leave an impression on me.”

“impression?” You repeated, jeered by his words as your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Did you know we’d be meeting here?” 

“Well,” he replied, rinsing off the soapy dishes. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” You whispered, afraid others would overhear your conversation. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t have continued speaking to you. Do you know how awkward things are now that you’re here?” 

“Why?” Rafe hushed out, pausing for a second, before he turned to face you, now leveling his face with your own. “Am I making you nervous?” 

Your throat ran dry, taken aback by the question. Was he flirting with you? And if not, why did it have such a big effect on you? Tolling you with temptation in ways you knew were impossible, out of reach, even. 

“What?” You uttered through a breath, face flushing with heat. “No– no it’s just–”

“I’m just messing.” He snickered, amused by how flustered you grew, stuttering to mutter a coherent statement out. 

“That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled out, fluttering your eyes at the latter, visibly embarrassed by the reaction the boy received from you. 

“Right.” He chuckled, not sounding convinced at all. 

The next few minutes filled with tension, as you both fell quiet, letting silence heave the air. Rafe didn’t seem as affected as you were, maintaining a blank expression the whole time you were a mess, too embarrassed to be in the boy’s presence, who seemed oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere he had created. 

You instantly excused yourself to your room afterwards, telling the boy you were sleepy, though it was too early for bed. You needed a moment to yourself, even if it meant lying through your teeth.

Besides, you weren’t the only one who was gone, as Sarah was nowhere in sight, disappearing once you were done. She was probably talking to her boyfriend, hence you know how clingy they were with each other. 

You took a quick shower, freshening up before bed, immediately followed with your skin care routine, playing soft music in the background while you did so. You dressed yourself in comfortable pajamas, instantly slipping under your covers, letting the warmness engulf your body whole. 

Your eyes droswed with sleep, after a few hours of scrolling through your phone, not noticing the time, only acknowledging how late it was when you received a notification that earned your attention. Your breath almost hitched as you opened the DM, caught off guard by who it was from. 

It was Rafe.

a/n THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THIS WTH!! i wasnt expectingt it ily mwahh!! & just a little fyi this story will have more irl parts, it wont be solely sm based as i alr have stated in the beginning! it will definitely have social media, but im not abandoning the irl part of it yk 😣 that being said, feel free to lmk if you want to be removed/added to the taglist :) (in order to stay on it, you need to interact with the posts)

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[toxicanonymity]

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed dog's name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear. 

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts.  The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed. 

-

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black. 

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts. 

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him.  The look on his face makes your stomach turn. 

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.” 

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground.  His face becomes studious. 

“What,” you ask. 

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.  

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper.  Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you? 

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?” 

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly. 

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family. 

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name. 

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile. 

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle. 

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back. 

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself. 

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day. 

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going. 

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back. 

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl. 

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up. 

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks. 

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile.  “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.” 

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings. 

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder. 

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun. 

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.” 

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much. 

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel. 

-

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel. 

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods. 

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.” 

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?” 

“Not heavily,” Carter answers. 

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says. 

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day.  When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside. 

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .” 

“Jill,” she pipes in. 

“Ron,” the man nods at you. 

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious. 

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention. 

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.”  Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.” 

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused.  “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.  

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all. 

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily. 

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles. 

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs. 

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log. 

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left. 

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up.  He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.  

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses. 

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back. 

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”  

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.” 

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust. 

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap. 

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!” 

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–” 

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama. 

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants. 

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands.  He stands up and points his gun at Carter.  He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster. 

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground. 

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs. 

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.” 

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.  

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected.  Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind. 

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head.  Jill screams. 

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun.  You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat.  She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings.  You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits. 

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her.  Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle. 

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing.  “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it.  Then he turns his attention to Jill.  She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her.  “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.  

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow. 

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore. 

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping. 

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel. 

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside. 

-

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved. 

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears. 

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter. 

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.” 

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.” 

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears. 

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.” 

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest.  He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water.  “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you. 

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water. 

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty.  You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.  

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away.  How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name.  “You okay?” 

You sniffle.  He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink. 

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away. 

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters. 

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?” 

“Makin’ it. .  .” 

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other. 

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.” 

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?” 

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?” 

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks. 

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist. 

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil. 

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas.  Gonna be cold either way.”  

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings. 

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum. 

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand. 

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin. 

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back. 

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?” 

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her. 

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you. 

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching.  When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.”  This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel.  You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.  

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered.  You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?” 

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.” 

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs. 

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.” 

Your chest flutters with butterflies. 

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head.  He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.” 

The front door opens and shuts. 

“All good?” Joel yells. 

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn. 

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells. 

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed. 

-

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows.  He sits on the closed toilet seat again. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you. 

He looks at the object in his lap. 

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .” 

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?” 

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh. 

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.  

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.” 

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.” 

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker.  “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go. 

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart. 

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you.  He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it. 

-

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

That means you're doin’ it.  

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs.  You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?” 

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know.  But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely.  Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience. 

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.” 

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed. 

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly. 

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle.  “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause. 

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can. 

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t. 

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.  

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask. 

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him.  “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.  

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods. 

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him. 

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs.  Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open.  He growls, “God damn.”  You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already. 

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair.  You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him. 

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you. 

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock.  His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it.  So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest. 

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie.  He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely. 

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs. 

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head.  You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up. 

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.” 

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours. 

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.” 

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you.  Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs. 

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.” 

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours. 

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.  

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest.  You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back.  It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.  

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak. 

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock.  His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones. 

-

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.” 

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest.  He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.  

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring. 

----

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Raider POV: The Kiss

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So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

[childrenofcain-if]

D fighting that Cornell player for us 👁️🫦👁️ I need them to fight for us more, I need their knucles bloody and torn so I can kiss them better 💋

A scenario for this, dear Author?

you liked walking with D like this. their strides, usually slow and lazy, matched yours naturally, and their occasional teasing comments—softened by a warm laugh—made the cold bite of the evening feel less obvious. the faint scent of whiskey clung to them and they seemed to have a spring in their step.

“you good?” they asked, glancing at you.

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “that was pretty fun.”

they grinned, bumping their shoulder against yours. “see? i told you it’d be better than staying in.”

the black dog had been crowded, the drinks a little too watered down, but it didn’t matter. it wasn’t about the drinks. it was about the way D’s shoulder brushed against yours at the bar, how they’d leaned in close to hear you better over the music. it was the way their hand lingered either on your arms and back as you weaved through the throng of students.

the night was nearly perfect, which made what happened next feel like the universe had overcorrected.

it was a group of students—four of them, maybe a little older than you, their laughter laced with too much liquor and too little sense. they were from yale, too. you recognized a couple of faces in the dim light but didn’t know their names.

D ignored them, at least at first.

“aw, look at them,” one of them jeered, his voice dripping with something sour. “did someone finally put a leash on you, diaconu?”

you felt the tension coil in D immediately. their shoulders tightened, their hands clenched into fists. you grabbed their arm instinctively, trying to keep them moving.

“just ignore them,” you hissed warningly. “they’re drunk idiots.”

D didn’t respond, but they kept walking. for a moment, you thought that was the end of it.

but the next comment shattered that fragile hope.

“what’s the deal with you two, anyway?” another one of them slurred. “you screwing, or are they just too much of a loser to get anyone else?”

D stopped so abruptly you almost collided with them.

“D,” you said sharply, your voice low and urgent, “don’t. they’re not worth it.”

but they weren’t listening.

D spun on their heel, their eyes blazing as they closed the distance between them and the group. “what the fuck did you just say, shithead?”

the guy laughed, hiccupping a little as his friends egged him on. “i said—”

the punch landed squarely on his jaw before he could finish, the sickening crack reverberating in the stillness of the evening air like a goddamn firework.

the guy staggered back, clutching his jaw, his eyes wide with the slow shock of pain. it might’ve ended there, but his friends surged forward like a wave, all elbows and fury, and suddenly it wasn’t a single punch—it was a maelstrom of fists.

D didn’t hesitate. their movements were quick, precise, as if some dormant, feral instinct had taken over. they ducked a wild swing from the second guy, pivoting with a speed that left the drunk assailant off-balance. D’s fist collided with his ribs, and you could almost hear the breath being forced out of his lungs, a guttural wheeze that cut through the din.

but there were too many of them. four was too many, even for D, and you could see the tide turning. the third guy lunged, his arm catching D around the middle, dragging them lopsidedly. for a moment, D faltered, their body twisting under the weight of the sudden tackle, and then another pair of fists swung toward their face.

“no!” you shouted, the word ripped from your throat, but it didn’t do anything. it was swallowed by the scuffle, lost in the heavy breaths and the dull thud of fists meeting flesh.

you ran forward, panic hammering in your chest, and grabbed at the closest arm you could reach, desperate to pull them off D. but the guy was drunker than you, angrier than you, and he twisted with a surprising speed. his elbow shot out, and you barely registered the movement before it connected with your cheek.

pain exploded across your face—a sharp, electric jolt that made you fall back, clutching your cheek as the world tilted. you felt your eyes water while your vision started to swim, not so much from crying as it was from the sheer force of the blow.

something seemed to completely snap inside D when they saw you fall.

their face, already bruised and bloodied, twisted into something unrecognizable—pure, incandescent rage. it wasn’t the playful, teasing D you knew; it was something vengeful, a darker version of them you’d never seen before.

“i’ll fucking kill you all!” they roared, their voice a guttural snarl that echoed off the buildings.

they threw themself at the guy who’d hit you, their fists flying in a blur of movement. one punch landed squarely on his nose, and you saw blood spray, staining his white t-shirt red. the guy staggered, his hands flying to his face, but D didn’t stop.

the others tried to intervene, but D moved like a storm, wild and relentless. they ducked under a clumsy swing, landing a blow to the side of one guy’s head that sent him reeling. another lunged at them from behind, but D twisted sharply, their elbow connecting with their collarbone with enough force to make it crack.

blood and spit flew, the wet sounds of impact making you wince. one of the guys screamed, but it was cut short as D’s fist connected with his throat, and another’s head snapped back as they landed a brutal uppercut. a few teeth now glinted on the pavement, stark and white against the dark.

it wasn’t clean or choreographed; it was a tangle of bodies and fists and snarled curses. blood splattered onto the pavement, dark and slick, and you weren’t sure how much of it was D’s.

their knuckles were raw and split, but they didn’t seem to notice. or maybe they didn’t care. every time one of the guys landed a blow—a glancing punch to D’s side, a scrape across their cheek—they retaliated tenfold. their movements were driven by emotions beyond anger now, primal protectiveness bleeding over.

the fight seemed to last forever and no time at all. the guys were stumbling now, their earlier bravado drained, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated. one of them was already retreating, limping down the street with a hand pressed to his side.

and then the others followed, their faces pale and bruised, casting nervous glances over their shoulders as they fled. the last one hesitated, his face twisted in defiance, but a single step forward from D sent him scrambling after his friends.

silence fell, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the sound of D’s labored breathing. they were standing in the middle of the street, their chest heaving, blood dripping from their split lip onto the pavement.

you couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. all you could do was stare at them, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack your ribs.

they turned to you then, and the fury in their eyes softened, replaced by something you couldn’t quite name. concern. fear. relief.

“are you okay?” they asked, their voice rough and trembling.

you nodded, though your cheek throbbed and your heart was still racing. “i’m fine. but you—”

and all you could think, absurdly, was that they looked way worse than you.

“god, D,” you muttered, grabbing their arm. “we need to get you cleaned up.”

they tried to wave you off with a lopsided grin. “i’ll be alright, they’ll heal.”

