#but hopefully they can all keep getting better

[princesssmars]

home sweet home

a vi x reader.

the war between the silco and the firelights has gotten tense, and all you want is a day off to rest. but when an old flame returns from the dead you find the energy to give her a welcome home present she won’t forget.

wc: 4.491

contains : fluff, adoptive brother ekko and firelight reader. mentions of vi's abuse in prison :c smut. dry humping and tribbing yippee.

a/n : idk something about being separated for years and celebrating the reunion with rough and/or desperate sex does it for me bro 💔 started this beforeeee everything and hopefully this gets posted the morning of act ones drop <3 update i love vi but i need to kick her ass yayyy enjoy.

-

for lack of a better word, your day was getting really fucking weird.

you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, an ache strong enough to rouse you from your sleep and out of your bed. you chalked it up to hunger, having skipped another meal last night to stay up looking over some of the injured firelight’s and new schematics for tools and weapons.

but once you got a good meal into your stomach, staring up at the giant tree you called your home, you realized the feeling wasn’t from neglecting your appetite. it was that feeing you got when something big was about to happen.

you felt it when the breakthroughs were made on some of the bigger inventions like the hoverboards, when the firelights found this impossible and beautiful grove and made it their home, on that day years ago where your life crumbled around you in the space of a few days.

so it was only up to fate if something bad or good would happen today. and you didn’t feel like waiting to find out.

quickly making your way up the tree, you rapidly do your special knock on ekko’s door, only to be met with silence. you try again and silence still. trying and slightly failing to keep yourself calm, you head back down and start asking others if they’ve seen him, the ache in your stomach growing at some of the awkward and shifty responses you get.

for six years you and ekko have been inseparable. both traumatized by the trials of growing up in the undercity, getting taken in by benzo, and then the sudden and bloody death of your friends, you had no one else to depend on except for each other. it was hard to put it lightly, navigating a rapidly changing undercity and taking care of your little adoptive brother while trying to deal with your own trauma. even as you met others and formed this group you now call family, you made a promise to each other to stick side by side no matter what.

and that included not running off and doing god knows what in the early morning while the other was sleeping.

you’re halfway through pulling on your coat and mask when you hear the sound of the main door opening and a small commotion, running as fast as you can to get down the tree again before a tall figure stops you.

he tries to be funny, throwing out a 'hey hey hey, slow down! your running like there’s a fire-ow!' before he holds a gloved hand to the side of his arm, cradling the spot where you punched him. you get a solid minute of berating and cussing him out before the look on his face tells you he's being serious, conflict clear in his brown eyes.

you have about a million questions running in your head as he leads you to one of the stock rooms, his breath inhaling multiple times to explain before he lets it out in frustration.

“just…promise you won’t freak out, ok?”

you nod before he pushes you inside and closes the door behind you.

you scoff, calling his name and knocking on the hard material for him to let you out. you weren’t in the mood today to entertain his hidden playful nature, most of the time you indulged him but you were too worried at the moment. you’re seconds away from cursing him out again when a soft voice calls out your name from the darkness behind you behind you.

no. it’s not possible. it’s deeper, more rugged then you remember, but you wouldn’t, couldn’t forget that voice. you heard it in your dreams for years, pushing you to keep going for yourself when you felt like giving up, reminding you she was always there by your side when you felt so alone.

you slowly turn your body, unconsciously trying to protect yourself from the possibility of this being a farce when two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a sturdy torso. at the slightest glimpse of hit pink hair your eyes start to water and your chest is heaving with long building gasps, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and digging your face into her neck.

for years you’d daydream about this moment, what you’d say if you were reunited with the girl who was your best friend and likely the love of your life. you’d imagine the rushed out words and apologies, the shared wails as you assured the other you’d never leave their side again. but this silence just feels so right, makes so much sense for all the emotions you’ve been letting sit in your heart without any kind of resolution or closure.

she pulls away from you slightly and you hope she ignores the subtle whine that leaves your throat as she does. her large, and you mean really large, palms come up to cup your cheek as she stares at your face, blue eyes flitting across your features like she’s trying to commit every piece of you to memory. you don’t mind, you remember how she liked when you let her observe things so she could take in things as much as possible lest they be gone in a second. it just gives you an excuse to stare at her, too.

and gods above are you staring. obviously a large part of you is sentimental and sad as you see how much she’s changed over the years; the longer jagged shapes of her jaw, her nose. your heart pangs seeing the cuts in her brow and lip that you unconsciously bring a finger up to rub at. but it takes an embarrassing amount of strength not to pay attention just to her lips as you feel over the scar, how her bright eyes go wide and unblinking as she stands and lets you do whatever it is you’re doing.

you want to do anything to break the tension and you’re given the opportunity when your eyesight drifts slightly to the right and catches onto the tattoo on her upper cheek.

“did you…tattoo your name on your face?”

you’re still so close you can feel her laugh rather than hear it, her chest pressing into your when she huffs through her nose.

“wanted to make sure the guys in there knew who was kicking their asses without the need for introductions.”

“still punching first yelling insults later?”

“nothing anybody in there didn’t deserve.”

gods does your heart hurt for her. you knew it was likely other people like her were probably in stillwater, disposed of to cover someone’s ass or see as thrash just for where they were born. but you knew despite that she would have faced so much being thrown in there at such a young age that you not anyone else could understand, the way they must have treated her…

even after all these years it’s like she can ready your body language like a book, able to know your fingers stalling in their exploration means your mind is wandering, and given the previous subject matter she knows it can’t be good. her bandaged fingers gently wrap around yours and rub over your knuckles until your attention is back on her.

“hey, stay with me for now. we’ll have time to go over all that stuff later. right now just stay with me, alright?”

like you could ever say no to her.

you figure the best way to make progress until your much needed conversation is yo acquaint her with where your sure she’ll be staying until she gets back on her feet, however she chooses to do so. at first she seems uncomfortable with the idea of staying at the base, like she doesn’t want to intrude on the home you and others had built from the ground up.

“obviously i’ll help with anything you guys ask but are you sure everyone would be alright with me staying here? i kind of punched the shit out of that scar guy.”

“he’ll get over it just like everyone else. you’re a legend here, vi, you’re up on that mural for a reason.”

the whole time you show vi around you feel a warm mess in your chest. you forgot just how nice it was to spend time with her, thinking back on fond memories of the two of you sneaking away when the others were busy to spend time together on the safer and quieter parts of the undercity. your feelings aren’t helped with how close vi insists on being, hand never leaving your grasp as you tug her around and occasionally bumping her shoulder into yours when your mind wanders.

you’re recounting the story of how one of the hoverboards went haywire and crashed into one of the bases walls when a low rumble from the side of you cuts you off, footsteps halting you in place. when you turn to vi she has that same cute embarrassed look she used to have when you were younger, eyes wide and body still like if she didn’t move you wouldn’t acknowledge what just happened.

she knows better than to argue with you as you drag her pliant body somewhere, most likely to get her something to eat after only having some scarfed down jerichos a few hours ago. you bc lead her to some small communal dining area before not so gently guiding her to sit, eyes on her form for a few seconds to make sure she won’t be stubborn and refuse to let you grab some food for her.

and why would she even think of resisting when she can sit here and finally get a few minutes to just relax. ever since cait somehow managed to get her out of prison her body had been on, sheer stubbornness and willpower keeping her going until she found what she was looking for. a part of her knew she wouldn’t stop searching, wouldn’t stop hoping to see you and her sister again.

but as she watches you across the room pick and prod over a meal a vastayan is helping to out on your plate her shoulders unclench and the muscles in her legs ease. nothing felt better than when you’d dote over her. she remembers one time she caught a flu and had to stay inside and distant from everyone, ready to be miserable in solitude until you burst in with vander hot on your heels and insisted you wouldn’t leave her side until she was better, that she’d do the same for you.

which she did have to wind up doing as you caught the sickness from her after only three days. she never once complained.

when you finish her plate you look back to her with a sweet smile and start to walk back over to her. she writhes in her seat a bit under your gaze, suddenly feeling a little too warm when you sit the plate in from of her and tell her to eat up. she tries her best not to scarf this down as well, but when you give her a look that says you know how hungry she she is and won’t mind she can’t help herself.

she spends the rest of the day by your side, never leaving your sight as you introduce her to some of your fellow firelights and some of the younger kids who’d heard stories about her and vander. you can tell it still prods at an unhealed wound to talk about him in past tense, but that she still looks back on those fond memories with happiness. you’re more than happy to join in and help narrate the tale of one of your more adventurous and dangerous trips through the old undercity.

eventually the sun starts to set and the lights of the tree turn from a dazzling green to a soft collection of oranges and yellow, a signal to everyone that it’s time to wind down and end the day. the two of you meet back of with ekko who tells you he had already shown cait to an extra room she could use for the next few days.

“cupcake didn’t put up too much of hassle today, did she? don’t think she’s ever spent this much time past the promenade.”

“she was alright. uptight but i can tell she means well. you can talk to her in the morning, her room is right across from yours.”

you’re paying too much attention to just being in the space of two of your favorite people again that you don’t even notice how vi has turned her head to look at you, silently asking you to ask her for what she hopes you both want. by the time you realize and turn back to ekko he has that dumb little grin on his face that he used to wear all the time he’d catch the two of you getting a little too close for comfort.

“don’t even start, ekko.”

“i didn’t say anything! i’ll catch up with you two tomorrow. try not to be so loud, some of us need a good nights sleep tonight-“

you quickly reach over and swat at the young boys arm as he laughs and hurries away from the two of you, voice carrying as he leaves to head off to sleep.

it’s surreal as you take vi’s hand into yours and start the brisk walk to your personal quarters. you don’t have any expectations about tonight but you can’t lie and say a deep part of yourself isn’t hoping to get more than close with her tonight.

once you reach your bedroom you start shuffling for some clothes for the both of you to wear while she prods and examines all of your things. you watch her for a moment, nearly giving yourself away with a laugh when she nearly breaks the dusty antique snow globe you’d found abandoned on a scrap run.

“it’s crazy, right? how they’ll just abandon things without even thinking about their worth.” you speak offhandedly as you settle yourself on to your bed and start to remove your boots and holsters.

“yeah, no offense but i just. really don’t wanna talk about abandoning things right now.” her tone is malicious enough to make you sit your movements, eyes softening at the broken and tired woman in front of you.

“i’m sorry, i just-“

“no, no, it’s okay. i understand,” you gently reach out your hand to hold hers, locked in that tight fist she does when she’s bottling up her anger. “can you talk to me about it? whatever you want to say, just say it.”

she rolls her shoulder before setting down the globe and sitting on the bed, her tensed back facing you. you gently pass the spare clothes you have for her and watch as she takes them and sets them on her lap.

“every night for the first year i was in there i’d have these nightmares. about what happened. first it was just, replaying what happened on this endless loop. then it was wondering what i could’ve done different, if i could’ve been smarter-“

“vi dont do that,” you crawled over to sit right behind her body placed your hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing them across and down to her forearms. trying to look her in the eye proves useless. “what happened was…tragic, and blaming yourself is pointless. you did what you could, i know you did.”

“how? how could you possibly know?” she finally turns her head to you and the look in her eyes does nothing to help the sick feeling you have building up in your throat and stomach. “i told you to stay with ekko, you weren’t there. how could you not be even a little angry at me, for not being here for powder, for ekko and the firelights, for you?”

you can hear the lump in her throat and see the tears building in her eyes when you bring your hands up to cup her face. a stray tear runs down her face and you brush it away with your thumb.

“i could never be angry at you, vi. not for this. the girl i know always kept fighting for her family, and if she didn’t come back to us it was because she couldn’t. she’d never abandon us, you wouldn’t abandon us.”

she gently nods her head and nuzzles her face into your hands. you give her a minute to calm down, continuing to softly brush her cheeks and her crazy hair out of her eye.

“what is going on with your hair?” you whisper as you struggle to push a strand away and out of her face, giving up once it falls back into place for the tenth time.

her eyebrows scrunch. "what, you dont like it? its cool."

"its covering half of your face, its horrible."

"you'll get used to it." she shakes her head with a small smile before softly resting her hand on your lower waist.

"maybe, but im definitely not going to brush over you tattooing your name on your face. please tell me you didnt make any other rash b ody adjustments in there."

the growing smile on her simultaneously puts butterflies in your stomach and makes you very nervous. its not helped when she turns her back to you again and starts to shrug off her jacket, revealing the previous glimpse of her neck tattoo you'd seen goes further down. way further down.

"wow. that's...wow." you want to bury your head into your hands and leave the room. 'wow just wow?' really smooth. "can i touch?"

"uhhh yeah, no problem."

after she gives her consent your fingertips lightly hover and brush over the interlapping lines of curves inked into her skin. you feel a small thrill seeing the goosebumps rise on her arms when your hands glide down them, taking pride in knowing you can still bring out a physical reaction in her with your touch.

"this is really nice, vi. did you get someone in there to do it for you?"

"nope, did 'em both myself. wasn't exactly the best environment to ask people to have access to your body with a needle for hours at a time."

you hum in response while continuing to observe the tattoo. you can see it goes further down her back and decide to speak without thinking too much about what you're saying.

"can i see the rest of it?"

you're a bit scared at how still she goes, wondering if maybe you crossed a boundary before her hands slowly reach behind her and start to lift the white fabric of her shirt until its full taken off of her body.

you make sure to continue the gentle touches as your hands run down the muscles and planes of her back, continuing to admire the clouds and gears that make up the design. you feel a little pang in your heart when you see the initials of mylo and claggor at the bottom of the tattoo, along with the number of welts and scars on her skin.

"its beautiful, vi." you whisper. her body subtly scooches back on the bed to get closer to your touch. the moment is just shy of overwhelming, which is probably why you leave a small kiss on her shoulder, right where one of the scars starts before trailing down her back a few inches. she lets out a muffled noise and you start to pull away before the strong grip of her palm clasps down on your leg, holding you in place.

you leave more kisses and pecks over the length of her tattoo as your legs start to wrap around her from behind, both of her hands grasping your thighs as she relaxes into the affection. you test the waters when you come back up to her neck, lightly sinking your teeth into her skin.

