#and then the black was put on top and scraped away | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lessi-lover · 4 months ago

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don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

warnings: mention of suicide, implied self harm, self hate, spanish federation.

this is the longest i've ever written and i'm so proud thank you all for sending ideas to help me keep this draft alive x

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?" it was an ignorant affair to believe, something only somebody with a slight sliver of saved up hope might trust. not you. not the broken shell of a person that can only believe you are the only thing keeping yourself together.

the glue to a cracked vase. in which the vase was you and you were slowly breaking under pressure that had been following you for years. if you hadn't hit rock bottom a couple months ago, you were certainly scraping the edge with your bare teeth now.

you had been one of their strongest forwards available to select from. a top forward in your league, it would be silly for them not to call you up with the titles next to your name at such a young age. it was inevitable that you would be called up for the world cup squad selection and there was nothing you could have done about it even if you tried.

you were just so helpless weren't you?

there was nobody to tell that you didn't want to travel to australia to play for a team that had ripped you inside out before you were even first national tournament debut, nobody that would understand how badly you wanted to represent your country and how willing you were to put your body on the line for it even for a single minute in spanish colours.

is that why you stayed quiet?

you stared towards yourself in the mirror, wondering if maybe your eyes had ever truly been as light as they used to tell you. that the light in your eyes you had been promised was always there had just seemingly disappeared. the eyes that they still talk about that seem so foreign to you now as you look back at yourself through shattered glass. wondering if maybe it was all just a lie.

maybe it was all just a lie.

a black and white faceless lie that everything you would go through for a ruthless tournament was for the better of you. or worse. a binary promise that everything would be okay, that all the suffering would end in good for you. or not.

but you look back through the same eyes that you were meant to be able to trust, the eyes that let everything just happen without looking back, and you still don't understand how you could be so easily deceived, taken apart from top to bottom like a neglected toy.

a useless, discardable toy. was it all a lie?

maybe the people who were meant to protect you and care for you were actually abusing you to wits' ends. maybe it wasn't that you needed the further training they made you endure after your previous training, but that you were so young and fresh and all too easy to manipulate.

maybe it was those you trusted and who sent you away with the assurance that you would be the next spanish legacy that isolated you from the world and treated you as a vessel to secure gold for spain.

but you were to blind and powerless to seek help.

you had been the silent one. the one too shattered to even bear the trial that came with the aftermath of the events following your world cup win. you knew the federation would come after you. you were the one who wanted so badly to sign the document that your teammates had but you couldn't bring yourself to look at the people who had broken you from the inside out for even just a second to speak your mind.

you were just a shell of a once strong force now weren't you?

you knew they would try and rip away each and every title you had ever worked for and your playing rights along with it. you were a world cup, champions league, copa de la reina, nations league and liga f winner. but maybe you were just a vulnerable, small cog in a relentless system that wouldn't stop until you broke down and they would throw you away like the others.

the fear of losing everything you had worked for since you were a small child paralyzed you for months. the mere thought of speaking out, of seeking help, seemed as impossible as how you got into the situation in the first place.

the federation had an iron grip on your life, they could control you whether you were defenseless to it or not and any caught wind of saying something felt like signing your own demise.

it would end you surely? don't you think that maybe speaking out for help would become the end of your career? one that had barely started as you were only freshly twenty years old? staying quiet was the better option. you had thought you could escape unscathed, but your reality was far from it.

nobody had your best interest and those who did didn't make it clear enough until you finally broke down from the denied pressure. it felt like a void sometimes. as if you were screaming and nobody could hear you, or maybe nobody cared?

no they care. didn't they?

did they care when you were forced out of bed early in the morning to complete extra practice before the day even started? did they care when you were just a young teenager illegally moving up into the senior divisions of international football to cover for seniors who had denied their call up's and was made to exhaust your body more than you ever should? did they care when the private meetings you were obligated to attend turned into time to yell at you, to break you down as if you hadn't given your entire life to the federation.

but then again, if not football what else did you have to live for?

you asked yourself these questions over and over again. each time just hoping that the harsh reminder of your situation would lessen. it never did. it never would. it would be stuck with you no matter how hard you tried to block it out, no matter how hard you tried to ignore who and what made you shrink a million times over.

the fear, the abuse, the meal plans, the body exhaustion, the denied freedom, the stolen happiness, a cruel reminder of the bottomless hole you had found yourself falling deeper and deeper and there was nothing you could do to get out.

you were truly and utterly stuck.

the office is cold, its white walls a stark contrast to the warmth in the hallway you had been waiting in for the past half hour. the thick carpet muffles your footsteps as you walk toward the large desk in the center of the room, the air you're walking into a harsh wind of tension that couldn't be cut with a blade if you tried.

you swallow hard, your throat dry despite the countless bottles of water you’ve consumed throughout the day. but your hydration doesn't matter now, whatever it said to you in the next twenty minutes does.

the glare of the desk lamp catches your eye, reflecting the same harsh light that seems to spotlight you everywhere, waiting for you to make your next mistake. you glance at the stern faces of the officials seated behind the desk, their expressions unreadable as they read through what looks like your performance reports.

“please, take a seat,” the head of the federation says, his voice clipped as he places his hand predatorily on your lower back and guides you to sit down. you lower yourself into the chair, the thin material of your club shorts rubbing uncomfortably against the velvet furniture.

the head official adjusts his collar, peering over them at you with a sharp look almost as though you had done something to personally offend him. but those aren't anything close to his next words.

“you’ve been doing exceptionally well, tesoro.” he begins, but his tone is far from genuine and you feel that something else is coming. “your performance has been impressive, especially considering your age and the closeness of the tournament.”

you nod, though his praise feels hollow, almost as if you're falling into a set trap made just for you. your heart races and you grip your hands on the chair. you want to speak up, to voice your concerns about the overwhelming training schedules and the strain it’s putting on your body, but the words get lost in your throat.

“we’ve decided to integrate you into the senior squad for the upcoming world cup. it’s a great opportunity, but it also means you’ll need to do far more than what you're currently putting in.”

your chest tightens. you’ve been waiting for this for a long time, but when he finally tells you it feels overwhelming and you don't understand why a moment you have been prepping for years of your life makes you feel uneasy. you push it off as nerves.

the world cup is a chance to showcase your skills on a global stage, this is your moment, don't stare it in the face and back down.

another official at the side of the room glances at you with a fleeting look of concern before turning back to his notes. he seems to recognize the strain you’re currently feeling, but his words are lost just like yours as the head continues to talk to you.

“your development is crucial to our success,” the head official says, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “we expect you to handle this responsibility with the utmost professionalism. this is an opportunity for you to prove yourself and secure your place on the national team.”

"and who knows, i have spots emptied by débiles that need filling. this is your shot don't blow it. tesoro." there is something about the way he talks to you and speaks about you over your head that makes you shiver right down to your core.

you nod again, feeling the weight of their words drop into the palm of your hand and the room seems to close in on you as they continue discussing your role to each other and the intense training you will need to undergo in the upcoming months.

the meeting ends with a firm handshake and a curt nod from yourself and as you leave the office, the clear expectations settle heavily on your shoulders, the fear of failing and the pressure to succeed feeling almost insurmountable. yourself unaware of the danger you have just put yourself in.

you're not even sure when it all started. you can't pinpoint when the abuse started, if you could even call it that, or if it was there the whole time and you normalised it for yourself because that was the better option instead of speaking out in your mind.

it was enough of the lack of players available that caused them to attempt to burn you out as much as they could. it was enough for the federation to take one look at you and decide that the weight of the world relied on your shoulder whether you liked it or not.

that was your purpose. it was your job to lead the team to victory without a second mistake. without a setback, through injury, responsible for the good and the bad, amidst an internal battle with yourself that was dragging you down, and most importantly with a smile on your face even if you were shattered from the inside.

a smile on your face. nobody would notice would they?

“siéntate, tesoro,” he commands, his tone carrying an edge of impatience and you feel yourself move quickly into his office at his voice. you sink into the chair, its firm surface a harsh contrast to how had felt in the chair only mere months ago.

“you’re here because you’ve been selected for the world cup squad,” he begins, his voice cold and he digs his hand into the desk as he leans close to you. “but let’s be clear, tesoro. being selected was only the first challenge. we expect more from you.”

you nod, but the weight of his words feel heavy and you can't help but notice that the official who had given you the sorry look was missing from his spot behind the desk.

“we’ve noticed that you’re not quite fitting the ideal player we had in mind,” he continues, and you shake off any thoughts of the past official when your eyes meet his. “you’re not fast enough, not agile enough. you’re not meeting the physical standards we expect from you.”

his words sting, each critique like a hard blow to your self-esteem that wasn't really there in the first place. “your performance has been adequate,” he says, “but adequate isn’t enough. we need you to be exceptional and above all competition. and right now, you’re neither of those.”

he leans forward, his breath fanning over you as you look down at the floor in fear. “your weight is one concern of our team, but it’s not just about being heavier or lighter. it’s about how you present yourself. we need you to be leaner, faster and even more dynamic. you’re not the perfect image we want for the team right now.”

the room seems to close in around you as he continues. “we’ve seen some players who didn’t meet our expectations and they were dropped. you need to understand that if you don’t shape up, you will be next to not enter through doors again. comprendido?"

he gestures to a pile of strawn documents on his desk and you look up from the concrete fall at the harsh snap of his fingers in your face.

“we have reports here, tesoro, that detail everything we need from you. and it’s not just about physical performance. it’s about how you look, how you’re perceived by the public. you need to be more endearing, more marketable. if you can’t fulfill that role, then we'll find another.”

his gaze is relentless and he talks to you like you're a faceless object that he can discard at his will, throw away when he feels you're not complying with his demands. he can take you off this squad the moment you defend yourself.

“you’re not here just to play; you’re here to be the face of the team. the face of spain. and right now, you’re not cutting it for us. we need you to be a star, not just another player in this tournament. and if you’re not willing to meet those expectations, then you’re in the wrong place i'm afraid.”

“now, we’re going to do something,” he continued, his voice carrying a coldness that made your stomach curl inwards as you sat fearfully in your chair. “i need you to repeat after me. ‘i am not good enough. i need to be better."

you hesitate, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak as you blinked harshly to try and to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say quietly, looking down shamefully at the floor like a small child being scolded by their parent.

“louder.” he demands, his voice cutting through the room like a whip and you try not to flinch at the volume of his words. “i need to hear you say it with conviction. you are lying through your teeth pequeña. don't lie to me, i hate liars."

“again,” he insists. “and this time, say it as if you truly believe it. i am not good enough. i need to be better." you force yourself to repeat the phrase, the words make you feel as if you're stripping away everything you ever built yourself to believe. every title, every trophy, every medal, every goal. erased.

“i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say louder, the humiliation of his cruel exercise making your stomach lurch and you struggled to keep yourself together.

“very good,” the official says, his tone carrying a note of being pleased and you hated that you loved the feeling of his approval. “you should understand that just because you’re going to australia doesn’t mean you get to enjoy it. you’re there for work, not to have fun.”

his manipulation is chilling to the bone, designed to strip away any sense of accomplishment you had ever felt. “you’re not meant to enjoy australia, it’s not a vacation. you’re there to prove yourself, not to sightsee. you need to focus solely on the tournament, on meeting the expectations we’ve set for you. or we won't hesitate to send you home.”

“this is a serious commitment. if you let yourself get distracted, you’re failing in your duty. you’re expected to perform at your peak, and that means putting aside any thoughts of leisure or enjoyment. this isn’t about you enjoying yourself; it’s about you meeting the standards we've set for you.”

“if you allow yourself to get comfortable or take things lightly,” he warns, “you’re showing weakness. and weakness is unacceptable. you need to stay sharp, stay focused, and remember why you’re here.”

his manipulation is subtle yet even then you could tell that he knew you wouldn't fight back, he had designed it to make you feel guilty for even considering enjoying the tournament.

“this is a test of your worth,” he says. “if you can’t handle the pressure and keep your focus, you’re not fit for the team. we need you performing to the highest standards that we expect from everybody else. including you. if you can’t handle the pressure, then you’re not worthy of the position. we expect you to rise to the challenge without complaint.”

you were far too gone to allow somebody else to take your spot. guilty and far too gone to let yourself slip through the cracks you had been told others had fallen through. somebody wouldn't be able to deal with the kind of pain you had been trained to believe as normal.

somebody else definitely wasn't as strong as the fake front you had built up to deal with it all, or at least that's what you told yourself, it made you feel better even if you didn't believe it.

you felt like nothing.

was it the pressure? was it the memories? was it the unhealable bruises that littered you from head to toe? or was it the feeling that you gave your whole existence to people who threw you away like you were just dirt on the bottom of a shoe?

you were numb.

you couldn't even remember the last time you had felt truly happy, truly yourself. the facade of a charming female footballer you put on for the world was crumbling and you were scared that people would finally see the pain that lied underneath.

the mirror showed a person trapped between who they once were and the brokenness of who they had become, drowning in a sea of your own helplessness.

you wondered if there was any way back to the person you used to be, or if that person was gone forever, if she had fallen through but ignored by who you had been built to be. this is what rock bottom feels like. rock bottom is not knowing who you are anymore, not recognising any of the memories of the person you were before.

it's the lostness of knowing that you can't find yourself again, seeing your old self in the distance but not knowing how to reach it with the strength you so clearly do not have.

it's the painful acknowledgement that the once vibrant and full of life person who was here before has been replaced by a shadow and you're struggling to fight the dark.

had the darkness swallowed you yet?

your phone rings loudly in your ear. it's more harsh this time than the previous sounds that had escaped the device. you know who's calling you because there wasn't exactly anybody in your life that would reach out to you so religiously and determindly.

you bit down on your lip. a similar memory of you lying on the floor answering the man who had made you the emotionless person that couldn't bear to even think about the game you used to live for.

you miss the person you were. that man gutted her from the inside.

the sound pierces into the thick silence of the room, demanding you to answer as it broke through the barrier of quiet you had built up. the screen of your phone lights up and you let your eyes flicker down towards it, your phone displaying the name of the person you dreaded to see you how you are now.

a feeling you couldn't quite place as dread or relief washed over you as your phone vibrated against the cold floor. dark purple bruises forming on your legs and arms from the time you had spent laying on the bathroom floor.

you slowly reach for your phone, drops of blood dripping off your skin and onto the glass as tears make their way down your face from the dark circles that countless nights of lost sleep had created for you.

your fingers tremble as you swipe to answer the call as if they are carrying the burden you've been feeling for months, and the screen lights up with the caller's name again. you can't turn back now, you've answered the one person you would hate to see you like this.

you contemplate hanging up the phone, staying silent on your end of the call as if magically the situation would disappear and you could leave like you so badly wanted to.

you sound nothing like the person you were a year ago.

"hola amorcito. are you there?" the voice on the other end of the line breaks through your thoughts, the term of endearment so familiar yet painful almost making you burst into another set of tears but you stay strong for her because that's what he would have wanted.

"ale?" you reply, your voice steady but still shaking as you lift your phone to your ear to hear better. "i'm here." there's a soft sigh on alexia's side of the phone and you can almost picture her sitting with her girlfriend on the couch, the older woman had tried to call you throughout the week but you hadn't answered and she'd been waiting for you to call her back.

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?"

#alexia putellas #woso #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso angst #woso imagine #woso fic #barca women #barca femeni

513 notes · View notes

hyuuukais · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

#⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆#🔮 anon!#skz texts #skz fake texts #skz #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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tradgedyinwaves · 26 days ago

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First Choice - Part 7

Part seven of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: anxiety, hinting at self-harm, mostly just fluffy

You woke up in your own bed, dressed in your pajamas with the smell of bacon and coffee filtering through your apartment. You lived alone. Scrambling out of bed, you rushed into the living space, sliding on your socks, only to find Simon and Kyle making breakfast while Johnny and John were cleaning up the blankets and pillows they’d found in your hall closet.

“You’re still here?” you asked, stare darting between the men in the kitchen and the men in the living room. “Well, of course, doll. Didn’t want to leave your door unlocked. Wouldn’t be very safe,” John stated, folding over the last of the quilts. Johnny took the stack of blankets and smiled warmly at you, whispering a good morning before slipping around you to put the blankets back in the closet.

“But I’m…changed,” you whispered, looking down at the baggy tee and pajama pants with cute little penguins all over. John stepped over to you and took your hands, smiling softly. “That was me, doll. I only changed your pants and top and then put you to bed.” Your eyes bugged as you pulled out the neckline of your shirt and looked down. Yup, still wearing your bra from the day before. Quickly dropping the shirt, you hooked a finger in the bottoms and checked your panties. Yup, same as the day before.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you replied meekly, suddenly very aware that while this man hadn’t seen you naked, he’d seen enough. Saw the stretch marks and the dimples in your flesh. Saw the scars that littered the tops of your thighs, silvery white in their age. Saw everything you tried to hide from the world and he could tell you weren’t keen on it. “Of course, little one. Anything for you.”

John nodded and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen for a mug of coffee. You watched him go before Kyle was presenting you with your favorite mug filled with coffee. “Wasn’t sure how you take it, but I saw the mug on the drying rack,” Kyle explained, giving you a soft smile. “Oh, this is fine. Thank you,” you stammered out, looking down at the bitter, brown liquid.

Lifting the cup to your lips, you sipped and made a face, scrunching up your nose and shaking your head. “Alright, not the black coffee type,” Kyle chuckled, taking your mug and disappearing back into the kitchen. You followed him this time, telling him exactly what you’d like in your coffee while sitting down at your dinner table, a table that until this morning was covered in paperwork from your job. Now it was all neatly stacked and set on the sideboard, out of the way so all five of you could sit around the table.

By the time you’d sipped your way through half your mug, the table was laden down with all kinds of breakfast foods and a pot of coffee. John sat at the head of the table with Simon on his and Kyle on his left. Johnny sat next to Simon while you found yourself on the other side of Kyle. It was strange to you that your table was being used for something other than work and was now surrounded by you and four men who had apparently adopted you or decided you needed their protection, you weren’t sure yet.

Everyone ate in silence, the only sound being the cutlery scraping across plates. The silence was comfortable, not the kind where you feel anxious to say something to break it up or being the good host. But where silence was, there was thinking and that always led to you opening your mouth.

“Wh-Why are you all here?” you asked, looking down at the half eaten plate of food before you. If you’d thought it was quiet before, that had nothing on the silence that now rang through the room as each man stopped eating and paused to look at you. “We like ya, pet. Thought that went without saying?” Kyle answered for them all, watching you curiously.

“Y-you like me? All of you?”

Probably going to keep this story more fluffy than anything else. Might end it soon, but I'm not really sure where I'm going with it.

<- Part 6 Part 8 ->

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

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Forever for her. Left in Lincoln, pt. 7 .

10k, softdark!Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Series Master List | official playlist | floorplan

WARNINGS: I8+, virginity loss, big girthy age gap, angst, dark fluff, reader menstruates, p in v, fingering, grinding, creampie, subtle intimidation, manipulation, horror background elements. Joel is creepy, dark, delulu, and cringe (reader is sheltered, isolated, hormonal). Enthusiastic but dubious consent (brainwashing?), playing fast and loose with climate and fruit. Reader wears a flannel from Joel's closet. Haphazardly edited. This is not the last part.

"We're givin' each other everything, right?" You nodded, then he continued, "So listen." He paused and wet his lips. "I would do anything for ya, peaches." He looked down. "Anything." He met your eyes again and swallowed. "Anything to keep ya safe. . . " He lowered his voice. "an' anything to keep ya mine."

You woke up in Joel's bed, and he was nowhere in sight. You were warm, almost too warm. The dress was hanging on the back of his bedroom door. Your undergarments and a pad were on the nightstand.