“yeah no, you’re not letting the wounds stay like that on my watch,” you snapped, dragging them toward the nearest pharmacy.

***

D’s POV

D’s knuckles burned like hellfire, every movement of their fingers sending sharp needles of pain up their arm, but they didn’t care. it was all worth it.

they memory of that guy’s elbow slamming into your cheek replayed in their head like a film reel, grainy and ugly, until the anger swelled up again, hot and alive under their skin. they had never been the type to hold back—not when it came to you, and not when it came to anyone stupid enough to think they could hurt you.

but now, sitting on this damn bench outside a pharmacy, D was starting to regret not dodging more. their entire face felt like it had been dragged through gravel, and their lip was cracked so badly that blood kept pooling in the corner of their mouth no matter how many times they wiped it away.

you were fussing over them like a mother hen with an edge of impatience, snapping at them when they flinched or tried to shrug you off. it should have annoyed them—normally it would have—but it didn’t. it didn’t because it was you.

“stop squirming,” you said sharply, pressing a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol against the raw mess of their knuckles. the sting was immediate, searing, and D hissed through their teeth.

“jesus, you trying to finish me off?” they muttered, leaning back against the bench.

“stop being such a baby,” you shot back, not even looking up. “you can take a hundred punches, but alcohol’s too much for you?”

D pouted. “i told you it’ll heal fine on its own.”

that earned them a glare, one that should have been threatening but was softened by the way your brow furrowed in concentration. D didn’t say anything else, just watched you as you worked—watched the way your hands moved with gentleness, as well as a slight tremble of worry for them.

they liked your hands very much, they’d decided. fine-boned and nimble, like a pianist of some sort. they belonged upon ivory keys, not atop their calloused hands and knuckles.

“stay still,” you muttered, and D obeyed, for once. it wasn’t the alcohol or the bruises that had them quiet, though. it was you. it was the way you leaned in, so close that they could see the faintest flicker of concern in your eyes, even as you grumbled about scars and consequences.

“this’ll definitely leave a mark,” you said, mostly to yourself, as you began wrapping their knuckles in bandages.

“good,” D said, the word slipping out before they could think about it. you looked up, startled, and they added, “makes me look tougher, y’know?”

you rolled your eyes so hard they thought they might get stuck like that in the back of your head. “or stupider.”

“i’ll call them my battle scars,” they said smugly, even as you tugged the bandage tighter than necessary.

you huffed but didn’t reply, just kept working, your movements brisk but careful. and then you did something that completely shattered D’s composure: you kissed their knuckles.

it was barely a touch, just the softest brush of your lips against the bandages, but it felt like a seismic event. D froze, their entire body going still as their brain scrambled to make sense of what had just happened.

“what the hell was that for?” they asked, their voice quieter than they meant it to be.

you didn’t look at them. your cheeks felt hot, and you mumbled something about “speedy recovery” before returning to their other hand. D just stared at you, their heart doing something inconvenient and unexplainable in their chest.

the world felt small suddenly. just the two of you on this bench, the distant hum of cars, the faint glow of the pharmacy sign overhead. it was stupid. it was nothing.

no, it was everything.

when you finished wrapping their hands, you moved on to their face, dabbing at the split in their lip with a tenderness that made D feel like they might unravel. you didn’t say anything, and neither did they, but the silence between you wasn’t empty.

it was full of everything they couldn’t bring themself to say.

you frowned as you inspected the bruise forming on their cheek, your fingers hovering for a moment before pulling back. D watched you, their gaze tracing the lines of your face, the pair of your full lips, the starry depth of your eyes, the slight furrow in your brow.

“you’re quiet,” you said finally, breaking the spell.

D shrugged, and then winced because that hurt too. “thinking.”

“about what?”

“you.”

the word hung in the air, heavier than it had any right to be. you looked up, surprised, and D felt like they were standing on the edge of something, toes hanging over the precipice.

you opened your mouth to say something, but D beat you to it. they reached out, their hand brushing against the small bruise on your cheek. their fingers were clumsy and bandaged, but the touch was featherlight, barely there.

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to pull away, but D didn’t let you.

“it’s not nothing,” they said, their voice low and steady.

they grabbed a bandaid from the kit you’d brought, peeling it open with their teeth before gently pressing it against your cheek. you gave them a look that was half amusement, half exasperation, but you didn’t argue.

“that was unnecessary,” you mumbled.

D leaned in, their lips brushing against the bandaid. it was soft and quick, but enough to stop you mid-sentence.

when they pulled away, they had a small smile playing on their lips as they echoed your previous words. “for your speedy recovery, dragă.”

[daddydixonscrossbow]

My own little blurb about writing reader into Season 2 Episode 4 | The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon, The Book Of Carol.

Gif from: theewalkindead on tumblr

!!! POTENTIAL SPOILERS BELOW !!!

“Go! Go!” You yell to Carol, waving her off, “I got these three!”

She nods, running off into the building. You let out a grunt as you kick the one walker back, stabbing the other with your knife.

The third comes up and you duck, spinning around to knock its leg out from under it, finish it off with your knife to its skull.

The third one falls to the ground, dead, and you take off running in the direction Carol ran.

“Hey, hey we gotta-“ you freeze in your tracks, seeing Daryl standing there was a shock. You almost felt like you were hallucinating, “W-wha-“

Daryl steps away from Carol and meets you halfway.

You fall into the embrace you never thought you’d feel again, but this moment right here, right now, is what made you happy as hell that you held onto that little sliver of hope.

“What are ya’doin’ here?” Daryl leans back, cupping your face with his hands as he sniffles, “Oh my god.” He pulls you back in, “Are y’good?”

He leans back out to examine the gash on your cheek but you swat his hands away, “I should be askin’ you that.” You reach up, running your thumb gently over his beat up face, “I knew you were still alive.”

“Yeah, yeah, m’still kickin’.” He shakes his head, quickly turning his attention to the gunshots growing closer, “C’mon.”

He looks back at Carol while giving your hand a squeeze, “We gotta move. Now.”

——

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’💋

[whiskeyskin]

Just One More

Premise: After their passionate affair before the mission, now it's a success, sparks really begin to fly 😏✨

Part Three to "A Practised Tongue" and "Lavender Haze"👅💋

• Gale x afab!reader • Mature rating • Act 3

Reader POV, desire, need, lil' angst, interrupted but need satisfaction, I'm deep-throating and loving it!, beg, admission of feelings, pinv, Gale "erupting".

4.3k words

Much obliged once again to @foxtatodreams for this scandalocious pic of our dear Wizard 😏💜

_____________________________

•°•°•

Your hand grips Gale's wrist tightly, dragging him behind you, to disappear into the crowd.

You'd been given the code word through the Tadpole that the operation had been a success; that Shadowheart, Wyll, and Astarion had accomplished their side of the mission.

Karlach, Minsc, Halsin and Lae'zel were already back at the Elfsong after a victory their end quite quickly.

You, Gale, Jaheria and Minthara were the last team to leave. However, if they left too conspicuously quickly, there would undoubtedly be questions. Jaheria and Minthara were making way to the food in an attempt to remain in plain sight before returning to camp.

You, however have other plans.

"Where are we going?" Gale asks, sauced intrigue lacing in his voice.

You don't answer. You just keep walking.

A door stands a-jar four feet ahead of you down the quiet corridor and you dash for it, dragging Gale with you. Finding it to be an empty study of some sort and finding this acceptable, you duck in.

Moonlight cascades through the glass doors at the centre of the room; the sconces remaining decidedly unlit.

Gale takes in the room, glancing around the shelves in the dim silver light. You take the moment to hike your dress and glide your peace fingers against the sopping wetness of your folds, before walking confidently towards him.

"Care to tell me what we're doing here? We shouldn't-" He turns and you silence his mouth by placing your fingers barely an inch from his face. Gale freezes, not expecting you to be so close.

"Open." You instruct.

He tilts his head, then realises. His arcane bubble pops around him and a wicked smile curves his lips. He immediately obeys, welcoming the taste of your warm juices.

His eyes roll back into his head slightly, as he suckles, moaning against your digits. You feel his tongue swirling, flicking between the slit of your fingers.

"I've been so disgustingly wet all evening, I hope you know that. As you've been chatting and mingling, I've been driving myself to distraction, fantasizing about what I want to do to you next."

You withdraw your fingers and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in. He instantly meets your fire, seizing your waist tightly and folding you against him.

The frantic pitched moans eliciting from both of you, demonstrating your feverish need for each other.

Pushing him backwards, his thighs hit the desk and he sits atop it, pulling you between his legs and firmly grasping an ample cheek.

You both smirk into the kiss, devious chuckles melding between you.

"What have you been planning to get yourself to riled up? Do share with the class." He parts the kiss to tease, before diving back in.

You wordlessly cup him through his fancy suit trousers, the delectable length hard as granite. Gale gasps against your lips.

"I'm going to devour you, Dekarios." You purr, slightly mad with lust, "I'm going to take the entirety of you down my throat and gag on you till you cum, hard and needy."

You already have the belt undone. His chest is glowing with the familiar purple hue.

"I don't want to hurt you." He protests, licking the sweat forming on his upper lip.

"I want you to," you keen against his mouth, "Gods, I want you to."

"And just what precisely do you think you are doing?" Comes a dry, disgusted voice from behind you.

You both jump and turn to see Minthara's strong stature in the doorway.

"When I saw you drag the Wizard away, this is not what I anticipated was to take place."

"We can explain, Minthara." Gale begins, slightly breathless.

"Do not bother. It clearly speaks volumes to the lack of focus on our mission together and your distinct shortage of respect for your companions. You repulse me." She spits, her chin turned upwards.

"Whoa, what are you talking about?" You shake your head in disbelief, "It's just a little fun."

"Fun?" Minthara's tone dark, foreboding tone freezes your heart, "You focus on fun at this most important juncture? You forsake the fate of all through this world and beyond to Illithid slavery, all because you wish for fun ?" Her gaze withers you to the spot.

Neither of you have anything to say. It wasn't like that, but you could see her point.

"Your distraction in each other this evening could have put this entire operation in jeopardy. I suggest you seriously evaluate your dedication to this group. They have sworn their lives to you. Will you disregard that so easily?" She sneers down her nose, eyes flitting between you.

"Of course not." You answer, ashamed.

"Never. You're right, Minthara. This will only distract us from what is truly important. Defeating the Netherbrain." He releases you and steps away. Your heart drops uncomfortably in your chest and your expression with it.

"Then I suggest quelling this ridiculous romance, and focusing on our task. Follow me." She barks, walking away militantly.

•°•

Two days pass.

You and Gale wordlessly decide to stay in opposite splits of the party; it was for the best.

Minthara's words had cut deep, as they often tended to do. The Drow certainly had a brutal honesty about her.

Sitting in the middle of the room, when everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, you stare blankly at the flames to your left. You sigh.

"Gods, it's not that bad, is it?" Shadowheart's joking lilt comes from your right.

Jerking to look, you paste a smile, "No, just sighing is all."

Shadowheart tilts her head, a sleepy expression on her face, "You've been downright miserable since the Ball the other day. What's happened?" She asks, with a new sense of softness since her journey with Shar's torment had ended.

"Nothing's happened." You answer, trying sound casual.

"That was almost convincing," she jokes, then places a hand on yours, "Look, my friend. Whatever it is that's making you miserable, I suggest you face it. Trust me, there's no forgetting about it. No matter how hard you try. And come tell me about it when you're ready." She smiles warmly, pats your hand and leaves with a swish of her braid.

You purse your lips, and sigh again through your nose, deciding to take some air.

You silently leave the room and make your way to the roof of the Elfsong, the cool night air welcome on your skin. It was decidedly empty at this time of night, the patron's long gone from their night of revelry.

You step out past the floral covered trestles, to find that your silent haven in the city's still night, wasn't just yours alone.