"oh fuck-" her strained voice hits your ears right before she abruptly pulls out of your arms and tugs you by the arm and leg until your reversed, sitting in her lap with her hands gripping at your hips.

you continue to drag yours up and down her arms, reveling in the fact that you can now see her facial expressions, how her eyes droop and lips part as you slightly scratch at her skin.

you adjust your hips to sit closer to her at the same time she lifts hers up, the friction causing small noises to escape both of your throats. her eyes open up and she stares up at you with those big light blues.

your hand travels up to her hair, running through it as you keep looking at her. "are you sure? i dont wanna push you,"

"you wont, i do. please, just wanna be close to you."

you give in, wrapping your arms around her neck and bringing her into a sweet kiss, reveling in the feel of her arms coming up to grip on your back. its slow and languid as you get used to each other before she adds her tongue to the mix, pulling a moan from your throat as you try to bury yourself even closer into her hold.

you move your focus onto her neck, trailing kisses and bites down and across her throat, as she rocks your bodies together and claws at your back.

"used to dream about this, about you, missed you so much," her voice has a slight rasp to it already that drives you nuts, instantly darting back up to bring her into a messy kiss. she adjusts her knee to rest in between your legs and lifts it up into your core, pulling away to look at you as you moan at the friction.

"jeez, what'd they teach you in there?" you let out a breathy chuckle while you grind down into her knee. your eyes drift close before her gentle kiss to her cheek drags your gaze back to her, unblinking as she watches you come undone for her. her stare along with the hazy smile on her face yanks you to the edge, gasping and moaning as you come in her arms.

you feel almost drunk as you come down from your orgasm, nuzzling into her neck while she presses gentle kisses to your shoulder and the side of your neck. she starts to place your body on the bed before you tug her back on top of you.

"what, aren't you tired?"

"maybe, but not tired enough to stop now. take off your pants."

she grins like she'd just been offered free sweets from a piltovian candy shop for the rest of her life. you try not to giggle as she stumbles off the bed and tugs her pants off before settling her body back on top of yours. she resumes her barrage of kisses and bites into your skin, finally paying some attention to your chest while you bring your hands up to thumb at her nipples, biting your lip at how sensitive she is to the touch.

she wastes no time spreading your legs beneath you and getting your silent agreement before moving her lips to rest over yours, taking a second to drag her fingers through your cunt and stuffing them inside her mouth.

"vi!"

"sorry, was just curious." she leans down to kiss you sweetly before resting her self on you, legs draped over the curves of her arms as she oh so slowly starts to drag herself back and forth over you.

you slightly wish you had done this first as the overstimulation makes it oh so intense for you, the feeling of her hair and clit rubbing over yours nearly sending you into a frenzy. your eyes roll back into your head once she starts to speed up her movements, her soft whines and grunts into your neck only adding to the physical stimulation you're feeling.

your core feels like its on fire when you start to hear the subtle whispers she's letting out into your neck, curses of 'fuck, fuck oh-fuck,' and grunts of your name mix together to create a desperate harmony.

"vi, feels too- oh my god i-"

"i know, baby, i know," she moans, pressing a harsh bite into the underside of your neck. you can feel her smile into it when you involuntarily let out a squeal at the action. "never gonna leave you, pretty. could never leave you, leave this."

you never fancied yourself the possessive type, but the reaction you have to her words definitely proves there's something there as you wrap your hands around her shoulder and squish her down into you again, moaning just a little too loud at the lack of closeness and feeling of her chest rubbing against yours.

you can feel your next orgasm building quick and fast, thighs trembling as you desperately grind your hips into her even harder. you can tell she's close too, hips losing their rhythm as her panting gets even louder. you nudge your face to the side and rub your cheek against hers, thankful she gets the hint to smother both of your noises with an intense kiss.

"fuck, vi, missed you s'much, love this, love you-"

you're grateful that you have some semblance of brain activity left to drag her head down to your neck to bit down as she cums, her groan loud and long as she keeps moving her hips until you cum only a few seconds after she does. you can feel a tear or two escape your eyes, overstimulation so intense you think you see janna for a moment.

both of your chests are rapidly panting as you catch your breaths, dragging your hand through her sweaty hair while she presses gentle kisses over the marks she no doubt left over your chest. now you'll have to wear more layers for a while, but at the moment you cant find it in you to care.

"you have no idea how glad i am that i still have you," you almost dont pick up on the silent whisper she says, muffled by the current kisses. you lazily drag your fingers to lift her up by the chin until she's looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and affection.

"you're always gonna have me vi, i promise."

you can tell she has her doubts, you do as well. but she lets herself relax into your hand yet again and wears the tiniest smile while she starts to fall asleep in your embrace.

you gently pull the covers over both of your bodies and follow her into the lull of sleep, falling asleep in vi's arms again for the first time in years.

you have the nicest dreams you've had in years.

[minimomoe]

The Little Things

AN: I was listening to Sexy to Someone by Clairo and thought of Nanami. short, fluffy drabble

You stood in front of the elevator and waited for the metal box to ascend to your floor. It was 8pm, well past office hours, but time waits for no man and you had work to finish. All that mattered now is that you were done. You could slip out of your drab work clothing and crawl into bed as soon as you got home.

You had hoped that you could ride down alone, but you found yourself holding the door open for Kento Nanami, your unrequited work crush. He swept in, his cologne filling up the air and you didn't find it nauseating in the slightest. It was clean, green, and oh so sexy.

"Thank you for waiting for me. Most people would let it close in my face."

"You're too not bad of company," you teased.

He smiled back down at you and you felt heat rush up to your face. It wasn't fair at all. He couldn't be this gorgeous with pretty brown eyes and be one of the nicest people you have ever met. You might not even make it down the elevator with how fast your heart thumped in your chest.

"So why did--"

"You look--"

You had both started talking at the same time. He laughed, apologized, and asked for you to go first.

"I was just gonna ask why are you staying so late?"

"They're pulling a lot of people from my department. Someone had to pick up the slack," he sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and it fell over in perfect tresses. How annoying. How gorgeous.

"Tell me about it. They're doing the same to us in the marketing department. The quarter's almost over so hopefully the workload will lessen."

You could do this with him. Small talk. Safe talk. There was nothing that could go wrong here. Nanami couldn't hear your heart racing in your chest. You just had to keep your cool.

"What were you going to say?" You remembered.

"Oh-- it... I don't think it matters anymore."

The handsome, suave Nanami was stuttering. You had the man stuttering. You snapped your head forward as if you were afraid you messed with the balance of the universe. He cleared his throat and looked at you once again.

"I hope that this doesn't come off... inappropriate. I think that blue looks wonderful with your complexion. And you got new glasses last week. I never got to compliment them."

Your ears were ringing. Did you hear him correctly? Nanami watched you, has kept you in his sights to know that your glasses have changed and complimented your favorite work dress. You peered up at him and his ears were flaming red. Your unrequited work crush could possibly be requited after all.

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami," you said softly with a shy smile. "It almost looks like were matching, right?"

He looked down at his own blue suit and chuckled. "It does, doesn't it."

The elevator dinged and the doors slowly slid opened. Nanami held his hand out for you to leave first and followed behind. You were keenly aware of how close he was to your body as you both said goodnight to the security guard on your way out of the building.

"Well... Good night to you too, Nanami. Try not to work yourself too hard this weekend," you waved. You started on the opposite direction before he called out your name.

"Would you... like to have a meal with me? I know a place," he asked.

You bit back a smile. Never would you have imagined that Kento of all people could get so shy. He patiently awaited your answer but you noticed his jaw tightening.

"I don't know. It's getting pretty late," you teased.

"This place is only open from 8pm to 12am. And a meal is always better with someone to eat with."

He was practically begging you to come with. You gingerly took your step towards him and his smile widened.

"I can take your bag," he offered. He slipped it off your shoulder and you softly hissed at his fingers grazing your shoulder. His eyes darkened at the sound but kept on strutting down the street. Once again, his ears were blushing and you internally squealed. To think that you were rushing to go home only to end up on a date with Nanami. Was this a date?

Only your brain to mouth filter was broken, and you actually asked the question out loud. He gave you a fond look. "I would like for it to be."

You hooked your hand around his raised arm. All this time you thought that your feelings would never be reciprocated, but it looks like you were sexy to someone after all.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[tofics]

You Owe Me - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Forced through circumstances out of your control to rely on Joel Miller, you end up traversing the country with him. You're not particularly enthralled with him, and neither is he with you - or so you think, until your period strikes, and you're practically bed-ridden. Or: Joel can't stop jerking off to you after he accidentally got a taste of your lips.

Warnings/tags: canon typical show/game violence, sort of dubious consent (reader gets kissed without being asked and only later agrees), age gap (reader is about ~25 years younger), enemies to lovers kind of, awful period + period cramps, jerking off, fluff, slap on the cheek (brat taming??), unprotected p in v

Word count: ~9k

Previously: How all of that had brought him here, kneeling behind you as the sweetest moans fell from your mouth once more - he didn't know. Joel couldn't tell whether you were a blessing or a curse, if you were the price he had to pay or the price he received. Seeing as how his life had gone though, it was unlikely that you were the latter. And yet he couldn't help but feel like he'd won when he brought his thumbs down on the sides of your lower spine and earned a low moan in return, long and elongated and putting all kinds of pictures into his mind that his head momentarily fell to his chest, a pained expression painted across it. No, no. You were both. A blessing and a curse.

"Joel?"

The mention of his name brought him back to reality. He blinked once, twice, before his eyes focused on you. You were looking at him over your shoulder through hooded lids, your hair all frizzy around your head from how it had rubbed against the cushion. Lord have mercy. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said you looked all fucked out.

"What is it, darlin'?"

There it was again. Not your finger in his face, no, but your bottom lip slowly pushing out into a pout. Joel swallowed. You had to be doin' this on purpose, right? ...right?

"You stopped." You looked at him with your pout, all sad and sorrowful. It was such a pitiful picture that the corners of Joel's mouth quirked up.

"Sorry. Thumbs're hurtin', is all. Gimme a moment," he replied and shifted so you hopefully, hopefully couldn't see the strain in his pants.

You sighed and plopped your head back down on the sofa. Joel exhaled quietly in relief.

"S' still hurting like hell in the front," he heard you murmur into your arms.

"Hmm?" His thumbs were hurtin', he hadn't lied about that. While he waited for the ache to pass, he gently drew his fingers across the exposed skin of your back. He could do that much, at least. And he'd get to keep touching you.

"S' still cramping like hell," you repeated and looked back up at him over your shoulder. That goddamn pout.

Joel inhaled deeply. Keep yourself in check. His hand brushed over your lower back once more. "I know, darlin'. I'm sorry."

He'd had a lot of low points in his life, there was no doubt about that. But this, this had to be his lowest. Joel was bent over what had once been a bathroom counter, his forehead bunched up as he brought his fist down around his hardened cock, once, twice, again and again. Here he was, furiously jacking himself off behind closed doors, trying to hold in his moans and groans through gritted teeth and bitten lips while you finally slept in the living room.

It had taken a while until you'd been able to drift off to sleep. Joel had massaged your lower back a little longer, the hard-on in his pants pressing uncomfortably against the seams, but he hadn't dared to adjust himself for fear of you turning around and seeing what your moans had caused. He'd felt like a fuckin' teenager, getting a boner like that from just touching on you. It was ridiculous. And then, you'd asked him to pet your head.

Can I lay on your lap while you brush over my head? He was convinced then that you knew. You simply had to know. But there was nothing on your face that indicated any form of evil intent on your behalf. You just wanted his comfort - you were in pain, nothing more than that. Joel had scolded himself, then awkwardly gotten up with a pillow already held to his crotch as inconspicuously as possible. C'mon, he'd said and you'd laid your head on his lap, two layers of worn out fabric and a few measly clumped up feathers being the only thing that kept your face from his hard-on. He'd almost felt ashamed as you closed your eyes and he began stroking a hand over your forehead. Sick old pervert.

That's how he felt now, hunched over as he got himself off to the memories of your moans once more. He came onto the splintered wood with a muffled groan, his free hand balled into a fist. Sick old pervert, he told himself again as he wiped his hand on a ragged old towel behind the bathroom door and closed his pants back up. He'd make sure to tell you not to go into this bathroom when you woke again next morning. Dead infected, he'd say, and hope that you wouldn't check.

Your period wasn't any more forgiving on the second day than it had been the first. You spent most of it on the couch, dozing in and out of your misery while every single bone in your body ached. The only times you got up were to change your pads and to do your business in the backyard, making sure each time to tell Joel to not look. He was weirdly gentle with you, bringing you water every now and then and making sure you ate. He'd apparently found a well in one of the backyards just a few houses away, so at least you didn't have to worry about dehydrating while you bled and bled and bled.

You woke up again sometime in the late afternoon to the warmth and crackling sounds of a fire. Joel must've had started it in the fireplace while you had been asleep. You also found yourself draped in a blanket that hadn't been there before. A small smile appeared on your face at the gesture. Gruff and snappy as he was, he sure had his sweet moments, just like when he'd massaged you last night.

With a stifled yawn you stretched your (still) aching limbs, then paused mid-stretch as your eyes landed on something by the fireplace. What was that hanging from a string above the fire...?

"JOEL!"

Thump, thump, thump. He came thundering down the stairs and sprinted into the living room, rifle raised.

"What, what," he asked hoarsely, his eyes quickly scanning the room for whatever danger had made you call out to him. You glared at him from your position on the sofa.

"Did you - did you wash my pads?!"

He blinked, then lowered his rifle. A hint of pink colored the tip of his ears. "Uh... yeah. Figured you'd need 'em." He scratched his neck, shuffled his foot.

You kept staring at him. "You... washed. My pads."

You could feel the heat in your face as your own cheeks got colored a soft pink.

"Uh-huh." He nodded again. "Washed 'em out in cold water first, then boiled 'em..." Joel finally seemed to pick up on your embarrassment. "Ain't much different than washin' bloody clothes." He shrugged.

"Umh. Thank you." Pink was a long forgotten shade. Your face resembled more that of a tomato now.

"Don't mention it." Joel stood in the doorway a moment longer, then went back upstairs to do whatever he had been doing before you'd called him down.