You took a bath, then put your robe back on and laid on the bed staring at the dress on the back of the door. You could hear the rhythmic scrape of a rake outside and inwardly smiled, picturing Joel doing yard work. You put on your robe, crossed the room to look out the window and felt a refreshing draft as you held the curtains back. In the bottom right corner of the window's top pane, there was a spiderweb on the outside of the glass. The rake continued to scrape against the ground in the distance. The web was well-defined and irregular, some of the fibers thicker than others. You admired its intricacy and followed the design, looking for the spider, wondering if it was a male or female.

The rhythmic scraping of the rake lulled you into a trance as you followed the web from the outer edge in, until a black, out-of-focus mass fell right in front of your nose, then you felt a tickle on your chest. You gasped and stifled a squeal. Your body jerked into panic mode. You rapidfire slapped yourself on the chest and felt it smush against your robe. You wiped it on the window pane, then looked at the crumbled spider with its legs drawn in on itself, still moving but barely. It looked like a slow death, but you hoped it wasn't painful. Surely it never thought about its prey this way.

You took a deep breath and tried to slow your heart rate. You recalled that time back at your house, outside the spider shed, so long ago – Frank's words through laughter, "we're gonna get through this, honey." You took slow, calming breaths, then swallowed and whispered "sorry," before abruptly turning and walking to the bathroom. You washed your hands and chest with soap again, then came back and sat on the bed. The rake had stopped moving.

You finally stood up and retrieved the dress, bringing it to the bathroom with you and locking yourself in. You didn't want Joel to see you if it didn't look good on you. Plus, you had to do something really private.

First you went to the toilet. It was its own room within the bathroom. You locked it, too. You sat there for about fifteen minutes trying to let as much of your period out as you could after being horizontal all night. You didn't want all the built up blood pooling in your pad right away.

Once you did all you could, you washed up and looked in the mirror. You stood there and looked at yourself in your underwear for a minute, mostly looking at your face. You looked different, serious, but vibrating with a new energy. You imagined Joel standing behind you, as if you were in a portrait. Something you'd never have. But at least you had each other.

You finally put the dress on, over your head. You could just barely reach the back zipper to finish it. It felt much less cumbersome than you imagined it would. It was light and unrestrictive. The lace sleeves had enough room. It felt as comfortable as any other dress. You didn't look in the mirror right away. You looked down at yourself, then looked over your back, and down your arms. You looked in the reflection of the shower glass and the silhouette looked good enough.

You turned around to look in the real mirror, and you looked nice. The lace made you feel like a doll, but somehow you looked older than yourself at the same time. You turned around and admired it from the side and over your shoulder from the back, then smoothed it down over your butt and you didn't see the bulkiness you feared from your pad. You looked at yourself head on again, and the only thing out of place was the redness on your chest from scrubbing away the spider. With the dress on, there was a new smile behind your eyes, thinking about how Joel got it for you.

You went to the kitchen to look out the back window. You didn't see Joel and were somewhat relieved to have another moment to yourself. Your tummy felt nervous. You knew it was excitement, but the physical sensation was in discernable from anxiety. There was a little jar of apple juice on the table with a pill and a note that said "cramps?" You were feeling okay but thought about taking half of it anyway.

You sniffed the juice and it smelled good. You sat at the kitchen table and stared at the apple juice in the jar, then took a long sip and watched the tiniest bit of apple sediment settle back to the bottom. It was delicious. You took half the pill and downed the rest of the juice, then your stomach rumbled. You got an apple from the kitchen counter and sat back down. You inspected it and pressed it. You cut it with your thumbnail to make sure it wasn't rotten. It was crisp, and juice beaded along the crescent moon from your nail. You took a bite and it was fine. You relaxed into the chair and ate the apple.

Joel had let you sleep late. It was almost mid day. Just as you were finishing up your apple, you noticed him outside through the kitchen door window. He was standing there and looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He was wearing a white button-up shirt that looked like one Frank might wear to one of his black tie dinners. Joel came inside and as he turned around to close the door, you admired his lower body in a pair of form fitting khakis.

"You look nice," you told him.

He exhaled a small laugh and looked at the floor as he crossed the room to you. He sat down at the table and took your hand. "You look like an angel." He kissed your hand and scooted closer. He smelled like aftershave (although he wasn’t shaved, thank goodness) and a hint of sweat from his yard work. As comfortable as he made you feel, you still got butterflies around him.

He asked, "Hungry?"

You nodded. "A little."

"How bout a lil picnic, somethin' light?"

You nodded "is it nice out?"

"Prettiest day we could want, peaches."

—------

He made some grits and you sat at the table watching. He pulled the wagon with a basket, quilt, and blanket, and held your hand as you slowly walked. He squinted and looked at the trees, then at you.

He asked, "How ya feelin'?"

"Good, I'm fine."

"Good."

You assumed you were going to "your tree," but instead you arrived at a peach tree. He had cleared the area around it so no debris was in the way. He looked around and asked, "Whatcha think?"

You looked around. It was a good spot, away from the back, but not too close to the street. Insulated enough to feel private. You nodded, "yeah, this is nice."

Joel spread out the quilt, then the blanket, then, before sitting down, he took both your hands in his. "I feel so lucky, peaches. You're the most special girl in the world." His eyes bored into yours. "Really mean that. There's no one like you, darlin'."

You looked down then met his eyes again, biting your lip. "I think you're special, too."

A breeze came and swept your dress out, making the scene feel like a postcard.

He dropped your hands, then fetched something out of his pocket and looked at it. Your heart skipped a beat. His thick fingers were blocking your view.

"Now darlin', I'm gonna give ya somethin', but first. . ."

He held it up. It was gold and shiny. Your birth father's wedding band. Your heart skipped a beat and a knot formed in your stomach.

"My. . ." You couldn't finish the sentence. This meant he knew about the gun, too. . . and your mother's knife.

Joel must have seen it on your face. "Left everything else how ya had it. You're a smart girl, peaches."

You tried to read his face. It was soft, sympathetic. You nodded hesitantly.

"It's okay, darlin'. I don't blame ya. I woulda done the same." He held the ring between his forefinger and thumb and you opened your palm. "Smart to be prepared."

You breathed a sigh of relief as the knot in your stomach relaxed. But even as it faded, you still had that nervous–no, excited–tummy.

Joel put the ring in your hand and closed it. He held his hand there around yours and seemed like he might say something else, but he didn't.

You didn't have anywhere to put the ring. You had a passing thought to put it on your thumb but it felt stupid. You felt an urge to say you were going to give it to Joel, but you didn't say anything since he let you off the hook.

Joel reached back in his pocket and fished out another ring, smaller. It was silver with inset stones. He held it up and said, "I want you to have this one." He stepped closer, so his feet were outside yours. "We're givin' each other everything, aren't we?"

You nodded, and his eyes watered.

He nodded with you and his brow furrowed. "I love you. . . And I love bein' a family, the two of us."

Your own eyes felt misty. "I love you, too."

He took your hand, and slid the ring onto it. It was old fashioned, simple. "Ain't never gonna let ya go."

"Good," you whispered.

—

He kissed your hand, and when he tried to hold your other hand, too, you realized you were still holding your father's ring.

"Um," you cleared your throat. "Would this fit you?" You asked and opened your hand. His face relaxed.

"I dunno, peaches," he whispered. His eyes sparkled at you. He held his hand palm-down. The top of his ring finger's knuckle was a little red as if he'd already tried to put it on. You slid the ring part way on, but his finger was too big.

"Sorry," you muttered and felt a lump in your throat. You didn't have anything to give him. It rested above his knuckle.

"S'okay darlin', it's the fact that ya tried." He unbuttoned his shirt pocket, dropped the ring into it, then buttoned it again. "I'll keep it safe for ya."

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and nodded, looking up at him shyly, somehow feeling like you ruined this.

He cupped your face and read your eyes, then closed the gap between your faces and his lips pressed into yours.

He hugged you into him, kissed you harder, then murmured, "wanna sit down?"

You nodded.

You smoothed your dress under you and sat down with your knees to the side, leaning toward him. He unpacked a thermos of grits and two bowls. He unbuttoned his wrists and rolled up his sleeves and his forearm flexed with every lift of the spoon. You ate mostly in silence, but he looked at you adoringly the whole time and your nerves faded. His wrist nudged his inner thigh and when your eyes drifted there, the shape of his cock sent a pang between your legs. He followed your gaze and your face heated up as he raised his eyebrows.

—

When you were finished eating, you washed it down with the apple juice, then Joel packed up the basket and put it back in the wagon. When he settled back onto the blanket again, he had a serious look about him.

He sat down with his legs folded to the side so his knees were toward you, and he braced his hand on the blanket, leaning toward you. He kissed you again. He tasted like apples and you imagined he did, too. As he pulled away, he read your face and cupped your cheek. "You're the most beautiful angel, darlin'," he smiled. His gaze lingered, then he swallowed and looked down. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. He asked again, "We're givin' each other everything, right?"

You nodded, then he continued, "So listen," then wet his lips and paused. "I would do anything for ya, peaches." He looked down. "Anything." He swallowed. "Anything to keep ya safe," he met your eyes and lowered his voice. "And anything to keep you mine."

Your heart raced and you slowly nodded as he let it sink in.

"Get what I'm sayin', peaches?"

"Bad things," you nodded.

His brows remained furrowed as he studied your face. His voice was low and gruff. "Yeah, you could say that."

You looked down to his shirt and the outline of your father's ring in his pocket. He continued, "and darlin', I've felt this way for some time."

Your chest fluttered.

He looked up at the leaves of the peach tree, and it hit you that this was where he found you that day.

Your whole body felt warm, especially in the lace sleeves. He looked at you with anticipation and you admitted, "I had a feeling."

He lifted his eyebrows as he searched your eyes. "Okay," he whispered with a small nod. He looked down again.

"Yeah," you replied. ". . .and maybe you already did bad things." Your chest pounded. He looked at you blankly, and once he blinked, you rephrased, "Necessary things. To be together."

His jaw shifted back and forth. He looked at your mouth, then back up at your eyes. "Would ya wanna know?"

Tension gathered between your eyebrows. You took a deep breath, looked at his lips and watched his jaw clench. His eyes watered. After a moment, you slowly shook your head no. He inhaled and his eyes narrowed. Your voice was a near whisper as you told him, "No. . . Doesn't matter now."

Joel exhaled and nodded. He looked at you intensely and whispered, "Okay, baby."

You didn't need to know. You told him, "We're together, that's all I care about."

"Me too, darlin'." He chuckled, then relaxed and said, “so glad we got each other.” He folded his knees toward you again, leaned in, and cupped your cheek, his eyes locked with yours. “Me and you, baby.”

“You and me,” you whispered, lashes fluttering as his face drifted toward yours.

—-

Your lips locked, and yours tingled with excitement.

His hand moved to the back of your head. His tongue parted your lips, and he pulled you into him as he became more passionate.

As his kiss intensified, he gently lowered you into lying down on the blanket, with one of his knees between yours. His hand ran up your side and came to a rest on your breast as his mouth devoured yours. He palmed your breast, gently bit your lip, and his length hardened against your thigh. When he pulled back, he cupped your face and raised his eyebrows, and his voice was husky. "I'm never," he kissed your lips, then lowered his volume and looked into your eyes, "gonna let you go." His thumb stroked your temple. His lips brushed yours, then kissed you deeper. He pulled back, shook his head with a small smile, and his voice became a whisper as he repeated, "Never."

Your skin prickled with goosebumps, Joel's beautiful face hovering over yours under the peach tree, his body pressed against yours.

"Good," you whispered, and took his head in both your hands. You pulled him down on you. He braced himself with one forearm on the blanket near your head and his other hand traveled back down your side, down your dress, and reached under the skirt of it to your thigh. His hand slid up your thigh and he squeezed it, then lifted your thigh against him.

He lowered his hips to rest against yours, and his cock grew stiffer against you. The warm shape of his stiff length made your whole body go weak. He lifted himself off you just long enough to get the skirt of your dress out of the way. You felt warm and wet between your legs and didn't know how much of it was blood. You knew he didn't care, but it didn't entirely leave your mind.

He had the front of it bunched up at your hips, with his hand between your legs. You flinched as his palm glided over your panties, feeling the shape of your pad. But it didn't phase him at all. He gently reached into your panties.

Your face tensed. “Remember, I–"

"I know, baby," he reassured you with kind eyes.

"What about the dress?”

“Dress don’t matter, darlin’." He kissed you again. "Long as you're feelin' good." He planted another kiss and pressed his hard-on against you again. "Are ya?"

You nodded an unequivocal yes. It was certainly what your body wanted.

"Hell, let's paint it red,” he mused.

You relaxed and laughed softly.

"No?" He asked with a smile, then leaned his forehead against yours. He kissed you gently.

The time of the month wasn't ideal, but you wanted it. If you waited, he might think you weren't ready after all. Plus, you were more comfortable than you ever thought you could be. A month ago, you would have died at the thought of a man seeing any evidence of your period at all. But Joel was so reassuring, so comforting, and he really wanted all of you. He was turning it into something beautiful, and you had no doubt he felt that way. He looked at you again, then asked, “Sure you’re feelin’ good enough?" He kissed you again. “‘Cause that's all that matters.”

“I am,” you nodded earnestly.”

“You sure?”

"Joel," you sighed on the edge of irritation.

"Ok, darlin'."

He slid his hand down and exhaled vocally when his fingers met your warm, moist folds. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, moistening your clit, then he slowly, teasingly circled it. His cock swelled harder against you. "You wanna go to bed?"

You shook your head. "It's magical out here."

"That's right, peaches," he murmured lowly into your neck, lightly circling your clit with his moist fingers. His breath was warm and humid against your neck. "Special, ain't it?"

You nodded, and pulled his head back down to yours. Your lips met again. His thick fingers tensed, slid down, and prodded at your entrance. You tilted your hips and he gave a short, low "mm" as he brought his fingers back to your clit.

His tongue slid against yours in rhythm with his fingers. His mouth grew hungrier for yours every moment as he massaged your most sensitive place. He got you almost to the edge. You whimpered as his hands worked within the confines of your panties. Then he asked, "Let's take these off, hmm?" You nodded. He started to do it, then looked at your face to confirm, "You want me to?"

"I can do it," you lifted your hips and slid them down, and once they were mid-thigh, he finished taking them off.

–

He lowered his torso against yours and his massive hand nudged your shoulder up toward him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he lifted you into sitting. He traced the back neckline of the dress and murmured, "want this on or off?"

You shrugged.

"up to you, darlin'. But I sure would like to see ya." He kissed your neck and you could feel him smile against your skin. "If you're warm enough"

You were warm all over. You were so warm at your very core that it was hard to imagine ever being cold again. You asked, "you'll keep me warm, won't you?"

"Course I will."

You cracked a shy smile and planted your hands on the ground to lift your weight off the dress. Joel brought the dress up to your stomach, his fingers smearing it red, then you lifted your arms and he took it off. He planted delicate kisses on your chest at the base of your neck, and your shoulder as he gently nudged your bra straps off. Then he unclasped the back, and you let it fall in front of you. He put the bra aside and you were naked. He folded the dress into a pillow and put it under your head.

You looked at Joel's clothes and didn't say anything, but he replied to your silent question with a teasing smile. "no, I don't have to be so dressed..." you silently unbuttoned his pants, eye on his cock straining against the khakis, as he unbuttoned his shirt. Before pulling down the zipper, you traced the hard shape of his cock, and his chest let out a nearly imperceptible growl at your first rub.

He made quick work of the remaining shirt buttons, smearing a few of them red. His chest flexed as he peeled the sleeves down his bulging arms. He took his undershirt off over his head, tousling his hair, which he didn’t fix. It was the hottest you’d ever seen him. You were sitting back on your hands, naked body laid out for him. He looked at you lustily every few seconds as he took his pants off, then his boxers, leaving his commanding cock bobbing heavily before you. You pulled your eyes back up to his face and he looked at you adoringly.

–

He knelt on the blanket. Was this really going to happen? You reached out, and he nodded. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and whined, "I'm ready, you know I'm ready."

"Ready for what, darlin'?"

"To put our bodies together."

He nodded. "yeah, baby. You're ready. Gonna be real special."

He got between your legs where a fluttering ache was pounding, begging for relief. He held his cock in his hand. You felt your body making space for him. There was a place inside you that needed to be filled. He slowly lunged toward you and braced his hand on the blanket above your hip. He ran his tip through your dripping folds and his manhood further hardened. He spread the moisture over his cock. He laid his hard cock on your mound and brought his face to yours again. He rested about half his weight on top of you, his bare body flush with yours, his forearms braced on the blanket.

He kissed you deeply, grinding his erection against you, slick with your arousal and blood. Your lips embraced his and your mouth practically sucked in his tongue. He licked into you in rhythm with his slow thrusts against you. Your clit twitched against his cock and you lifted your hips, making him moan into your mouth. You needed him in you yesterday. You lifted your hips again and his mouth curved into a smile against your lips.

He reached between your legs and the breadth of his hand took up all the space. You whimpered at the first contact of the padding of his fingers with your naked heat. He slowly, lightly rubbed you as he kissed you, then slid his fingers down through your folds, gathering your moisture. He entered you with his middle finger, then his ring finger. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers slid all the way into your warm core. His cock swelled harder against your thigh as he pumped his thick digits in and out of you. He moaned softly, then added a third. Your hips rocked into his hand.

You were tense, afraid of coming too soon.

"Joel," you whimpered.

"Yeah baby," he murmured.

"What if I–ohh–what if I come too soon."

He chuckled, "you can come, baby," he kept working his fingers inside you, pressing his upper palm into your clit. You sighed and the tension swelled in your gut. "'s'a good thing, darlin'. gets ya ready for this." He rolled his stiff manhood against you as he said it. "Nice 'n ready."

"But Joel," you whined, unsure. "I want you inside"

"You wanna come on my cock?"

"Yeah, on your cock."

"Oh, baby," he moaned, his cock leaking against your thigh. "You will, baby. You will. You'll come again."

"Really?

He nodded. "Yeah. C'mon darlin, You'll come on my cock, too."

His eyes were sincere. He returned his attention to your clit and you let go. As you began to contract, he slid his fingers back inside you. "Oh, good girl," he sighed as you squeezed his fingers. "Like that, don't ya? Like squeezin' me?"

You nodded and whimpered, unable to speak as you rode out the orgasm.

"Oh, baby." He continued grinding against your hip and kissed you again as you recovered.

He pumped three fingers again, and under his breath, he muttered, "good. . .good." He moaned and pushed his hips against you. "Now I've got ya stretched, nice and relaxed."

"Joel," you begged. "Are you gonna–"

“Oh darlin’, I’m comin’.” he whispered. “Ready to be full of me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. "Fill me with you," you begged. "Put it in."

“Givin’ each other everything now,” he reminded you. “Can’t get it back.”

You nodded, “you can have it all.”

“And I’m gonna give it to ya, too.”

You nodded and your walls twitched in anticipation.

"Gonna give it all to ya."

He read your eyes and as you got lost in the black holes of his pupils, the clear fibers of his affection wrapped around you, tethering you to him and the moment. He pulled his hips back and his knees spread slightly. You spread your legs to make room. He looked between your legs and the affection on his face faded into desire. “My lands, peaches.”

He hovered over you. Your hands skimmed up his sides, and came to rest around his neck.

He used his hand to notch himself at your entrance and pushed his tip inside, stretching you open. You gasped softly, breasts heaving in anticipation of the rest of it. You dragged your feet toward your butt on the blanket, lifting your knees to frame his hips.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, and put his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” you whined, brows furrowed.

His forehead lifted off yours, his lips returned to your mouth, and his hips pressed forward, inching his cock into you with a stretch. His lips broke away from yours and his mouth stayed open. He watched your face as his girth spread you open, dividing your walls. You gasped and nodded for more. He pushed further, taking you apart from yourself inch by inch. You imagined even a smidgen more girth wouldn’t feel good. He bowed his head and backed out an inch of his length, watching your body suck him back in as he pushed in a little more than he had before.