Gale stands with his back to you, leaning against his forarms over the side. He sighs deeply and glances up to the moon, and mutters something you can't quite hear.

You consider walking away, but something traitorous inside calls out, "Can't sleep either?"

His gaze swivels to look at you, his handsome features wide, "Oh, you startled me." He huffs a short laugh and covers his heart with his hand. His robe is wide and loose around his chest, the moonlight glinting off his warm skin.

"Sorry, I'll leave." You mutter, retreating backwards.

"No!" He calls out, hand outstretching, "Stay."

You pause, the shadow of the wooden pergola streaking your face. You swallow and step back out, crossing your arms over your own robes, a tight smile on your face. Stepping towards him, you jut your hip against the low wall.

"What brings you up here in the wee hours then?" You ask, attempting polite conversation.

"Ah, well. There's a question." He replies, gently pulsing his fist on the stone top, "The big question." He mutters to himself.

Gods, he's beautiful.

The way the silver light shines across him; his grey streaked hair, his warm brown eyes, the musculature of his chest. It painfully panged through your sternum and made you wince, sucking you lips between your teeth.

"Why are you seeking reprieve up here?" He ventures, smiling falsely.

You can't bare it. The charade of it all.

"Oh, let's cut the crap, Gale. We both know why we're up here. We're miserable." You profess, gesturing out your arms, "What Minthara said when she caught us sneaking off.. it was harsh but true. We let our feelings get in the way of the goal - me especially - and now it's like we can't be in the same vicinity as each other without feeling shitty about it." You walk back under the flower adorned pergola, to perch on the arm of a chair.

Gale nods, following you in and leaning against the wood, "And now containing our feelings for one another.. is making life unbearable." He looks crestfallen, thumbing a flower bud that hadn't bloomed.

You scrunch your eyes closed, and sigh out again, "Absolutely miserable." You agree, dejectedly.

"Positively intolerable." He agrees, morosely.

You look out over the gabled roofs and houses stretching out into the distance, all but a few dim in the night.

"So, it stands to reason," Gale begins, "that in our current state of malcontent, we're actually endangering the group far worse.."

You blink twice, letting his words pierce your foggy misery, "Pardon?"

"It could be argued that our dower moods are actively destroying morale amongst our companions.." He persists, inching closer.

Your posture straightens, intrigued, "We could be causing more harm by denying ourselves, than if we just allowed it?" You offer in questioning agreement.

"Quite so," he nods, "From personal experience, I know with certainty that Minsc has been taking our sour moods to heart, as has Wyll, as matter of fact." He punctuates his statement with a pointed finger pacing aside a soft, red blanket abandoned on the floor.

"You know, now you mention it," you start, sliding to stand, "Shadowheart just said that I shouldn't hide from whatever is making me unhappy. She noticed too."

Gale gestures his palms at you, "You see! We're destroying our peers with our despondency."

"Clearly we are." You nod several times, grapsing your chin in faux thoughtfulness, "You know, I think Minthara interrupting us like that caused a sort of 'unfinished business' between us, if you will."

Gale's arcane bubble flickers around him, a familiar glow threatening under the cover of his robe, "Mhm, mhm. I see what you mean. You mean to say that as we didn't get to resolve our burgeoning attraction, there's an almost irreverent longing to conclude that lingering undiscoveredness." His breathing is shallow and his eyes are searching, "And that if we removed the distraction of the unknown, we could move passed our.." There was barely six inches between the heat of your bodies, "need." He finishes, eyes boring down on yours.

"Fuck it." You moan, rushing to meet him.

He expects you, and wraps his arms around your waist, as you swoop your arms high to engulf him in a passionate kiss. Tongues encircle and mate with each other, as hands explore and delve.

Parting his robe, you reveal his chest proper, tearing your lips away from his and suckering onto the bright, burning orb in his chest. His hands instinctively wind into your hair, as you trace your tongue along the illuminated shape of Karsus' mark on his perfect body.

"Oh, Gods. I've missed your touch. How could I miss something I barely got to experience?" He questions to no one.

"Because we were denied, sweetheart. But we need this. We need to finish it. Finish it and we'll be fine." You rant, dropping to your knees.

Gale's breath hitches and he braces against the table; a poetic symmetry in the switching of your positions.

Untying the loose knot hanging low on his hips, you open the robe to unveil his navy, loose sleeping bottoms; the telltale tenting of the soft material obvious.

Wasting no time, you yank down his trousers and underwear, till they pool at his feet. His cock stands to attention, rigid and proud. He kicks out of his clothes hurriedly, moaning through clenched teeth.

You look up at him through lidded gaze, as he returns it with purple fire blazing through him.

Gods, he looks like perfection. Wisdom, and courage, and beauty. He deserves to be adored. To be worshipped.

You place your hands on his muscular thighs, gliding your touch around and back. You press hot, suckling kisses to the inner meat, trailing your tongue behind.

His legs twitch and he groans out, "Oh, oh."

Sitting up a little on your toes, your lips trail to the tight lines of his obliques.

"I love these," you whisper, ghosting your fingertips over the dents, "the first time I saw you bathing in the river, I wanted to fall to my knees and lick them till you begged me to stop." You admit, hoarse with lust.

"I'd much rather beg you to start."

A playful giggle rumbles in your chest, "Go on then."

"Please. Please. I have no will to refuse you here. Please." He immediately pleads, eyebrow creasing upward.

"Please, what?" You ask, mouth against his skin, hands squeezing his taut buttocks.

Gale gestures his hand and an image of you with a ravenous look in your eye appears in his palm.

"I'm going to devour you, Dekarios." Your image moans, "I'm going to take the entirety of you down my throat and gag on you till you cum, hard and needy. I'm going to devour you, Dekarios. I'm going to take-"

He closes his hand with a flourish and the magic snuffs out, he maintains eye contact with you, "That, please."

You smirk, slightly embarrassed but more than a little flattered, "How many times have you played that?"

"Hundreds." He answers flatly, "A man hears that and can't easily forget it." He irks a brow to you.

"It would be the greatest of pleasures to gag on your perfect cock, Mr. Dekarios." You tip your head to the side in a bow.

"I meant what I said, I don't want to hurt you." He insisted, thumbing your cheek.

"You won't, trust me; I enjoy it. The desperation you feel from the bliss I'm giving you, is a big arousal point for me."

Gale swallows and his breath quickens, "That will not be a problem."

"I have one condition though; if I tap on your leg twice," you demonstrate, "I need to stop. Understand? There's a fine balancing act between breathing and blowing." You titter at your own small joke, which he graciously replies with his own, "Unless I specifically do that; please, don't stop. You're not hurting me."

"I promise." Gale nods with a fierce assurance, blue and lavender cutting aross his features.

With the conversation, his thick cock wilts slightly but you soon have his full attention once more. Laving your tongue across his skin, while your fingers graze his testicles.

Gale's hips twitch as you gentle squeeze his sac within your grasp, he airs out a long moan at the contact. The flushed tip of his cockhead swollen and leaking, you brush your tongue over the slit, tasting the salty mix.

"Gods." He chokes out, his eyes streaking to the skies.

You wish you could temper your desires, to drag this out torturously until he's practically ready to cum from teasing but Gods if you hadn't waited long enough already.

You wrap your lips and tongue around his engorged tip, your hand around the length, the other still massaging his balls.

A tense, shuddering sigh flows from Gale, as you try to start slowly.

Your hand and mouth work in tandem, drawing him deeper into your mouth. The velvet feel of his cock against your tongue, as Gale's breathing tenses above you.

Settling onto your legs proper, looking up at the gorgeous Wizard above you, you angle your throat to prepare. Your pussy already wet from anticipation, slightly cool from the night air under your nightgown.

Gale reaches a hand towards your face, and brushes back the hair in your face. He smiles at you; a sweet, simple smile, that has you weak and willing to do anything for this incredible man.

Still working his cock with your mouth, you take your hand from his length and reposition his to the back of your head. A gentle, "oh" noise leaves the back of his throat, as you do. The mark pulses and his eyes darken like coals in the shadow and moonlight. He firms his grip with a hungry flick of his tongue over his lip.

Maintaining eye contact, you attempt to dive for the kill. Relaxing your throat, breathing out and calming your reflex, you begin to gulp down the length of him.

Gale gasps, as the vision that was you consuming the entirety of his dick, stares back at him with an intentional glint of devious mischief.

Your hands switch to forcefully grab his hips, and start to pump them forwards. Your throat tries to resist as you swallow around his girth, pricking tears in your eyes. The sensation twitches your pussy, the wetness between your legs growing.

Gale understands quickly and takes the initiative to mimic the movement. The feeling of his plump head hitting the back of your throat, ripples gooseflesh across your skin. It puckers your nipples, your eyes rolling and jaw slack as he takes over.

Gods, you love this part.

He sees the reaction wave over you and clearly grows in confidence, his grip on you head more firm and controlled.

You roll your head to bob with the rhythm of his thrusts, a high, garbled moan sounding from your stuffed throat.

As you breathe on a long out-stroke, you bare down, as he continues to pound into your mouth. Sloppy, debauched noises, snapping hips, grunts and hedonistic moans echo into the night air.

Gale picks up speed, and you meet his stroke. He whines in desperation, sucking in breath and cursing.

You're determined to take all of him, and summon the strength to do precisely as he requests. Gagging and jerking, you dig your fingertips into the curve of his ass and attempt the last inch. His other hand now fisted into your hair, he helps by pushing you deeper.

Your nose brushes the curls at the base, his cock fully seated in your throat. Tears stream down your face, as he fucks himself inside your mouth. Saliva drips down his sac and onto your chest and legs.

You begin to moan, vibrating the back of your throat, tongue flat and strong. You encourage him, gently patting his ass to bolster the effect.

Desperate moans tremble from Gale as he looks upward, straining his neck. The delicious curve of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple while he moans. You can see from his body language, he was tettering on the very edge.

He shoots his gaze down to you, "I'm going to-" is all he managed before his face contorts with sheer ecstacy, his thighs tense and his hips splutter.

A soundless boom of bright violet and cerulean light erupts from his chest, as he calls out your name and censored expletives, as he raggedly pumps his load down your throat.

You feel the pulsing against your tongue and the warmth hitting the back. He twitches and pulls his teeth tight against the stimulation he feels at you skillfully milking every last drop of his cum.

Relinquishing his cock from your throat, you suckle on his tip, and release it with a soft pop. It bobs in front of you, spent.

Thank the gods he was seated against the table, or there was a high chance he would probably collapse.

"Oh, dear and cursed gods above and below. That was indescribable." He babbles, his hand his woven in your hair.

You gently ease off your calves, leaning up to press soft kisses against his lower belly. Gale sighs and blinks hard against the night sky.

Dabbing your eyes and cheeks with your sleeve, you quickly reorient yourself, pushing off the floor to stand.

There is a brief moment between you, before Gale sweeps his head underneath to capture you in a passionate, all-consuming kiss. His hands grasp your sides and wrap you in closely, as yours snake around his neck. Your tired tongue playfully meets and bonds with his, as he kisses you long and slow.

You part with a gasp, a smile on both your faces, "That is definitely better than moping around for days." You quip, barely above a whisper.

Gale hums in agreement, "Indubitably." His hand glides down your thigh and hooks underneath your robe, "Now you."

He pauses at the apex of your mound, and raises his brows expectantly, "Beg." He instructs.

You irk a brow and purse your lips in a sideways smirk. Remembering the discarded blanket on the floor, you push off him and begin to untie your robe.

His eyes hungrily follow you back, watching intently as you drop it to the floor, revealing your thin strapped nightie. You cross your hand across your chest, making a point to glide your fingers over the arch of your breasts and push the straps down your arms. The thin material falls away, revealing your nipples, peaked against the cool Baldurian night.