Some things fade as time passes. For example, you didn't remember much about your mom. She'd passed away early on after the outbreak, and you had been so young, barely ten years old, that you had a hard time recalling her in your mind. There were a couple of times though when you'd hear her in your mind clear as day.

This was one of those moments, as you stood in the upstairs bathroom of the house you and Joel were staying in. The cracked mirror was foggy as you stepped up to it and ran a hand over the cold and wet glass. Your reflection was slightly warped, but you could see the warm flush in your cheeks, the way your damp hair settled around your head.

Baths can make you feel like a new person. She'd always said that as she'd bathed you when you were sick, and you had to give it to her. She was right about that.

Joel had surprised you with a bath, of all things. He'd spend a day upstairs scrubbing down this tub so he could fill it with hot water, one bucket warmed up over the fire carried up after the other, the tub filling up painfully slowly. You'd walked up and down with him with each water delivery excitedly, watching how the water level slowly rose. Of course you had offered to carry some of the buckets yourself - it's for me, just let me do the work - but he had just shaken his head and grumbled at you. I got it.

It had felt so good, slipping into the warm water. You carefully used the strands of soap you had shaved off of the piece Joel had stashed in your backpack, taking your time as you slathered your body from head to toe. The warmth of the water relaxed your muscles. By the time you were done, you truly did feel like a new person.

You had spent the last three weeks in the same outfit, but now you slipped into the spare set that had been in your backpack. Complete with a fresh pair of panties and a fresh pad, you couldn't remember a time you'd felt so comfortable in the last three, now almost four weeks.

The drain gurgled as you let out your bath water. Soap, grime and blood all swirled around and then slowly disappeared down the creaky old pipes.

Joel sat downstairs by the fire as you came down. His gaze flickered up to you from his book as you stepped into the living room.

"How was it?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to express your gratitude. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, nestled around with the fabric in your fingers. "Like a whole new person," you said finally, a soft smile settling on your lips.

He could tell you meant it too. There was a sense of serenity about you that had been severely lacking the past two days - hell, the last couple of weeks. Joel hadn't known you all that long, but this was the first time you didn't seem tense.

"Mhh, I can tell. Might have to go through that whole hassle again, make me a new person too. Sure could do with a new pair of knees."

The bath didn't grant him a new set of knees, but he couldn't deny that he felt fresher than he had in weeks. He came down the stairs to tell you how you'd been right, running a hand through his damp locks to get 'em out of his forehead when he found you on the couch, a sour expression on your face as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Thought you said you felt all fresh," he commented as he sat down in the armchair again. He couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed at the sight of your frown. Hadn't he helped you feel good? You mumbled something under your breath, still staring at the ceiling.

"What's that now?"

You sat up with a sigh. "I said I did, right up until these fuck-ass cramps picked up again." Another one shot through your abdomen right then, like your uterus was giving you the finger for what you had said. You winced and closed your eyes, your nostrils flaring. Why, why had you been born a woman?!

"Back hurtin' you again?"

You nodded, unable to keep the pout from your lips. "The whole damn deal."

Joel knew. He knew he shouldn't. He'd done so well today, busying himself in completely taking apart his gun, cleaning it meticulously before setting it back together as you took your bath. The idea of you, laying in that tub in just your birthday suit - it had only appeared to him once, maybe twice. His hands had stayed out of his pants, he hadn't paid any new visits to the downstairs bathroom.

But now, you were in pain. He shouldn't offer. He'd done enough today, heaving bucket after bucket of scorching hot water up the steps to fill that tub for you. He'd done his share.

"Want me to have another go at it?"

God-damn-it, Miller. Pray she says no. What was he supposed to do? Let you suffer?

Damn right you should, he scolded himself.

"Would you? You've already done so much for me today. I couldn't impose on you like that -"

Damn right, you couldn't.

"Ain't no bother, sweetheart. C'mon. On your knees, like yesterday."

Diggin' yer own damn grave, that's what yer doin. And didn't he know it.

You were so compliant, so quick to get down on your knees in front of the couch. Joel had half a mind to put a stop to the images that were already flooding his mind at how swiftly you slid from the couch to the ground.

Sick old pervert. Gettin' off on commandin' a young little thing to get on 'er knees.

His joints ached as he dropped down on one, both knees behind you, once again glad for the fact that your head was already buried in the sofa cushions. He was sure the eagerness was written across his face, just short of some drool leaking down his chin.

Should be ashamed of yerself.

He would be, later. When he'd undoubtedly be curled over the bathroom counter once more, spray painting its remnants with his cum. He'd been so good today-

"Joel." You whined in front of him, lightly wiggled your hips as if to say get a move on. Joel found himself questioning once again if perhaps you did know what you were doing to him. "Alright, alright. Gettin' to it, kiddo. No need to whine."

Just like the day before, you melted like chocolate under his touch. Your tense body became pliant, coming loose under his strong thumbs digging into your back. Up your spine, up up up, from down around your tailbone all the way up to your ribcage. In his fingers dug, kneading through your skin and muscles like you were dough.

He'd pushed up your shirt a little higher this time, just an inch or two. You hadn't commented on it. Save for his name, you hadn't said anything since you'd gotten back down on your knees. With the first slump of your shoulders came your first moan, sweet and short, like you probably had moaned when you'd dipped your toes into the hot water first. Joel pressed his thumbs up your spine carefully, running his calloused tips deep into your tissue. A red trail followed his motions as your skin began to bloom under his touch.

Up and down, up and down. His fingers worked tirelessly into your aching back. Joel's brows were furrowed in concentration as he searched out the kinks in your muscles, finding the delicate spots that made you jump and keen. Whether you knew it or not, the words tumbling from your lips when he found a point that gave you trouble were like cocaine to him. Oh my god Joel, right there, fuck- and shit, yes, that's the spot- and right there, right there, oh good fucking god.

It took about three of your moans and one mumbled praise for his work until you'd hitched the tent in his pants again. Joel's cock twitched in his boxers as he dug into your back, begging to be set free. The tips of his ears were burning, set alight each time you commented on another knot he found in your back.

Sick old pervert.

He couldn't help it. Touching you was like drinking nectar. He'd never felt anything so delicate under his weathered hands, never before touched on skin so soft and warm -

"Fuck, Joel, right there. Oh god, yes. Don't stop, please."

You'd be the death of him.

"Tell me where it hurts, babygirl."

Your hands came around your back, shakily trying to locate the spots that bothered you. Joel backed up an inch so you wouldn't accidentally brush over his hard-on.

"S' in here-" Your hand flew over your lower spine, close to your tailbone, where Joel had already spent a good portion of his energy. "An' here-" You fingered over where your bra sat, then hunched up your shoulders. "-n' here, drawing all up into my neck." Your fingers trailed up your neck and got lost in your hair at the base of your neck.

"Mh." Joel tutted at you. "Got my work cut out for me, hu, darlin'?"

He saw your head beginning to turn towards him, likely to interject how he didn't have to, but he laid his hands on your shoulder blades instead, swiftly pushing you back down into the cushions. "Ah, ah. Ain't said I wasn't gonna do it. Relax, darlin'. I got you."

He could feel the grumble vibrate in your chest as he slid his fingers down your spine. "Mh. Lotta' spots givin' you trouble, mh?"

She said as much. Ya need te hear it again, sick old pervert?

"See if we can rectify that for ya, eh? Let Joel take care of ya."

He knew he was treading on thin ice, practically heard it cracking under his feet. His words bordered on dirty talk, but he just couldn't help himself. You gave your back to him so willingly, downright begging for his touch.

He was just a man, after all.

A sick, old, perverted man.

"Might wanna lose this, darlin'. Gonna be a relief for sure, n' I can't go rubbin' over it." Joel lightly tapped on the clasp of your bra over your shirt. He already knew he was going to hell anyway. And he really couldn't go on rubbing over your bra. Wouldn't have been comfortable, for you or him.

He'd expected you to object, had half expected a lecture (that he rightfully deserved), but none of that came. Instead, he watched you do that little wiggly move he'd seen women do before where they reach under their shirt and take their bra off without anything ever showing. It had always been one of his favorites to see. One second a woman would be wearing a bra, the next it got tossed across the room, not a single piece of clothing ever having gone amiss in the meantime. As far as Joel was concerned, it was a little magic trick.

And you pulled it off without a hitch. He tried not to look in too much detail as you put the garment next to you on the sofa. He had other things to focus on.

Wallpaper, wallpaper, hole in the wall, wallpaper, rusty nail, crooked crown molding. He could've fixed that easy, back in the day. Didn't need much more than the tools in his belt to do it. Would've made a fine job of it too.

Door frame. Tarnished, cracked. Long forgotten. He could take care of it, bring it back to life, with just a few touches here and there. Just a bit of straightening up the ridge, nothing too fancy. He could certainly do it, expert that he was, doing work with his hands. He'd bring the wood back in shape, love the wood like it was meant to be, gently work on it until it'd comply with his hands and mold to his touch, soft and warm-

No, no, strong and hard, like wood was supposed to be. Fuck, this was going nowhere.

Joel was doing all in his might to distract himself from how you were falling apart under his touch. Your moans didn't let up, praises flowing freely from your mouth as he slowly worked his way up your entire back, pushing more and more of your shirt out of the way until all of your back was exposed to him.

He was glued to the carpet where he knelt, afraid to even move an inch. If he looked hard enough, he could imagine the soft rounds higher on your torso, where shoulder blades softly gave way to what he was sure was a delightful pair of boobs-

No, nope, he wasn't gonna move. Couldn't risk it, not even an inch. If just the thought of your breasts sent his head careening, what would a mild case of side-boobs do to him? He couldn't risk it.

Pity what you consider 'standards', pervy old man.

He did what he could. And he was making you feel so good. You kept telling him so. That had to count for something, didn't it?

You wish.

Where was he, then?

Door frame. Right. Perhaps he'd have to replace parts of it. That'd be okay, too. He'd have to find wood to match the leftover structure - sand the original down, couple of times likely, then apply the stain. He could make sure the new and old pieces matched up that way-

"Fuck, Joel. Yes. Right there."

His head slumped down in defeat.

"Babygirl, please. Go easy on me. I can't do this no more." Joel's beard touched on his chest as he shook his head. "I can't - I'm tryin', I am -"

He heard you shift, felt the loss of your warm skin under his hands as you turned around in front of him. He couldn't look, just kept his eyes shut, not out of respect but-

Open yer damn eyes, you coward. See how she looks at you. Face your shame.

Joel forced his eyes open.

He wasn't met with shame, or even disgust. You had a worried look to you, like you couldn't quite figure out what had happened.

"Are you okay? I'm - I'm sorry, I knew I shouldn't have let you go on for so long, your hands must be hurting-" You felt awful. Joel looked like he was in actual pain. In all your bliss, you had let him work on your back for way longer than you had promised yourself, and he had overexerted himself.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you started again, but then his hand flew up in the air, silencing you almost immediately. You looked at him with big eyes, trying to read his face. He was red all over from how exhausted he was.

Let an old man work for you like that, you should be ashamed. What are you, a princess?

"Joel-"

"Darlin', I ain't hurtin'. Is' - s' just - goddammit." You watched him run a tired hand over his face. Was it just you, or were the tips of his ears a slightly darker shade of red than the rest of his face?

Joel sighed. You looked at him with worried eyes. What had you done?

"Sweetheart, ain't about you workin' me to the bone. I don't mind that one bit. Trust me," he insisted as you opened your mouth to object. "S' about how you... how you respond to my touch."

You furrowed your brows. "Uh...huh?"

"Your moans, darlin'. They're just about killin' me."

...oh.

You felt your face flush red in a couple of seconds. Of course. How thoughtless of you.

"I'm - I'm real sorry, Joel, I didn't-" Joel shifted in front of you, visibly uncomfortable, and your eyes fell into his lap, widening at what you saw.

Oh.

If possible, you grew a couple shades darker in the face. You could feel the heat pulsating in your ears as your eyes flicked around the room, unsure of where to look. "I'm - uhh, sorry...?"

You heard Joel huff. "Will you quit apologizin'? S' fine. I'm the one that ought to be apologizin'. Ya didn't mean te-"

"You? You've been nothing but good to me all day! You did nothing wrong!"

Another huff of amusement. "I got a tent in my pants here that says otherwise."

Your eyes found his, decidedly staying on his face. "Yeah well, but that's... natural. Not like you're doing that on purpose."

"That bit, no. But I'd be lyin' if I said touchin' on you, workin' your back - that ain't just entirely for your benefit."

He figured if he went with the truth, he might as well come clean about it all. Half-truths had never really been Joel's thing.

He watched you work through his words, could practically see the gears in your head turnin'. He wouldn't have blamed you if you had told him off, hell, he was expecting your finger to come flying into his face any minute now.

"Alright."

He blinked, once, twice. Hu?

"Alright?"

You nodded, slowly at first, then more decidedly. "Alright. Yeah."

Joel's eye was twitching. "Uh... catch me up, darlin'. I got no idea what you mean."

"I mean, alright. Yeah. You can... do me. If you want to."

He watched the words come out of your mouth, heard them coming in through his ears, a faint ringing sound following them. Surely, he had to have heard wrong.

"Come again?"

A slow smile spread across your face. Joel watched it stretch out, like a cat waking up after a nap. The ringing sound in his ears wouldn't die down.

"I said, you can do me. Fuck me. Make love to me, whatever you wanna call it. You have my consent."

Well, now you've done it. You've broken the man.

Joel kept looking at you, a blank expression on his face. The silence between the two of you began to stretch so long that you were seriously beginning to worry.

"...Joel?" You snapped your fingers twice in front of his eyes. "Miller? You home?"

His eyes zeroed back in on you and you let out a sigh of relief. Not a stroke, then. Good. The tips of Joel's ears were burning a bright red. You had to bite down on your lips to keep from smiling.

"You... good?"

He nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. Thought I heard you say I could do you there for a second. Fried my brain for a moment."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. The mighty Joel Miller, feared by all, reduced to an abashed puddle by just a few of your words. Now wasn't that something to see.