“God damn,” he whispered, then wet his lips as he looked back up at you with half his length sheathed in your warmth.

“You feel so good, joel”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed. “You got no idea.”

“I want it all,” you begged.

He nodded, “Okay, baby.” then slowly pushed his hips forward, gradually burying his length with some effort, stuffing you full of him. “Oh, darlin’.” The look of pain on his face told you how hard he was trying not to slam into you. He was slow and gentle, and his tip pushed through your core with even more heft than you imagined. Each inch of him spread you more and filled you fuller than you thought you could be. Your body made more space and he took it up right away.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He whispered your name and said, “you’re doin’ so good.” His flesh didn’t just complete you, it made you more than you were. He took you apart and made you something new, something wrapped around him so tight. “almost there, baby.” And then he groaned “Ohhhh, god,” as you swallowed up the rest of him. It was a perfect fit.

You whimpered as he came to a rest. His cock filled up the whole space and made more for itself. The fuzz of his balls brushed your skin. Your mouth hung open and you breathed, savoring the fullness of feeling him there inside you for the first time.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighed, staying all the way inside you. He pressed his lips into yours, then pulled back and asked, “You okay?”

You nodded, happy tears prickling your eyes. His brows knitted.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “First time in years,” he whispered, and looked up at the tree. His cock twitched inside you and his tip nudged your cervix. “You tell me when you’re ready, baby.”

“I’m ready,” you nodded.

He looked you in the eyes again. “Our life starts now.” He withdrew most of his length, then let it back into you, his belly flush with yours while his cock dragged heavily inside you. He closed his eyes as your bodies became flush again. He retreated again at a snail’s pace, then pushed in a little faster.

“Saved this just for me, didn’t ya?”

He met your eyes again, then added, “Never be anyone else.”

He lowered his face for another kiss. Each time his flesh filled you up you could hardly believe how your body hugged him. It was like your body had been waiting for him all along. It really had been. This was what your bodies were made to do. Complete each other.

He looked at you and his brow furrowed again.

You asked, "What? What, Joel?"

“Now that I’ve been inside ya,” he breathed, "I’m not sure I know how not to be.”

You knew exactly how he felt. You couldn't bear the thought of being pulled apart.

He reached a slow but steady rhythm, gently filling you with his cock. You traced his shoulder, then his bicep. His bare stomach was resting against your skin, his happy trail touching you with each thrust m. He had about half his weight on you, and he let gravity help as he thrust into you. You imagined it as a magnetism. Each time he retreated, your bodies pulled back together. He bowed his head and watched himself disappear between your legs, and watched your body clinging to his shaft, hugging him tight, trying to pull him back in, not letting him go. “God damn, baby,” he breathed as he watched. “most beautiful thing I ever seen.”

When your caress reached the crook of his elbow, he braced on one forearm so he could take your hand and interlace.his fingers with yours. He held your hand to his chest and whispered, “All yours, darlin’,” his hips still moving, his cock sliding snugly against every ridge of you .

You nodded tearfully, pressing your palm into his chest, feeling the soft hair and the hard muscle.

“Every beat of it, peaches.”

Your other hand cupped his cheek, then slid up to tangle in his hair as his face returned to yours, kissing you as he buried his length in you. When your faces separated, you watched the surreal beauty of his form – his messy hair, his tan skin glimmering, his brown eyes flickering with affection as he filled you to the brim with his flesh.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good”

“I–I’m so–it’s so–”

“Packed full of it, aren’t ya baby?”

You nodded. “It’s so much,” you whispered. “But not too much,” you quickly added. “‘s’perfect.”

“So perfect, darlin’--Ohhh god, baby-–always knew ya were.”

All you saw was him, and the rhythm of his chest over yours. Beneath his heavy breaths and moans, leaves danced in the breeze, birds chirped, and the occasional piece of fruit thumped in the distance as it hit the ground. “Oh baby, I've been starvin’ for this.” His hips moved steadily, filling you with his cock every second or so, whispering your name here and there, marveling at your beauty.

“It feels so good, Joel.”

“how’s it feel?”

“Meant to be there,” you whispered, then sighed as his cock dragged through your core, completing you again. “Like it’s filling my body” More than that–it was creating space for itself, space you didn’t have before, that's the part you didn't expect. It was moving the most intimate parts of you out of the way and replacing them with him.

You tried to describe it. “It’s like –” He lowered his mouth to your neck and sucked “--oh, joel–it’s–it’s–.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed against your neck, his hips moving steadily. “I know it, darlin’,” he murmured, grinding his pelvis into yours with each smooth thrust. He slowed his hips, still grinding against you, stiff cock dragging inside you. “Meant to be right here.” Your leg wrapped around him and his thrusts became more measured, his pelvis closer against you, grinding into your clit. “Meant to be fillin’ you.”

The pleasure was swirling, nearly coming to a boil in your gut, humming for release against his front, around his cock. “I love you,” you breathed, lifting your hips into his.

“Ohhh, baby I love you too,” he whispered with a smile and near laugh. “‘n’ I love how ya take it.” His eyes darted around your face affectionately, then he bowed his head to look at where your bodies met. “Look so pretty wrapped around this cock,” he looked back up at you with bright, glistening eyes. “Look so pretty, peaches.” Your clit twitched. His movements had your hips lifting into him all on their own. “Yeah, that’s right, darlin’.” You let yourself grind up into him. “Jus’ like that,” he whispered, his body grinding against your mound as his cock moved within you. The tension hummed louder and tightened your core on the edge of bliss. You both moaned.

“Now I want ya to come, peaches,” he said in a serious tone. “Ohh, oh baby—want ya to come and squeeze me real good, can ya do that?”

You nodded, biting your lip, vision getting blurry with the moisture in your eyes. You couldn't take any more tension but unsure if or when the peak would overtake you.

“C’mon, I got ya,” he breathed as you teetered on the edge. “Breathe, baby. c’mon.” You remembered to breathe, his pelvis grinded into yours again, and then you whimpered as the tension burst. “Jo–ohhhh,” your voice was shaky as it overtook you. Your clit spasmed and each wave pulsed outward through your body. Your tears overtook your eyelashes as you moaned and gasped. Your walls clamped down around his cock, and he groaned.

“You–Ohgoddamn,” he muttered as though losing control. Then he groaned, bottomed out hard, and erupted with a shudder. A burst of warmth flooded your core, then your whole body. He dipped his head to kiss you as he came. His cock pulsed into your walls again and again and your walls squeezed in return. His lips pressed into yours, then his tongue. He kissed you and moaned into your mouth. He sucked and gently bit your bottom lip as he filled you. He was filling you all the way up, every single part of you full of him, his essence rushing through you.

There was before this and after this, you finally got it, after all this time he tried to make you see. You understood everything. Like how there was so much beauty left in the world, and it was right there between you. It wasn’t an abstract wish, it was the physical presence of you and him, your bodies together, pulsing against each other’s most intimate parts, his seed spilling into you, his lips on yours, your bodies inseparable, on the ground in the orchard. You saved it for him. Your whole life led to him.

His kiss became more tender as he finished coming. He pulled back and his eyes glistened as he read your face.

You locked eyes for what felt like forever, with Joel still breathing heavily, most of his weight on top of you.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

His eyes fell to your mouth and he kissed you again. “gonna pull out now, okay?”

Your lip trembled and your temples felt weak at the idea of your bodies not being joined. He could tell.

“It’s okay, darlin’. We’ll lay here, long as ya want.” He nodded at you and raised his eyebrows for permission to pull out.

You bit your lip and nodded.

He lay half on top of you, with a hand on your breast. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “How did it–how was it?”

“Like nothin’ i’ve ever known, baby.” He sucked in a shaky breath that made you look down at his face and his cheeks were wet.

–

You took a short nap like that, naked under the peach tree, until a dead leaf fell and tickled your arm and you jolted awake. A bird cawed at your sudden movement, and Joel asked, "you okay?"

When you got up, you only put your underwear back on. Joel wrapped you in one of the blankets, put his arm around you as he brought you back inside.

As you were walking back to the house, you heard the car noise again, toward the front of the orchard, and you froze, your eyes wide, looking toward the street. But this time it came with a breeze and the rustling of leaves.

“Just the wind, darlin’. What’s got ya so jumpy?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “Sorry.”

You didn’t realize you were jumpy. Maybe since you found out Bill and Frank could come home soon, you kept expecting them.

—-

When you got back inside, he laid the dress across the back of a chair in the living room and traced one of several red smudges with his fingers. There was bright red and dark red. "See? It's beautiful." He patted your hair. "gonna remember this forever."

He ran a bath. You sat on the edge of the garden tub as the bath filled up, and he kneeled in front of you in his boxers. He curled his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you stood up as he helped you take them off. There was diluted blood drying on your inner thighs. He dipped a sponge into the hot water to clean you. When you noticed a bit of his cum leaking out of you, it made you sad. You hoped he’d give you more.

Joel got in the tub first, then you got between his legs and laid back. You laid in silence for a while, then said, “I loved that." Hearing yourself in the bathtub sounded crisper than usual.

“What’d ya love, darlin'.”

“I love having you inside me.”

“Oh, baby, it’s my favorite place to be.”

"Good”

His cock twitched against your lower back. “‘Course it is, baby.” He kissed the crown of your head.

"I feel empty now"

"'S'okay, darlin'. You're s'posed to. 'S'posed to want somethin' there." His hand came between your legs and gently fingered your floating curls.

He shifted his hips under you. "Gotta pace yourself, but it'll feel better and better, I promise."

"Okay."

"We’ll rest up and do it again later."

"Yeah."

—---------

That night, you did it again. He was deep inside you, pressing sweet kisses into your neck as you whimpered beneath him.

“How’s it feel,” he murmured into your neck. “Still feel good?”

“Feels good,” you whined

“S’only gonna get better, baby. Better every day.” He slowly retreated, then sighed "ohh, baby" as he filled you with his cock again. He was still fucking you slowly, carefully, grunting and moaning with your whimpers and sighs. His hair was messed up again, moving to the beat of his thrusts, and his neck veins were bulging.

There was a loud rap at the door, startling you both. Joel’s hand reflexively covered your mouth as he froze, then composed himself and completed one last slow thrust, one that felt even better with you frozen in fear.

“Gonna be okay, baby,” he whispered, then pulled out. He slowly released his hand from your mouth, pressing a kiss into your lips. Your eyes were wide. You hadn't heard the car over your mutual pleasure. "Gonna be okay," he repeated.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He took a gun out of his nightstand. There was another loud rap at the door, longer this time. A deep voice with the same drawl as your husband. “JOEL, IT’S ME. OPEN UP.”

Joel looked at you and whispered, "Tommy."

Joel put the gun in the back of his jeans and shut the bedroom door behind him.

—--

The front door creaked as Joel opened it. “Tommy.” You heard the slapping of a hand on a back as they greeted each other, then the door closed. “Didn’t know ya were comin’, woulda gotten a room ready or–”

"Just dropped off Bill ‘n Frank.”

“Shhhh.”

“Hey, what the hell's goin' on? Where's the kid?”

“Tell’em she’s safe. Asleep upstairs."

"You don't think she'd wanna see'em?"

"No sense in wakin' her up."

There was a long pause, then Joel asked, “Why’d ya drive’em?"

“Their truck gave out.” After a long pause, Tommy added “Frank said somethin’s off with you.”

“What're you talkin’ about? Why would Frank said that?”

"Said ya smiled. Made'em uneasy."

Joel scoffed. "I was bein' nice."

Tommy laughed. "I told'em you're weird about hospitals, prolly overcompensatin'. Told'em everything's fine. . ."

Joel said, "good, ‘cause everything is."

"You gonna invite me in?"

"Come on in." A few footsteps, then the front door shut.

Tommy asked, “She’s upstairs?”

Tommy’s boots thudded away from Joel's bedroom, toward the stairs.

“Tommy, wait.”

Tommy didn’t wait. Two sets of footsteps climbed the stairs, with Joel’s quieter steps following Tommy's boots. You couldn't hear their conversation. A door opened and closed upstairs. Then another. And another. You turned the ring on your finger.

Footsteps, then indistinct heated words.

The lighter set of footsteps descended the stairs with the boots following behind. Tommy's voice got closer on the way down the stairs. “somethin’ ain't right here.”

The front door locked before Tommy made it down.

Joel was calm. “Slow down, take a breath.”

Tommy replied, “I don’t like that look you’re givin’ me, brother.”

Joel told him, “You need to sit down and listen to me.”

“Joel, if I don’t come back, Bill’s comin’ over here.”

"She's safe," Joel insisted. "C'mere, let's have a drink."

The footsteps faded into the living room, then stopped abruptly. "What the hell's that?" The footsteps slowly resumed, then stopped again. Then, the rustling of fabric. Tommy's voice was shaky. "What the hell is this, Joel?"

"Shhhhh. Ain't what ya think."

"Don't look like it," Tommy laughed in bad humor, then composed his nerves into calm anger. "What'd you do, Joel?"

"Nothin', Tommy. It’s her period, damn. Now sit down."

"I may be the only one who knows how dangerous you are, but don't act like I don't fuckin’ know.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Joel responded, “You don’t."

You held your neck, looking around the room. Your pulse was pounding against the heel of your palm.

“I don't? What the hell’s that s'posed to mean?”

“I’m in love with her, Tommy." Your heart swelled.

"Jesus. . ."

Tommy mumbled something else, and Joel responded, “She's not a kid."

"She's Bill's kid," Tommy countered.

"Not anymore. And I’ll do anything to keep her." After a pause, Joel added, “I mean anything.”

"I fuckin' know you do," Tommy snapped.

"Then we’re clear," Joel said. "Tell'em ya didn't wanna wake her up."

"Not ‘til I see her," Tommy insisted.

There was a beat of silence, then Joel offered, "Cool off first, have a drink. Don't wanna scare her."

Your heart raced. Their voices became indistinct as they moved towards the kitchen.

—---------

You sat on the bed stunned. Your parents were home, and you weren't as happy as you imagined you'd be to hear it. You were wholly preoccupied by Tommy's words. Joel was dangerous. You had already come to know it in your heart, but hearing someone else say it out loud had your mind racing. You never thought about what that meant for you. The worst part was the fear in Tommy’s voice. Would Joel do something to Tommy? His own brother? They were family. You and Joel were family.

You got up and went into Joel's closet. You pulled out a flannel and put it on over your nightgown. You built up your courage, then slowly opened Joel’s bedroom door.

—---------------

You emerged from the bedroom, unsure how either of them would react. You pulled the flannel over your hands, hiding the ring. As you tiptoed into the living room, Joel was on the sofa facing away from you. Tommy was facing you and saw you first. He was holding a mostly empty glass of whiskey. Joel's glass was already empty on the coffee table. Tommy sat upright and swallowed. He put his glass down on the side table.

“Hey,” Tommy's voice was soft, like he didn't want to startle you. “You okay?”

Joel looked over his shoulder, then turned his body.

“Yeah,” you nodded and walked over to them, looking at Joel. Joel's face softened as he looked at you. You sat on one of Joel’s thighs, your bare feet on the floor holding some of your weight.

“They're home, darlin’,” Joel said and looked at you with pleading eyes. “wanna go now, or let’em get some rest, see’em in the mornin’?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Let’em get some rest.”

Tommy sat back and raised his eyebrows in surprise. When you looked right at him, the dress caught your eye on the other chair and your chest felt hot.

Joel cradled your head with one hand and kissed you on the cheek. “Ok, peaches. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight, then go back to bed."

You looked at Joel hesitantly. He nodded toward Tommy and flexed his jaw.

Tommy watched you curiously as you approached. You gave him a loose hug around the neck and the lightest peck on the cheek.

“Night, sweetie,” Tommy mumbled.

You went back to Joel's lap and put your arms around his neck. He looked at you and you searched his eyes. He gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and whispered, "Go on. I'll be there soon," with a wink. His hand was big and warm on your back as you stood up to walk away.

—

Before you closed the bedroom door behind you, Tommy said, "Okay, she's not a kid. . . Don't mean it's right."

Their conversation became indistinct until Tommy was leaving a few minutes later.

Joel said, “I’ll leave it unlocked. You can stay upstairs.”

The front door opened and closed.

—------

You weren't planning on it but as soon as the front door began to close, your legs carried you into Joel's bathroom, and your shaking hand closed the door. You sat on the tiled floor against the door. Your heart pounded. Joel would never do anything to hurt you. Why was your body reacting this way? Your eyes felt weak. You didn't want him to see you scared or upset, but this couldn't be much better. You closed your eyes and tried to get back to that place you were in the orchard where everything in the universe made sense.

Joel came into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. "Aw, baby" he said to himself as he realized where you were. He took off his pants and put the gun back in the drawer, then approached the bathroom door. "You in there, peaches?”

“Yeah,” you managed weakly.

“Can I come in?” Joel tried to open the door and found it was locked.

“Not now.” You wanted to stop crying first.

After a moment of silence, he slid down the other side of the door and sat down. “Can ya talk to me, baby?”

You sniffled, then whined, “I dunno what to say.”

Joel sighed and you heard the soft thud of his head resting against the other side of the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whimpered.

“We’re a family now, baby. Gotta work through whatever you’re feelin’.”

You scooted back and slowly opened the door.

Joel came in and sat on the tile next to you, your backs against the door. He stroked your thigh. His voice was soft. “Wanna come back to bed or wanna talk in here?”

“Here.”

“Okay,” he whispered. He was studying your eyes, desperate to read them.

You winced with a cramp and put your hand where it hurt. He went to get you a pill and came back. He handed you the pill and a glass of water. “Want me to run you a bath?”

You shook your head no. You didn't need a third bath.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“What’s wrong?” you repeated.

You looked at him, hating the fact that he was going to make you ask him. Earlier, you said you didn't want to know. You wanted it to stay an abstract, romantic concept that he would kill for you. But the way Tommy was talking, you felt like you needed something. You felt like you needed to know Joel better.

Joel took a deep breath in through his nose. His voice was soft and careful. “Tommy’s my brother, and I love’m, but .. .sometimes, brothers. . . .” He was searching for words, and at the same time, searching your face for an out. He gave up and his voice dropped an octave. “What’d ya hear, darlin’?”

You heard the words come out of your mouth before you could stop them. "How'd you kill him?"

Joel squinted and searched your face. “Who?”

“What happened to Jesse?” you asked. Joel looked up at the ceiling and his nostrils flared. His chest expanded with a calming breath. You continued, “I don’t care about him at all. I don’t even care if you killed him but I wanna know."

"Thought ya didn't wanna know."

"Now I do."

“I dunno if that’s a good idea, peaches.”

“You said you’d do anything for me. This is what I need, I need you to tell me.”

Joel sighed and swallowed, then nodded. “There was an accident.”

"What kind of accident?"

"He fell."

“What? Like from a tree?”

“No, when he was diggin’.”

You felt lightheaded imagining the garden beds, and the way Joel tucked the pumpkin flower behind your ear. Something told you he was still out there. You tried not to show anything on your face.

You asked, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“‘Cause it was my fault. I scared him. Didn't want ya to be afraid."

“What happened?“

“Won’t do ya any good knowin’ that, darlin’.” Joel sighed. “Might make ya feel bad.”

“I don’t care, just tell me.” What bothered you was that it wasn't even serious with the boy. It was nothing like it was with Joel. So Joel didn't have to do whatever he did. All Joel had to do was love you and you would've dropped everything else in an instant. All Joel had to do was hug you. You really believed that.

“He was gonna hurt ya, darlin'." You found that hard to believe, but heard him out. You reflexively squinted but tried not to look too skeptical.

"Hurt me how."

“He was talkin’ like. . . he was talkin’ disrespectful.”

Your face burned, thoughts flying around in your head about what he possibly could have said.