"Please, Gale. Lay your hands on me, show me how much you missed me."

You gently shuck off the nightie, and stand before him completely exposed.

Your heart was racing.

Stupid though it was, this was a truly vulnerable moment for you.

Of course, you'd had his mouth, fingers and cock inside you. You'd already had sex. But there had been a clothing barrier between you. Now there was nothing. Now there was just you.

You took a steadying breath, and wait in anticipation as he still perches on the small table, watching you.

"Lie down, please. Legs spread." He instructs, pushing off the surface and standing tall.

You do as he askes and lay on the red blanket, parting your legs with bent knees.

He wordlessly kneels down before you, grabbing an orange pillow as he descends. He covers your body with his and gestures the pillow at you. Obliging, he places it beneath your head for you with a smile that crinkles his eyes.

Your heart swells and aches to look at him. Could you have fallen in love with him so quickly? Or has it been slowly since the moment you pulled him from that rock?

Has it been in the moments between moments? The unseen parts for no one else's eyes.

In conversation, in banter, in laughter? In the big things like protecting you in battle, or the small things like a pillow for your comfort?

"I love you." You admit, unable and unwanting to keep it in.

For what feels like an age, an agonising age; the world is silent.

Tears form silently in his eyes, as his smile turns wistful and joyful.

"I love you." He responds, tearfully.

He kisses you, quite unlike the others. There is truth and heart and unhidden love contained within it. Breath and heat, lips and hunger.

His fingers trace down the rises and falls of your body before two fingers crest over your curls and glide down the swollen lips of your soaking pussy.

Without any resistance, his digits are welcome in the warmth of your walls. The kiss deepens as his fingers tease your soft spot, and his thumb draws circles on your clit. You moan against his mouth, as pleasure radiates outward from your core.

He strokes your walls, gently pumping his hand and flexing his thumb in perfect rhythm. You were already so aroused from deep throating his delicious cock, it wouldn't take you long to finish.

Your breathing becomes erratic as pleasure pushes in on you, the chill of the air no longer affecting your body.

Suddenly, there was an absence within you as Gale removes his fingers. You whine in disappointment, only to feel the pressure of his cockhead seconds later.

His thickness fills you in no time from how wet and ready you were, both of you moan in wanton bliss as your bodies truly reconnect.

"Oh Gods, Gale. I've missed you. I want you. I want you. I love you." You ramble, his hips forcefully rolling against yours.

"Oh, I've missed you too. I love you, I love you. I've always loved you." He replies, wrapping his arms your back to pull you closer to him.

Filled with his perfect length, you match his speed and force, euphoria building together.

Chorusing your love and adoration for each other, electricity pulsing between you, the precipice of orgasm rapidly hurtling towards you both.

Sweat glistening in his periwinkle blaze, breath choppy; your body and souls connect in an inconceivable torrent of devotion, friendship and passion. Your orgasm hits a split second after his, as you both cum hard and ragged, calling to each other in a blissful cacophony of joy and elation.

Gale barely holds himself above you, as the purple haze of magic from his orgasm hangs around you both. Your muscles tremble, recovering from the devastating peak you shared.

Your face buries in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his damp hair. Gale bumps his head against yours, kissing your jaw to you mouth. Sloppy lips press open-mouthed kisses, barely able to function.

He rearranges himself slightly, leaning on his forearm but remaining pressed deep inside. You reach your hand to softly fist his hair long hair in your grasp, the other tracing the light ember lines of Karsus' mark on his eye and cheek.

A wave of profound sadness washes over you and unable to hold back, you choke out, "Don't leave me." Thinking of his intended task ahead.

"Unless you ask me otherwise, I shall not leave your side, my love." He takes your hand from tracing his face and presses a kiss to it.

"Never." You reply, barely above a whisper.

"Then never shall I leave you." He dips down to kiss you again, swallowing any more protests.

And for that night, the world was only made for them.

•°•°•

I'm a sucker for happy ending 😚 Speaking of sucking and happy endings.. want more?

[nymphomatique]

I NEED MORE OF LOSER NERD MIGUEL PLEASEEEEE YOU'VE AWAKENED SOMETHING IN ME

ask and you shall receive they say! here’s some more word vomit 2 hold u over while the full fic is loading 🤭

cw: mean reader LOL she calls miguel a bitch, foot humping, spit, shoe licking🫣, d/s play, miguel is down horrendous, hair pulling. might have missed smt but oh well. also this isn’t proofread oops lolz. but enjoy!! 💋

in #my opinion i think that loser boy miguel is into the degrading stuff. like the more embarrassing it is for him the more it turns him on.

setting the scene for you: miguel is over at your dorm doing you online lab work for you on your laptop while you’re getting ready to go out. naturally you have on the skimpiest number, tits out, ass out, the body is hypnotic, the whole nine.

miguel steals glances of you because while you may be a little bit of a bitch sometimes, god were you beautiful. you catch him staring and sneer at him and it makes him blush and duck his head down once more to do his- your homework.

the finisher? the heels you put on. they’re patent black pumps, red bottoms naturally. and miguel absolutely loses it. he feels his dick start to twitch in his sweats instantly and is already blushing a furious red.

“what’s got you excited, dweeb?” you tease, putting on your earrings. “bet your little nerd dick got hard looking at me, huh.”

he doesn’t say anything and just blushes even more and you laugh because he really is hard! nerd or not, one thing you can’t deny is the meat miguel is packing. you could fit some fun for the two of you before your uber came, if you were fast that is.

“promise it’s not cus i’m a perv.. i swear.. you look nice. s’all.” miguel sputters under your intense gaze.

“yeah? what part of me do you think looks the nicest, hmm?” you say while sauntering over him. he looks down at your shoes silently and you see the tent in his pants twitch. “you got a fucking shoe fetish, freak?” you giggle.

“n-no! it’s not-” he tries but you’re already thinking of how to embarrass him.

“don’t lie to me. you like the mommy dom shit, huh? well, come hump mommies foot.” you say standing only two feet away from where he’s sitting on the bed. he stares up at you with his glasses widening his already blown out eyes. “or don’t. i don’t have all day.”

with that he moves your laptop aside and strips down to his briefs. he makes his way to walk over to you but an idea strikes you. “crawl to me.”

and crawl he does, his tan skin and blooming back musculature making it’s way towards you on all fours.

“good boy. kiss my shoes and thank them before you start.” you say, your downcast gaze holding all the same authority and tension as your tone. he places both of his hands on the floor and begins to lower his lips to your shoe, his full lips making contact with your shoe.

“t-thank you, mistress, f- for letting me use your shoe to get off.” he says shakily, eyes averting your gaze. your mouth pulls into a small smile at his pathetic display. you almost laugh.

“i’m pleased. you may begin.” and miguel wastes no time, his swollen dick making itself seen in his boxer print. once again, you find yourself impressed at the heavy dick miguel packs. you figure it was probably given to him in place of a backbone. he scoots until his length is at the tip of your leather clad toes and he slowly begins to grind against your foot, letting out soft exhales of air.

“hurry up, i don’t have all day.” you spit, getting a little impatient at the time he’s taking. wordless, he speeds up his humping at your foot, his hand coming up to your leg, gripping your calf and the other hand placed palm down next to your foot to steady himself. as he speeds up, his moans come out louder and more frequently, his praises seeming to slip in with them.

you’re greatful for his height, because even on his knees, the top of his head reaches your lower stomach. you grab a fist full of his thick hair and jerk his head back so he can face you, and his expression sends a wave of heat through you. his face is flushed, eyes watering, mouth open spilling out moans of “thank you, mistress, so g-good.. i’m your good boy.. wanna be good..”

“wanna be good, huh? open your mouth for me then,” and without hesitation, he opens his mouth to you, and you spit into his mouth, some hitting the corner of his lip. “close your mouth and swallow it, bitch boy.” ever so eager to follow instructions, he does with a sated expression on his face. your spit seems to have excited him more, considering he’s fully thrusting against your foot now.

“c-can i cum please mistress? it hurts so bad. n-need it please, need you. f-fuuuck,” his pleading makes something in your chest tighten, seeing the power you have over this six foot two hunk of musculature beneath you, jumping at your foot like a depraved animal. he’s looking up at you, your hand still present in his messy hair, and with a cruel smile, you allow him to cum. “cum for your mistress.”

with a few more thrusts, he releases a heavy moan and cums into his briefs, occasionally twitching during his come down. before he gets a chance to speak, you push him off your leg and place a shoe to his balls, pressing ever so slightly, releasing a pert whimper out of miguel. “you made a mess of my louboutins.” you say flatly. “clean them.”

he takes no time to get on his knees and begin to lick your heel clean of his semen. you laugh at the sight, and even more when you see he’s sporting the beginning of another erection.

“fucking pathic,” you chortle. with your uber outside, you push your heel against his forehead and begin to walk away to get your purse as if nothing happened. “finish my homework and get the fuck out, if i see you’re still here when i get back, you’re cleaning the soles of my shoes next.” and with that, you leave your dorm with miguel in his soiled underwear on your floor, and your shoes sporting a new shine.

[monster-disaster]

[owlman] Mr. Harkins +1

🎃💋 Monster Fucktober Week on my Patreon 🔞🎃

owlman!Mr. Harkins x human!Reader Good to know: vibrator, public orgasm, dom/sub dynamic

Summary: Your boyfriend has an interesting idea for your anniversary.

The air catches in your throat as you stare at the figure sitting opposite you, separated by the grand desk cluttered with books and scattered papers. In the center of it all, the soft glow from his monitor casts a faint light over his face, illuminating his features. The bluish tint highlights the curve of his sharp beak and the golden spots in his wide, round eyes behind the lens of his glass.

"We agreed," he hums, extending a small paper bag in your direction. His voice is silky and teasing, and there is a sly, knowing curve at the corners of his beak.

"I thought you were joking," you blurt out louder than you originally intended. Your voice echoes off the tall walls, and you instinctively duck your head, casting a nervous glance over your shoulder. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, afraid someone may know what you are talking about.

"Then you thought wrong," Mr. Harkins replies, his voice calm yet teasing. With one raised feathery eyebrow that only adds to his smug expression, he nudges the bag toward you again, urging you to take it. Once you do, he lowers his winged arm, letting it fall gracefully onto the table. "You know where the restrooms are."

"Fine," you mutter under your breath, gripping the bag tightly. "But I still think this is unfair."

Enos chuckles softly but says nothing more, his amusement evident as he watches you retreat toward the narrow corridor that leads you to the toilets.

_

The library is quiet as usual. The stillness is disturbed only by the occasional soft rustle of pages and the faint footsteps of a few lingering visitors among the tall shelves. Books line every inch of space, their spines worn and well-loved.

Through the large windows, rays of the autumn sun filter in, casting a golden glow over the old, threadbare furniture and the chandelier that hangs heavily above. Its crystal arms catch the light in a restless shimmer.

With a tight knot in your stomach, you begin to wander aimlessly among the towering shelves. Your fingers brush lightly over the worn spines of the books as you pass by. Their rough texture grounds you momentarily. Each title blurs into the next. Their meanings are lost as your thoughts race. You desperately try to focus on anything but the tight coil of emotions swirling inside of you. Excitement and nervous anticipation simmer just beneath your skin, making it harder to concentrate with every passing second. The steady calm of the library contrasts sharply with the restless energy building within you. Your lower lip is already sensitive, swollen from where you've been nibbling on it restlessly.

The quiet hush of the library does little to calm your thoughts especially when your attention wanders from the long shelves to the desk near the entrance. Enos doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is more busy watching you than doing his job. Your eyes rake over his form and the dark green three-piece suit that highlights the brownish colors of his feathers. Something in you melts, just for a split second, as your gazes meet. The tension in your chest loosens, and warmth spreads through you before the moment passes.