"Probably cause I did. Do you need me to write you an invitation? Put my consent on paper? You surprise me, Miller. Didn't seem much to care for it when you pulled me in for that kiss on the stree-"

"Uh-uh." Joel suddenly growled and leaned forward, towering slightly over you on his arms. "None of that again. I paid my dues. Got you out. I drew you a damn bath, girly. What more do you want?"

His finger was right in your face, daring you to object to him. You bit down on your lips once more, trying not to grin at the reversed roles.

"I want you to help me with my cramps. Not on my back. In the front. Please?"

Look at that, you old fucker. Got her on her knees in front of you, begging you to take her. Ain't you a lucky old bastard.

And didn't he know it. Joel's tongue darted into his cheek as he looked you over, taking in your puppy eyes and slight grin that was surely meant to taunt him, but only spurned on the hitched tent in his pants. If you had been a sight to see while he drooled over you in secret, you were almost out of this world when you wanted him to touch on you. Like that.

He shifted around on his knees, a hand on his crotch to find a more comfortable position for his hardened cock that was straining to spring free. "Darlin' -" His voice was strained. "Not that I don't want to, but it wouldn't be right, me being that much older than you-"

Oh, so now you got standards, you pervy old man? Who are you trying to fool?

"Joel, do I need to beg?"

Yes darlin', please, on your knees, impatient and whining like when you were waiting for my hands on your back-

"Cause I will."

Lord have mercy.

Joel had you scooped up in his arms faster than you could blink, bringing you onto his lap in one swift motion, his old arms and knees suddenly very willing to be cooperating with him.

"No, sweetheart. Don't gotta beg," he said as he cupped your face with his hands, running a gentle finger over your cheek to tug a hair behind your ear. "Joel's got you. I'll help you with your cramps. No begging needed."

He looked at you a moment longer, determined to take all of it in. The way you were looking at him expectantly, a soft tint of color in your cheeks hinting at the fact that you were perhaps a bit nervous, the way your teeth bit down in your bottom lip. There was a glint in your eyes too, the kind he had seen when he had pleaded for you to work with him. You looked wicked, bewitching. You could've told him to lick the floor in that moment, and he would've done it, no questions asked.

Joel Miller was a goner for you.

No news there, you old fuck. Now get to it, before she changes her mind.

Joel took one last look at you before he gently tilted his head and put your lips on his. It was a gentle kiss, soft and probing, just testing the waters. He was dipping his toes in, seeing how you reacted to him.

Your lips met his hesitantly, just a blank, unmoving canvas at first, but then you came to life. He felt your lips beginning to move against his own, tentatively and careful, just like he had been. Joel's right hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your head to hold you tighter, his left thumb drawing soothing circles on your other cheek for comfort. I got you, darlin'. Let yourself fall, he was trying to say, and you seemed to understand, sighing and relaxing into him with your body.

Spurned on by your reaction, Joel nipped at your bottom lip, asking you to let him in. He didn't have to ask twice. Your lips promptly opened at his silent request, letting Joel's tongue in to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

My god, you tasted like heaven. Joel was certain he'd never tasted anything so sweet in his life before and he couldn't hold back the groan that had built in his throat. His hands flew down to your hips, securing you against him tightly, as he rocked forward to push himself up. "Hold on to me, sweetheart."

You were so obedient, legs swiftly gripping around his waist as he pushed himself up to heave you and himself on the couch. Joel grunted with the effort and from impatience. He couldn't wait to feel your legs wrapped around him like that without a barrier of fabric between them.

You were gently laid down in your preferred place for sulking, though you couldn't currently remember which, if any problems you had had in the past few days to complain about. Any and all period-related issues seemed to have flown right out of your mind the moment Joel had put his lips on yours, and your brain was too busy tracking the movement of his hands on your body to do anything else, even if it was just about 'remembering'.

He had laid you down on the sofa and had positioned himself over you with one knee between your legs, while he steadied himself with one foot on the ground. The couch wasn't very wide, but you didn't have it on your mind to complain, and neither did Joel. Not that you would've had any time to complain either. Joel was too busy by keeping your mouth occupied with his own while his hands traveled up and down your body as if he was trying to map out all your curves and dips. He must've had more than just two hands, the way he was feeling you up, his hands seemingly everywhere on you at once, brushing over your shoulder, running up the side of your neck to tug on your hair at the base of your neck, holding you at your waist to steady you, then gently cupping your breast before giving it a careful squeeze. There wasn't any part of you that remained untouched and all you could do was try to remember how to breathe in between moans.

"Joel," you panted when he'd abandoned your lips in favor of your neck, trailing down kisses towards your collarbone where he nipped at the skin and then promptly brought his lips down on the harsh mark, soothing what little pain he caused you. There was a growing need between your legs, your arousal mixing with your wetness from your period. You felt a tug in your abdomen, decidedly different from the cramps you had been experiencing for the past days. While also slightly painful, this one was born out of want. You wanted Joel inside of you - no, needed him inside of you.

So you're an old-people fucker now? Yeah?

Apparently, you were, if Joel Miller could be described as "old". He certainly felt anything but as his hands glided under your shirt and found one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger trailing up the soft skin until they found your nipple to take between them, rolling it gently between his finger tips. You moaned into Joel's mouth at the sensation, bucked your hips up into him. Needy, needy, needy. You needed him.

Old-people fucker. Yep.

"I got you, darlin'. I got you," he reassured you when you ground your hips against him, willfully. "Just gotta sample everything on the menu first, before we get to the desert. I got you, sweetheart. Relax."

You whined at his murmured words. You couldn't relax, it was the furthest thing from your mind when there was a pool of heat between your legs that you needed to be cooled down.

"Ah, now." Joel tutted in your ear as you writhed beneath him. "Patience, darlin'. You trust me, don't you?"

You pushed your bottom lip out in response. Of course you trusted him. But that didn't mean you couldn't ask him to hurry the fuck up?

There was a light smack on your cheek before you knew it. You blinked, feeling the stinging sensation before heat spread through your cheek where his fingers had struck you.

"I set the pace. You hear me, sweet cheeks?" Joel's beard prickled against your tingling skin as he pressed soft and gentle kisses on your blooming cheek. "'Nough with the impatience. I got you. I'll take care of you. You gotta trust daddy Joel."

Fine, perhaps he got a little carried away with his smack, but you didn't seem to mind, not severely anyway. He watched you closely just in case, looking for signs that you were uncomfortable or wanted him to stop, but even though you'd looked mildly shocked after he had struck your cheek, your eyes had soon glazed back over with bliss as he worked your nipples between his fingertips. Attagirl.

Joel felt like a kid on Christmas morning, the way he got to undress you piece by piece. It was like tearing off wrapping paper, except he didn't tear through your clothes (not for a lack of want - he'd have scoured the down for new clothes for you if he didn't know that was just a tad overboard) but carefully slipped them off of you, piece by piece, step by step. With each garment of fabric that got discarded on the floor, he got to unearth more and more of you. More of your delicate and soft skin that he had been lucky enough to get a taste of from behind as early as the previous day.

He got stuck on your boobs for a good long while, drawn in by the sight as soon as he pushed your shirt up over them. It was just too good of a sight to pass up, and he had to get a taste to commit your breasts to his memory for good. He sampled one boob first, kissing up from below it and working his way towards your areola, taking his time with your nip as he whirled his tongue around it, even gently pulled on it with his teeth.

Joel couldn't decide what he liked better, the way you felt and tasted under his tongue or how your body responded to him, writhing and rocking up towards him to meet his mouth, the sweetest moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he mapped out your torso with his tongue. It was a hard decision, and he kept falling back and forth between it.

He knew he was pushing your patience by sound of your moans changing. They got breathier and whinier as he went on, sampling your other breast in the same slow and painstakingly precise way he had the other, and he could hear how worked up you were getting, your whines rising in pitch with every stroke of his tongue.

"Joel, please."

He chuckled, drew himself up to meet your pleading look at eye-level. "Gettin' there, sweetheart. I promise." Joel watched your bottom lip push out once more into that delightful pout of yours. He dipped down to suck on it, pulling your plump lip in between his and nibbling softly on it before capturing you in another sloppy kiss.

If it hadn't been for the stark reminder in his pants, he would've worked you over until you were nothing but a whimpering mess underneath him, begging for him with tears in your eyes, but alas, he was nearing the end of what he could take as well.

There was only so much he could do to your upper body before he inevitably got pulled downwards to where you wanted him most, needed him most.

You all but scrambled to help him get out of your pants as he tucked the fabric down your hips, your bottom springing up into the air when he tapped a cheek and nudged his head upwards. "Up, babygirl." A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he pulled your pants down your legs, carefully slipping them off your feet. "Needy little thing, aren't ya. Mhh, me too, darlin'. Can't wait either." He lightly grabbed your calf and helped your leg up on his shoulder, peppering kisses up your shin towards your knee.

You fumbled with his hair when he continued his trail up your thigh, stopping him when he was more than halfway towards his target. Joel looked up at you from between your legs, his hand running up and down your leg that was holstered on his shoulder. "Somethin' wrong, babygirl?"

You mumbled something unintelligibly, color blooming in your cheeks without his palms ever having come near either of them. You were too quiet for him to hear all of it, but he could make out a few words here and there. Period and all he heard and don't wanna make a mess and the smell.

Joel kissed your thigh again, not nearing your core. "Don't gotta worry about that, hun. Ain't nothing I'd care about. But I'm not gonna do somethin' you don't want. Alright?" He looked at you, made sure you saw the sincerity in his eyes. You fumbled around with your fingers, visibly uncomfortable. Joel kissed your thigh once more.

"Ain't gonna do anythin' you don't like," he repeated and brought himself up again so he was hovering over your torso once more, lavishing kisses on any piece of skin he could find on his way, save for where your panties kept you hidden from him. He made sure to move around it with enough distance that you knew he took you seriously, honored your boundaries. He still had standards.

Low fuckin' standards. More like bare fuckin' minimum.

If anyone had told you you'd be under Joel fucking Miller three weeks ago, you'd have laughed at them and asked them if they'd had one too many helpings of moonshine. Yet here you were, stark naked from top to bottom, laid out for him to see like an exhibition piece under no one else than Joel fucking Miller, about to fuck you.

It was as much as a surprise to you as his tenderness had been. Besides the strike on your cheek (which, the more you thought about it, you didn't really mind) he was being more than soft and gentle with you, working over every spot of you with a dedication and mind for detail that you had never encountered before. You had been exceedingly grateful when he had heeded your wishes about not coming close to your core with his mouth, and it could have been your imagination, but he had seemed even more gentle with you when he slowly coaxed your panties off of you, praising you and leaving kisses all over as he went. You'd never been called so many pet names in one day, let alone within the two minutes it took him to get you out of your underwear. Doin' so good, darlin' and you're so beautiful, sweetheart and never felt a thing so soft, tasted anything so sweet had been among the many, many things he'd purred at you.

Now he was lining himself up at your entrance, kneeling on the sofa with one leg while he steadied himself with the other on the ground as he softly padded the tip of his cock against your soaking folds. You still didn't feel too keen about being out in the open like that, blood just leaking out of you unstopped, but Joel seemed to have an answer for that too.

"Gonna draw you another bath afterwards, mh, pretty girl? Get you all cleaned up nice?" He dipped just the bare tip of his slightly leaking head between your lower lips, gently dragging it up and down, coating himself in what you were sure was a bloody mess. While picturing what was leaking out of you made you tense up slightly, Joel seemed blissed out at the sighed of it. You could see the glint in his eyes, the hunger that was written all over his face as he dragged his cock up and down through your slick, coating himself and more of you in it.

"Ain't that the prettiest cunt I ever did see," he mumbled, his eyes transfixed on your entrance. You felt your cheeks bloom once more, both from the compliment and embarrassment you felt. It was a strange sensation, to feel so flattered and put on the spot at the same time.

Joel didn't give you much more time to think about it though. You flinched when you suddenly felt his warm tip tapping against your clit, gently but forceful enough to send tiny sparks flying through you. "There she is," he said and you saw the smile draw across his face. "Saw you getting all lost in your own pretty head, darlin'. Can't have you zoning out now, we're just getting to the good part." He lightly tapped against your clit once more, a sly grin taking over when he saw how you inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"With me now, sweet cheeks? Ready for me to come inside?"

Joel fucking Miller, a man full of surprises, as you had come to learn. Looks like he could learn after all.

"Yeah," you breathed out and shook your head eagerly. "Yes, please."

You saw his eyes darken as you renewed your consent. A growl sounded from his chest and he quickly dipped down once more, surprising you with another fierce kiss. "Attagirl."

You felt him align himself with your entrance once more, the tip of his length pressing against your aching entrance. "Eyes on me, sweet cheeks," he murmured and your eyes quickly flew to meet his, not wanting to do anything that could stop him from what he was about to do. A kiss was placed on the edge of your lips. "Good girl. Listening to me so good. Makin' me real happy, you know that?"

You gasped as you felt Joel slowly pushing into you. It was a good stretch, on the brink of too much, but he took it slow, pushing in inch by inch while he peppered your chin with more kisses in between murmured praises. "Look at you, taking me so well. Doin' so good, sweetheart. S' a bit of a stretch, hm? Yeah? Pretty thing like you, all tight for big ole' me?" More kisses rained down on your face, Joel's beard tickling over your cheeks as he kissed down your nose, teeth nipping at your lips. "God, you feel so good," he breathed out and you watched in awe as his eyes fluttered close. He was filling you out more and more and you wondered how much more there could possibly be of him as he kept gently pushing into you.

Joel stilled as he bottomed you out, the tip of his cock pressing into you deeply. You could feel it deep inside of you, a gentle push on a spot you alone could never reach, not even dream of reaching. Your breath was shallow, trying to get acclimated to his width.

You felt Joel's beard brush against your face as his head dipped down. "God, darlin'. Takin' me so good. Let me come in all the way, didn't ya? Such a good girl." Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him retract slightly, the gentle pressure on your inside slowly retreating as Joel slowly pulled himself out of you. Not all the way, no, just enough to make you worry he could, but then his teeth were softly nipping at your chin and you were being stretched out again as he caaarefully drove himself back inside of you.

You made something of a gurgling sound as your eyelids fluttered close while your eyes rolled backwards into your skull. It was the most excruciatingly slow pace he could've taken, and though you knew - guessed - he was doing it on purpose for you, not to tease you, you couldn't help but yearn for more, and faster.