Joel did a double take at your face and noticed how embarrassed you were. “Darlin’, you really don’t need to be hearin’ this.”

“Just tell me.”

"So when he tried to touch ya. . .”

“You were watching us?”

“I was worried, darlin’. Just lookin’ out for ya.”

“So you saw me stop it, then.”

“Sure did, and I was proud of ya.” There was nothing to be proud of. It wasn't on any moral grounds, you were just nervous in Joel's orchard. And apparently, you had every reason to be.

“So what happened?”

“So, next time we were workin', it came up again. . ."

Your mouth felt dry.

Joel continued, "I told him that’s not how to treat a woman, that you deserved better.”

Your heart pounded. “And you were really mad, that's why he fell.”

Joel nodded, and you nodded. You could picture the rest of it, but you didn't want to. You imagined that when he fell, that wasn't the end of it.

You took his hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

Joel kissed your hand and breathed a sigh of relief.

“And thanks for doing that," you added.

Joel squinted at you, taken aback. “Doin’ what, darlin’?”

“Whatever you had to do. . . for me.”

Joel studied your face as though it might have been a trick. It wasn’t. He slowly nodded. He kissed your hand again. “You don’t hate me.”

“Of course I don’t hate you, I love you.”

Joel’s eyes watered. “This is true love, baby. Unconditional.”

You asked, “Can I ask you something else?”

“Anything, peaches.”

"Who else?”

"Uh," Joel squinted.

"I asked you how you killed him, and you asked who."

"Oh, darlin'," he chuckled.

"Did Abe really leave?"

Joel inhaled then puffed out his cheeks as he let out the breath and hesitantly shook his head no.

“He was in bad shape when I found him. Gettin’ sick, talkin’ crazy..”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were already scared. . . didn’t wanna make it worse.”

You barely nodded, trying to process all this, wondering if there was more to it, but consciously pushing the thought away. You wondered whether you would've been more or less scared if you knew something happened to Abe.

"You're a smart girl, peaches."

“What’d Tommy mean when he said you’re dangerous?”

Joel wiggled his jaw and looked away, then back at you. “I’ve made some mistakes. Used to let my temper get the best of me.” He looked down. “Don’t drink like I used to.”

He scooted around on the tile to face you. He picked up both your hands and looked at you with big, pleading eyes. “But no matter what, you gotta believe I would never, ever hurt you, baby." His eyes were glistening. "There’s no part'a me that would. I’d sooner hurt myself.”

You looked at his mouth and just as you saw the smallest quiver, he wet his lips and swallowed.

You whispered, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Good.” He sighed in relief.

You took your hands away and tightened the flannel around you, then said, “and you wouldn’t hurt anyone I love, because that would hurt me."

Joel swallowed and inhaled through his nose, waiting uncomfortably for you to continue.

You looked at each other for a few seconds, then you asked, “Are Bill and Frank gonna be okay here?”

He looked away, then back at you before muttering, “I hope so, darlin'.”

“Even if we can't be together right away?”

Joel squinted at you incredulously. “What're you talkin’ ‘bout, can’t be together?" He scoffed coldly, making your temples hurt. "I’m sure as hell not lettin’ Tommy tell me what to do. You gonna let them tell you what to do?”

“No. . .” You didn’t know what else to say.

“We talked about this, darlin’. You change your mind?”

You shook your head. “Guess I’m still nervous. Thought maybe it'd take time."

Joel clenched his jaw, opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it again. When he did speak, he was calm and measured. “There’s no scenario where we’re not together, peaches." He raised his eyebrows at you and added flatly, "We promised each other forever.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“And I meant it,” he added with a hint of accusation.

You protested, “I did, too.” You did.

"Well I still mean it."

"I do, too." You weren't lying. Somehow, you didn't want it any less. If anything, your heart wanted it more. You wondered if you went too far in your questions.

He pried your hands off the flannel to hold them. You tried to relax but your hands were still tense.

He dipped his head to make eye contact with you and didn't blink. “You and me together. No matter what.” He closed his eyes for a breath and sighed. When his eyes met yours again, he added, “No matter where.”

Your heart fluttered.“No matter where?”

He nodded with a deep inhale through his nose. His eyes wandered, then found yours again. “yeah, no matter where."

This tugged at your heart. Was he really willing to take you out?

"There's another town . . . Ain't easy gettin’ there, but I reckon if we're real careful. . .”

You pondered it silently. You wanted to see the world outside, but you never thought about moving. You wanted to live with Joel on this land forever, but you wanted your parents to be okay, too. Leaving altogether seemed so sudden, so huge.

You asked, “Really? You would take me out?”

“Scares me to death,” he admitted. "But I just wanna be with you, peaches."

You stayed quiet for a minute.

"Ain't right they kept ya here all your life," he muttered.

The thought of leaving forever was scary, but if that's what it took to keep your parents safe, you would. Joel was your home anyway. You could feel at home anywhere with him.

You asked, “Would I get to say goodbye?”

His mouth tensed and he looked at the floor.

"Not out loud," you conceded. "But could I see them again first?"

He was quiet, reading your face. "If that's what ya need," he nodded somberly.

“Spend a little time with them?” You asked.

“How much time?” Joel countered.

“I don’t know, a few days?”

“You wanna be apart that long?”

“No, but. . . no”

Joel sighed. “Let’s figure this out tomorrow, k?”

He cradled your head and whispered, “We’ll figure it out.” He pressed his lips into yours, giving you the slowest, most tender kiss. He pulled back and your eyes clouded up.

“I love you,” you whispered. “More than anything.”

He nodded, tears in his eyes.

You added, “And there’s no ‘but’. I’ll go anywhere to be with you.”

He pulled you into straddling him. Your arms wrapped around him all on their own and you were soothed. It was true, you had given him everything. You were hollow without it, without him. But up against his body, wrapped in his big arms, you felt complete again. You felt safe.

You could feel his manhood beneath you, warm and soft. He hugged you tight and drew in a ragged breath. He held you and stroked your head for a minute. His cock hardened a little with your crotch against it. You were beginning to feel the painkiller. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered. You yawned. “Thought we’d have more time.” The front door opened, and you flinched.

“Just Tommy," Joel whispered. "He’s gonna stay upstairs tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go to bed, baby.”

You braced yourself with your hands on his shoulders and stood up. He hooked his thumbs under the flannel collar to help you take it off, but you pulled it tighter around yourself.

Joel pulled his hands away, then rubbed your back. "Okay, darlin'."

You got in bed, curled up on your side. Joel draped his arm over you and asked, “this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and loosely laced your fingers with his in front of you.

“‘S’gonna be fine, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t wanna be apart,” you sniffled.

“We’re not gonna be,” he reassured you. “Ever.”

-----

THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. AND YOU WILL HAVE MORE SEX.

However, this is on soft hiatus until after Halloween unless i really feel like putting out the next chapter. Too many seasonal things to cook.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging <3

I'll reblog or comment with Lincoln tag list.

@toxicfics for notifications. The tag list is not long for this world.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #joel miller x innocent!reader #joel miller x virgin!reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#lincoln!joel #lincoln!joel ☠️#possessive!joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw arachnophobia #cw age gap

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faevi · 1 year ago

Text

GUNSHOT OF LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: You trust Gojo Satoru so much, even if he has a gun to your head. You'd do anything he says, with or without the gun. That's true love & loyalty.

Word Count: 10,167.

Content / Trigger Warning: PLEASE READ ALL OF THEM. female reader (she/her), DARK CONTENT, GUN-PLAY(!!); sucking on it, weapon touching intimate areas, pulling the trigger (no actual bullets), etc. threats; including death threats(!!), degradation, humiliation, pet-names, praise, spanking, tit slapping, dacryphilia/crying, sex over a desk (being bent over it), fear play, power play, blowjob, throat-fucking, spit, cum, blindfolded, bdsm, dominance submission, obeying orders, hair pulling, bruising, being marked up, lingerie, everything is very much consensual and planned, mean satoru, big dick satoru, unprotected sex, creampie, penetration, daddy kink, wth do i warn, lots of aftercare and love afterwards <33

I think that’s everything? Please kindly (heavy emphasis on the kindly) let me know if I missed anything!! It’s not my intention to.

Note: Firstly, EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL!!!!!!!!! It’s implied that the whole gun-play was discussed before, ok. Different kinks exist and it’s clearly a BDSM based scene. Not vanilla at all. Also idk about others but I have fun reading kinks (obviously not every single one, i do have limits like others) that I wouldn't ever do myself, so. It's fiction and reading be fun. Not my best writing (again). Always room for improvement. Please ignore any mistakes because I didn’t edit it afterwards dkfjgfd. Please don’t come at me if this isn’t for you - I have plenty of warnings and it’s dark content so :’), it’s to be expected. Satoru is a bit of a meanie during it but I swear he’s super sweet after <333 Please let me know if you enjoyed it ; - ;. I will try to do better for the next piece.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

You’re kneeling in his office, shivering and blindfolded. He’s forgotten about the window. The gentle breeze coming through the slightly ajar window, embracing you and you found yourself wishing for his warmth to smother you instead. Now isn’t the time. Especially with his red satin tie around your head, blinding you. You could barely glance down to see your body. He’s currently out of his home office to deal with something. Only giving you one order to obey. Kneel and stay put. He’ll know if you move.

It’s impossible to disobey Gojo Satoru.

Especially since you’re the one chasing him, craving not only his attention but his touch. You’re only wearing lingerie; laced and black. It was to surprise him when he was sitting in his office, typing away and boy did it surprise him. Your lips still feel a pleasant tingle from the searing kiss he gave you before his phone rang. You sigh softly, impatience rising and your knees start to ache from having to kneel directly against the wooden floor. Hands rest behind your back, fingers laced together and squeezing so tightly to try and contain your excitement. Satoru will return soon. So, you wait.

You straighten your back when you hear the small creak of the office door opening, sock-covered feet padding lightly against the floor until you sense someone towering above you from behind. The white-haired male gazes down at you, eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and admiration he holds for you. You didn’t move, it seems. Heart swelling up with pride, Satoru’s long fingers stroke along your hair on the top of your head. Nice and calm. Soothing.

“You listen to me so well, Y/N.” Satoru praises, nails scraping along your scalp until a soft whine leaves your lips. “Though, I do remember saying to not distract me today. You couldn’t resist it.” He sighs, crouching down behind you. Even when he’s at almost the same level as you, it always feels like he’s towering above you. Blindfold or not, you’re not blind to that. “You’re lucky that I adore you so much.” He whispers, long fingers trailing along your bare arm, grinning to himself when he witnesses you squirm from his touch.

“Daddy—“ You breathe out, tongue lolling out as you struggle with containing yourself. Your thirst for the taller male continues to grow, and your sense of touch is only heightened when your sense of sight is temporarily forbidden. With both hands now, his fingers continue to soothingly stroke along your bare arms from behind you. It’s featherlight and you couldn’t help but wonder what Satoru will surprise you with.

“It’s a good thing that I have work wrapped around my finger, they won’t question why I ended early today. Although, it’s you who is utterly tangled when it comes to me. Isn’t that right, baby girl? You’ll do anything I say. No matter how scary or dangerous it is.” He whispers low against your ear, warm breath fanning against it. His large hands now cup your breasts from behind, fondling with the soft mounds and not bothered by the fabric. You feel flustered because he’s right. You’d do absolutely anything for this gorgeous human being. Maybe it’s because you know if you did use your safe word and he’d stop instantly; that you’d do anything. There’s no one else you trust more with your well-being or life as a whole.

“Isn’t that right?” Satoru repeats himself, just seeking reassurance before he continues. His fingers pinch your sensitive buds through the thin fabric and you whimper, thighs clenching together. “Yes, Daddy. I’d really do anything—.” You confess through your needy whimpers, eyes clenching tight beneath the satin fabric of his tie. You wish you could see the way his hands expertly grope your breasts because you swear, you could come from this alone if he continues. You’re in the palm of his hand, eager to take it all. You’re completely loyal to him and it just arouses Satoru. Especially your sweet obedience.

“Mm. Good girl.” Satoru says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he stands up behind you once more. The white-haired male isn’t afraid of showing you affection any time of the day, but especially during moments like this. Simply, to ease your mind that he still loves and cares for you. No matter what he’s going to put you through. Rough. Humiliating. Pain. Dangerous. It’s all just thrilling to you both and truth be told, Satoru is the best of both worlds to you. You get everything. The rough or the gentle. Whatever the day calls for. Maybe it’s his loving warmth that seeps through, that makes you call him Daddy rather than something formal, like ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’. It’s fitting for the white-haired male and Satoru loves it when you call him it. It didn’t matter what he was going to do, he’ll always be your Daddy.

He’s not behind you. You can somewhat sense him in the direction of the desk in his office when you hear sounds in that direction. You pout, impatience starting to seep through. You hear a drawer open and close. Is he just going to make you kneel here? Suddenly, you yelp in pain, hands instinctively coming up towards the source of pain. Satoru bunched up your hair before surprising you with a forceful yank, forcing you to lift your knees until he lets go and your knees meet a— cushion? Your heart flutters despite the pain tingling in your scalp. He cares. “Hands in your lap.” Satoru orders and you quickly oblige, fingers lacing together in your lap.

Satoru is crouching in front of you now, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouting lips. They’re impossible to resist. Something cold and hard brushes along your bare thigh and he watches your eyebrows furrow with confusion of what it could be. His eyes light up with something sinister and exciting. “You look so pretty for Daddy. So impossible to resist. I should just have you kneeling here and actually do work. You’d be like my own personal art for the day. Hold any pose I put you through, no matter how uncomfortable it is.” Satoru coos softly and you whine, still feeling whatever it is stroking your thigh, even prodding against your covered womanhood, panties already drenched with your juices. “Maybe I’ll take you to work and force you to do that. You might feel humiliated with so many eyes on you but I’d be so proud to show off what’s mine.” He says, voice laced with his usual amusement. You huff a little, embarrassed yet aroused at the idea. You really would do anything for him.

“Part your legs and stay still.” He orders with a sweet kiss to your temple. Head cocking slightly in confusion, you willingly spread your legs far enough but still able to keep your knees against the comfortable pillow. The mysterious object in his hand brushes along your inner thigh before pressing against your womanhood and you gasp sharply, feeling the cold… metal, even through the thin fabric. Whatever it is, feels good against your needy pussy. Especially when Satoru presses more firmly until your slick-covered folds manage to spread despite the panties and the object presses against your sensitive clit. “A-Ah..” You gasp out softly from feeling a surge of pleasure wash over you as the foreign object rubs your clit slowly in a circular motion. You feel your clit throb beneath the touch, whining as pleasure continues to spread through you, leaving you to crave more of it. You’ve always been sensitive so it’s a difficult task to keep your legs apart.

Satoru loves to watch you struggle before him. He continues to rub the edge of the object against your throbbing clit, eyes fixated on your quivering thighs and how the panties weren’t enough to stop your juices from seeping out further and with the use of the metal object, Satoru smears the juices across your inner thighs. You clench your fists tightly, your mind racing with thoughts you’re barely able to process. You would have been ultra-sensitive to his warm touch alone, but the object just sparks your sensitivity further, only wishing you could know what it is. Some sex toy?

Your brows stay furrowed and Satoru laughs, delighted by your needy reactions. “Bet my pretty whore just wants to know what it is, hm? Patience. I’ve barely touched you.” He sighs out heavily and you feel somewhat embarrassed to be so reactive, face feeling hot. “Daddy, I just miss seeing your face..” You whisper breathlessly, nose crinkling as a pathetic attempt to try and move the tie around your eyes. A failure. He tied it pretty firmly. “Cuuuuute.” He coos softly, tapping the edge of the object against your bare thigh.

Satoru’s free hand cups his own cheek as his head tilts, elbow against his knee, watching you with amusement. It’s funny watching your body jerk with each slow tap, head turning towards the touch. “W-What is it?” You stutter out, unable to hide your curiosity as it grows. Satoru ignores the question for the moment, leaning back and his eyes refuse to leave you. “You’ll know soon. Take your panties off.” He orders breathlessly, his own heart pumping with excitement because fuck, he loves seeing your needy cunt before his eyes. Even if you’re pretty in lingerie.

Your fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties, hastily shifting yourself so you can tug them down the length of your legs and just as you are about to toss them, you feel his grip on them. Quickly, you let go. Without even needing him to speak an order, you move back to your original position. Kneeling on the pillows with willing legs staying apart and hands draped by your side. “Such a good girl, baby.” Satoru praises, though already sounding so distracted when his crystal blue eyes focus on your pussy.

Dripping and looking so inviting, Satoru brings your panties up to his nose and inhales sharply, groaning at the heavenly smell of your sex. His cock strains against his briefs, desperate to be relieved and touched. Your pussy clenches around nothing upon hearing his delicious groans, lips staying parted and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining. You just want to see him. “You smell so fucking good, baby. Panties drenched from being so needy, huh?” Satoru says, words muffled by the damp fabric still pressed against his lower face. He grins to himself from seeing you shyly tilt your head down and stuff the panties into the back pocket of his black slacks.

His long legs bend once more to crouch in front of you, one hand still gripping the object tightly in his hand before the other comes around to swiftly unclasp your bra. Even blind, you’d never get used to how hot the action is from the taller male. He’s taken your clothes off more times than you can count. The pads of his fingers ghost along your arm as he peels down the strap until the bra is finally off and tossed to the side. Your heart is racing, wondering what he’d do next to you, finding it even more thrilling with your ability to guess becomes non-existent when you can’t see his movements.

The tip of a mysterious object presses against the side of your breast and Satoru enjoys the sight of your squishiness. You’re still trying to figure out what it is by focusing… The end is somewhat circular and ah— You feel it start to drag between your breasts, trailing down your naked stomach and back to your dripping womanhood. Satoru could practically see the goosebumps appear, trailing after the contact the object makes and he smirks.

You start to pant softly, nails digging into your own legs. ��Since when did you love to take your time so much, Daddy..” You whine, lips naturally pouting. This a silly remark on your behalf as you both know that he is never one to rush if he has time. Still, you’re only being cute to try to find out what he’s doing and what his more sinister plans may entail. “Sluts need to learn how to wait.” He sighs, sliding the object back down to where it originally was, pressing against your dripping folds.

“I’m your slut, a-ah…” You whimper out, spreading your legs further when you feel the cold metal once more gliding between your folds, thankful that panties aren’t in the way anymore. The cool sensation is only heightened from the lack of sight, leaving you all warm and tingly between your legs. Satoru is still far too calm for what he’s usually like and it leaves you dying of curiosity. What is he hiding? Whatever sex toy it is; feels so damn good as you grind against it, tiny gasps escaping from the jolts of pleasure you feel when it presses against your bundle of nerves. Your head is spinning, tilting back as moans of his name spill from your lips.

Satoru watches hungrily as you turn into a needy slut for something foreign between your legs, gaze never leaving as your hips begin to pick up the pace as you hump against the metal object, only warming it up with your sweet slick and keeping it against your hot pussy. His own lips parted in silent awe, head hanging forward and refusing to look away. Sometimes it’s moments like this where he wonders how he managed to score you for his selfish self. Eventually, he pulls it away and stands up to tower above you.

Sad sounds instantly part from you, feeling despair from the lack of that pleasure and your pussy clenches around nothing, clearly desperate to be filled up. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” Satoru asks, voice nothing but serious and a hint of excitement. You blink beneath the blindfold, shifting on your knees before your lips curl up to form a genuine smile, heart fuzzy and warm. “I trust you with my life.” You breathe out softly.

“Take your blindfold off, then.”

Finally. Your hands come up, first attempting the knot behind your head and it takes a moment but you manage to tug it free, untying the knot and keeping your eyes closed as the tie drops, draping along the front of your naked thighs. You open your eyes and deep fear momentarily crashes into you hard.