The day of your first punishment for being late returning the books to the library happened exactly a year ago, and your boyfriend decided to celebrate it in a rather different way. While he made sure to secure a reservation at your favorite restaurant to mark your anniversary, he insisted on making you face the consequences of being late again first.

Turning your attention back to the shelves, you can’t help but let out a ragged, heavy sigh as you clench your thighs together. The sensation of the brand-new pink vibrator nestled inside you amplifies your nervous excitement. With every step and subtle movement, you feel it shifting and teasingly brushing against your clit. The owlman hasn’t even turned it on yet, but you can already feel the heat pooling within you. Your panties are damp and cling to your sensitive flesh.

The quiet library around you feels charged as you navigate through the rows of books, half-embarrassed and entirely thrilled by the situation.

You feel like a bundle of raw nerves as you wait, and wait.

Time seems to stretch endlessly. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears, drowning out the soft whispers of the few patrons scattered throughout the large space. The anticipation bubbling in your chest is almost unbearable. Each moment heightens your awareness of the vibrator inside you. You fidget slightly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, desperately trying to quell the restless, nervous energy buzzing inside you.

Just to make the time pass quicker, you grab a book, intending to read the back of the cover, but you barely reach the end of the first sentence when you finally feel it. A gentle buzz suddenly ignites within you, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your breath hitches, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs tighter. A rush of warmth floods your core as the vibrations start to build.

“Oh,” you gasp silently, the sound escaping your lips before you can catch it. Almost slamming the book back into its place between the others, you feel a rush of embarrassment and arousal wash over you. “Oh.”

Then, the vibration stops as suddenly as it started, leaving only a lingering pleasure in your body. The sensation leaves you breathless as you glance around quickly while being on edge by the thrill of the moment. The library remains calm and quiet. The others are engrossed in their own worlds, blissfully unaware of your moment of vulnerability.

Continuing your way among the shelves, you try to control the trembling of your body. This sensation feels unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, a heady mix of excitement and anticipation that makes your mind dizzy and your breathing heavy. Not knowing when Enos will turn the device on again ignites something new within you. A primal thrill awakens your senses and makes adrenaline rush through your veins. Every step feels charged, and the air around you crackles with unspoken tension. You can’t shake off the feeling of being on the brink of something exhilarating. It both frightens and excites you. Your heart beats faster, not just from the lingering pleasure but from the delicious uncertainty of what’s to come.

Another brief vibration comes, but this time it’s in your pocket, making you frown as you reach for your phone.

As you pull it out, the screen lights up, revealing a text from the owlman still sitting at his desk. Don't hide from me.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you look up, realizing that you've wandered entirely to the back of the library, safely tucked away behind the towering shelves.

“Oh,” you breathe out again, tucking your phone back into your pocket as you make your way back to the rows where Enos can see you.

The moment you step into view, you get your reward immediately. Enos’s golden eyes lock onto you, a playful glint sparkling in their depths as he leans back in his chair. The soft buzz of the vibrator hums back to life, sending a jolt of shock rippling through you.

It’s a challenge to keep your composure as you find yourself gripping the edge of the shelf to steady your legs. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You feel yourself tighten and gush around the small device, making your whole body pulse with pleasure. Your breath quickens, and you can’t help but bite your lower lip, trying to stifle any sounds that might betray your state.

As you approach Enos, you catch his gaze again, and his expression is one of amused satisfaction. There’ is a hint of challenge in his eyes, and before you know it, the vibration between your legs grows more intense. Your jaw falls open, and your eyes widen with shock. Panic flutters in your chest as you look around, but besides the owlman, you can't see anyone else, only the quiet murmurs and the sound of steps drift toward you while you try to sniffle your groans and moans.

Mr. Harkins, still sitting at his desk, leans forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he watches your reactions. The combination of his intense gaze and the relentless thrum between your legs makes you half-delirious with fear of getting caught and desire for the same reason.

With another buzz in your pocket, a new message comes from the male; “Come here, pet.”

Glancing up, you take a tentative step toward him, your breath hitching in your throat. The library around you fades into the background as you focus solely on him, feeling the weight of his burning gaze on your trembling form.

Every step feels like a challenge, and you can't help but sigh with relief when you finally reach his table, nearly collapsing onto the chair beside him. Your legs cross automatically, a subconscious attempt to regain some semblance of control, while your spine straightens, and you instinctively grind down against the chair. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment the whole time.

"Good girl," Enos hums beside you, his voice low and smooth as he rests his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his touch sends another wave of shivers through you, heightening the tension between your legs. "Are you okay?"

You swallow several times, trying to shake off the delicious haze enveloping you. It takes a moment for your voice to come out, thick with pleasure. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" he presses, his gaze unwavering and filled with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

"Yes, sir."

Now, sitting next to him behind the desk that gives you a semblance of protection, you can relax a little, though not much. The vibrator still buzzes in your soaked pussy, working you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. Your breath is ragged and heavy, and a thin layer of sweat glistens on your temple as you lean against the wooden surface, still cluttered with books and papers. Your muscles twitch, and your thighs clench, almost painfully so, as the burning knot in your stomach tightens and snaps.

Enos watches you closely the whole time. His eyes flicker with delight at the sight of your disheveled form. You are beautiful like this; at his mercy, breathless, and teetering on the brink of your orgasm.

“Breathe, pet,” he instructs softly, his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You try to focus on his words, inhaling deeply, but the overwhelming pleasure makes it difficult to concentrate. Waves of ecstasy crash over you, consuming you entirely. Your gasp is muffled as you bite down on the skin at the back of your hand, desperately trying to suppress the sounds that threaten to escape. Your hips move restlessly, grinding down on the device nestled against your clit, each movement sending you higher and higher. The vibrator thumps rhythmically, making you throb and surrender.

The world around you fades into a haze as you lose yourself in the moment.

Your chest heaves, and your head hangs low between your shoulders as you close your eyes tightly, trying to gather yourself. The buzzing suddenly stops, leaving an eerie silence in its wake, like the calm that follows a storm. The tension in your muscles slowly begins to dissipate, replaced by a delicious heaviness that leaves you feeling both satisfied and tired.

“Y/N?” The sudden voice makes you jump, and you snap your head up to peek at Enos's co-worker through your lashes. Your lips part in fright, fearing he knows what just happened.

“Yes?” you manage to reply, your voice hoarse and quiet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, frowning slightly, concern glinting in his eyes.

“Y-yes,” you force out a meek reply, hoping it’s enough to mask your embarrassment.

“She is fine,” Mr. Harkins interjects smoothly, placing a soothing hand on your back. The gentle pressure grounds you, making you lean closer to him in instinct. “It was a long day.”

“Oh,” the other male nods, glancing at the watch around his thick wrist. “You can go if you want,” he says, looking back at the owlman. “Only half an hour left anyway.”

Before your relationship, Enos would have rejected the offer immediately, but now he is on his feet, nodding. “Thank you.”

His co-worker grins, grabbing a pile of books from the table to return them to their rightful place. “Of course. It’s your anniversary anyway.”

“Thank you,” you call after him as you follow Enos, standing up from your seat. Your legs are still shaky, but you feel more stable than before. The lingering warmth of the earlier moment still pulses in you.

“Before we go,” the owlman stops you just as you reach for your bag. He leans closer with a newfound glint in his eyes. “Go to the restroom and take off your panties.”

Your lips part with a shaky breath. “What?”

“We are not done yet.” His voice is low, laced with a dangerous promise that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Yes, sir."

[babydollslibrary]

LAVENDER HAZE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

published: February 6th, 2023

summary: in which y/n has been dealing with hate from Trevor’s fans and journalists constantly speculating when they’ll get married.

specific lyrics: “i been under scrutiny. you handle it beautifully. all this shit is new to me.” and “all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.”

not my gif

“y/n, when are you and Trevor gonna get married?” a reporter asks as i walk through the hallways of Honda Center, away from the Ducks dressing room and up towards the seating. i send a stiff smile their way and continue walking, effectively ignoring their question.

i’ve been dating Trevor since we were sixteen. five years together and you’d think i would be used to this by now, but it’s harder than one would think.

of course Trevor and i have talked about marriage, when you’ve been together this long, it’s inevitable that you’ve talked about it. but we’ve mutually decided to wait until it feels right for us. we’re only twenty-one after all. but it seems that it’s the only question i get asked nowadays.

sure, when i ran into reporters in the past, they may have asked me this question a couple times, but usually they just asked me what it was like to be high school sweethearts with an nhl player or what kind of things Trevor does at home to get ready for a game. but now it’s always ‘when are you guys getting married?’ and ‘y/n has Trevor proposed yet?’.

having been dating Trevor since his USNTDP days, it’s definitely different dealing with him now having real fans and him being approached at restaurants for pictures. i don’t mind it, but it can get to be a bit much when with his fame comes hate towards me. girls telling me i’m not good enough for him or that they could treat him better and whatnot. every photo i post on instagram has at least twenty comments saying such things.

**

i’m sat on the couch waiting for Trevor to get home from his game. i left right after it ended, Trevor texting me that he had to do interviews and that Jamie would drop him off at home.

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @jackhughes and 14,628 others

@y/n11: the secret is out, i’m actually just @trevorzegras personal photographer 📸

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@user1: y/n using her boyfriend for clout again lol

@user2: alexa play treat you better by shawn mendes

@jackhughes: i’m stealing Louie next time i visit

@y/n11: good luck, Trevor might actually disown you as a friend if you try

@jackhughes:@y/n11 sounds like a win-win situation to me

@user3: how has it taken me months to realize she changed the number in her username to match Trevor’s jersey number? didn’t she used to be y/n46?

@user4: yeah, and before that she was y/n9 to match his usa number. they’re so cute 😭 i wonder if she’ll change her username to y/nzegras when they get married

@trevorzegras: and you’re the cutest photographer there ever was

@y/n11: i wanna smooch your face 💋💋

@_alexturcotte: whipped

@trevorzegras: @_alexturcotte i don’t see you with a girlfriend so which one of us is really winning here?

@user5: oh look, another post of Trevor. anyone wanna take a guess on what her next post will be? hint: it probably won’t her ugly ass

@_quinnhughes: miss you! come visit soon!

@trevorzegras: aww miss you too Huggy!

@_quinnhughes:@trevorzegras did it look like i tagged you? you can stay in Anaheim

@y/n11: miss you too Hugs! i’ll come with Trev on their next game there and root for you! 🧸

@user6: lmao she’s rooting for another guy? slut. bet she’s bounced around to all Trevor’s old teammates + Quinn

—

i scroll through the comments on my recent instagram post, seeing all the girls insulting me or saying i use Trevor for fame. am i not allowed to post my boyfriend anymore just because he’s in the NHL?

i didn’t realize i had tears welling in my eyes until one drops onto my screen. wiping it off, i hear the front door open and shut, Trevor arriving home. i listen to the mundane sounds of him slipping his shoes off and dropping his keys into the dish by the door before i hear his footsteps coming towards the living room. i hastily wipe away my tears and sniffle before he can see that i’ve been crying.

“hey, baby.” i say, my voice not quite recovered from my throat being closed up while i was crying, but Trevor doesn’t seem to notice. he takes the seat next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so my head lays on his chest.

“hi, love. did you see that goal i made for you?” he asks and i chuckle.

“i did. you did amazing, babe. i’m so proud of you.” i tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist and squeezing him tighter to me. he drops a kiss to the top of my head and i can feel the smile on his lips.

“lemme see that pretty face.” he whispers, nudging my chin up with his hand. but when i look up at him, his smile drops. “hey, what happened? why were you crying?”

he rubs at my cheek with his thumb, tracing my puffy under eye with the tip of it. i shake my head slightly.