Your hands flew up to Joel's back to pull him closer to you. Would you not have had Joel's penis painfully slowly plowing into you at this moment, perhaps your movements would have been more coordinated. But alas, your hands fumbled all over the place, pulling and grabbing at him in an attempt to get him down to your face so you could kiss him, to hopefully spurn him on to get a move on. You groaned into Joel's mouth when your lips connected at the same time as he met your insides with the tip of his cock once more.

"Fuck, Joel."

He grinned like a stupid school boy as he heard you curse. Hadn't he dreamt of this just a night ago, hunched over the broken bathroom sink? Even if he had imagined it, he never could've imagined this, the real deal. Filling you out with every inch of him was so much better than he ever could've dreamt up himself. Where your moans had been like cocaine to him, your pussy was just straight up heroine. One push inside of you and he knew he was a goner, lost to your pussy forever. He would never feel anything like it anywhere else, that much, he knew.

"Yeah, baby? That feel good?" He kissed your ear as he pulled himself back out, then drove back into you. It was an agonizingly slow pace, but he wanted to savor every moment of it, drag it out for as long as he could. Who knew if you would allow him such a delicacy ever again? He had to make the moment last.

You nodded below him, your cheek rubbing against his scruff as you did. "S'so good, Joel," you murmured against his ear. "But faster, please. Please go faster."

Now how could he say no to such a kind request?

Joel felt his knee object as he adjusted his position on the sofa, preparing himself to fuck into you faster.

Not now.

He didn't have time for aching joints and other ailments. Not when he had you below him, asking him to go faster. Now who was he if he denied a pretty girl like you a favor like that?

A sensible man instead of a pervy old fuck, perhaps?

No. He'd have been a heartless old fuck, that's who.

He grounded himself into the floor with one foot and then got to work. Never mind his fifty-six year old hips. Never mind his aching, complaining knee. He had a job to do, and he was gonna do it.

Joel fucked into you like his life depended on it. He gradually increased his pace until the old sofa was creaking and shrieking underneath the two of you, but those weren't the sounds he was listening for. His hearing was attuned to you instead, carefully dissecting each moan and groan that fell from your lips. What did you like more? What made you groan, what made your fingers dig into his back?

Joel acutely listened to the cues of your body, your verbal ones taking the lead while the rest did their own speaking. He didn't care that your nails pierced the skin on his back, or that you drove your teeth into his forearm, likely leaving a bite mark that would last him a day. It'd be a kind reminder of the gift you were giving him, and had he not been pounding into you at this very moment, he likely would have fantasized about giving the old bathroom another run while staring at the bite on his arm, perhaps running his tongue over the indents in his skin that you were so kindly imprinting at the moment.

"That's right, babygirl, take what you need," he encouraged you and did his best to give you what you needed too. He had heard about it once, how cervical stimulation could help with period cramps, and he could only hope he was alleviating your pain in the same way you made him forget about all his aching joints. Joel wasn't fifty-six as he drove himself into you again and again, he was twenty-five at best, fucking his heart into your pussy like she owned it.

"Joel - Joel -," you whined underneath him and he laid a gentle hand on your face, turning your chin with his thumb so you'd look at him. "Whaddaya need, babygirl? Hm?" He never stopped his pace, never slowed down so you could think better. Joel watched your brows furrow as you tried to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm - Joel, think I'm gonna -"

"You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Yeah?" Even though his instinct was to lower himself on you so he could kiss on you again, he knew better than to change his pace or angle now. If he was lucky enough to be able to gift you with an orgasm, he wouldn't pass that chance up, even if it meant to starve himself of your lips.

Your face was scrunching up like you were thinking real hard. Moans were no longer falling in a steady stream from your lips, but Joel didn't worry. He'd been with enough women to know the signs, knew that you were getting close. Even though he missed your moans, excitement tightened his chest as he drove himself into you again and again, hoping to push you over the finish line. It'd be the best damn thing he'd ever done.

He felt you clenching around his dick, your walls cramping down around him more and more as your breath hitched in your chest coherently. One, two, three more pushes, and Joel saw the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. You fell apart underneath him, moan after moan flowing from your heavenly lips right into his ear, jumbling into one another as your orgasm rocked through you. Joel bit down on his tongue hard, the sight and sound of your climax enough to make him cum right there and then, but he was determined to fuck you through it. He owed you that much.

"That's right, babygirl, let go," Joel cooed as you convulsed underneath him, wave after wave of pleasure slowly rolling through you. He fucked you through it like he promised himself he would, then slowed in unison with your ebbing ecstasy, despite his dick yelling at him to keep going.

Not now. He had other things to focus on.

Joel leaned down to kiss your blissed out face. First your forehead, then each closed eye, down your nose, over your right cheek, left cheek, the corner of your mouth. You kissed him back lazily when he finally landed on your lips, a satisfied hum vibrating in your throat.

"You good, darlin'?" Joel searched your face as you slowly blinked up at him. He ran a thumb over your cheek, drawing small circles on your soft skin.

He didn't care that he hadn't finished. He could do that later, in the bathroom when you were asleep. Of course, nothing would feel as good as your silken walls wrapped around his cock - but that would be fine, too. He'd have all of this to remember, to draw from for the rest of his life, if need be.

You nodded slowly, a sheepish smile on your face now that you had come down from your high. "Yeah. Think I made a mess of you though."

Joel looked down at his pelvis. He was covered in your blood and slick, tinting his pubic hair a deep shade of red. "Don't you worry about that, sweet cheeks. Nothing some water can't clean up. Want me to run you another bath?"

Periods aren't fun, that much was true.

But you couldn't help but think that perhaps, they weren't the worst thing in the world, now that you laid in a bathtub full of warm water, while Joel Miller slowly massaged your upper body.

Having your period in the apocalypse could prove as a challenge, but it helped to have help. Help like Joel Miller, who washed your pads and massaged your back and fucked you deeply to help with your cramps if you asked him.

Yeah, perhaps periods aren't the worst thing in the world, you thought as you tipped your head up and pulled Joel in for a kiss. You could certainly survive another period or two this way.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Credits: plant divider by @strangergraphics

A/N: Yep, part two out not even a full two days later because I could not stop thinking about this fic. This is only the second time ever I've written smut (not counting part 1 of this mini-series?) and I would highly appreciate some feedback! (Don't hold back on the criticism too if you got any, I can take it!) This fic was definitely very much influenced by @strang3lov3's 'Seeing Red' story which I highly, highly recommend, and the fact that I was on my own period. Also, if anyone's wondering, I couldn't stop thinking about these goddamn gifs so I had to bring the cheek biting into this. 🥵 Now, none of this is proof-read so I apologize for any typos etc. Hope you had fun reading this! Please leave a comment if you did 🫶💓

(No pressure) Taglist:

@missladym1981 @guelyury @roboticsupersonic @auteurdelabre @ashleyfilm

@mandojojo @picketniffler @vickie5446 @frogsdeservelovetoo @elli3williams

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @justajoelsreader @oldmenenthusiast

[getsuuna]

KNY Fandom so fucking insufferable I'm gonna start behaving like those GiyuShino and SaneKana shippers and go around spreading misinformation and say "no you don't get it SaneGiyuu was implied!!!" /j

because I'd actually have more content to mention without even mischaracterizing them

wanna talk about how they're a two-faced mirror? almost as if they were written to parallel each other and there's so much to talk about on this matter

or, since not everyone in this Fandom can dive into analysis, wanna mention how Shinobu figured Sanemi could've made Giyuu smile by inviting him to eat his fav dish with him? why not ask him directly instead? why Sanemi out of all people?

wanna mention Sanemi's pseudo-obsession on that man? he disliked his ass, but if we go back to analysis, his intolerance to someone feeling superior can be tied to a multitude of factors and one of which is being low-key reminded of himself, and he loathes himself while at the same time he puts on that strong façade. he can't face it though. and he wanted to understand why Giyuu felt that way SO BADLY he went to him for training and tried to speak with him, he wanted a contact, he wanted to understand, he needed Giyuu to speak up but he didn't.

on the other hand don't we wanna talk about Giyuu's perspective? Giyuu never hated him nor did he really feel sad knowing he disliked him, contrary to how he felt towards Obanai. not to mention he even got to be sarcastic towards Sanemi's dumb ass at least twice.

and the iconic ohagi scene? idk about y'all but between the hashira I think that's THE iconic scene, alongside Giyuu and Shinobu beefing and Shinobu almost stabbing him (don't get me wrong platonic GiyuShino has my whole heart)

the first time we saw Giyuu smile in the series is while imagining to befriend Sanemi??? and out of everyone he chose Sanemi? the hashira who is canonically the most difficult to talk with?😭 he only ever smiled either for food, for Sanemi or Tanjiro

oh and let's not talk about how Tanjiro, after getting knocked up, wakes up and the first thing Giyuu says is "yeah Shinazugawa left" ..? or the whole novel chapter in which they end up talking about him (supposedly right after that scene in the manga) and Giyuu cheered up. what

anyways, likewise, the first time Sanemi was seen smiling genuinely outside of his family was with Giyuu. Obanai and especially Masachika were both closer to him, not to mention the most important person in his life, Genya...yet here we are ig?? (after Giyuu he also smiled more in general, the scene of him smiling at Nezuko was one of my fav panels ever so keep in mind I'm taking in consideration the chronological events and not the impact of the scenes per se)

or let's talk about the most important part in their development which is when they fought together.

Sanemi saving him, telling him not to zone out while throwing the sword at him, it made Giyuu realize he's the water hashira, it was the first time Giyuu acknowledged it. Sanemi influenced Giyuu's character positively, and so far Tanjiro was the only other one who managed to. Sanemi saw him as his ally (rightfully so), and hopefully seeing him fight also made him realize he wasn't that much of a conceited guy, he was just like him, as he initially wanted Giyuu to understand (despite the fact it was a miscommunication)

Sanemi teaming up with Giyuu out of everyone, in such an impactful panel.... idk, if it was a straight ship that would've felt like a confession for the Fandom 💀

they impacted each other's character, they were the only two hashira surviving after facing the same war, they faced similar struggles during their lives (but let's not get into analysis, once again...), they could've understood each other better than anyone else would ever have, and they ended up bonding and eating together

that panel was there, in the middle of other panels all portraying important bonds, whether canon romantic bonds or platonic and sibling-like ones (Tanjiro and Nezuko, the Kamaboko squad, the swordsmiths etc.)

if it wasn't important it wouldn't have been there, but the funniest thing is that if either of them was a woman it would've been considered canon since it also included TanKana, ZenNezu and InoAoi🙏🏻

but oh, if we try to name either of these things and more, people will rightfully say "can't they be friends anymore?", which is valid, but I wonder why this doesn't apply to equally fanon straight ships.

a show so peak has so many fans that are so dense😭😭😭

[ray-winters]

I am about to get a lil sappy here, but…I remember when I was in middle school, I was in private Catholic schooling, and I was dealing with the fact that I knew I was gay. I knew this was “wrong” because that’s what I was taught, so I suppressed it and tried so hard not to be. I told myself I’d do what my uncle did, which was push it down, marry a woman, and have kids like I was “supposed” to.

I remember specifically one day, I was home alone, and I knew I couldn’t keep it in for much longer. Jurassic Park was on my TV (weird detail to remember but I do) and I was sobbing on the couch pleading to God to just make it go away, and to make me straight. I didn’t even care if it made me an asshole and changed my personality I just wanted to be straight. I remember thinking it’d be easier to straight up just die than to live the rest of my life this way. Keep in mind this was around 2007-2008, gay marriage wasn’t even close to a reality, I had no positive gay rep that I knew of on TV or in movies, and again, private Catholic school so I was surrounded by homophobia. I didn’t come out for about 3 more years from this point.

I give this depressing backstory so that I can say-

I just woke up next to my husband, he is in the kitchen making us coffee, we have been together for 10 years, happily married for 1.5, and our only plans today are to play video games and then go do a performance of SCREAM’D together. I truly don’t think I’ve ever felt more fulfilled in who I am or what I’m doing in life. I have a great group of friends around me, I feel love & support from people from all across the world. I have truly made a genuine effort to create and portray queer characters almost exclusively and hopefully in doing so given people some representation that maybe they’re searching for. I’m 29 now, and if I could go back and tell 15 year old Ray that everything was gonna work out in its own way and in its own time, I would.

I know it’s cliche, but it does get better. It just takes time. And sometimes, you’ve got to make it better yourself. If you’re struggling, if you’re in a religious school, if you’re in a conservative area, I just want you to know that I know it’s tough rn to keep the faith; but it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. It might just take a little bit of time. Find likeminded people, whether it’s irl or on the internet, there’s a community of people for everyone. There is a world of love & acceptance out there for you, you’ll find it 💙

[yanmuffins]

Hello I've been obsessed with your p&f au especially the singing aspect! Can you imagine when the yans actually become aware of everything reader, damian and Jon have been up to they actually start to dive into everything. They see videos of them all over like the gitchee gitchee goo song, the traveling the world songs, the love handle reunion songs! I can see them being surprised about damian singing as well lol! Also I was looking at the mom it's your birthday song can you imagine damian singing a version like that to bruce in private only for reader to make a concert for it! Sorry I'm rambling I just love your concept! This is how you gonna know it's me!🪷 gonna send another ask as well!

damian gets in trouble for participating in some of reader's adventures without alerting anyone (he tried. like 98% of times), which he thinks is both unfair and nonsensical, because he now has to deal with his other siblings making fun of him for partaking in all those musical numbers, and that's punishment enough.

it only adds to nail down how much they missed of their life. there's plenty of non-dangerous things they did during summer, like being a one-hit wonder with a cheesy romance song (by the way, aren't they too young to be making cheesy romance songs?) and all other pefomances you did for fun. they could have been there for that! and each instance they spot damian in the backgroud or beside reader rubs salt on the wound. at least he was keeping an eye on them, but they'll be bitter about that for a while.

damian has really gotten out of his shell since p&f! reader came to the manor, though. him? singing a song publicly for bruce with reader? this is a moment that needs to be captured in 4k professional cameras. hopefully that footage gets magically corrupted too.

i love this idea! i don't think p&f! reader would immediately brag about their adventures because they're pretty much grounded, forbidden from getting up to their usual antics (without supervision, at least, which damian no longer counts as), but eventually they'd pull out those memory books to illustrate how they've always done what they do with no problem, which has bruce sitting there in utter silence, surprised they're still, somehow, alive.

and the thought of reader spending a week or two in gravity falls with dipper and mabel before coming to the wayne manor is so funny. they're never going back there again after bruce sees a picture of them next to a monstrous-looking cryptid, but they're free to share their past experiences. if it makes them feel better. tim is lowkey jealous of their little sibling for having such an interesting life, and maybe could be tempted to cover for p&f! reader, damian and jon as long as they agree he can go have fun with them. but that's a big maybe.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses. 