There’s a gun pointing at your forehead, dripping with your juices and just beyond the semi-automatic pistol, is Gojo Satoru smiling wide at you, eyes full-blown with carnal desire. The sight of him eases your fear, even if he does look rather manic with a gun to your head. Your trust and love for him far outweigh the fear you briefly felt. Besides… why is your cunt dripping more than ever and your heart pumping excitement through you? This is beyond dangerous and yet, you want it with him.

The pad of his index finger lightly caresses the trigger, pressing the barrel of the gun against your forehead. Your breath hitches, body starts to tremble. One pull and you’d be gone. It still doesn’t truly shake you to your core. You’re terrified. Natural to be so scared when there’s a gun to your head and yet, you also can’t shake away how aroused it feels to be forced into a position where all you can do is trust and obey Satoru. His head tilts forward, looking down at you through strands of white hair. Having you in such a vulnerable position is a blessing to him. It’s a right that only he gets the privilege of seeing. A privilege to put you through. “You look so scared, baby. Daddy won’t pull the trigger if you just follow orders.” He purrs, voice low and strained. The barrel of the gun now travels lightly down the length of your face before nudging against your pretty lips.

“Suck it.”

You whimper softly, eyes almost going cross-eyed as you try to look towards the barrel of the gun. Instead, you focus on his fierce grip on the weapon, baffled by how a large hand alone can look so hot when it’s steady and having control over something so dangerous. With a nudge to your lips, you press a sloppy kiss to the tip, glancing up towards Satoru’s face as you drag your tongue directly over the hole. You notice that his finger isn’t on the trigger anymore and assume it’s because you actually obey what he said.

“Daddy..” You whisper breathlessly, swirling your tongue around the end of the pistol. It’s not as smooth and easy to do compared to when you suck Satoru’s pretty dick. It doesn’t taste as pleasant either. Cold metal against your tongue as you drag your parted lips along the side of it until you make contact with his hand. You keep your eyes on the tall male, tongue dancing along the gun, drool coating it before you repeat the same teasing action along the other side, your heart still racing from the fact that this weapon could end you.

Your lips meet the barrel of the pistol and you look up at Satoru. Silently, he nudges it against your saliva-coated lips and you’re quick to obey. Your lips wrap snugly around the tip, metallic taste filling your mouth already as you suck on the end gently, moans muffled. Satoru curses beneath his breath, hand reaching out to tenderly stroke along your hair. He’s so very pleased that you've proven his words to be right. That you really would absolutely do anything for him. Hell, he’s sure you’d even die for him and to have someone that loving and loyal to him? To no one else? Fuck, his cock throbs harder than ever before. You look cute in his eyes as you suck on the end of his pistol. It usually sits in his side drawer, but seeing you enter his office in lingerie? It just called to him.

It’s a bit difficult compared to sucking his cock. The sliding of your mouth isn’t as easy, yet you don’t care. You still feel desperate to please the white-haired male. With your jar relaxed, you bob your mouth up and down half the length of the gun, having to keep your mouth wider to be able to fit the awkward size comfortably.

Mindlessly, his free hand begins to palm himself through his slacks and groans quietly from the friction of fabric rubbing against his pulsating cock. He begins to push the gun further into your mouth until the open end presses against the back of your throat. You gag loudly, throat muscles constricting around the metal object and it causes your eyes to sting from feeling your throat ache, scraping against the pistol. “Keep it in.” He sighs out softly and you have to breathe heavily through your nose, lack of oxygen evident from having a gun deep in your mouth. His crystal blue eyes are wide and heavy with lust as they focus entirely on you and the heavenly sight of you choking on his weapon. His finger caresses along the trigger and you whimper, completely muffled. You continue to try and swallow around the pistol until finally, Satoru relents.

Satoru slowly slides the pistol along the flat of your tongue until he pulls it away entirely. You inhale sharply, a string of saliva connected from your lips to the barrel of the gun. You couldn’t stop yourself from dry-heaving, trying to inhale the oxygen you briefly missed. His free hand reaches to tenderly stroke along your hair, lips curling to form a playful grin. “Good girl, baby. Look at you, dripping all over my office.” He comments, shifting his foot until he taps it against your dripping cunt and you whimper from the jolt of pleasure that shifts through you. Your juices drip slowly onto the wooden floor from how excited you feel, despite the aroused terror you also feel from the gun still being pointed at you.

It’s coated in your saliva still, Satoru isn’t bothered to wipe it clean. Instead, his free hand begins to unbuckle his belt. He pauses, noticing how your fingers twitch by your sides. The white-haired male chuckles, delighted by how you’re always so eager to please him. “Go on, then.” He says, tapping the end of the pistol against your forehead as further encouragement for you. You waste no time. Hastily, your trembling hands come up to finish unbuckling his belt and swiftly sliding it out of the loops to drop it on the floor beside his feet. You look up at him, admiring his beauty as you curl your fingers beneath the slacks and briefs. Your hand unzips the front and you begin to pull his bottoms done until finally, his cock springs free. Satoru steps out of the bottoms and kicks them to the side.

You practically drool at the pretty sight of his thick, long cock throbbing in front of your face. “I don’t even need to threaten you. You’re an eager slut, already drooling.” He sighs out dramatically, nudging the barrel against your cheek, making it squish. You flush with embarrassment, though you can’t retaliate. Gun or not, Satoru is right. The pillow beneath you is already damp because of your dripping cunt. Long lashes flutter and you waste no time to wrap your soft lips around the leaking head of his throbbing cock. Briefly, you tease the tip with your tongue, swirling it around and lapping up the pre-cum, hot moans muffled.

Satoru breathes in sharply between his clenched teeth, cock twitching in response to your teasing. His free hand grips firmly onto your hair and roughly yanks you forward as his hips push out, forcing his pulsating length down your throat further. You whimper, thankful that your mouth isn’t filled with the taste of metallic this time and instead with something else that you love to taste. Your tongue rubs along the underside of his cock, keeping your jaw loose as he guides your head with ease by the fierce grip on your hair, mouth bobbing up and down the entire length.

You couldn’t breathe properly, throat muscles constricting every time he slides deep enough, only leaving you to gag loudly and fucking into the saliva that gathers. It feels heavenly to him. Addicting, too. To feel the soft squishiness of your cheeks rubbing against his cock as he continues to fuck your mouth onto his cock, hips meeting each time. Tears sting every time you feel the throbbing cock push down the length of your throat until your nose presses against smooth skin. It’s even harder to breathe through your nose when it happens, the lack of oxygen making your head feel all light and floaty. Eyes roll, saliva dribbling down your chin and you could feel the edge of the gun still pressed to your forehead, his heavy pants and you choking on his cock filling the air.

You trust him. Trust overwhelming any sense of fear you have about the weapon in his hand, though it will always look menacing in his grip. People would find you to be a freak for also being aroused by it at all, clit throbbing and walls clenching with the need to be filled up. “Fucking hell— fuck. Every hole of yours made for Daddy, huh?” He groans, his stomach starting to tighten with the need to orgasm. He’d rather not. Satoru is more eager when it comes to seeing his white sticky cum dripping from your fucked out cunt. Your hands stay by your side in fists as a pitiful way to try and contain yourself, feeling high off of his words alone. His hand shifts to the back of your head, thrusting deep and forcing you to take every inch of his length once more, not allowing you to move. You stay there, scrunched nose against his stomach as swallow around his cock, throat muscles squeezing around it before he pulls you off quickly, moaning your name.

You begin sputtering and dry-heaving, desperate for the oxygen to flow back. It’s complete bliss when you breathe, throat aching from the sweet abuse. Strings of spit connect your lips to the shiny tip, coated with a mixture of pre-cum and your spit. “Ah~..” You exhale out shakily, looking up at the white-haired male with complete awe. Only he can ever treat you like this and get away with it. It’s thrilling. Hot, even. The gun momentarily dangles loosely from his hand, inhaling slow deep breaths as he looks down at you, admiring how pretty you look on your knees, already looking fucked before he even stuffs you full. Satoru’s lips curl to display a wicked grin.

“My pretty princess, all mine to play with and not a single complaint. I could shoot you and you’d still be desperate to obey me and give me pleasure.” He teases through a coo, waving the gun in your face briefly. Your puffy lips form a cute pout, whining. “Daddy sees right through me. Just want Daddy’s cock so bad..” You whisper, voice breathless and ragged. Satoru hums, long fingers dragging through his white hair before he raises the weapon once more. “You expect me to get to your level to fuck your tight pussy? Bend yourself over the desk.” He orders barrel nudging once more against your forehead.

Frantically, you stumble to your feet. You feel relief for your knees because, despite a pillow, they were starting to ache. Still panting from the result of your mouth being fucked, you make your way to his desk on shaky legs. Funny how he already has you in such a state just from kneeling for too long. “Haven’t even fucked you yet.” Satoru snorts with amusement, though silently endeared as he walks behind you, free hand gripping your hip as he guides you forward. Your eyes make contact with his belongings across the desk. “Daddy, what about your—“

Your words are instantly cut off as you watch Satoru swipe his arm across the desk until everything lands on the ground. Thankfully there is a rug beneath his desk to lessen the damage. Not that you care— That was extremely hot and before you could express that, his large hand firmly grips the back of your head to force you down, upper body bending until the side of your face is pressed against the wooden desk and you whimper, feeling a dull throb. “Baby girl~, looking even more enticing.” Satoru purrs, tapping the end of the gun against the desk beside your head. You couldn’t help but tremble beneath his grip, eyes focusing on the weapon next to you, noticing how his finger once more caressed the trigger as he shifted the angle of it to face you.

Automatic fear washes over you, soon turning into excitement that drips from between your legs. Your trust in him only deepens as you begin to teasingly sway your hips. Satoru drags the barrel along his now empty desk, crystal blue eyes refusing to look away from the seductive sight of your ass. His free hand gently glides down the length of your body, neatly trimmed nails grazing along your naked back. “You’re so pretty, Y/N. Especially like this, as if you were made to be bent over my desk and take my big cock in any hole of yours.” Satoru says and you could practically hear the cocky smirk in his voice. Your thighs squeeze together, cheeks heating up. He isn’t wrong. That’s what you often think about. How you were born into this world to belong to the white-haired male, to feel excitement and pleasure as you do anything he wants. Your fetishes and kinks always line up with his. You glance towards the gun that appears, even more, shinier because of your sweet juices mixed with your saliva. You bite back a small smile. You were made for each other.

His large hand grasps your right ass cheek firmly, squeezing harshly enough to coax sweet mewls out of you and to, naturally, admire the way your ass fills up the gaps between his fingers. Fucking hell, he loves your ass. He brings his hand back, hovering before he brings it back to the surface of your ass swiftly, slapping your ass cheek firmly. You whimper, feeling the sweet sting spread across your cheek. He alternates his harsh spanks from cheek to cheek, grinning almost like a maniac as he enjoys the joyful sight of your ass cheeks jiggling before his very eyes. His palm starts to feel numb and yet it doesn’t stop him. Nor do the tears that glue to your long lashes as your gaze stays fixated on the automated pistol pointed in your direction, looking so menacing. Spank after spank, the impact each time his hand lands seems to be harder than before, causing you to squirm on the spot and bite back your sobbing. The pain by Satoru’s hands feels so good.

You gasp out sharply when nails scrape over your burning skin, knowing that light bruises were already beginning to form from how hard he hit your ass cheeks. “What are you doing just laying there, princess? It’s like you’re asking me to pull the trigger and leave you here to bleed.” Satoru murmurs, dragging the edge of the gun across the table before you feel the cold metal, slicked with your saliva and juices; pressing against your bruises ass cheek. “If you don’t show me how much you want me..” He warns, finger tapping lightly on the trigger.

Hastily, ignoring how the deathly threats invoked some sort of wild excitement out of you, your hands come back towards your throbbing ass and you whimper softly, hands trying to gently cup across the surface of your ass and spreading your cheeks wide enough to finally reveal your both of your holes. Your pussy is on full display, folds parted and strings of your slick attached to them. Satoru grins, ignoring your whimper as his free hand soothingly rubs along your waist. “Such a good girl, baby. Always obeying me... You’re just a little dumb, s’all. Need Daddy to always guide you through it.” The white-haired male purrs, feeling daring enough to press the tip of the pistol directly against your puckered asshole and chuckles when he sees it clench. “Scared I’m going to fuck your asshole with my gun, baby? Would you prefer my cock?“

You nod your head eagerly to the thought, heat rising to your cheeks and nails dig lightly into your own flesh, keeping your ass cheeks spread. He laughs and you’re delighted to hear it, unable to stop your lips from curling. “Just love Daddy’s cock so much, made to fill my holes up..” You mumble, breath hitching when the edge of the gun presses further against your asshole. You shiver, not knowing what to expect as he drags the metal object down between your ass cheeks and rubbing once more against your folds.

He loves it, really. You looking so vulnerable. Scared by the gun and yet confused for being aroused. This power that he holds over you is so addicting; something he’ll always want to chase. The dominance to pair with your submissiveness. Satoru snaps out of his trance, placing the gun on the desk and finally gripping your waist with two hands. “Keep being my perfect girl, don’t think I won’t pick it back up and hurt you. Have you crying for me, begging for me to stop the pain. Hm? Only Daddy would be able to help you, isn’t that right?” He says, voice low and soothing as his hands come down to squeeze over your own hands that keep you spread for him.

Your heart flutters and all you can do is helplessly nod. Satoru soaks it all in. The sinful sight of you bent over his desk, sweet juices smeared along your inner thighs and dripping from your core. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to hold himself back when he’s desperate to slam himself inside of you with no warning and have you choke on your pretty tears. One hand grips the base of his cock as he guides himself forward until he’s grinding his erection against you. A heavy sigh falls from his soft lips, head tilting back as he focuses on the feeling of his length rubbing between your slippery folds, each slide so smooth from your slick. His bulbous tip leaks pre-cum that smears along your cunt, pressing against your needy hole, finally. You whine, nails scraping once more across your bruised ass cheeks that leave a burning sensation across the numb flesh, wiggling back to show your eagerness for his cock.

You still find yourself nervously glancing towards the gun that rests about thirty centimetres away. One false move and your beloved Satoru could pick it up, having every right to. Yes, you’re so willing and thankful to give him that much power. To hand over all the control to the white-haired male and deeply trust him in return. He spoils you, deep down. Cares for you. Loves you. It’s only right to be loyal and obedient. Hell, it makes it so much more thrilling. One of his large hands caresses along your bare back again, his gaze fixated on your face and so he knows where you continue to glance. It makes his cock throb with so much excitement, seeing you nervous and yet, determined to behave.

“Your trust in me, Y/N…” Satoru trails off, his own blue eyes focusing on his cock, perfectly lined up and ready. It already glistens beneath the office light from being coated in your mess. You squirm a little, wondering what exactly he wants to say and— “Ah!” You strangle out a cry of surprise laced with pleasure & pain when you suddenly feel his cock pushing in deep, hard and fast. He didn't 'prepare' you with his fingers like he usually does; to coax you into relaxing and being able to adjust comfortably when something bigger enters. Not that it's usually needed. He just knows you love the feeling of his long, slender fingers. Still, the pain of your walls stretching only adds to the thrill. Satoru slams his throbbing length into you, hips snapping forward and nails digging into your soft flesh as he groans your name out in pleasure, head tilting back. “It’s so arousing—.” He finally manages to finish between heavy pants, already feeling your warm velvety walls cling right around his erection and squeezing.

“Daddy, oh—, nngh... So big—“ You whimper out, eyes closing tightly and your words only make his ego inflate, leaving him to grin down at your naked body beneath him. “Yeah? Daddy’s so big that he’s filling you right up. Don’t deny that it feels good, baby girl. I don’t like my good girl to lie to me.” He teases, hands soothingly stroking your sides. Satoru wastes no time. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust or get comfortable as he begins to thrust, nice and slow. You lay there obedient and eager to take his monstrous-sized cock, even if the stretch of your inner walls still hurt. Your cheek presses against the surface of the desk and if it wasn’t for his fierce grip on your hips, your body would have been jerking forward with each hard thrust.

The pain begins to subside already, replaced with the pleasure you often chase for. His cock sliding in and out with ease, all thanks to how deeply aroused you are. Satoru pathetically tries to contain himself by digging his nails into your flesh, muscles tensing up as he watches his cock disappear inside your needy cunt with deep fascination. “Fucking— tight.” He pants out as he feels your warm walls drag along his throbbing length as if eager to keep him buried deep inside. You squeeze around his thickness, feeling utter bliss and too deep in the pleasure to even feel flustered from the squelching your pussy makes every time he pulls out, only to push back in. “Nn, Daddy~.” You moan out happily, mind blank as you nuzzle the hard wooden desk.

Satoru laughs breathlessly, pulling back until only the bulbous tip of his cock stays inside your warmth. Naturally, a whine of complaint falls from your lips and you try to wiggle back onto his cock. His hands easily hold you in place and you yelp with surprise when he swats your ass cheek. “Fucking whore, always so greedy for Daddy’s cock. The dumb girl can’t even think of anything else. huh? Isn’t that right? So cock obsessed that you’d just lay all day with your legs open to show off your slutty pussy. Want Daddy to fuck you, baby girl? Hm?” The filthy, degrading words fall easily from his lips and you flush with humiliation. It only drives your lust further and deeper. You feel pathetic to know that it’s true. You don’t care in the end— You just want his fat cock in your tight pussy.

“Daddy, please~. Fuck your personal toy. I’m such a whore for your thick cock, a-ah!” You cry out in sweet ecstasy when he slams into you, arching your back into the air. Instantly, he’s leaning down until his toned body is pressing against yours, hand groping your breast and squeezing harshly. He’s grinding his cock into you, leaving you feeling so drunk off the pleasure as moans spill easily from your swollen lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Take all of me.” He whispers against your ear, shivering from his hot breath and teasing tongue against your earlobe. Satoru continues to grind hard, addicted to the way your inner walls seem to desperately try to cling to his throbbing length, only for your juices to make each thrust so easy. He massages your breasts, taking his time with each and it leaves your legs trembling. His hand comes down until he presses just above your womanhood, groaning softly from feeling his own cock make you bulge.

You whimper from feeling his hand pressing down, tears glued to your long lashes. Everything just feels so good! You could barely contain yourself even if you wanted to. Satoru adores seeing you already unravel before him and it prompts the desire to see more. Satoru carefully slides out of your core and you pout, hole clenching around nothing. The white-haired male’s lips are curled to form a smile of amusement, hand slapping easily against your wet cunt as you keep your legs spread. “Patience, princess.” He says, enjoying the soft cries that escape you from his slap.

Satoru’s thick and heavy cock continues to throb and he grips your wrists firmly to tug you upwards. “Eh?” You question, though happily obeying as he controls your movements. With not needing to use much of his strength, Satoru easily manhandles you. He twists you around until you’re facing him and hoists you up onto his near-empty desk. The gun still lying near one of the corners. “Not even trying to help Daddy here, I guess you really do love me handling you.” He sighs, a chaste kiss to your forehead before his hand pushes against your shoulder and your back meets the flat surface of the desk.

Your eyes are wide from feeling the impact, gazing up at him with lust and legs open, your body looking so inviting for him. Always. Satoru wastes no time. He’s too eager to feel you around him again and so with his hand at the base of his cock, he guides himself back in. Tip pressed against your hole before sinking in entirely, coaxing mewls to spill from your needy lips. Satoru shivers, feeling you squeeze around his erection once more. Your hands grip weakly onto the edge of the desk as Satoru starts to thrust fast and deep. You moan out in enjoyment when you feel his cock stretching you out every time he slams into you, eyes rolling back and lips staying parted. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave your face as he pounds relentlessly into you, heavy pants mixed with eager grunts and groans parting from him.