“it’s nothing, Trev.” he shakes his head and scowls.

“it’s not nothing if it made my girl cry. now tell me.” he says.

“it was just the comments on my instagram post. there were these girls—” i cut myself off, not knowing if i want to tell him what they said.

“hey, what? ‘there were these girls’ what?” he asks softly.

“these girls were commenting that i was using you for clout, and that i was ugly. and another one said that i’ve probably gotten with you and all your friends.” i whisper. his face contorts in disbelief before dropping into an angry frown.

“don’t listen to them.” he tells me. i open my mouth to rebut but he speaks again. “i’m serious, y/n. don’t pay them any attention. i know you’re not using me. i mean, you put up with my annoying, class clown ass in high school. if that doesn’t speak wonders then i don’t know what does.”

i giggle and land a light smack against his chest.

“i happen to have liked your annoying, class clown ass.” i tease.

“and i still wonder why.” he shrugs. “as for the other comments, you’re gorgeous, princess. you’re so beautiful. i still can’t believe i get to wake up every morning and see that pretty face. i can’t understand for the life of me, why you stay with me when you’re so out of my league. but i’m so grateful that you do, because i can’t imagine where i’d be and what my life would be like without you.”

i smile at his sweet words and lean up to kiss his lips.

“i love you.” i mumble against them.

“i love you too, babygirl.” he presses one more quick peck to my lips before pulling away “also, i know you’ve never been with any of my friends. i mean, c’mon, why would you want them when you can have this?”

he sweeps a hand down his body and i bark out a laugh. he smiles down at me, running his hand through my hair before he stops it at the back of my neck, pulling me in for another, deeper, kiss.

“you know, i’ve been thinking.” he tells me when he pulls back.

“oh that’s never good.” i say.

“ha ha ha.” he narrows his eyes at me, slipping the hand from the back of my neck in order to use it to shove my forehead, making me fall back onto the cushion of the couch behind me. “i was thinking, maybe next year?”

“maybe next year what?” i ask, face contorting in confusion.

“maybe next year we should get married.” he says. i pop back up into a sitting position quickly, nearly hitting my head against his. he chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Trevor Zegras did you just propose to me?” i ask, my tone incredulous. “on our couch?!”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he says. “what do you say? you wanna be my wife?”

“i could hit you right now.” i tell him.

“so, it that a no?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in questioning. i shuffle onto his lap, straddling him and grabbing his face in my hands.

“there is nothing in this world that i want more than to be your wife.” i whisper, leaning my forehead against his.

“oh thank god.” he sighs. he sticks his hand in his pocket, shuffling around in it before pulling his hand back out in a fist. he opens his fist to reveal a ring box. “because i’ve had this ring since we were eighteen.”

tears sting my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest as i pull my head back from his. he opens the box, showing off a beautiful white gold ring with a pear cut diamond and a twisted halo design.

“since we were eighteen?” i ask. “but that’s the year that we were fighting all the time.”

“yeah, and you stayed. despite all the stupid arguments, you still made sure we never went to bed angry at each other, and you stuck by my side.” he takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“i love you so much.” i whisper before capturing his lips with mine. he pulls back a second later to mumble out his own ‘i love you’ before he resumes kissing me.

but then a thought pops into my head and i pull away, furrowing my brows at him.

“why did you have the ring in your pocket right now?” i ask him.

“well i had this whole plan that i was gonna bring you out on the ice before warm ups and ask you there but, when it came down to it, it didn’t feel right. i wanted the right moment. and now felt right.”

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @colecaufield and 43,793 others

@y/n11: forever with you sounds pretty great @trevorzegras

comments on this post have been limited.

@trevorzegras: i’m pretty damn lucky that i’ll get to call you my wife 🤍

@jackhughes: finally! i was beginning to think he would never use that damn ring! congrats guys

@y/n11: you knew about the ring?!

@jackhughes:@y/n11 who do you think helped him pick it out?

@colecaufield: congrats you guys! can’t wait to be the best man

@jackhughes: think again bud, i’m gonna be the best man

@_alexturcotte:@jackhughes i think we all know that I’M gonna be the best man because Trevor likes me best

@y/n11:@jackhughes @_alexturcotte thank you cole! and i hate to be the bearer of bad news but the best man will definitely be Louie … gotta go 🏃‍♀️

@_quinnhughes: congratulations! so happy for you two!

@y/n11: thank you Huggy! get ready to go suit shopping because i can’t imagine anyone else being my man of honor

@lhughes_06: damn, Z beat me to it. i was gonna ask you this summer at the lake house! happy for you though 🥲😪

@y/n11: aww sorry Moosey! keep an eye out just in case forever doesn’t work out

@griffinzegras: can’t wait for you to officially be my sister!

@y/n11: aww you’ve been my baby brother for 5 years but now it’ll be legally true! can’t wait to boss you around!

@griffinzegras:@y/n11 i take it back @trevorzegras any way that you wanna take her back to the pound?

@trevorzegras:@griffinzegras nah, i like this one. i’mma keep her

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[dyeher]

Warnings: dad! mitsuya, husband! mitsuya, possible breeding [fic ends before spicy shit].

Notes: mitsuya fluff inspired by my baby fever. unedited read at your own risk.

Notes: someone @audrinui <- said “tag Cass” so @s4no ❤️💋

It’s ten years later and Mitsuya is scowling at a tiny version of himself who has just managed to unravel an entire spool of red fabric onto the floor of his home workshop.

He takes a deep breath, crouching so he’s eye level with the little boy.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come in here?”

The little boy nods.

“So why are you in here?”

The boy blinks rapidly and Mitsuya bites his tongue to stifle a sigh. He can feel the oncoming tantrum as it simmers in his son’s face.

“Hey,” Mitsuya tries to calm him before he even starts. “I’m not mad,” he puts his hands up in a motion of surrender. “I just want to know what you were looking for, little monster.”

The little boy frowns at the nickname, his fingers twining nervously in front of him as he debates whether or not his father is being honest.

“C’mon tell me,” Mitsuya encourages. “Maybe daddy can help you?”

His son cocks his head in a way that reminds him so much of himself that Takashi can’t hide his smile fast enough. The answering grin that splits his son’s face knocks the wind out of his lungs. His son might be a carbon copy of him but his smile was all you.

Mitsuya reaches for him, plucking him up into his arms and propping him on his hip. “Gonna tell me what you were looking for in here kid?”

“‘s looking for my surprise,” he answers, head ducking into Mitsuya’s neck.

Mitsuya heaves a defeated sigh. “Kid, we talked about this. You’ll ruin your own surprise if you find the present before your birthday.”

Mitsuya feels the pout against his neck. “But- but I want to know now.”

Mitsuya can sympathize. The waiting game is a hard game to play as an adult, he might not remember what it was like as a kid but he can imagine it must be hell. He casts a longing glance at the fabric on the floor before leaving the room and heading into the kitchen. “How about we do something else?”

His son pulls away from his neck. Eyes narrowing at his father. “Like what?”

Sometimes Mitsuya has to remind himself that his kid is seven years old. That he’s growing. Soon he’ll be ten and then eighteen and then he’ll be bringing a girl home, and then he’ll be moving out and the house will be back to peaceful. And his threads and fabrics will stay on their spools.

He frowns. He’s not sure he likes how fast his son is growing. There’s nothing appealing about an empty house anymore. He places his son on the counter and braces his hands on either side of him.

“Wanna bake cookies for your momma, little monster?”

His son’s eyes light up, widening as he nods enthusiastically. “Chocolate chip!” he yells and Mitsuya realizes with a sudden jolt of awareness that he wants another one.

Another kid.

He goes through the motions of baking with a seven-year-old, even indulging his son in a minor flour spat, and then cleans them both up. By the time you get home they’ve retired to the couch and your son tackles you down next to him.

Mitsuya is distracted. His earlier realization sitting heavy on his mind as he watches you get your son ready for bed. He listens and inputs dutifully during story time and then presses a kiss on his son’s head before following you to your shared room.

“Takashi?”

He jolts when you wrap your arms around his waist in the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?”

He knows better than to try to tell you nothing at this point. If he’s so distracted you can sneak up at him he knows you’ll know he’s lying.

“I want another little monster,” he blurts, eyes closing when he feels you stiffen behind him.

“Are you sure?”

He meets your eyes in the mirror. “Positive.”

“And this isn’t just your desire to stuff me with cum?”

Mitsuya goes rigid, images flashing across his memory in rapid succession at your words. But- “No. I want another one,” he repeats. “Maybe a little girl this time.”

You squint at him. “Okay.”

He smiles. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow I know you’re tire—”

“Shut up and fuck me Takashi,” you chuckle, already backing away toward your bed. “Before I change my mind.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

[gracie-eilish]

HIIIII I HAVE A REQUEST!!! If you’re up to it…. could you maybe do like reader serenading billie to like “just the way you are” by bruno mars… idk if it should be the two of them or like in front of her family bc they both sound cute? 😭 thanks!!

of course baby!! i’m so sorry this took so long to get to you but i hope you like it!! love ya🩷

Just the Way You Are🎶

The soft afternoon light spilled into the living room, casting a warm glow over the piano by the corner window. Billie had been quiet all morning, more so than usual. It wasn’t her typical mellow, introspective vibe—it was something heavier. You noticed it in the way she lingered in the kitchen after breakfast, staring into her mug of tea, her fingers absently drumming against the counter. You noticed it again when she trailed behind you into the living room, her sweatshirt hanging loose on her frame, the sleeves hiding her hands entirely.

“Hey,” you said softly as you sat down at the piano bench, patting the spot beside you. “Come here.”

She hesitated for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly, but then she sighed and sat down. She didn’t press into you the way she usually did, just perched at the edge of the bench, her hands resting in her lap.

“You wanna play something?” you offered, your tone light and encouraging.

She shook her head. “Nah, I’m good.”

You glanced at her, noticing how her gaze was fixed on the keys but distant, like her mind was miles away.

“You sure? You always kill it on the piano. I’ll even let you show me up,” you teased, nudging her gently with your shoulder.

That got the tiniest smile out of her, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not in the mood, I guess.”

Something in her tone tugged at your heart. Billie wasn’t one to open up easily when she was feeling off, but you could tell this wasn’t just a bad day. You reached out and placed a hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, what’s up? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ You’ve been… I don’t know, quieter than usual today. Talk to me, superstar.”

Her lips twitched at the nickname, but the smile quickly faded. She let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. “It’s stupid,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Try me.”

She hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then, after a moment, she said, “I’ve just been feeling weird lately. Like… I don’t know, not good enough? For music, for people… for you.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she ducked her head, as if she didn’t want you to see the vulnerability in her eyes.

Your chest tightened, and you immediately turned to face her fully. “Billie,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Hey, look at me.”

She lifted her eyes to yours, and the sadness you saw there made your heart ache.

“You are more than enough. For me, for music, for the whole damn world,” you said firmly. “You don’t have to do or be anything more than who you already are. And if I have to remind you of that every single day, I will.”

Her lips trembled, and she let out a shaky laugh. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not possible,” you said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Now, stay right here. I’ve got something for you.”

She gave you a curious look as you turned back to the piano, her arms instinctively wrapping around your waist from behind. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” you said, your fingers finding the first chords of Just the Way You Are.

As the melody filled the room, her grip on you tightened. She rested her chin on your shoulder, and you could feel her breath against your neck. When you started to sing, her body stilled entirely:

“Oh, her eyes, her eyes

Make the stars look like they’re not shining…”

Her breath hitched, and you could feel the emotion radiating off her. You kept going, your voice steady and full of meaning, pouring every ounce of love you had for her into the lyrics.