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way. 

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch?  he asks with big brown eyes. 

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them. 

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings. 

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does.  And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking. 

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair. 

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag. 

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about. 

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen. 

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready. 

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her. 

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away. 

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely. 

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?” 

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face. 

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him. 

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes. 

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her. 

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms. 

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice. 

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

[skzhocomments]

The Rising Empress (Bang Chan) - Chapter 8 - Envy and Power

General Masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Taglist: @vxllxnsworld

---

Chapter 8 - Envy and Power

Chapter word count: 7.5k words

Each new day brings new opportunities, Aristia thinks as she steps out of her room with resolve. She wants to accomplish two things today:

1. Reading at least one book on the history of the Empire,

and

2. Punishing that maid – Juliana.

As her doors open, she is shocked to see someone else standing in front of her room; not her usual guard.

“Changbin?” Her eyes widen.

“Your Majesty.” He bows respectfully. “I’m glad to see you’re in good health.”

“What are you doing here?”

“His Highness informed me that I will be your personal aid from now on. I was supposed to come yesterday, but there was some… business… to take care of.”

“Business?” Aristia inquires and notices the way Changbin is carefully looking from left to right to make sure no one is able to hear them.

Her maids are a safe enough distance away.

“We needed to dispose of your father’s body.” He whispers, and Aristia is glad she now has Changbin, as she’s always thought of him as an open book that keeps her in the loop.

She truly didn’t expect Chris to give him to her, and the fact that he decided to do so before their talk yesterday warms her heart a little bit.

Changbin’s always been talkative, which she would exploit to the hilt.

“What did you do with it?”

“Burned it. We also made sure to lock all of his guards in the dungeon, to hopefully get some more information from them. The Emperor opted for that instead of killing them.”

“I see.”

“However, he decided to let one of them go and sent him back to the Kingdom with an official letter declaring war.”

Aristia’s eyes widened.

“Truly? Wouldn’t it have been better to play innocent to buy some more time?”

“The Emperor also thought of that, but Seungmin – one of his assistants – suggested owning up to it and blaming the King for your injuries. Would be better for the people’s morale, he said.”

“Seungmin… I see.” She smiles. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re going to be my personal guard. I’ll be in your care.” Aristia smiles and Changbin’s lips switch to a proud smirk.

“I’ll be the best guard in the world! You can count on me!”

“Great. Let’s go now.” She chuckles.

“To the dining room, I hope. I have strict instructions from the Emperor to make sure you eat this morning.”

“It’s not even morning anymore.” She chuckles.

“Even more so to not go on an empty stomach.”

Aristia rolls her eyes but follows Changbin to the dining room anyway.

She is on her own, but this time, her food comes out perfectly fresh and tasty. It turns out that starting the day with a good meal sets you up for a good mood.

~

“Alice, grab the third book on the second row there and put it in the stack. Ah, and the fifth book on the 8th row. They seem related.”

“I’m on it, Your Highness!” The young girl exclaims excitedly as she picks the requested books and places them in Juliana’s arms.

The second maid is now holding over a dozen books that look heavy to say the least. Her hands must’ve surely gone tired.

“Alright, I think this is all for today. Let’s go sit down at that desk over there. Do you know how to read, Alice?”

“Uhm… I do recognise most letters, but I’m still learning.” The young maid smiles.

“Great. Then pick up the third book in Juliana’s arms and sit down. I want you to know how to read and write. If you feel like you’re not able to do it on your own, feel free to say so, and I will arrange a tutor for you.”

“Your Majesty! I could never accept such grace… I will do my best!”

“Good.” Aristia smiles and pets the child on the head. She’s only 5 years younger, but they are on completely different levels as far as maturity goes.

Alice is still an innocent child, whereas Aristia never had the chance to grow up surrounded by such innocence. However, Aristia is aware that Alice was brought up in the Capital, which surely means that she’s clever to say the least.

“What should I do, Your Highness?” Juliana asks.

“Oh, you’re already doing your sole task of the day. You are to hold my books so I can get them easily.”

“But Your Highness, I could place them on a chair, or on a table, or-”

Aristia raises her hand in the air to stop her from talking.

“Have I requested your opinion?” She smiles cunningly.

“No, but-”

“Then stay there quietly, will you? This is a library.”

“But-”

“Juliana.” Aristia turns her whole body to face the maid. Her eyes are cold.

“I understand you are upset at me, however-”

“Upset at you?” Aristia chuckles. “Tell me, do the insects you pass by in the streets upset you at all?”

“Your Majesty…” Juliana’s eyes widen, unable to believe that the Empress compared her to an insect.

“Defy me one more time and you’ll wish you'd been born an insect instead.” She warns and slaps the top of the book stack as hard as she can, making Juliana lose her balance and drop all of them on the floor.

With a low chuckle, Aristia continues her torment:

“Oh my, look at the mess you made. You should clean that up and resume your position quickly. And be careful, the books are the Emperor’s property. If you damage one, you could be punished.”

Aristia sits down and opens one of the books, beginning to read about the founding rulers of the Empire. They are described as cruel, but well-respected between the people, and Aristia can’t help herself but think that she might be a bit cruel to Juliana as well.

She wonders if she’s at least well-respected outside the Palace’s walls, since she’s brought peace to the Empire. However, with the upcoming war, she starts to worry, and a new plan starts brewing in her mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to it now, as she has something more important to focus on: her health, acquiring knowledge as soon as possible, and making sure she does a good job as the Empress.

After at least two of these conditions are met, she will execute the plan as well.

~

Aristia’s days are productive enough; with the library pass, she makes acquaintances with the books in the library and reads to her heart’s content. She thought it was going to be hard focusing on her books with Juliana throwing daggers with her eyes in her back, but it was surprisingly easy to ignore her, despite her sighing and fidgeting annoyingly often.

Juliana doesn’t even complain much anymore; she’s gotten used to Aristia telling her to clean the same spot on the floor over and over again, to carry heavy books and keep holding them, and to even run certain errands, although for the more important ones, Mari and Alice were mostly trusted to handle them.

Despite going to the library and reading every day, it’s been a period of resting for Aristia; her back is a bit better, with almost no risk of the wounds opening back up, she has been eating well and gaining a bit of weight, and she’s been sleeping well enough during the night.

With a new week starting, there are many things she wants to do: first of all, there’s the meeting with Seungmin and Jisung, who will have to teach her how to do her job as the Empress.

Then, there’s the matter of the court ladies. Ever since Arabella’s been sent away, they’ve all been living quietly between the Palace’s walls, most likely afraid they’re going to meet the same fate and have their lives uprooted by the cruel Empress, as they like to shush between themselves.

Although Aristia’s never been interested in what they have to say, she doesn’t want to let it go like this either. So, she decides to host a brunch and invite them all, to become acquainted properly. It’s about time they have a chat.

She settles on a time and place a few weeks away, and begins writing letters, sealing them with hot wax and with the Empire’s seal.

~

“It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Your Highness.” Han bows, and Seungmin follows suit.

After they introduce themselves, they sit down in front of Aristia’s desk. Chris has given her a room to turn into an office, specifically to do her job somewhere outside her bedroom.

“So,” Aristia begins, “let’s start from the beginning. What should I know about you two?”

“About us?” Jisung’s eyes widen. “Uhm, well-”

“We are mere subjects of the Emperor, Your Highness. There’s nothing of importance to be known about us.” Seungmin intervenes.

“Is that so? I’d still like to know what you two are like. If I am to choose somebody, I have to know who I’m dealing with, unless you’d be able to suggest a different method?” She challenges Seungmin, whose lips turn into a thin line.

Truth is, she already knows who she’s going to pick, but learning things about Chan’s people is never a bad idea.

“Your Highness, I’ve been training to become an advisor ever since I was born, as my father himself was an advisor.” Jisung replies, his cheeks growing a subtle pink tint.

“What became of your father?”

“He unfortunately caught a severe illness and never recovered. He left us a few years ago.”

“I see. I’m sorry for your loss. What about you, Seungmin?”

“As I mentioned, there’s nothing of importance Her Highness should know about me. I am but a clever man and the Emperor thought I deserve the honour of serving the Empire.”

“I believe the modest look doesn’t suit you too well.” Aristia attacks, but Seungmin only deflects.

“Regarding your future work, what exactly do you wish us to teach you?” He asks coldly. “We’ve been doing a very good job so far, so, perhaps Your Highness’ efforts would be better spent someplace else.”

“See, we don’t agree on that, unfortunately. I have enough knowledge in budgeting and accounting, but a brief explanation on how you’ve managed until now would be greatly appreciated.”

“We are in your service, Your Majesty.” Han bows.

“Thank you, Jisung. Then, what should I know of?”

The two men begin talking to the Empress, explaining all sorts of concepts regarding the way they’ve been dividing the work. It’s not simple, but it’s also not impossible, and with a bit of training, Aristia is sure she would have no issues taking over.

There’s a stark contrast between the ways Jisung and Seungmin are explaining things, she notices. While Jisung tries to explain every other term, unaware of how much knowledge Aristia possesses, Seungmin speaks unfiltered, using any term, no matter how complicated or hard to understand.

“So, who do you wish to assist you further?” Seungmin asks impatiently after about an hour. “As you might be aware, there are a lot of things to do, and keeping both of us here-”

“Yes, you’re right, Seungmin. Well then, Jisung,” she starts, and Seungmin places his hands on the handles of his chair, preparing to stand up, “you may go finish whatever work you have. Seungmin shall assist me from now on regarding this matter.”

“What?” Seungmin’s eyes grow wide, annoyance plastered all over his face, while Jisung bows and exits the room. “What do you mean? I thought that-”

“What, did you think that you’d get out of this if you acted like an asshole?” Aristia chuckles.

“Like an asshole-” Seungmin replies baffled, leaning back into his chair. “I see how it is. You think that because of that high title of yours, you can act however you please and everyone would bend over backwards for you and your wishes. But you see, Your Highness? Respect is not conveyed by your title, it’s earned. These cheap tactics might work on everyone else, but not on me.”

“And that goes both ways, Seungmin. You have yet to prove to me that you are worthy of my respect.” She answers with a sneer.

“Why me, then? Jisung is clearly a way better fit for you.”

“Because you declared war on the Kingdom.”

“Is that all? We have a common enemy and now you want us to be friends?”

“Nothing of that sort. I just found it a clever way to boost the people’s morale, as they now have a new objective in mind: protect the Empress at all costs. You did well.”

Seungmin sits straight in his chair and looks at Aristia, dead in the eyes.

“I will teach you, but only if you manage to solve this issue we’ve been having throughout the Empire.”

“A test?” She chuckles. “Let’s hear it.”

“The economy’s been plummeting for no apparent reason. We are the most prosperous in the continent when it comes to trades, and yet- just look at the Empire’s budget, and you’ll notice a gap.”

“Have you already solved this issue?” She asks.

“Not yet. It just came to our attention the other day when we rummaged through whatever papers we’d use to teach you.”

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” Aristia chuckles, but Seungmin only smirks.

“Those are my terms. Take them or not, there is nothing for me to lose. You have until the end of the week to find a cause and a solution to this problem.”

“Fine. I shall think about it. You may go.”

Seungmin stands up, satisfied that he’s probably won a battle against the Empress. This is a delicate matter that neither he nor Jisung know the answer to so far, that has yet to be brought to the Emperor’s attention, so solving this task would most likely be impossible for Aristia. 

He is almost elated that he won’t have to teach her anything. His aversion is very much still there; before, he hated her because she was the King’s daughter, and now, he hates her because she caused ruckus by forcing them to start a war when they are still unprepared.

He simply dislikes her and everything she stands for, and this is not going to change.

~

Aristia studies long and hard about this. What could possibly cause the decline of the economy in such a prosperous nation?

She tries to recall every economy book she’s ever read, and she reads countless more in the following days, but still, she is unsure.

Could it be counterfeit coins?

That’s the only idea that comes to mind as she reads the 15th book on the topic this week, but even if this is the answer, what would a solution be?

Seungmin mentioned explicitly to ‘find a cause and a solution’.

Ugh. Aristia frowns and stands up to grab another book from Juliana’s stack. She’s not complaining as much this week.

She briefly glances through the large library’s windows and notices the dark sky outside.

How much time did I spend here today? She wonders, but it doesn’t matter, for tomorrow is already Friday, and unless she finds a solution as well, she’s doomed.

Of course, she could always study from Jisung, but there’s just something about Seungmin that she knows would make him a better fit for her. She likes his ideas.

As she sits back down at the table, she takes one more glance at Juliana and lets out a small sigh.

“Juliana, do you know how to read and write?”

“I do, Your Highness.” She replies quickly.

“I see. Put those books on the table and pick up the third one, the one about the noble families. I need you to write a summary for me about every relevant family of the Empire, their children, and specifically, their daughters.”

“Your Highness…” Juliana immediately follows soon, her eyes showing gratitude for the first time ever.

“I need your report by Monday.” Is all Aristia says. She’s punished Juliana enough, and she’s ready to finally give her a chance to be useful to her.

Before the maid can reply, Alice enters the library and comes running towards the table, and panting, she tells the Empress that she must go to her rooms immediately.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Aristia asks.

“It’s an urgent matter, Your Highness.” The young girl responds, so Aristia instructs Juliana to see to her task and put all the books back in their place when she’s done, while she follows Alice back to her rooms.

When they get there, a selection of nightgowns and lace underwear lays flat on the bed.

“What is this…?”