The white-haired male never gives in, no matter how good it feels to have your walls wrapped snug and tight around his pulsating cock. Satoru continues to thrust hard and fast, skin slapping against skin echoing off the empty office walls. Your breasts bounce with each pounding of his length, the office desk creaking beneath you. “Daddy!” You choke out in ecstasy, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. It only drives him further to witness you in such a delicious state; utterly drunk off of his cock alone. One hand comes down to your pussy, thumb pressing against your throbbing clit to rub teasingly in circles.

Electrifying jolts surge through your body from the contact to the sensitive nub, face scrunching up as you cry out for the taller male, clenching around his cock that continues to pound into you with no mercy. Every touch, every thrust of his is so damn thrilling that your body only chases for more, even as you start to feel delirious. Sweat lightly coats your body, tiny yelps escaping your swollen lips as his other hand slaps your breasts which continue to jiggle, thanks to his cock slamming deep into your core. “Da-ah~ Nnghh..” You babble out, cheeks glistening from your tears. Satoru is panting heavily, not minding the numb tingle in his palm as he slaps your breasts in time with his thrusts. Fuck, he swears he’s never felt anyone or anything so damn perfect before. The way your velvety inner walls cling onto his cock as if desperate to keep him buried inside of you; keep you full to the brim.

You both can sense the ultimate highs coming and yet, he refuses to give in just yet. It’s almost like magic to see how fast his throbbing cock disappears and your dripping cunt taking every inch, always stretching right around and squeezing. One hand steadies you against the desk, gripping onto your hip. His eyes are wide and alive with swirls of lust as his other reaches for the gun. Just that feeling of more power, that will really fucking send him over the edge. His long fingers wrap around the grip of the automated pistol. He pulls his cock out to the very tip, listening to your cute little whines. You want him back inside of you so badly and— “Ah!” You cry as he slams back in, eyes barely able to concentrate as he leans in, hovering over you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep.

So close, you’re both so close. Nearly there.

“Would you die for me, Y/N?” He pants out heavily, refusing to look away from your face that twists with innocent confusion from the question. You’re too drunk off of the pleasure to really think, though you know in your heart, what the answer is. “Yes— Yes, would die for, nn.. you, Daddy. Anything for you.” You moan, hand coming down to rest over his on your hip to squeeze. A single laugh escapes him, pleased by your answer. Loyalty really is the best in his eyes. To have you especially, be happily devoted to him. “Prove it, baby. I want you to prove it.” He says, voice low and breathless. You open your eyes when something presses to your forehead and that’s when you notice he picked up the automated pistol mid-fuck, still thrusting deep inside your dripping cunt, balls slapping against your ass.

Fear tightly tied in with the pleasure you feel, continues to surge through your body. Your eyes filled with tears almost going cross-eyed as you look at the gun, crying. You’re babbling and incoherent, nails digging into his wrist. You have to prove it. You want to prove it. To Satoru, your entire world. The metal scrapes against your forehead as your body still jerks with every pounding. Satoru feels like he could barely breathe now when your pussy clenches so tight around his length, forcing his grip on the gun to stay steady. “I’ll do it, Y/N. I’ll pull the trigger, just say you’ll die for me. Show me— Fuck, so tight... Show me your devotion.” He antagonises further, stomach muscles tensing. In his eyes, you look so pretty as a sobbing mess. All for him.

You’re blinded by the tears that spill down your cheeks, wailing mixing into moans of ecstasy. It’s so sinful, in your mind. To be so afraid and yet aroused. That your needy pussy continues to be coated in your excited slick, making it easier for him to fuck into you. “P-Pull it, Daddy! Let me show you!” You manage to stutter out in a broken cry, refusing to close your eyes as you look up at him. To look at your everything. “Fuck—” Satoru grunts out, cock aching from witnessing something so beautiful. “I’m pulling the trigger, baby. Three—” He cuts himself off, the barrel of the gun pressing firmly against your head.

Your body is shaking, your stomach hot and tight with the need to let everything go. “Daddy!” You choke out, eyes wide and cheeks stained with constant tears. “Two.” He warns, crystal blue eyes refusing to leave yours. He cocks the gun. This is it. This is when you’ll show your true devotion to the white-haired male; your lover. Satoru’s slick-covered cock slides out until only the tip stays nudged in.

“One!”

You hear the click of his finger pressing down on the trigger as he slams one final time into your tight heat and you swear there’s an explosion of stars. You come around his cock, walls fluttering before squeezing around him. Your eyes shut tightly when you hear the trigger, too deep in your feelings of ecstasy to process the reality of no bullet. The gun slams down on the table as his muscular arms wrap around your trembling figure. He’s groaning against your ear and finally spills every drop of his seed, filling you up to the brim. Your walls clench repeatedly around his thick length, eagerly milking him through his orgasm as you sob through your own. You cling onto him, legs and arms feeling like jelly as you do so. “I’ve got you, Y/N..” Satoru whispers, hand already stroking along your back as he holds you against his warm body.

It feels like a long while for you to calm down from your high, desperately holding onto the white-haired man as you sob through your orgasm, your excited mess seeping out from your pussy. It’s mixed with his own sticky cum and he’s still refusing to pull out of you. Maybe selfish of him, but he swears to himself that’s mostly focused on you. He has to. Wants to. After everything he’s just done. Reality soon crashes over you. Even when you’re deeply in love and trusting someone; it doesn’t stop the breakdown of relief. Relief mixed with guilt and confusion. Relief for being alive, that there really wasn’t any danger. Guilt for being aroused by something so dangerous in the hands of the man you love. Confusion... Why? Why did it arouse you?

Satoru makes gentle shushing sounds, not with the intention to silence you but to comfort you. Tears continue to spill down from your cheeks, nuzzling his broad shoulder in a pathetic attempt to hide. “You’re okay, baby… It’s okay. Daddy would never hurt you. Not like that, hm?” Satoru whispers lovingly. He finally relents, sliding out of you until his cum spills out of your gaping cunt and drips along the edge of the desk. Your walls clench around nothing, already missing the feeling of being full. A small hiccup escapes and you feel your body being gently rocked. “D-Daddy..” You mumble through sniffling and he pulls back a bit.

The white-haired offers a warm smile, eyes now clouded with the love he has for you. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking hold of the gun. You couldn’t help but whimper, gaze fixated on it. “Look.” He pauses, sliding the magazine out to reveal the insides of it. Completely empty. Not a single bullet inside. Deep down, you knew that was the case. Satoru would never dare threaten you with a live weapon. It was all part of the play; something you both discussed wanting to try weeks ago. Everything was consensual… Still, you feel confused. Was it wrong to be so aroused by having your life in his hands? Trusting him completely? Satoru slots the magazine back into place with a click before setting it aside. With one hand on you, Satoru leans down to grab a bottle of water that he kept near his desk. He’s always a prepared man, even when things seem so spontaneous. He uncaps the bottle and gently guides your head away to press the edge of the bottle against your lips. You obey and take small sips of the water, thankful for the liquid to ease your sore throat.

“You’re not gross, Y/N. What you feel is completely normal, baby. It wasn’t exactly the gun that aroused you. Nor me. It was about the power exchange and trust.” The white-haired male gently explains and it surprises you; to be read so easily. Your bottom lip trembles and you pull back slightly to look up at him, tears glued to your long lashes. His heart aches at the sight, large hands tenderly cupping your cheeks as he scatters loving kisses across your forehead. “It feels weird, Daddy... I was so scared.” You confess quietly, sniffling. “But, I trust you so much. Even with my life. You’d never really do it, right?” You ask rather timidly and Satoru shakes his head quickly. He knows such thoughts are normal after an intense scene and you only deserve the best love and care afterwards.

“Would never ever. The only fear and pain we accept in this household is consensual. I love you so much, Y/N. You did so well for me.” Satoru praises, hands caressing your bare back as he smiles down at you as you continue to sit on his desk. Your heart flutters at the sight of his smile, wrapping your arms around his middle to cling onto him, burying your face against his firm chest. So warm and comforting. “I like trying new things with you. I know people would probably think of us as freaks, but I like it. You’re the only one I trust.” You mumble, voice muffled by your face refusing to pull away from his chest. Your words ease his mind and he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. Even a dominant person in a relationship needs aftercare and to be reassured. You know that very much. Especially with Satoru. He may be intense during the scene and heavily aroused, but he’s still someone who is soft and gentle; behind all that cockiness. “I like it, too. We’re made for each other, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me… Now, come on.”

You cock your head to the side in question before you let out a soft squeal as you feel Satoru lift you up with ease. Satoru’s hands cautiously cup your ass cheeks as he walks to the closed door. You look back towards the office — items scattered across the floor and cum dripping down the table. You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t we clean that up?” You ask quietly and Satoru laughs, warm breath tickling your neck. “I’ll clean it up later, we’re focusing on you right now. How does a bubble bath sound? Let me take care of you.” Satoru says through a dramatic whine and you can’t stop the giggle from escaping, resting your head against his broad shoulder as he carries you to the bathroom.

“You’re the best at taking care of me, Satoru.” You say through a happy sigh. He sets you down on the counter, finally shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt off properly. You watch, eyes glazed over with love as he’s preparing the bath. It’s thankfully quite big and will be able to fit both of you comfortably. Even with his long legs, that your eyes currently admire. His hand glides under the tap of running water, adjusting the temperature to the warmth that he knows you prefer. He looks back at you for a moment, noticing you looking. “Are you admiring my ass?” He teases, lips curling into a grin and you huff, looking off to the side. “Your legs, thank you very much. Though, you do have a nice ass.” You grumble and Satoru snorts.

Once the bath is prepared and nearly overflowing with bubbles, Satoru walks over to scoop you back up into his arms. “Admire all of me.” He says with a playful pout and chest puffing out. You lightly smack his muscular pecs, smiling. “Always.” You respond with a kiss to his lips as he settles both himself and you into the water. Your back is against his front as his long legs trap you within. Briefly, he tilts his head back and sighs, enjoying the warmth of the water and your body pressing against him. You nuzzle back into him happily, prompting him to smile. Quietly, he grabs a loofah, squirting your favourite scented lotion on it before he begins to scrub it gently against your arms. He firmly holds each arm up as he rubs in a circular motion, spreading the suds across your skin. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach as he continues, feeling the loofah against your back and across your front. No one else in the past ever took care of you to such lengths.

Still, it’s not fair. “Satoru—” You begin, taking hold of the loofah once he is finished. You manage to wiggle yourself around until you’re facing him. With an eager huff, you begin to scrub against his skin and across his muscular body. Satoru’s playful gaze softens, keeping his arms up against the edge of the tub as he watches you. “Is this an excuse to touch my hot body?” He asks, unable to keep it in. You splash water at him and he laughs, leaning in to press a loving kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment.

“I get to touch your hot body whenever I want anyways.” You say as you pull away from the kiss, feeling giddy. There’s no sense of fear or insecurity within you anymore, completely comforted by the white-haired male’s presence. He loves you so perfectly. Satoru rolls his eyes as he sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I’m just a piece of meat.” He jokes, kissing you once more before wrapping his arms around you. “Just kidding.” He reassures, pulling you against him.

You both stay in the bath until the water starts to feel cold and so, Satoru stands up. He quickly dries himself off so he’s not dripping water across his apartment, wrapping the towel around his waist. He grabs an extra fluffy one for you, guiding you to stand up before he wraps it around you.

“I can dry myself—”

“No.”

You bite back a smile, now standing on the bathmat as he dries you off and even going to great lengths to squeeze the water out of your hair carefully. Satoru bends down to peck your lips, the towel now replaced with a fuzzy bath gown in your favourite colour. “Can you go to the bedroom? I’ll be quick.” Satoru promises, nudging you to the exit of the bathroom. Happily, you oblige. You walk down the long hallway— You still find yourself surprised sometimes by how big his apartment is… Bedroom, too. You push the door open to reveal the master bedroom, walking over to sit on the edge of the king-size bed that you happily share with the male.

Satoru quickly unplugged the bath before hanging your towel and leaving the bathroom. He walks in the opposite direction until he’s in the kitchen. He grabs another bottle of water from the fridge and two granola bars from the pantry. Perhaps some would think his actions during aftercare are a bit extreme. That cuddling is ‘enough’. A few nice words. To him, that’s barely anything. He remembers briefly of the past— You being surprised by how far he goes to make sure you’re okay. Maybe it’s surprising cause he doesn’t seem like the type. Not with an overly confident persona and playfulness. There will always be layers to discover when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Once in the bedroom, Satoru walks over to set the bottle and granola bars down on the bedside table. Your gaze softens. “What if I wasn’t hungry?” You ask, allowing him to scoop you up to drop you down against the middle of the mattress, sinking into it. “Don’t care, you’ll still eat it.” Satoru says, guiding you to roll over onto your stomach. You make a questioning sound, sensing him moving away and you tilt your head to watch him. He walks over to a set of drawers to grab a pair of sweatpants, tugging them up his long legs and tucking himself in before grabbing a bottle of lotion from the top surface. “Satoruuuu, you do so much. Let me take care of you, too.” You whine and Satoru settles beside you, grinning a little. “You do plenty.” He reassures, pressing a kiss to your temple.

He slides the gown up until your ass is revealed to him and he sighs. “You do have a perfect ass. My favourite.” He says, slowly squeezing some of the lotion onto his palm and you pout. “I hope you don’t see any other asses.” You mumble, breath hitching when you feel the coldness of the lotion before he begins to massage the lotion in. “I don’t know, hard to not look at my own.” Satoru says lightly, kneading the supple flesh gently. He never wants to take any chances with bruising. The spanking was barely anything compared to what he had done before, but it will never stop Satoru. Maybe it’s an excuse to touch you further and the thought makes you giggle. Thankfully, his tender massage does ease the throbbing in your ass. Once finished, Satoru leans down to press a playful kiss to each cheek. “Mwah, mwah.”

You laugh, prompting him to grin before he tugs the gown back down and rubs his hands on his sweats. He sets the lotion aside before his firm grip rolls you back over. Satoru easily hoists you up until you’re settled against the pillows. He tugs the blankets over your lower half, making sure the pillows are nice and plump for your comfort. He joins you under the blankets, settled against the pillows next to you. His arm reaches behind you to grab one of the granola bars and drops it on your lap. “Eat.” He orders gently, now wrapping his arms around you to snuggle into you, happy to just finally embrace you in bed and relax... Not that he doesn’t love doing aftercare, he really does. Especially after an intense session. It’s just that nothing quite beats cuddling in the end. You feel extra cosy still in the bath gown to relax in and have your boyfriend clinging onto you. He’s always been the affectionate kind and you adore it.

You snack on the granola bar in a comforting silence, breaking a bit to feed to him. He happily takes it between his teeth before chewing. One hand comes up to stroke along the back of your head, smiling softly. “Feeling okay now? Do you have any regrets?” Satoru asks, needing to know. You tilt your head, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “No regrets at all, my love. I had fun and it feels comforting to know that we can be freaks together.” You say with a soft giggle and Satoru relaxes. “Agreed, my love.” He copies, keeping his arms wrapped around you. You smile, noticing his eyes closing for the moment. You briefly think back to the gun that was pointed at your forehead. Fear doesn’t flare up within you. You know that no matter what happens between you both— No matter how intense things could be; there will always be love and trust. You will always be happy and willing to try something new with the man you love. Besides, it’s not like it’s the only thing you both do. There’s plenty of gentle love-making, too. “I love you.” You mumble shyly, nibbling on the granola bar. He smiles, eyes still closed and snuggling into your warmth.

“I love you, too.”

981 notes · View notes

hauntedhowlett-writes · 9 months ago

Text

along for the ride

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count:

summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.

author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!

“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.

“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”

“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”

“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”

Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”

“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.

Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.

“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items.

“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.

“What do you mean?”

seeking valentine

36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email [email protected] with a pic and bio for consideration.

[img01.jpg]

You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.

Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.

Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you.

Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.

Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns.

He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme.

“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him.

He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.

“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”

"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."

"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."

Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"

"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"

"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."

Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"

"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink.

As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.

"I had a really nice time, Joel.”

"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"

"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?

“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—

“Get a room!”

You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab, actually.”

Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?”

Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.

Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.

He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher.

The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.

His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”

You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core.

“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.

He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.

The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”

You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”

You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.

Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body.

Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”

“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.

Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.

His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.

He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.

“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch.

“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him.

You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there.

“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”

You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.

When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure.

“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”

You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck.

He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”

After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”

“You can stay…if you want.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”

Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”

“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”

“What now?” Joel asks.

“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”

Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #tlou fanfiction #tommy tlou

552 notes · View notes

wraithlafitte · 10 months ago

Text

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #userwraith

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fayesia · 1 month ago

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Day 4 - dubcon

"Snake" - Sirius x slytherin!reader

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ warnings - rough sex, dirty talk, thigh riding, breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, no aftercare, petnames "bunny"

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ wc - 1.1k

Everyone knew that you, a Malfoy, loathed the filthy blood traitor Sirius Black.

But no one knew the way he had his mouth and hands all over you in this small cramped broom closet, hidden in the winding hallways of forever changing directions by the moving staircases.

"Wait-Black stop-hmph"

You were shut up by the force of Sirius' hands pulling you chest to chest with him, one of his hands winding up your back to yank a fistful of your hair. Whining out your hand came forward to slap at his chest, but he dismissed your movements quickly with his other hand.

"Stop fucking fighting, little slut acting like she doesn't want this after practically begging for it with these clothes."

You thought the denim mini skirt was cute. It was never something your pureblood parents would allow you to wear at home, and it perfectly matched with your soft pink lace adorned singlet that read babygirl. Sirius seemed to disagree, as the mere sight of you in Hogsmeade had him using the table to cover his crotch. A rather large bulge under his jeans forming, similar to the one he had right now with the close proximity between the two of you.

His mouth canvased across the expanse of your jawline and neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, drawing out near sinful moans from you. Moving his hands beneath your top, he caressed the small of your back up to the middle of your spine, a whimper almost drawn out of you. Sirius' head bent down until your noses were almost touching, his eyes focused on your own, and you couldn't bear to look away. As he knee slid between your thighs, your denim skirt easily rode up your waist.

"Do you really want me to stop babydoll?"

"No"

You answered almost simultaneously with the movement of your hips, the contact of your pussy against the rough material of his jeans through your panties had you wet. Smirking against your jugular, you heard a huff of amusement come from Sirius' mouth.

"Don't think this fucking means anything Black"

"Oh no of course not I would never think anything of the way your cunt is soaking my jeans as you hump my thigh like a fucking dog in heat"

Blushing ferociously you grumbled at Sirius to shut up, continuing to ride his thigh you had finally found the perfect angle to rub your clit. The coil inside you tightening as you softly moaned out, a noise Sirius took immense pleasure from, his hard cock almost painfully yearning to be free from his jeans. Right as you neared your high, you dug your nails into Sirius' shoulders, digging harder when he removed his thigh from your thighs before you could even come.

"What the fuck- no that's it. If you can't fucking get me off I'll just find someone else to do it. I'm sure your brother Regulus can make me feel a lot better than your needle sized dick."

Finishing your rant you looked up at Sirius' face.

Fuck.

You made a mistake.

That rant ended up with you being bent over, panties pulled to the side, as Sirius had one hand pulling a fist of hair and another pushing your back into a deep arch. His cock was also deep. Pounding brutally inside of you as you whined at him to wait. Hands scrambling to push him away as well as grip onto a nearby shelf for balance. The stretch was painful which your face showed but Sirus didn't notice, or rather, he didn't fucking care, it was one way to prove you wrong about your "needle sized dick" comment. Something he didn't appreciate at all.

"You think anyone can fuck you like this. Only I make you a slut. Fucking whore for this cock aren't you"

You couldn't even get the words out, the start of one was quickly finished with various gasps and moans uncontrollably coming from your mouth.