“When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change

’Cause you’re amazing, just the way you are…”

“Baby,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

You paused for a second, glancing over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

Her blue eyes were glassy, her cheeks flushed. “Keep going.”

You smiled and turned back to the keys, picking up where you left off. With every note, every word, you felt her relax against you, her arms still locked around your waist like she was grounding herself in you. By the time you finished the song, you could feel her tears soaking into your shirt, but you didn’t mind.

You turned slightly, tilting your head to catch her gaze. “You believe me now?”

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong,” you said, pulling her into your lap so she was facing you. “You deserve the world, Billie. And I’m gonna spend the rest of my life reminding you of that, whether you like it or not.”

She let out a small laugh, leaning her forehead against yours. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” you corrected, wrapping your arms around her waist.

She smiled, a real, genuine smile this time, and it made your heart soar. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For always knowing how to make me feel better. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you said, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “And just so you know, you’re stuck with me. Clingy days and all.”

“Good,” she murmured, resting her head on your shoulder. “Because I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

You stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon, the piano forgotten as you held her close, reminding her in every little way that she was—and always would be—more than enough.

[dizscreams]

HI HI HI CAN YOU PLS FO JACK CHAMPION X READER WHERE JACK REACTS TO READER CRYING BECAUSE THEY SAW AN OLD PERSON EATING BY THEMSELVES AT ON THEIR DATE AND JACK KINDA LAUGHS AT HER AND TEASES HER FOR IT🙁🙁🙁🙁BTW I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR POSTS AND EVERYTHING YOU DO MWUAH💋💋💋💘💘💘💘

THIS IS CHAOS AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH HAHA (ILYT BAE!!)

“I LOVE YOU MORE EACH DAY!”

— Jack Champion ★

PAIRING: Jack Champion x Fem!Reader

A/N: catching up on requests and TYSM FOR 900+ FOLLOWERS WTF! <333

TAGS: @xyzstar @evanpeterswifeyy868 @wenvierismycomfort @aesthetixhoe @aqellano @dizzyscreams @beary-rambles @ashlesys-blog @ang3lik @c8rdigan @teyamsgirll @h34rtsformilli @wekiamo @mbankfav

“Jack, look-” You came to a hault and since Jack was holding your hand he stopped too. He had to put his other hand on your shoulder to keep himself from tripping over you. You were staring at an old lady feeding ducks and eating by herself on a bench. You guys had gone to the beach then went to a nearby park that also had a lake as well. It was Jacks cute idea of a date.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“She’s all alone, it’s so sad.” He heard a sniffle come from you and he quickly lowered his head to look at you. You were crying. Jack tried hard to contain his laugh but he couldn’t help it, “Are you crying?” “Don’t laugh at me you big idiot! This is sad!” You said shoving him slightly. “I’m sorry, but there’s no need to cry! I’m sure she’s fine, let’s go you big baby,” he said pulling your hand and trying to walk away.

But you didn’t move, instead you pouted up at him, “I’m not a baby. Just imagine getting old and not having anyone to feed the ducks with.”

He slung his arm around your shoulder, “Well luckily I won’t have to worry about that cause I’ll have you to feed the ducks with.” You shook your head and grabbed an apple out of the picnic basket you guys had brought with you. “Baby, what are you doing?” Jack asked with a sigh. You didn’t answer him though, instead you handed Jack the basket and walked towards the lady.

Jack watched you curiously as you handed her the apple. The old lady seemed grateful and he watched as you two started talking. You looked happy and so did she. Jack watched you in awe. You were so caring and the way that the sun was perfectly capturing your beauty had him grinning even more. He waited patiently for you as you finished up your conversation with the old lady and walked back up to him excitedly.

“She was happy.” Was all you said and he nodded with a chuckle. You still had a few small tears on your face so he softly grabbed your face and wiped them off. He kissed your head and grabbed your hand again, “Lets go.” You smiled at him and began walking with him. “Though that was cute I still think you’re a cry baby,” he teased. “Jack!” You exclaimed punching his shoulder playfully.

“You’re so mean,” you told him.

He gave you an offended look with his mouth slightly open, “I am not mean. I’m actually really kind-“

“So, why didn’t you go up to the old lady and talk to her?” You questioned.

Jack looked at you and then looked at the concrete not having an answer for you and you laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mimicked you as he tried to hold back his laugh. He failed and laughed as he felt your burning gaze on him. “You’re an idiot, Jack Champion.”

“But I’m your idiot,” he said wiggling his eyebrows and you shoved yourself into his side causing him to stumble slightly.

He shook his head with a laugh, “I’m in love with you, did you know that?” You bit back your smile and looked away from him and instead looked at the lake, “Yeah, you only tell me every day.”

For the rest of the walk you guys were in a comfortable silence holding each others hands and just enjoying each others company.

RAAHHH SHORT AND SWEET

[valiwrites]

if u wouldn’t mind I love ur Joao fics can u do one where he’s so down bad for her, like princess treatment and everything and how even his family knows he so in love and that this his HIS ONE like he finally found love (I’m sry I’m so specific)💋

the one

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ - joao felix

masterlist

summary: João is head over heels for you, and everyone knows it—especially his family, who tease him about how smitten he is. From pampering you endlessly to confessing under the stars that you’re his “one,” João makes it clear he’s found his forever in you.

João wasn’t exactly subtle when he was in love. He had a quiet nature, yes, but when it came to you? Every wall he’d ever built seemed to crumble. He wasn’t just in love—he was down bad, and everyone around him knew it.

You didn’t notice it at first. To you, João was sweet and attentive, always there when you needed him and constantly finding ways to make you feel special. You figured he was just naturally thoughtful. But then his brother Hugo pulled you aside one afternoon, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

“You realize he’s obsessed with you, right?” Hugo said, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

You blinked, taken aback. “Obsessed?”

“Completely,” Hugo confirmed, gesturing dramatically. “The guy can’t stop talking about you. It’s been months of 'Y/N likes this’ and ‘Y/N said that.’ He’s hopeless.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s not that bad.”

Hugo just raised a brow. “You haven’t seen the way he looks at you, then. Trust me—this isn’t some fling for him. You’re the one.”

The one.

The words stayed with you long after Hugo left the room.

That evening, João came home from training, his hair damp from a post-practice shower. The moment he stepped through the door, his eyes searched for you. When he spotted you curled up on the couch, his entire face lit up.

“There you are,” he said softly, crossing the room in just a few strides.

“Hi,” you replied, smiling as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You okay?” he asked, settling next to you and immediately pulling you into his arms. “You look... thoughtful.”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should bring up what Hugo said. But when you looked at João, his brown eyes so full of quiet adoration, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Hugo said you’re obsessed with me,” you teased, watching his reaction closely.

João’s ears turned pink almost instantly, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he ducked his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” you admitted, your voice softening. “It’s just... true?”

João laughed, low and warm, and pulled you even closer. “I can’t help it,” he said, his tone as earnest as ever. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a gentle wave, warm and steady. He said it so simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

The thing about João was that he didn’t just say he loved you—he showed it.

On days when you were feeling overwhelmed, João would swoop in like your personal knight in shining armor. He’d run you a bath, light your favorite candles, and bring you snacks without you even asking.

When you walked into the room, he stood up. When you spoke, he listened with his full attention, as though nothing else mattered.

“Do you want me to carry that?” he asked one day, reaching for the grocery bags in your hands.

“João, I can handle it,” you said, though you didn’t resist when he gently plucked them from your grasp.

“I know you can,” he said, flashing you a boyish grin. “But I want to.”

He opened doors for you, remembered the little things you said in passing, and looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

And then there was the way his family treated you.

João’s mother was the first to pull you aside, her expression soft as she spoke. “You know,” she said in Portuguese, “I’ve never seen him like this before. João... he’s always been loving, but with you? He’s different. Happier.”

Her words warmed you from the inside out.

Hugo, on the other hand, couldn’t stop teasing João.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger,” Hugo said one evening, elbowing João in the ribs as you walked into the kitchen.

João just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Good.”

Hugo groaned dramatically. “You’re so soft.”

“I don’t care,” João replied, his gaze fixed on you as you laughed at something his mom said. “She’s worth it.”

One evening, as the two of you sat outside under the stars, João turned to you with a serious expression.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it?” you asked, suddenly nervous.

João reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve thought about this a lot,” he began, his words slow and careful. “About us. And I just... I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone the way I love you,” he continued, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re it for me, Y/N. You’re my one.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you didn’t even try to stop them. “João,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He smiled, soft and full of hope. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

But you did have something to say. Leaning in, you pressed your forehead to his and whispered, “I love you, too.”

João’s breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like the world stood still. Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the universe.

And in that moment, you knew you were home.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[cosmal]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN 😘💋💋💋💋

cake 🍰 - sleepy kisses/cuddles with james <3

sleepy

summary you james makeout. whilst being a little tired.

content james potter x fem!reader

note thank u baby i love u

You still have your dress on when James tugs you into his bed. The silk rides up your thighs when he pulls you over his lap and lays back against the headboard. You really want to tug at his curls. You have all night.

"Never let Marlene convince me to do shots ever again," James mumbles as you work at his tie. He tilts his head up as you struggle with the knot. He yawns, smelling of fresh spearmint gum and alcohol. "They give me the hiccups." You know. He'd hiccuped the entire Uber ride home.

You finally get the tie off his head and mess his hair as you go. His top button has been undone since he left the pub. "If I remember," you run your fingers through his hair and listen to him sigh, "it was your idea," you say before you lean in to press your mouth to his neck.

You feel him shiver underneath you, the jump in his fingers as he pulls you closer by the hips. One day you expect your flesh to be moulded to fit his hands with the amount of time he keeps them there.

You tuck your face into his neck and keep it there, pleased with the sounds you pull from him. Lazy with your mouth, wet and hot kisses against his dark skin. Spending special time on the beauty marks you have memorised.

"It wasn't," he argues, voice light as air. You feel your ego swell. "It wasn't my idea- Christ, you're an angel."

You pull your lips from his reddening skin with a little pop, scraping your teeth until he breaks out into goosebumps. "I've wanted to do that all night," you admit, the last remnants of sheepishness gone now that you're alone with him in his bed. You expect James to use it against you eventually.

"Why didn't you?" he asks with another squeeze.

"In Sirius's front room?" The barest hint of your shy giggles has James smiling. All hooded eyes, a crush of eyelashes that you envy, and pretty teeth just peeking from his wet lips.

"It's never stopped him from getting it on with Remus," he says like it's a reasonable argument.

"It's his house," you sigh.

"So?"

You don't tell him it's mostly because the thought of kissing him like you are right now, around other people, makes your skin catch on fire. You can imagine it now - your face in his neck and his hands up the skirt of your dress until you can see the lace of your underwear. You much prefer it in the comfort of his flat. Without the wolf-whistling on Sirius's part.

You know James loves it like this too. Loves to get you all dizzy with it. Lazy hugs and even worse kisses. He's addicted to you like this.

You lean back in and James accepts it with a little too much tired giddiness. A low rumble of contentment deep from his chest. "Where did you learn that?'' he asks, breathing in through his nose deeply as your nose bumps the column of his throat.

"I have," you mumble, too busy under his jaw when he tilts his head upwards, "I have the best teacher."

"Fuck, baby," James stammers, voice all husky. You melt into a little puddle at the sound of it.

He scoots you both down the bed with you against his chest. "You keep kissing me like that, sweetheart, I'm gonna fall asleep."

You don't have time to argue. To tell him that's exactly what you were going for. He kisses you. Even worse than you were, and you mean that in the best way possible. Kisses that take away the little breath you have left, all shallow and desperate to keep yourself from passing out with your lips pressed to his.

You think he knows this. He whines and tries to keep your head up with his fingers under your jaw. It turns a little sloppy, his nose bumps yours and his hands turn soft at your sides.