“My lady, His Grace sent word that he expects you in his rooms tonight, so I selected a few beautiful pieces appropriate for such an occasion.”

“Alice… what?” Aristia’s cheeks turn red. She examines the clothing once more, and she feels that same stomach dropping sensation she felt during her wedding night.

She also remembers the way Chris treated her that night, how he practically ripped her garments just to show her how easily it would be for him to overpower her, and she shudders.

Does he really want to lay with me?

“My Lady, I think this robe would be most appropriate, as it comes easily undone.”

“Alice, you’re barely 14 of age! How do you know about these matters?!”

“I have to serve Your Grace to the best of my abilities!” She counters and urges Aristia to get changed. “Besides, I’m 14, not 4.”

“Too young!” Aristia frowns but obliges and instructs Alice to get out of the room.

She feels nervous about this for some reason, as she examines herself in the mirror. Sure, she looks beautiful, but this attire is way too inappropriate and revealing!

Ugh, why does he want to see me?

And why do I have to wear this?

Aristia grimaces when someone knocks on the door and pulls her out of her thoughts. She quickly grabs something to put over the skimpy outfit and tells them to enter.

“Your Highness, are you ready to go?” Changbin asks, blushing at the sight of the Empress. Even though she is covered in a robe, he has a rich enough imagination to know what might happen tonight, she thinks, and this thought makes Aristia grimace again.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

The walk towards the Emperor’s chambers is quiet, as the hallways are empty so late into the night. Aristia yawns and suddenly feels tired, realising how many hours she spent in the library the past few weeks.

Even today, she lost track of time and it’s now a little bit past midnight. Why did Chris ask for her so late?

They reach the Emperor’s room and Lee Know nods shortly before opening the doors.

To her surprise, both him and Changbin follow her inside. She looks at them bewildered, before turning her gaze at Chris who was sitting at his desk and got up as soon as she entered.

“Good evening, Aristia.” He greets, then looks at her clothes and rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” She replies, annoyed. She doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“Yeah, I can see that, but- oh, God.” He goes to his wardrobe in slight annoyance and pulls out a thick fur coat, similar to the one she’s worn on her wedding night.

“Well, you asked for me at midnight, so I thought- ugh, nevermind, give me that.” She snatches the fur coat with annoyance and puts it on her shoulders, tightening it around her body. “Why did you send for me?”

“It’s time for you to hold your end of the bargain.”

“My end of the bargain?” She tilts her head in confusion.

“That’s right. I gave you Changbin, so it’s your turn to give me what you promised.” Chris points to the guard and chuckles, and Aristia rolls her eyes. Changbin blushes a bit more, unaware of the deal between them, but he is nonetheless flattered that Aristia asked for him specifically.

“Alright. Here?” Aristia asks.

“No. We have a meeting to go to, so let’s make haste.”

Chris goes to his large bookshelf and pulls out a few books, uncovering a lever. Aristia watches him with curiosity as he pulls down the lever and the bookcase begins to spin, revealing a secret passage.

“Come on.” He urges Aristia to go first, and she does, despite it being hard to see.

They walk for a good 10 minutes until they reach the far end of the passage that ends with a large wooden door. Chris takes out a key and unlocks the door, opening it, revealing a room with multiple other entrances, which indicates that multiple other bedrooms or common rooms must be connected together through passages throughout the Palace.

The walls of the room are covered with maps of the world and bookshelves, and in the centre, a large table with ten chairs around it occupies the space.

“Take a seat.” Chris instructs, and she follows his orders, sitting down at the table and looking at the faces of everyone around it.

She recognises some – Seungmin and Jisung – but there are also several men she’s never seen before around the palace. Most of them are a lot older than her and Chris, but there is also one man who seems around her age, with pitch black hair and fox-eyes dark enough to make anyone shudder.

They don’t bow at her, nor do they bother to introduce themselves, but their auras are all the same; they exude power, and she believes they must be strong individuals that have earned a spot at this table through their own devices.

A grin threatens to spill on her lips at the thought that she has also earned a seat at this gathering of formidable people, at least for tonight, but she is quick to control her expression the moment her eyes dart again around the unfamiliar figures, and she notices the way they are looking at her.

She doesn’t pose any significance to them, she’s not of any authority, and they don’t respect her. Especially the man her age, whose eyes look disinterested in her at best. If not for the golden crown on her head, no outsider would realise she’s Empress by these men’s behaviour towards her.

Everything changes on their faces the moment Chris sits down, though. The demeanour of these unfamiliar men morphs into something different, and they share a completely distinct look, contrasting the one they’ve given her. Chris’ simple presence projects strength, but in a different way compared to the other men.

The way his head sits on his shoulders, and the way he places his arms steadily on top of the table is so authoritative, it’s immediately noticeable that he has the power and that you must respect him, and every man around the table does so, undoubtedly.

Their eyes sparkle with veneration, and Aristia becomes, for the first time in her life, envious. She remembers the conversation she had with Chris, how she told him she wants more, but now that she is sitting at this secret meeting, the feeling only gets amplified a million times.

She wants way more. She wants power. She wants these people to look at her the same way they look at Chris, and she wants a permanent spot at this table.

“So,” Chris starts, looking at Aristia. He immediately notices that burning in her eyes that attracted him since day one, and his heart skips a beat. He starts wondering what could be going through her head, what made her eyes spark that way, but time is scarce and there’s more important matters to focus on. He continues. “Since we’re all here, let’s start the meeting.”

They start discussing various things, such as problems that arose between the nobles, a possible rebellion which might put the crown in danger unless they take action, and eventually, they move onto the most troubling matter: the upcoming war.

“Aristia, you told me you have some crucial information that might help us. Let’s hear it.” Chris urges her to speak, and for the first time since the meeting starts, she does.

“First of all, my father’s army is led by a very powerful man. He’s called the General, and you must’ve heard about him in legends, as he had won all his wars. All of the legends are true, and he is a truly frightening and strong man. However… in case you battle against him, there is a secret no one knows, a weakness.”

“Which is?” Lee Know asks, his sharp eyes observing Aristia.

“His left eye. He’s been stabbed in it, and his current eye is a prosthesis our doctor created specifically for him. It looks natural enough to fool anyone, but he has no sight from it.”

“That’s impossible. You said so yourself: the legends are true, which means he’s never been scratched in battle. How would he lose his eye?” Lee Know counters with scepticism.

“He didn’t lose it in battle. My father took it out when drunk one night. You see, he was overly fearful that people would betray him, so… he asked the General if he would sacrifice his whole life for the Kingdom and for him, and upon his agreement, my father asked him to prove it. ‘How?’ he asked. ‘You must give me something of importance. Something you truly value. Unfortunately, your limbs are crucial, so how about this?’ my father replied, and pulled out his blade. You can imagine the rest yourselves.”

“And how did you come to know about it?” Chris asks, and Aristia averts her gaze.

“I was there… when he stabbed him.”

“Alright… that’s good to know. His senses might not be as sharp on his left side, then.” Changbin nods.

“Now, what do you know of his army?”

“Right…” Aristia nods and starts explaining the way their army is divided. She seems to impress most people around the table with the knowledge she has on the matter, as it’s truly unexpected. She is even able to give an estimated number of soldiers from when she still lived in the Kingdom.

Most people are amazed, with the exception of the fox-eyed man, whose gaze remains dark and unchanging.

She decides to ignore his hostility and continues telling the men about the Kingdom’s usually discussed strategies, their strengths and their weaknesses, and she tries to convey as much information as possible, despite this not being her strong suit. Truth be told, she doesn’t know much about the military; it never interested her to read about. However, she does her best to remember what she’s heard her father and the General talk about, and by the end of her talk, Changbin and Lee Know, as well as three other men she doesn’t recognise that are sitting around the table begin talking about their own strategies, using the new intel from Aristia.

“Do you all know what you have to do?” Chris asks after a little while, observing everyone. They all nod, so Chris stands up. “Alright, then. We will retire for the night. I’ll see you in a week from now, unless other problems arise.”

He comes behind Aristia’s chair and helps her stand up as well, and he guides her back to the passage. He opens the large wooden door and steps through it with her, before locking it.

“What about Lee Know and Changbin?” She asks, noticing that it’s just the two of them, but her mind is still stuck on the meeting, and on the new information that a week from now, another one will be held.

One that she has no spot at.

Yet.

“They’ll go to their own rooms for the night when they’re done planning.”

“I see.”

The walk back to Chan’s room is quiet except for their steps that echo through the long passage. When they finally reach the room, the bookshelf turns back in its place, making it impossible to notice there is something hidden behind it, unless you knew it was there.

Aristia finds it fascinating.

“So…” She starts, pulling the fur coat closer to her. “I guess I should go.”

“It might be better to sleep here, or at least stay until the morning.”

“Here?”

“Unless you want people to start talking again about how you got kicked out in the middle of the night.” He chuckles, slight mockery behind his words. “You asked me to make you Empress, and I’m giving you a chance to secure your position.”

“What, do you want to sleep with me now?” She asks in slight annoyance.

“No, Aristia.” He sighs. “I’m just thinking of how to prevent any more rumours from circling around you. I won’t touch you, so you can relax. And next time I ask for you, don’t wear such scanty clothes, and there’ll be nothing to fear.”

She chuckles, to Chan’s surprise, and drops the fur coat, going to the large bed and pulling the covers off to make enough space for her to go under.

“How’s your back?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Sometimes it’s sore, but Hyunjin comes to apply a salve if I ask for him.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks. Aren’t you going to come to bed?” She asks with a frown, noticing that Chris is heading to his desk.

“… No, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head with a smile.

“Why not? It’s big enough for both of us.”

“I just have some work to do. Worry not and go to sleep first.” He urges her, and she pouts a bit before covering herself with the comfortable duvet.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

She closes her eyes and lets herself listen to every sound Chris makes. He’s not loud at all; sometimes, he flips a paper, or tuts, or sighs, but other than that, she can only hear his breathing.

She continues laying on the bed with her eyes closed for some time, but despite being fully relaxed, it rubs her the wrong way that Chris keeps working instead of coming to sleep.

She decides to sit up and observes him for a while, until he notices she’s not asleep.

They look at each other for a few moments without saying anything.

“What are you working on?” Aristia asks eventually, supporting her head on her knees.

“I’ve been reading some reports from the Capital. It appears a new disease has been spreading and no one knows why. A lot of people have died already. Hyunjin’s team is investigating as well.”

“Oh.” Aristia replies. Once again, she’s out of the loop.

She’s at least glad that this time Chris is the one to fill her in, and not Changbin.

“What are the symptoms?” She asks.

“Stomach pain, vomiting, diarrhoea, cramps, fever… Hyunjin said it might be food poisoning. There was an issue with a trade a few years ago where the Empire received spoiled goods, and a lot of people passed away after eating them.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“We assumed it was a disease at first, we tried treating the symptoms, but as the people kept consuming the spoiled goods, they kept getting sicker. Hyunjin was, at that time, a doctor somewhere in the countryside, and he suggested which food is causing the issue. It’s what earned him a place in the Palace, actually.”

“That’s amazing, he’s a very talented doctor.”

“He is, indeed. I’m just dejected that we didn’t find him earlier. We’ve lost important people because of it.”

“Like… Jisung’s dad?”

“… Yeah. How do you know about him?”

“He told me the other day…”

“If only I would’ve met with Hyunjin earlier…”

“It’s not your fault.” Aristia tries to console him, but Chris still looks dejected. He looks back at his papers and then changes the subject, back to the Empire’s actual problem.

“I was looking at all the reports of the trades and trying to figure out what the spoiled goods might be this time.”

“Maybe it’s not food. It might be water.” She shrugs, and Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Water?”

“Yeah. Contaminated water… wouldn’t it lead to the same symptoms?”

“I’m not sure. I guess? I need to talk to Hyunjin about it tomorrow. How did you think of this, though?”

“I’ll tell you if you turn off the lamp and come here.” She grins and pats the empty space beside her in bed.

Chris chuckles but stands up anyway and comes to the bed to lay down. He doesn’t go under the covers; instead, he sprawls out on top of them, supporting his head with a hand while he watches Aristia with curiosity.

“Let me guess, you read about it in a book.”

“No, not this time.” She chuckles.

The air between them feels light and relaxed, and so she lays down as well.

“My mother’s maid has taken care of me since I was born. She was like a mother to me. Since I didn’t have the King’s affection, other servants mistreated me quite often, if my maid wouldn’t pay attention. I would get sick often, despite my food being fresh, and we couldn’t figure out why. One day, though, she caught one of the maids washing some apples with dirty water, and suddenly, all my stomach issues made sense. She took care of all my meals going further, until she passed.”

“Aristia…” Chris immediately frowns, seemingly upset about the new information. “You’ve received such harsh treatment ever since you were little…?”

“It’s fine. It’s all in the past.” She says, watching Chan’s gaze. Her eyes get adjusted quickly to the dark, and his sparkle in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry… how was it after she passed away?”

“Well … let’s just say that the way I was treated here was light compared to how it was in the Kingdom.” She chuckles lightly, but Chan’s expression only falls more.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“Not necessarily. Only if you want to hear it.” She shrugs.

“I want to hear it.”

She hums and thinks about how to begin, and a few seconds later, she resumes talking.

“I was given old food most days, and I would be sick often. I wasn’t allowed to get out of my rooms much, but thankfully I had access to the library. My father called for me one night and that’s when it all started… and it got progressively worse with each passing week. I never knew when to expect the next beating. It honestly broke my heart when he came here and did the same thing. I thought… I foolishly thought I’m safe here.” She lets out a bitter laugh that’s pulling at Chan’s heartstrings.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He places his hand on top of hers. “No one should ever have to go through something like this, let alone a child. And you are safe. You are safe here…”

“What was your childhood like?” Aristia smiles softly, trying to ignore his last words, as they seem meaningless. To her surprise, he actually opens up.

“My childhood?” He hums. “My parents were lovely people, but my mother passed away soon after Felix’s birth, and my father was poisoned a few years ago. That’s when I got on the throne. I was your age.”

“You became Emperor at 18, just as I became Empress at 18.” She replies in thought, knowing how much this title weighted on her shoulders. It must’ve been much more difficult for Chris, whose responsibility was so much bigger.