"You wanted this though didn't you. Riled me up and put this whole show on so I would fuck you like a proper bitch"

"N-ugh-no no-didn't fuck ah"

"N-n-n dick made you so dumb you can't even fucking speak can you"

Sirius mocked you, and shamefully, you tightened around his thick length at his words, your noises only increasing alongside the ferocity of his movement and foul words. He roughly pulled you away from the shelves, turning you so that you were facing him before swiftly entering you again. Your pussy had gotten used to the stretch but the sheer length of him penetrating you from a different and deeper anger made your limbs weak. Enough so that Sirius was able to lift your top, continuing to thrust inside of you, and grope your breast. The supple flesh was ravaged by his long nimble fingers which found themselves busy with your nipples, tweaking the soft buds until the hardened.

"Fuckin' stupid babygirl huh, is that what you liked to be called when you bend over for every snake"

Your head moved side to side, Sirius had rendered you speechless suffice for the quiet noises still coming from you.

"Bet you're a cumslut for them too, you let them fill you up, let them breed you with their little pureblood devils"

"Ngh-no-never let them.."

"Fuck. But you'll let me yeah. Cause you want me to. Fill you and use you like the cumslut you are, turn you into my favourite breeding bunny. You want that don't you babygirl?"

Sirius' thrust were more furious as he ranted about cumming in you. Your back was growing sore from rubbing against the worn out wood as well as your neck which was forced to bend at an angle where you could see sirius' cock enter in and out of you. His dick was rubbing against that perfect spot in you as you furthered tightened around him almost cutting off the circulation to his cock. The noises he let out were now almost anamilistic, sounding like an angry canine marking its territory. Which is exactly what he was going to do.

"Gonna cum inside yeah, pump you full of my blood traitor babies."

"Sririus wait-"

But it was too late. His head had already dropped back to face the ceiling, and he was groaning out without a care as to who could hear him. Warm thick liquid was coating your inner walls, which you could barely react to from the body shattering climax you were experiencing. Left shaking in Sirius' arms from the feeling of your liquid mixed together dripping out of you as he pulled his now limp dick out.

"Look at you now fucked stupid. And you think my brother could've fucking done that, god you're pathetic."

His eyes glared at you as he used his wand to fix himself to look presentable before leaving the closet and closing the door behind him with a harsh slam. You were left leaning against the wall with your top flipped up and you skirt bunched around you waist, Sirius' cum still leaking out of you.

No, his brother would never do this.

Kinktober Masterlist

#smut #oneshot #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #sirius black smut #harry potter smut #marauders era smut #sirius black x reader

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delusionalbitchinthehouse · 2 months ago

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Ifrit and Alpha getting horny while sparring hehehehehe

The issue is not that Alpha once again managed to immobilize Ifrit - for the fourth time in their forty minutes of sparring - the issue is that Ifrit is on his back on top of him, legs pinned down by Alpha's, and held in a solid chokehold, the older fire ghoul's bicep pressing firmly against his throat.

Oh, and Ifrit is very, very fucking hard in his tight little shorts.

He can't move, the thing is - can barely breath and that's only because Alpha is letting him. Even his arms are useless, because the second Ifrit tries to use them - to claw at Alpha's own, to push himself off the ground, Alpha tightens his hold, cutting Ifrit's airways off.

He really should tap out and go take care of his aching problem, but there's something so fucking good about the way he can feel Alpha's chest rising in time with his breathing, their clamy skin sticking together, and- well. The press of Alpha's equally hard cock against Ifrit's ass is a nice bonus too.

And, if Ifrit is honest, there's something thrilling about being overpowered when you're a notoriously strong bastard. Maybe that's why being thrown around on the mat by Alpha is one of his favorite passtime.

Alpha shifts slightly, panting in Ifrit ear, using his own legs to part Ifrit's wider, and there is no way it's unintentional. The manhandling makes Ifrit's dick twitch. Fuck, he's so hard. A chuckle rumbles in Alpha's chest.

"Gettin' a little bit excited ?"

Ifrit is about to retort that Alpha is in much the same situation, but the older fire ghoul cuts it off.

"Well, go on. Your arms are free."

Heat pools in Ifrit's belly, though his face burns at Alpha's suggestion.

"I- here ?"

They didn't lock the door - didn't had any reason to, at first. Anyone could walk in. It wouldn't be a first, but fuck, the idea of getting caught never gets any less humiliating. And arousing.

Ifrit strains to suck in a deep breath, Alpha's arm still weighting on his throat. He wonders if the slightly dizzy sensation is because of the lack of oxygene or the way all his blood rushed to his cock.

"Yes, here. Come on," Alpha coos, "be a good boy and touch yourself. Must hurt, mmh ? Don't you want to feel good baby ?"

Alpha is right, it does hurt and oh, that tone- Ifrit would do anything for him if he just kept talking to him with that tone.

Ifrit's hand shakes when he reaches for his cock, palming it through his short. He's been hard for so long, dick straining against the fabric and leaving a wet stain, that even such a light touch has his whole body jolting, which only makes the choking worse, which only makes him harder. Fuck.

"Sensitive," Alpha chuckles, "come on, take it out, let me see it."

With a whine, Ifrit fishes his cock out, giving it a good stroke that makes his eyes roll back.

"There it is. Already soaking, uh ?"

Alpha is lazily rolling his hips, apparently more invested in watching Ifrit touching himself, obscene wet noises making his ears twitch. Ifrit gasps at one particular good stroke, whimpering pitifully when he finds he can't fuck into his tight fist, with how Alpha is still keeping him still.

"Sh, sh, don't pout now," the older fire ghoul huffs, "focus on the head, mmh ?"

Ifrit does, and it's so much, with how worked up he already is, he nearly puts his hand away, but Alpha tuts in his ear with that admonishing lilt to it that burrows itself under Ifrit's skin and forces him to keep torturing himself.

"Attaboy, keep going, come on."

At least Alpha's voice is breathier now, chin hooked over Ifrit's shoulder to really see his struggle.

"Ah- fuck, Alpha, too much-"

Fangs scrape against Ifrit's neck, but what really makes his rythm falter is the tail sneaking between his legs, brushing his balls.

"Alright, slow down, let's make it easy for you, mmh ?"

It's a short-lived relief, because then Ifrit can feel Alpha smilling against the side of his head.

"Use your other hand and play with you tits for me."

Ifrit's pretty sure he blacks out for a second.

Make it easy for you, Alpha said. Right, and Ifrit's the Queen of England.

He knows damn well Alpha revells in the way Ifrit's trying to writhe - to no avail. But Ifrit doesn't have the strenght to fight him, so he obediantly gropes his own chest, whinning all the way through.

And then it gets worse.

"You'll come for me like this, pretty boy, and then i'll see if I can pull those filmsy excuses for shorts to the side and fuck you like this," Alpha growls in his ear.

Ifrit let out a sob.

#they be nastyyyyy #love their dynamic #ifrit is so far gone and it's still only the begining #ifrit ghoul #alpha ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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mymegumi · 11 months ago

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PRETTY BOY MANICURES ෆ KAGEYAMA TOBIO

⠀ note: don’t look at me idk

kageyama’s really trying not to flinch—he is.

it’s just that his hands are extremely sensitive and you’re handling them so gently that it’s a bit like sensory overload for him—the feeling of your skin on his, the way you’re carefully holding his fingers as if they’re delicate, and the intensity of your gaze on your task. it’s both physically too much for him, and emotionally it’s a lot to handle as well.

his hands are his pride and joy, they’re what help him further his volleyball career and he’s always taken really good care of them. some might even say he’s focused too much on taking care of his hands, but he’s never even regarded opinions he deems unworthy to have any sort of weight to his life.

when you asked if you could paint his fingernails, he adamantly refused. he had volleyball to worry about, and while the polish wasn’t directly on his fingers, he was worried they might upset his carefully measured equilibrium. you’d been a bit downtrodden, but you’d understood and he’d loved you all the more for it. so, when it was summer vacation and he was technically in off-season and the matches were fewer and far between, when you asked him again, he’d agreed.

which is how he finds himself with you sitting across from him, holding up two small bottles of nail polish in one hand—one black and one white—with your other hand carefully inspecting his hands.

“which color?” you ask, shaking both of the bottles in front of his face. he’d already done his normal routine to file them down and trim the excess nail length, but you’d been happy to sit behind him and rest your chin on his shoulder to watch.

he shrugs. “i don’t care.”

“okay, well you have to pick one.” you combat, holding the bottles closer to his face and making him lean back slightly with a very slight smile. if you were anyone else, he’d have already changed his mind on this.

“i don’t really care. pick what you want.” he insists, hand resting on top of the both of yours to lower them out of his field of view. he hated when you blocked him from looking at you, even unintentionally.

you huff, leaning back away from him but back in again, as if you couldn’t stand to be even a foot apart from him. “but what if you hate the color i pick?”

“you picked it, so i couldn’t hate it.” he says, and he means every word of it. just the sight of it would remind him of you, so it’s not as if it’d be a bad choice all together.

“sweet talker.”

he furrows his brows together. “no, i’m being honest.” he’s been working hard on his honesty and candidacy on the court, so it’s been reflecting back a bit in his personal life as well.

“i know you are.” you smile, uncapping the black nail polish and holding his thumb steady in your hand. “makes you even sweeter.”

then, you stop talking for a bit, focused on making sure none of the nail polish ends up on his cuticles, and if it does, scraping it away with your own nail. you’re slow, steady, and methodical with your movements and kageyama is, for all intents and purposes, mesmerized by you.

there’s a sort of gracefulness to what you’re doing that he’s never really considered before—the movements to know how to manipulate the paint and then also how to make it lay flat.

he likes watching you concentrate because you’re sticking your tongue out and he thinks it’s adorable that you do that. it might be unconscious, just like when you open your mouth into a cute little ‘o’ shape when you put on your makeup, but he kinda wants to let you do his nails more if he can see it again. he likes watching you, because he finds that he’s always discovering something new about you. something that makes him fall harder and harder every time.

it takes time, doing his nails, and when he thought you were done, nails completely saturated in black paint and a look of accomplishment on your face, he’d wanted to move to hug you.

“hey!” you cry, hands reaching out to grab his wrists suddenly. “you have to let it dry, tobio.”

“how long will that take?” it’s been twenty minutes since he got to hold you and he’d getting antsy.

you think for a second. “probably five minutes, to make sure the coat is dry, but then i have to add the second coat, and then the top layer.”

he furrows his brow. maybe he hadn’t thought this plan through at all.

661 notes · View notes

dovveri · 2 months ago

Text

dancing with your ghost

synopsis: you and momo are brought up in an era of war. you’re taught to fight, and the time has come for you to put those skills to use.

warnings: needles, medieval fighting, death, torture, orphans, weapons, swearing, period mentions, suicide, blood

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hi hey giggle feeling a little more emo than usual… this was originally birthed from black clover mars and fana 🫶 enjoy i love a good tragic lovers tale but i hate that i wrote it medievally bcs i think medieval is rly hard to do well but wtv i like writijg swords more than i like writing guns

𐃈

"what's your name?"

you look up curiously under your eyelashes, it's a girl that looks around the same age as you, she's wearing a shirt too big for her, going past her knees, scars dot the skin that's exposed, but she wears a smile, she's not threatening, just curious.

"y/n."

"nice to meet you y/n. i'm momo."

"momo." you test it out, rolling it on your tongue.

she nods happily, plopping down next to you, not minding the hay that pricks into her skin, used to it.

"where did they get you from?"

the reminder makes you tear up, and you’re back to scrunching yourself up in a little ball, covering your head and crying into your knees.

"woah hey! i'm sorry."

you sniffle, still unable to stop the tears, but then momo's tiny arms are wrapped around you, brushing through your hair, trying to calm you.

"it's okay. you're safe now." she repeats, over and over, until your sobs start to subside.

you blink up again, looking at her furrowed brows and concerned expression, "i'm sorry."

"why?" she looks surprised, cupping your face with her hands now that you're looking at her. her hands are rough, you can feel the cuts along them, the scrapes and damaged skin, but it grounds you.

"no-one left..."

she nods sympathetically, dropping her hands, "me too."

"you too?"

"dead."

"i'm sorry."

she shakes her head, "long time now."

"how long?"

momo thinks for a little, taking her stubby little fingers out to count slowly. "3 years ago. i'm 10 now."

"i'm 10 too."

"really?!" momo looks back up at you excitedly, grasping your hands in hers.

you nod, smiling for the first time since you were captured.

"yay! all the others are old. they don't like to play with me." she frowns, hands tightening around yours for a second, "will you play with me?"

you nod again, and she beams, "we're not alone anymore!"

you take the opportunity to have a look around. it's a relatively big room, you can make out mounds of hay, likely used to sleep on, there are other kids milling about as well, in a similar state of dress to momo.

"where are we?"

momo perks up, "the castle! we are special kids. chosen ones. that's what they tell us. they're going to train us to become secret weapons of the kingdom. it's good! they give us a home. and we repay them by training our best."

you frown, "but i don't want to be a weapon. i want to go home."

momo loses her smile, looking uneasy, fiddling with her fingers. "there's... there's no home to go back to."

"what do you mean?"

"they took you away right? that means... we are all orphans." she points to the other kids around the room. "all of our homes were destroyed. this is the only place that would take us in."

"w-what?"

"i'm sorry."

"that can't be true."

"i'm sorry."

"stop apologising! you're lying!"

momo looks shocked at your outbreak, shrinking back into herself, looking even smaller in the shirt 5 times too big for her. but you practically can't see her, only seeing images of your hometown flashing through your head, your parents, your school, your friends, your toys at home.

you don't realise you're hurting yourself and screaming until two guards come in, hoisting you up and ripping your arms away from yourself. momo's watching on with tears, unable to do anything while you thrash around in their arms, carried out of the room shrieking and crying, in disbelief of the situation you found yourself in.

𐃈

when you wake up again, you're lying on top of a heap of hay, wearing a similar oversized shirt that you had saw momo in. there's also a faint pain in the back of your neck, but there's no mirrors for you to see if there was anything wrong.

"y/n?"

you look up from your own pitiful state, seeing momo with wide eyes, holding a tray of food. she's a lot more cautious than the first time you met, not wanting to aggravate or send you into one of your tantrums again. she steps closer slowly, making sure you can see her every movement.

your mouth waters at the food in her hands, stomach grumbling.

she hears it and tries to conceal a smile. she holds it out, carefully sliding it forward.

you dig in immediately, gulping down a glass of water and reaching for the bread.

"are you... okay?"

you grunt, mouth still full of food.

"did they hurt you?"

you pause, returning your attention to her, "don't re-mber." you mumble out through your food.

momo looks behind her, then side to side, as if checking if anyone was listening. then she comes forward in a rush, whispering, "you can't do that again y/n. they don't like it."

you frown, swallowing, "what do you mean?"

"we have to do what they say. or else they'll hurt us."

"have they hurt you before?"

she turns around, parting her hair.

you gasp, staring at the little blinking blue dot embedded in the back of her neck, your hand automatically goes to your own neck, feeling the lump that wasn't there before.

"it's a tracker. so they know where we are at all times. because they're training us to be secret weapons, if get kidnapped or the kingdom's enemies try and use us for ransom, they can remotely activate this and fry our brains. we'll essentially be vegetables after that."

"how... how do you know all this?"

she turns back around, putting her hair back in place, "my friend. it happened to her. she came back from her first mission... different. she wouldn't tell me what happened. but right before they... fried her... she told me everything she could, like she knew they were going to get rid of her the next day."

"but you said... you said it was good they took us in."

momo hisses, "i lied. they were watching you. waiting for you to mess up so they could put the tracker in you."

"why- why are you telling me all this?"

she stands back solemnly, staring at her feet, you remember she was the same age as you, only 10 years old.

"it's only going to get worse from here. and... you're the same as me."

you stare at her, studying her, you'd taken her for a naïve little girl, still innocent despite the horrors she's been through. you'd hoped she was because that meant you could keep your humanity too. when she meets your eyes again, hers are fierce, there's a fire within them, an anger no one else could understand.

"...thank you for telling me."

all of a sudden she melts, and she's back to the girl you first met, clumsy and caring, but you can't unsee the wrath the world placed in a little 10 year old body.

𐃈

it's not surprising that you stick to momo over the next few years. all the older kids don't pay you any mind, and it seems you were the last one brought in, so there's no one younger than you. there's about 20 of you in total. there were 30 in the beginning but some were sent on missions and never seen again, and others died during training. eventually, when you all get too big to fit in the same little barnyard, they move you into the unused dungeons under the castle. you were all kept a secret from the majority of the castle population. at least when you lived in the barnyard you could see the sky, it's been 4 years since you'd last seen sunlight.

you're changing your bandages when one of the older kids runs in, frantic.

"it's momo."

you're up in seconds, running towards the makeshift training arena where you knew momo was sparring with one of the instructors.

you push past all the people straining to get a look, jumping up onto the platformed sparring arena and rushing to momo who's on the floor, gritting her teeth and clutching her stomach.

"what happened?" you get straight to business, gently moving her arms and lifting her shirt to survey the damage.

"she's fucking weak is what happened." the instructor above you spits.

you ignore him, grabbing the first aid kit in the corner of the sparring arena and cleaning the wound. it's a lot deeper than you thought it'd be.

the crowd has gotten bigger. it was normal for them to pit you against knights or prisoners of war, they were more experienced, bigger, dangerous. and now they were circling the sparring arena cheering on the instructor who is spewing nonsense about strength and integrity.

momo had picked a fight with one of the knights who had bullied you last week, he had stolen your rations and dumped them down the feces chutes. momo forced him to go retrieve it, pushing him down the chute and making him dig through the entire castle's feces to find your food, and then she made him eat it.

his captain found out, the one who was in charge of weapons training. the one who just now stabbed momo in the stomach under the pretense of sparring despite explicit orders that you and the other kingdom's 'weapons' weren't to be maimed.

when you finish cleaning and bandaging her wound, you stand up, kicking off the weapons in the arena, then face him head-on. he's taller than you, much more built too, he's got a nasty scar on the bridge of his nose.

he laughs when he sees you, puny and pathetic.

"you wanna fight little one?"

"n-no." momo tries to stop you, her voice is still laced with pain, trying her best not to cry in front of the crowd.

you step forward, chest to chest with him, "you lecture us about integrity but you fought someone half your size with a blade as long as her torso."

he scoffs, "the battlefield won't care about how big you are. that's the problem with you women, you think because you've been born weaker that everyone needs to cater to you. guess what? the real world doesn't care. i guess you wouldn't know that though because you've been cooped up in here all your life huh?"

"and how many women have you spoken to in order to make that assumption?"

he snarls, "more than you."

"that's not a great comparison considering i've only known the same 19 people my whole life. 5 of us who are women."

"fine. enough that i couldn't count them right now and give you a number."

you don't hesitate when your hand darts out and grabs his dick, yanking downwards so he levels with your eyesight, your grip squeezing the flesh tight enough he goes rigid with pain. "you won't mind if you lose this then right? the real world doesn't care after all. you should still be as strong as you were no?"

"you fucking bitch-"

you yank on it again, hard enough that he's toppling forward onto you, but then you bring your knee back up, using his downward force to launch your knee into his nuts, ducking out of the way before he keels over.

"that was fair wasn't it? not my fault you were born with a weak spot right between your legs."

he roars, stumbling around and clumsily throwing a fist your way while holding his testicles. you dodge easily, sending a kick into his side.

"i thought you said women were born weaker? does the fact that i'm beating you right now mean that you're weaker than a woman?"

he tries again, lumbering towards you with both hands this time, reaching for your neck. you easily maneuver around him, letting his own momentum send him crashing into the ground.

"enough!"

everyone in the room quietens down. they part like the red river as a tall, lanky man dressed in the royal colours strides towards you, stepping up onto the platform.

the captain immediately bows his head, shuffling backwards and trying to minimise his presence. you huff, standing in front of momo, prepared to take on anyone that wanted to mess with either of you.

the man tuts, slinking forward until he's cupping your face.

you rip it out of his hands aggressively, choosing to stare at the captain still cradling his balls.