It's not until your dress rides up some more do you remember you still haven't changed. "James," you pant. He hums. Too content with kissing your cheeks. "James, we need to get changed."

"Can't," he mumbles, ducking his head until it falls into your neck and his curls tickle your face, "can't, wanna keep kissing you. Until we fall asleep?"

"We can't baby," you giggle. All high-pitched and airy. "You're in your slacks. And a belt."

"I'll survive," he grumbles.

"Your hips won't, honey," you say and brush his hair behind his ear, scratching the skin there lightly. You realise you aren't helping. "C'mon, I'm in my nice dress. I need to put on my pyjamas."

James, extremely reluctantly, and without a few mumbled expletives, gets up from his bed. He drags you blindly with him over to the dresser.

"This is all Marlene's fault," he whines, hands in his boxer drawer, "I'm never shotting again."

"You gotta stay away from that sambuca, babe," you say with a hint of smartassery.

"I was gonna rock your world tonight," he says, stripping. You watch his muscles flex and try to keep yourself upright while putting your sleep shorts on. "But I think I'm gonna fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow."

You laugh animatedly, despite him being the funniest person you know, yawning into the back of your hand. "Rock my world in the morning, Jamie?"

"And the afternoon."

[fiapartridge]

so that fic about another guy flirting with hazel got me thinking…. let’s turn it up a notch 😌

somebody from another team flirts with hazel WHILE she and beckett are officially dating 🤭

robbers -> beckett + hazel 🏹🦢💌

"she says, babe, you look so cool..." robbers, the 1975

pairing: beckett sennecke x hazel summary: when one of the players from the san jose sharks tries to flirt with hazel, beckett goes haywire... warning(s): lots of cursing LOL, fighting, blood (brief) author's note: i feel like beckett wouldn't hurt a fly but anything for his girl 💋 wc: 1.12k

Beckett didn’t like a lot of things in life: long division, beans on toast, spam calls from stupid telemarketers, and, oh, yeah, guys trying to take his fucking girl. 

It was a Friday night and the Anaheim Ducks were face-to-face with the San Jose Sharks. The score was 0-2 after the first period. The Ducks hustled down the tunnel, anger laced in their blood as they tried their hardest not to break a twig. It was the first game of the fucking season and so far, they were blowing it. The cheers from the crowd died down after the first Sharks’ goal, and even more so after the second. Everyone’s energies were draining—their confidence, too.

And the cherry on fucking top? Quentin Musty was flirting with Hazel—Beckett’s Hazel. He watched them talk outside the locker rooms; the way he stood next to her, his arm beside her head as she nodded along to something he said. It made Beckett’s blood boil. It should be him who’s all over her right now; who’s receiving her attention, her tiny smiles, and blushy cheeks.

He wanted to bash Quentin into a wall—especially when he watched the boy’s hand slowly move to her hair, sweeping a strand of hair from her face.

“Bro, get the fuck off of her!” Beckett shouted, walking towards them as Hazel immediately stepped back. 

To be honest, Hazel was tired of Quentin talking to her the entire time, only standing there so she could see Beckett before the intermission was over. She nodded absentmindedly to all of his stupid advancements, hoping that he would take a hint and leave her the fuck alone. And when his hand touched her hair, she immediately felt her body recoiling, moving to step away from the guy. 

The boys from both teams rushed out of their locker rooms to watch the scene, Mason scrambling to grab Beckett before he could throw himself at Quentin. Mason’s arms wrapped around Beckett, Trevor coming in to help as they dragged him away from the other boy.

“Chill, bro,” Mason said, throwing Beckett into his stall. “Leave that shit on the ice, okay? You want to fight him? Do it over there.”

Trevor stood in front of the fuming boy. His hands rested on his hips. “What the fuck even happened, man?”

“He was fucking out there flirting with Hazel,” he exclaimed angrily. Now he was upset over the terrible period and this stupid ass situation. “I’m not gonna let him talk to my fucking girlfriend like that.”

Trevor shook his head. “Take the high road, alright? He’s just tryin’ to get under your skin. Just—don’t get mad at Hazel, okay? She looked a little shook up after that.”

Becket sighed, resting his head back against his stall before closing his eyes. “Fuck. D’you think she hates me?”

Leo joined the small crowd forming around Beckett’s stall, a cool towel wrapped around his neck as he shook his head. “Nah. For some reason, that girl could never hate you,” he chuckled.

Before everyone knew it, intermission was over, and they were back on the ice for the second period. Beckett stood on right wing, Trevor center, and Ryan Strome on left wing. And luckily for Beckett, Quentin Musty stood right next to him as a left winger. 

“Got a little heated back there, huh, Becky?” Quentin smirked during the faceoff. 

“Just get off my girl,” Beckett said, brushing him off. The only thing he cared about was that fucking puck. He wasn’t going to let a guy named Musty get to him.

“Your girl?” Quentin chuckled. “Not what she was saying when I was on her a couple minutes ago.”

Beckett shook his head, his grip tightening on his stick. Take the high road, alright? He’s just tryin’ to get under your skin.

“Maybe next time,” Quentin looked at Beckett. “Put that bitch on a tighter leash.”

Throwing his stick, Beckett lunged at Quentin. His fist striking directly at his jaw as the crowd gasped, not expecting a fight to happen before the puck was even in play—especially not a fight from Beckett fucking Sennecke.

Hazel stood up from her seat in the media room where she was working on graphics for the Ducks’ Instagram story. She watched from the TV that hung in the corner of the room, Beckett’s fist repeatedly hitting Quentin’s bloody face as the referees tried their best to break them apart. Her heart beat rapidly as she ran out the room and towards the tunnel. Everyone watched her run through the halls, trying to get to Beckett.

And when she saw him, a bloody lip and a stupid smile on his face, she wanted to rip him to fucking shreds. “Beckett,” she called, his head whipping to face her. “What the fuck just happened?” 

He walked slowly to her, grabbing her hand as she rolled her eyes. “He was talking shit about you, okay?”

“Yeah, well now you’re thrown out of the game,” she scoffed. “This is the first game of the fucking season. Now everyone’s gonna think you’re fuckin’ Matt Rempe or some shit.”

“Hey, I’m tall, but I’m not that tall,” he chuckled.

“Beckett—”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It was just—the fucking things he was saying. I couldn’t let him get away with it, okay? Not when,” he stammered. “Not when they’re about you.”

Sighing, Hazel anxiously met his gaze. “What’d he say? ‘Cause I swear to you, I didn’t say anything to him, okay? I didn’t even want him next to me! He just kept getting closer,” she panicked, thinking he would be mad at her.

“Hey, hey,” he smiled. “I’m not mad at you. I know you didn’t do anything. Thank you for not doing anything,” he whispered. Pausing, he sighed again. “He called you a bitch. ‘Said I should hold you on a tighter leash.”

Hazel gulped, her heart plummeting. “Oh.” No one’s ever said that about her. Did he think she was some sort of slut?

Noticing her pull away from him, he held onto her tightly, pressing her against his chest. His chin rested on her head as they swayed side to side. “Hey, no one thinks anything bad about you, especially me, okay? It’s okay.”

Looking up at him, Beckett held her cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears from her eyes. “Thanks for sticking up for me” she smiled softly. “You looked really cool by the way. I kinda dig the cuts,” she smirked, brushing over his wounded face. 

“I should get into more fights then, huh?”

“If you get into another fight I will personally beat your ass,” she grinned before sighing. “Thank you.”

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand. “Anything for the princess.”

taglist! @bunbunbl0gs @crazy4smitty

[luna-andra]

Domesticated!König Headcanons: Meeting the future In-Laws ✨

Image: @Skavod29 on Twitter (Source)

I was floored by how much attention my first headcanon post got. Y'all had me fucking emotional and I am so happy it's something people actually like. It keeps me coming back to post more of my silly little ideas. Forever grateful for your support! ❤️

I also need to reiterate that my blog/posts are 18+ so MDNI, this one has some NSFW bonus HCS 💋

If you missed the first one, here :) StepDad!Konig is here!

I got other stuff! Masterlist pinned on my blog

When you decided it was time for your parents and König to meet, you were tempted to slip a Xanax into his morning coffee. It is not like he hasn’t said a polite hello and a few words over the phone or when you facetime them, but now he was finally meeting them in person. You’ve seen him more calm talking to two- and three-star generals than this, the kinds of things that rattled your nerves.

You swore he changed attire more times than you did. The sight of him re-rolling his sleeves on his button up shirt made you intervene before he undid them all over again. He paused when your hands held his, then flicked his azure eyes up to you. “They’re gonna love you, my king.” Your gentle smile and comforting words got through to him.

They welcomed you and the mystery man with open arms at their front door. Mom never knew how to keep her thoughts to herself, but she really did mean well. Of course, the first thing they all notice is how König has to duck under their doorway to come inside. “You weren’t lying when you said he was tall,” mom said. You gave her a warning look followed up with an apologetic smile to König. He managed to chuckle it off, it was nothing new for him. It did make him curious about what else you’ve said to your mom about the two of you.

You gave König a tour of your childhood home, nearly having to pry him from the wall of photos of you and your family. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face of the little timeline displayed in pretty frames; your first elementary school photo, a photo of you in a boy/girl scouts uniform, another of you during extra-curricular activities (band/orchestra, JROTC, sports, theater, robotics team, etc.), a prom photo with you and old friends, and lastly your high school graduation picture. König wanted a copy of one of them to keep in his wallet, mom promised to get him one behind your back.

König's field day got better when you showed him your childhood bedroom. Depending on how you last had it decorated, you were either low key bashful or regretting even showing him. It was like traveling back in time for him, giving him a glimpse of the kid and teen, you used to be. A chance to fall in love with every facet of you.

He was getting more comfortable when he found out your dad wasn’t out to get him as much as he thought. They ended up sitting in the living room, talking about a topic after your dad played twenty questions to figure him out. Something either about guns, hunting, hiking, fishing, blue-collar work, and if your dad is a veteran, they got along faster than you could imagine. You and mom caught up in the kitchen as you helped her finish up with cooking and setting the table.

If you have siblings, they showed up in the nick of time before dinner, to share embarrassing stories of you when you were a kid, or the stories you all waited to tell when you all were adults to avoid from getting in trouble. König watched and listened as you got more animated with laughter. Loving every second of this. He had a handful of memories he could count on his hand that were of happier times, but your memories became his favorite ones.

Everyone pestered the two of you for the story of how you met. And since you’ve been doing most of the talking, you looked to König to tell the tale. Your eyes never left him as he started the story from his point of view, recollecting the moment he saw you and how he was trying to come up with an excuse to try and talk to you. It donned on you that this was the first time you were hearing the way he saw you. “And now we’re here,” he concluded, looking over to you with a grin and a touch to your hand underneath the table.

NSFW Bonus:

König couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in your childhood room, nearly fantasizing what it would’ve been like if the two of you met as teens/younger adults. Indulging in the idea of sneaking into your bedroom window or standing outside with a boombox in 80s/90s style fashion.

Of course, your parents offered you to stay with them, not wanting you to have to rent a hotel room or travel back (depending on how far away you lived from them), so the later the night got, the more distracted König became with fulfilling his dirty thoughts.

It was just like the old days, having you home and hearing the music coming from your speakers when someone passed by the doorway. You were just showing König your CD collection, right?

It definitely wasn’t because you were trying to muffle your moans and screams as he pounded you into that fucking mattress. Making you a drooling and brainless mess under his rutting hips. He kept praising you for taking him so well and for being so quiet like the good little fuck thing you were, making it harder not to cum so fast. Secretly, this was your fantasy too, and you wanted it to last a little longer than the 10 minutes of foreplay and fucking you had already endured.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Stay tuned for more to this unexpected series! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others.