"y/n."

you don't answer.

then he pulls something out of his pocket. your eyes widen, a cold sweat building up.

he notices immediately, smirking, "good girl."

you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to look up at him. he stares down at you, eerie eyes and perfect white teeth. thumbing the little remote control he has in his hand that controlled all of the trackers in your necks. then he turns, addressing the crowd.

"it seems like all our weapons are here. please step forward my children."

the other kids hesitantly clamber up onto the platform, all eyeing the remote he has in his hand. they had upgraded it a few years ago, could now use it to torture you if you acted against them. they realised the threat of rendering you brain dead wasn’t enough as you grew older, they needed you to experience real pain, for you to know they had total control over your minds, your bodies, that you were their property.

"good. i have an exciting announcement to make. there's talks of a treaty being formed between all the kingdoms, it means no more wars, no more innocent lives lost, freedom."

there's murmuring in the crowd of knights, shuffling around, unsure.

"there's a price though. as there is a price for all things. this new world needs a leader. and each kingdom wants to be its leader. the kings have agreed on one way to decide this leader. each will submit one team of 2 fighters to represent them, the winning team will gain this leadership title for their kingdom."

"what does this have to do with us?" someone from the crowd yells.

the man shushes them quickly, waving a hand and having the person who interrupted him escorted out loudly.

"before i was so rudely interrupted... this team will be selected from our secret stash of weapons we have here. other kingdoms already have data from spies inside our kingdom about our regular knights, but they won't know about you."

he turns and smirks at you, "so we're going to be making a big spectacle of this, and the 20 of you, will be fighting it out to get a chance to be that duo in a qualifying round 2 weeks from now."

there's silence.

he makes up for it by clapping, "hooray! isn't that wonderful? you'll finally get to do something with your lives!"

if he wasn't the advisor to the king he'd be dead on the floor now, your hands dripping with his blood. but he was, so he practically prances away, his hoard of guards following him. when he's out of the room, everyone starts talking at once, knights complaining about how they wish they could represent the kingdom, some congratulating us, some spitting at us. you don't pay them any mind, turning back down to lift momo up.

"i can walk."

you frown, supporting her on one side, only for her to almost fall over.

"just let me carry you idiot."

she purses her lips, thinks for a little, "help me walk until the rooms. i don't want everyone to see i'm weak."

you sigh, grabbing onto her waist and slowly inching forwards.

"hey!"

you ignore the captain behind you.

"i'm talking to you bitch!"

he tries to yank your shoulder back but you shrug him off, hoisting momo down where one of the older kids is waiting to help her.

"you not had enough big guy?"

he flinches when you turn, it's pathetic. but then he regains his confidence, standing tall again, "i don't need to fight you. you'll die in those qualifiers anyway. i'll be betting against you."

"then be prepared to lose your money."

you don't let him speak again, hopping down to wrap momo's arm around your shoulder, hobbling away as fast as her injury allows.

when you finally get back, you take her shirt off fully, removing the rushed bandage job you did and beginning to clean it properly with the rubbing alcohol you have hidden under the stone tiles of your shared room.

she hisses at the first touch, but you slap her hand away, focused on cleaning the wound perfectly. 2 weeks wouldn't be enough for it to heal before she has to fight again.

"you shouldn't have done that." she squeezes out.

"why not?"

"he's not going to go easy on you in weapons training tomorrow."

you scoff, "what's the point of even going to those classes anymore? we're all going to die in 2 weeks. and they need to make a big spectacle out of it so it's not like they’re going to prematurely kill us. these trackers are empty threats. at least for now."

"you're not going to die y/n."

you finally look up at her, she's wearing the same look she had when she first warned you about them, about the evils in the world you lived in.

you go back to dabbing at her wound "neither will you then."

momo groans heavily, "don't do that."

"do what?"

"try and protect me."

"that's what you've done my whole life."

"but that's because-" she pauses, wincing as you finish cleaning her up, grabbing the needle and stitching thread.

"because what?"

"you know..." she mumbles, hissing again when the needle enters her skin.

"i don't."

she's silent, watching you piece her back together like you have so many times in the past. once you're done stitching her up, you grab fresh bandages, tying her up again. and then you hesitate, but you're leaning down before you know it, kissing the bandaged patch of skin softly.

"y/n..." momo breathes out.

you stand back up, going to the bathroom to wash your hands. you hear her struggling to get out of bed and follow you, ultimately only succeeding in pushing herself up into a seated position. you sigh, grabbing a clean washcloth and putting it under some water, heading back into the room to start wiping her face, then body. you're not shy with each other, you've been together for almost 10 years now, half your lives. you've seen each other in every state of undress, been through every life stage together, had your first periods, first kisses, first times with each other.

she normally is more stubborn in letting you clean up after her, claiming she can do everything herself but always ending up needing your help, but this time, with the news fresh on both your minds, she's too tired to argue.

by the time you're done and you've curled up in bed next to her, squeezed together on the little single you've shared since you were 16 and moved out of the barnyard, her eyes are drooping and her breathing is laboured with fatigue and maybe also from blood loss.

you're careful not to aggravate her new wounds, wrapping an arm around her hips, a little lower than normal, nuzzling into her shoulder.

you think she’s fallen asleep, but after some time, she speaks up, “i would’ve won.”

you snort, “against the captain?”

“yeah.”

“you were on the floor bleeding out.”

“he cheated.”

“oh really?” your voice is sarcastic, you look up at her from your spot in her neck, suppressing your laughter at the determined look on her face, a little crease between her eyebrows visible.

“yeah. it was only meant to be sword to sword. he had a second dagger up his sleeve. that’s what really got me.”

you trace her hip lightly, humming.

“you believe me right?” she looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

you giggle, caressing her chin, “yes i do momo.”

“good.” she huffs, looking away to stare at the ceiling again.

you stare at her profile, her full lips, a little chapped, the tiny scar right under her right ear from when you were forced to spar one another and she made you cut her so that the fight could end quicker, the slant of her nose. if you knew what love was, you’d probably love momo.

“i was serious you know. you’re not dying.”

“i was too. if i don’t die than you don’t either. we’ll both get through.”

she sighs, hand coming to rest on the back of your head, “you know that’s not likely. we’re the youngest. all the others have more experience, most have actually been on missions, if we work together than at least one of us can get through. and it’s going to be you.”

you’re quiet, still studying her face. you knew she was too stubborn to change her mind after it’s made, there was no use arguing with her.

“do you remember that time we snuck upstairs and saw all those people and heard… music?”

she smiles, “it was so interesting. seeing people have fun like that. what did they call it? dancing?”

“dancing.”

“they seemed so carefree. like they didn’t know war was going on outside the walls.”

“there was no point to what they were doing. just moving around, there was no productive purpose. it was so different to everything we’ve been taught.”

momo hums, “i’d like to try it one day. maybe when the war is over. when we can afford to be that relaxed and let our bodies go, listen to music and laugh and dance.”

“what if you suck?”

momo looks down at you in abhorrence “i would not!”

“what if you don’t know how to listen to music and you trip and fall in front of everyone?”

“i’d be amazing. people would be lining up to dance with me.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes at her.

“i’d save the first one for you though.”

you almost didn’t catch it.

you inhale in her neck, taking in her scent, “no thanks. i don’t want to trip over your clumsy feet.”

momo whines, slapping you lightly while you laugh again, curling into her even more.

she was the only one who could make you laugh, who brought joy back into your life after your family was killed. as far as you were concerned, she was the only important thing left in your life worth fighting for.

𐃈

you were right. you decided to stay in with momo over the next fortnight, and no one came and bothered you about it. none of your instructors, none of the other kids, though you could understand that, you were expected to kill each other all very soon anyway, it was best to eliminate as much connection as possible before the battle.

you tended to momo's injuries, only leaving your room to grab your rations and steal some more medical supplies. on the third day, she's able to walk around again against your better judgement, and by the fifth, she's asking you to spar with her to practice before the fighting.

you're only convinced after she promises to tell you if anything hurts too much, and to eat half of your rations so that she could get stronger in less time.

she's basically back in shape at the end of the fortnight, although she's made it known she plans on protecting you once the fighting starts, you've secretly told yourself you'll be the one watching out for her.

"they're loud aren't they?"

"it'll be the first time we'll have seen normal people since... i don't even remember how long ago."

"yeah. the first time we'll see the sun too. or not if it rains. god remember how it felt when it rained? how it sounded?"

you try and block out the other kids milling about the waiting room, it was you or them, you couldn't humanise them, couldn't listen to them talk about their struggles, it'd just make it that much harder to kill them.

there's a tap on your shoulder.

you look up, seeing momo smiling, donned up in the light armour they've provided that only covers your chest and back. she sits next to you, your hands just barely touching.

"you ready?"

you grunt, not bothering to give a proper response.

"that good huh?"

you shoot her a look, rolling your eyes.

"chill. i got your back."

"that's exactly why i'm not excited for this." you grumble.

momo frowns, you had kept most of your complaints to yourself, but now that you were minutes away from actually having to start fighting for your life, you were a little less filtered.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"i wish you'd let me protect you too."

"y/n..."

"it's fine. i get it. it's whatever, just focus on not getting yourself killed momo." you start to stand, not being able to sit so close to her knowing that you might not be able to see her again, but she pulls on your hand.

you sigh, only weak for her.

"just promise me you'll try. if you- if you die because of me i don't know how i can keep living knowing that." you say softly, still refusing to look her in the eye.

you feel her standing, and then she's wrapping her arms around your midriff, sneaking inside your armour to hold you. you tense up immediately, aware of how this must look. you'd kept whatever you were a secret from everyone else, afraid they'd use your relationship against you, but you were minutes away from possibly never seeing her again, so you throw caution to the wind, letting her hug you.

"i promise. but if you win and i don't-"

"don't say that."

she ignores you, "if you win and i don't, i want you to keep surviving. can you promise me that?"

you sigh, leaning back against her slightly, reveling in the closeness for possibly the last time. "... i promise."

and before you know it, you're being herded out, hot sun beating down on your patchy, grimy faces, bloodlust and screaming oozing from the crowd in the colosseum. you wondered if they knew what you'd been through. who you were. or if they just thought you were another run of the mill knight squad that was chosen to represent the kingdom. you don't have that much time to think over such useless thoughts though, because a loud horn is being sounded and the fighting begins.

𐃈

you whip into action immediately, lurching for the closest weapon you see. unfortunately, one of the other kids has the same idea, and now you're both tugging on the ends of a spear.

the pointed end is facing the other kid though, so you pull for a little, and then when you're sure he's pulling with as much strength as he can, you charge forward, impaling him, then yanking it back out, whipping the spear around in a circle around you to quickly get a grasp of your surroundings while creating a perimeter where no one could attack.

the blood is bright red on the end of your spear, and you cringe a little, suddenly recalling all the memories you had with the boy, sammy, 3 years older than you and momo, the one who helped momo down from the platformed sparring arena 2 weeks ago, dead.

you spot momo a few meters away, also engaged in a fight with one of the older boys, alex, 6 years older than you, split his rations with you when you were punished that time for showing up late to training. momo cuts him down with her sword. dead.

she looks around hurriedly, assessing the situation. you catch her eye very briefly before someone's charging at you with a battering shield. you use the long end of your spear to hoist yourself up and over them like a javelin, letting their heavy shield carry them forward, unable to change direction. you land on both your feet, quickly turning around and stabbing them in the back, yanking back out. han, 4 years older than you, your first ever sparring partner. dead.

you catch sight of an arrow whizzing past your head, straight in momo's direction.

you know momo can dodge it, so you follow the direction from where it was shot from, quickly running forward while he's distracted nocking another arrow in, swinging your spear so it whacks him in the side. he drops the bow and arrow in pain, and before he can put his hand out to defend himself, you're thrusting the spear straight through his neck, blood spurting out and colouring your silver breastplate. robin, 4 years older than you, taught you how to read, dead.

the adrenaline is running, you don't have time to mourn, only to find the next victim before they find you.

eventually, you find yourself back to back with momo, covering each other's blind spots while you fight in perfect harmony. the others knew you were close, they probably didn't know you had practiced dueling for more hours than you'd slept. you knew each other like you knew the sun rose every day.

you've been able to completely block out the cheering and the spectators, only focused on surviving. they'd underestimated the two of you. the youngest, the least experienced, but the ones that spent the most time together, the ones that corrected each other's every weakness in the training field while the older kids were out on missions or stakeouts where they couldn't hone their skills. every second counted. and they realised that now as they lost their lives one by one.

it's down to five of you. no, four, momo just stabbed through kim, the oldest girl, the one who taught you both what to do when you first started bleeding between your legs, dead.

the last two boys are the ones you'd thought would win. the eldest, leo, and his brother, kenny. they were orphaned together, and have spent just as much, if not more time together training as you and momo have. your breathing is coming in a lot harder now, huffing with effort, you're honestly grateful you and momo have survived for this long.

then they're running at you, swords pointed, ready to strike. you both parry them, the clanging of metal against metal ringing in your ears while you take kenny and momo starts fighting leo.

you push kenny backwards so that you're not in momo's way in case she pulls bigger moves, and so she doesn't have to watch your back in case leo tries to kill you when you're not looking. you no longer have to worry about keeping your eyes everywhere now, because everyone else was dead and momo was keeping leo occupied. so you focused your all into killing kenny.

you'd swapped your spear for a sword earlier on, preferring the larger blade than the distance necessitated accuracy a spear requires. you stab and slice and manage to get him to the edge of the colosseum, almost in the shadows when he finally runs out of space to back up. but he remains persistent, parrying every strike, blocking every advance. it would be a battle of endurance. so you grit your teeth and keep attacking, watching his every movement. it's worth it, because you catch the slightest falter in his back foot, and you take advantage of it immediately, darting forward and ducking under his swipe, forcing him to move his weight onto his back foot which was already placed wrong, so he loses his footing for a second, long enough for you to yank the hilt of his sword towards you, letting it flip up in the air before catching it with your left hand, then sending both through his head with a vicious thrust.

you're heaving, stepping on his breastplate to pull the swords back out, turning on your heel and squinting through the blood and sweat to see momo, still holding her own against leo. they both don't seem to notice you've won, so you bound forwards, grateful for your smaller stature and lighter frame, your footsteps not louder than the crowd or the clashing of metal for them to hear you coming.

you catch momo's eye very briefly, a signal flashing between you both before she starts advancing more aggressively, pushing leo backwards where you're waiting. you bring both your swords up and in front of his neck, slicing downwards and slitting his throat open. he drops his sword, clutching at his neck and falling to the ground, bleeding out.

you breathe, and breathe, and breathe, huffing, sweating, exhausted, your mind still playing catch up to the physical atrocities you just forced your body into. momo is in a similar state, hair sticking up in funny places where sweat has collected, fresh blood on her cheek and her arms and legs from cuts and wounds of fighting and killing the other 18 people you'd grown up with.

you can't hear the announcer's voice, sounding out around the stadium, announcing your names, the two that would be moving forward. your ears are only slowly starting to take in the cheering that you'd blocked out.

"-know you guys aren't satisfied yet! so we prepared a special surprise too!"

you blink up through your eyelashes, squinting at the announcer in his little podium box above the colosseum.

"there is actually only meant to be one representative from each kingdom! we've watched these two fight side by side, a killing machine but the joke's on them! now they're going to duke it out to find out who really is the strongest of them all! and have the honour of leading our kingdom to victory in the upcoming kingdoms clash!"

it's like time stops. you can feel every heartbeat, every breath coming in and out of your body, every painful blink as you stare at momo, mouth hanging open, swords clutched tightly by your sides.

"mo-"

she doesn't let you finish saying her name, lashing forwards with a yell, swinging her sword down hard. you're barely able to defend yourself, metal finding skin as she cuts your arm when you bring both swords to push against hers. her eyes are overcome with rage, you're not sure if it's at you, or the kingdom, or if she's just been blindsided by all the people she's killed.

you yell out, trying to get her attention, trying to shake some sense into her, parrying off each of her attacks that only get rougher and rougher. your hearing has come back fully now, you can see the laughter, the glee, the bloodlust in each of the citizen's faces. you didn't care if they knew you were slaves or knights from the beginning, the fact that they were finding enjoyment in this was proof of their cruelty enough.

you're distracted, head fuzzy, still playing catch up, still not really understanding that there would only be one person leaving the battlefield today. you keep begging, crying out to her, to the girl who protected you from day 1, who held you as you cried in bed each night missing your parents, who fought people twice your age and size to defend you, who loved you when you thought you'd never feel love again.

she has you on your stomach now, arms pressed behind your back, your swords long forgotten. it would be over soon. she would win. you were okay with that. you protected her. she would live. if you had to die for momo to live, so be it.

you close your eyes, memories of you and momo flashing through your head when there's a searing pain in your neck, she's cut open. you can see momo and you kiss for the first time, curious what it felt like after seeing two of the older kids doing it, you see momo sneaking into the kitchen with you in hand, shoving grubby handfuls of food into the makeshift basket you had weaved together using your old clothes, you see momo cry for the first time, hiding from you under the covers, trying to make herself as small as possible, as quiet as possible, not wanting you to think she was anything but your protector, you see it all.

and then there's a blinding light.

you can hear her too, her voice.

"this isn’t your fault. remember your promise. i love you."

you blink, eyes adjusting, and with horror, you wipe at your eyes, blood smearing across your skin, not your blood. momo coughs up more red bile in your face, smiling still, impaled on top of her own sword that was now somehow in your hands. her eyes are no longer empty, not like they were when she was advancing on you, they were full of life, of love, they were the same eyes that looked at you when you woke up in the morning, the same eyes that watched you when you fell asleep, soft and tender, devoid of the pains you'd experienced.

you scramble upwards, only impaling the sword in her chest deeper, she coughs again.

"momo- no no no you can't- what have you done- oh god-" you cradle her face in your hands, tears leaking out of your eyes, staring down in disbelief at the chunk of metal that went in through her chest and out through her back.

she coughs again, resting her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, still smiling.

"y/n… dance for me." her last words, whispered hoarsely against your lips, before her breathing stops, the only air moving between you is your own heavy breaths, shuddering, crying, sobbing, hugging her lifeless body against yours, wondering how everything could've gone so wrong.

they'll pull her away from you later, when the crowd gets bored watching a little girl grow hysterical over losing the one thing that ever mattered to her.

you'll scream and kick at them, clinging onto momo's dead body, pleading to spend more time with her, to mourn her. but they'll push you down, carrying you away like the first time they carried you away from momo, except this time she wasn't wide-eyed and teary with concern, she was gone.

they'll throw you back in the room you shared with momo, locking you inside while you pounded away at the door, hands bloody, face still spattered with momo's blood.

when you finally accept that no one was coming, you'll slump down, afraid to look around the room that reminded you of her, cradling your head in your hands, knees to your chest. your fingers will brush through your hair like she used to when she thought you were asleep, they'll meet fleshy, wet, skin at the back of your neck when your nails dig harshly into your hair and neck.

you'll blink, confused, inspecting your fingers at the fresh blood that coated them. you'll bring your hand to the back of your neck again, feeling around. the lump was gone.

with wide eyes, you'll realise the stinging pain you felt when you thought you were dying, was momo digging the tracker out of your neck. she had fought you so aggressively on purpose, gotten you on your stomach on purpose, all so she could free you before killing herself, making it look like you had turned the tables, like you had pulled her weapon away from her and stabbed it through her chest.

she freed you.

you were no longer a slave to the kingdom.

you'll purse your lips, resigning yourself to a new goal. you were going to get revenge for everything they'd ever done to you, to momo, to all 30 of the original kids that they orphaned. and you would dance, imagining momo dancing with you. you should've told her you thought she'd be the most brilliant dancer to have ever breathed.

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