“Yeah.” He lays down completely, putting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes briefly. He feels tired, worn out, but he doesn’t think he can sleep.

He never can.

“How was he poisoned?” She asks almost in a whisper, making Chris open his eyes again.

“A noble’s son worked as a butler here. They were a loyal family, and that’s precisely why their son was sent here, but they were secretly planning a rebellion. We simply weren’t careful enough.”

“I’m sorry…” She gets out of her covers and lays down as well, on her side, looking at Chan’s side profile. He is a beautiful man, she notices once again, and she is reminded of the first time she’s seen his face in the church. It feels like a lifetime ago, even if it’s only been a year.

Back then, she would’ve never thought she’d spend a night with him talking casually like this.

“Is this why you can’t sleep?” She whispers again, and she decides to move one of her hands towards his head, ignoring her rapidly pulsing heart.

When her fingers touch his hair, she halts temporarily, waiting for a reaction from him, but he simply closes his eyes, so she digs her fingers deeper, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails.

“Yeah. It’s a sad realisation, knowing that you might get killed any second, unsure if you can truly trust anyone around you.”

Just then, he suddenly grabs her wrist and turns on his side as well, looking into her eyes.

“Can I trust you, Aristia?” He asks, but before she has a chance to answer, he continues speaking. “Tonight, at the meeting… you surely noticed that only important people are allowed there. I trusted you blindly, which resulted in everyone else trusting your words as well. I didn’t make a mistake, did I?”

She immediately shakes her head.

“But how can I know that?” He whispers and releases her wrist, showing a sad smile. “Can you prove it somehow?”

“How, Chris?” She asks. Her chest grows tight, as his expression is tugging at her heart. She’s never before wished so strongly for someone to believe her.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then begins talking again, and his words simply don’t sit right within her heart.

“I guess there’s no way to find out before it happens. If I am to die in this war-”

“I’m sincere, Chris. You can trust me.” She says with resolve and breathes in, trying to get enough courage to move. She decides to stop thinking so much, and closes her eyes tightly, getting closer to him and pressing her lips against his.

Chris opens his eyes wide and doesn’t understand what’s going on for a few seconds. Aristia moves away and is glad for the darkness of the room, as her cheeks must be blood red.

“Uhm, I-” She starts, but is cut off by Chan’s lips on hers, his left hand finding its way to her waist, holding it tightly.

Their kiss deepens as Chris bites her lower lip, making her gasp slightly, moment when he slides his tongue inside her mouth.

Their tongues touch numerous times feverishly, and Aristia’s right hand finds Chan’s neck. They keep kissing passionately, gasping for air, when Chris ends up on top of her. She makes space for him between her legs as her hands move to his back, fingernails touching him through his shirt, and when they get down enough, she finds a patch of skin around his lower back, and she slides her hands under.

Chris can’t get enough of her sweetness, and he keeps kissing her passionately until he feels her nails scratching his back, and he pulls away to look at her. She looks so beautiful under him, moonlight radiating on her skin, and fuck, her skimpy clothes are not helping the growing bulge in his pants. He wants to devour her completely, to make her his, and his fingers move to the small cord keeping her nightgown together.

He hesitates for a few seconds, looking into her eyes that seem as full of desire as his. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes that enticed him since day one with their powerful, alluring burning.

“May I?” he asks, and she nods eagerly, closing her eyes in anticipation. This is a stark contrast to their first night, when, despite them not sleeping together, he ripped her robe open to show her how easily it is to overpower her.

He doesn’t want to overpower her this time, or control her, or dominate her. He simply wants to bring her pleasure, and to chase his own by using her body, as long as she wants it as well. He wants them to be Emperor and Empress, husband and wife, equal to one another as they become one.

Having her accord, his fingers untie the robe that reveal her underwear quickly: a two-piece lacy set that hugs her body perfectly. He touches her breasts through the lace bralette, and she lets out a soft moan, rolling her head back.

“You’re so beautiful, Aristia.” He whispers, connecting his mouth to her neck, sucking patches of skin and marking her with his kisses.

She arches her back at the contact, and Chris takes advantage of this moment by sliding his hands under her, unclasping her bra. He takes it off swiftly, watching her breasts bounce as her back connects to the mattress once more.

He moves his mouth lower, taking her left breast into his hand as his lips latch onto her right, and he begins sucking on her nipple, while his fingers play with the other.

Aristia squirms under him, trying desperately to clench her legs together as she feels her arousal building up, but Chan’s body is still between her legs, so she is unable to move much. However, he notices her urgency, so he decides to spare her of her suffering.

He begins moving his mouth lower, and when he reaches her abdomen, he presses a long kiss on her belly as his fingers entangle the hem of her underwear, beginning to take it down.

“Chris, I- oh, God.” She moans as his mouth connects to her core, licking her clit eagerly. She rolls her head back again, and she’s never felt as much pleasure before. An unfamiliar feeling settles deep in her stomach, as she moans louder and tries to move away from him.

However, his hands on her thighs keep her in place, and he continues licking that sweet spot until she comes undone with a loud whine.

He begins kissing his way up her body again, and when he gets on top of her, he presses a long kiss against her lips.

“How was it?” He asks, looking into her eyes for any second-thoughts or doubts. He doesn’t find either. Her eyes are burning up more than ever, with a passion stronger than he’s ever seen before, and instead of replying, she raises her head to kiss him again, and she’s the one biting his lips this time.

Her hands find the hem of his shirt and she urges him to take it off, watching in awe how perfect he looks. His body is as beautiful as his face, extremely toned and pleasant to the eyes.

She holds her breath in anticipation as he takes his pants down, and when he presses his hard dick against her entrance, she closes her eyes instinctively and holds her breath.

She tries counting seconds in her head instead of thinking of all the books she has read about the female anatomy and the stinging pain a woman has on her first night, but she tenses up, nonetheless.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” Chris asks, touching her face tenderly with his hands and making her open her eyes again and release her breath.

“I’m just… scared.” She replies honestly in a small voice, it comes out as a whisper. “It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Probably.” He nods. “But I’m not going to hurt you deliberately. I’ll be as gentle as I can, and if you decide you can’t take it, we can stop anytime.”

“Do you promise?” She whispers again, and all of a sudden, she feels exposed and vulnerable. All the confidence she had until now, gone, in the blink of an eye. “Do you promise not to hurt me?”

“Yes.” He answers quickly, resolve lacing his tone. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise.” He continues, pressing a kiss on her neck.

“Alright…” She nods unsurely and buries her head in Chan’s shoulder, her hands hanging onto his back for dear life.

He begins pushing in, and she feels a slight pain, but it’s nothing as bad as she thought.

“Ugh…” She lets her head fall back on the bed, looking into his eyes, noticing how closely he observes her.

“Can you take more?”

“Yeah…” She nods, and he pushes in some more, until he bottoms out into her. The stretch is uncomfortable, but Chris is not rushing her; he lets her get adjusted to him before he begins moving slowly, and soon enough, his slow thrusts get more momentum, and the pain mixes with pleasure.

Her hands release his back momentarily, until she connects them to it again, digging her nails in his skin softly. She also adjusts her position and moves her legs around his waist, allowing him to dive in even deeper than before and hit an angle she never thought possible.

“You’re so good…” Chris praises, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, and with no warning, he stalls on top of her, panting heavily.

He pulls out and she feels something warm dripping out of her, before Chan’s fingers find her pussy again, rubbing it. He moves his other hand as well, making two fingers enter her, curling up and touching that sweet spot from inside as he keeps rubbing circles on her clit.

She comes undone for the second time with ease, gripping his arm to signal him to stop.

He does, and comes back on top of her, taking some stray hairs out of her face and tucking them behind her ear, as he kisses her lips.

“Was it that bad?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“I was expecting… the worst, honestly.” She laughs. “You were really good. Thank you for being patient with me.”

Chris is the one who lets out a laugh this time. Who thanks their partner like that?

Nonetheless, he is glad she also had a good time, as this experience came as a surprise to him. He never planned to bed her, and the way it happened, the way his heart kept beating faster and faster until his desire became almost impossible to control, caught him completely off guard.

Hell, his heart is still beating way too fast for his own liking, and her plump lips look so inviting, he wants to kiss her over and over again.

“We should head to sleep.” He says instead, and she nods softly.

Chris aids Aristia in getting under the covers, and he follows suit shortly, but his body suddenly feels cold, empty, like something is missing.

He turns to look at her again, his eyes softer than ever before, and he grabs her body, making her come into his arms.

She responds to his touch and snuggles into his chest, and they fall asleep, cuddled against each other.

~

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 6

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: PG-13? For this part maybe?

Tags/Warnings: feeding kink, belly kink, chubby Hoffman (duh obviously), bratty behavior, banter, switchy behavior for both characters, animal name calling/terms (lotta bear and maybe some pig and/or cat endearments here), general adult language

Summary: It’s Hoffman’s birthday so his secretary takes him out (even if her motivation is pretty selfish).

Author’s Notes: Written as a light, little distraction, so please enjoy—hopefully it’s a nice little distraction for you too.

None of these installments really take place in any particular order, btw. They’re just little slices of life.

WAY MORE emphasis on the feedery stuff in this one. Just be warned (or be excited idk).

As usual, there might be grammatical and spelling errors that I’ll try and fix later.

Hoffman begrudgingly (though still tender and endeared towards you) let you drag him around downtown, settling at some nice though generic enough restaurant that you had made reservations at. He wasn’t a man super keen and enthused about celebrations and milestones, which was why he moved hesitantly along when you sprung it on him that you were taking him out for his birthday. It took some investigative work on your own, under his nose, but in a workplace where everything about everyone was on record, in print, it wasn’t hard to learn his birthdate.

“Cheer up, you big grumpy bear,” you chimed, guiding him towards the restaurant entrance with a hand on his back.

“You must really be sweet on me to go to this trouble. You know I don’t care about this kinda thing.”

“Don’t make it sound sappy,” you hushed him. “Secretaries do shit like this for their bosses. Keep them organized and on task and content. It may as well be part of my job.”

“I dunno, darlin’. There’s a lot you do for me that isn’t necessarily part of the job description.”

“So don’t let it go to your big head, because maybe that’s for me. Anyways, you better say thank you. You’re gonna love it here.” You bustled around hautily, feeling as though you should have clipped a leash to your boss to get him to haul his ass. (“He’d probably like that,” you noted.)

His stern features softened, taking a moment to cast a glance down at you warmly. “I know I will, babydoll. Maybe I’m humoring you because you went to so much trouble. And you look so pretty.” His look took a sassy slant as he looped a finger through a loose strand of hair hanging by your ear.

“Oh yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes (one time of hundreds to come that night). You leaned your head away, strand of hair untangling from his finger. “You’re humoring me? You act like you’re not excited to eat.”

“I think you’re the one excited that I’m gonna be eating,” he grinned in that smug feline way. He made a demonstration of grazing a hand over his softened belly, which you smacked lightly.

You took hold of his necktie (a nicer heather purple one you had picked out and left in his office that morning, almost as a threatening reminder of the occasion) and yanked it lightly, bringing his face down towards yours. “We can turn around and leave. Because you don’t sound so excited to have a nice dinner, birthday boy.” You sliced in the moniker like a cutting insult.

Hoffman enclosed his large hands around yours, still encircling his tie. “This is very sweet of you, and I would love nothing more than to have my very beautiful—and very hard ass—assistant spoil me and shove cake in my mouth for dessert.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’ll shove cake in your mouth if you’re good and finish all your food. All of it.”

“Whatever you want, honey. I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

You loosened your hand from his tie, letting your fingertips drift down his chest. “I’m gonna roll you outta here when we’re done,” you whispered, voice a little rough on the edges with excitement. But it was so goofy you had to giggle.

“That’s kinky, baby. I wish you would.” He gave you that snarky grin once again and let you drag him through the foyer by his jacket lapel.

—

You had sort of glazed over what all Hoffman had eaten, even though he let you order each course for him. The only vague reminders were the remaining dishes with crumbles of sausage and sauce, or some coated in chimichurri and bloody steak juices. A lot of meat and pasta for a big guy, you justified.

More attention was paid to how worn Hoffman was looking, and how he had adjusted his pants as he finished off each dish. You had noticed at two separate points his hands roamed downwards to undo some buttons; the first time was the lowest button on his shirt, which tucked uncomfortably tight under the curve of his belly; the second time was the main button on his pants, which would have been straining more obviously if not for his belt and suspenders keeping him strapped into his clothes.

You peeked under the table to confirm which buttons and other clasps had come undone. Grinning, you reached your high heel across the booth to toe at his gut teasingly.

You could see him wince slightly as he gripped your ankle and started massaging your calf—all an attempt to stop poking at his overfull belly.

“Please, baby, none of that now,” he pleaded softly, tiredly. He was so cute and pathetic with his sleepy blue eyes and his muffled little burps, all the while still tending to rubbing your leg (as if it wasn’t his own birthday that he should have been pampered on).

“So no cake?” you pried, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you somewhat defeated—all typical traces of sarcasm and cockiness dulled down (but never completely gone). “Can we take it to go? I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course, Hoffy-Bear. I’ll be nice about it since it’s your birthday. I guess.” You blepped your tongue out at him before gesturing towards the server for a little to-go cake and the check (on Hoffman’s card of course).

Once those final details had been squared away, you took your time getting up from the booth, savoring the way your boss heaved himself to his feet. The way he pulled himself up and out from the cushy red seating was such a feat, looking heavy and laborious. He hadn’t bothered fastening back up the two loosened buttons, but instead did the whole maneuver of hoisting his belt and waistband up with a small grunt.

He wasn’t the type to let on that he was struggling—at least not in public—and so kept his whining and wincing under his breath… Though his shallow breathing was hard to mask. Especially with the foolish attempts to suck in his gut, which barely moved with his inhale, so it rounded out burdensomely in front of him. Being so stuffed and moving so cautiously only emphasized the distinct waddle in his gait.

“Need help?” you couldn’t help but pipe up, spikes and lace all in your tone. As you stood, you placed one hand on his lower back—as you had when you all had entered—but the other secured firmly to his stomach, all solid and warm.

“Thought you were gonna be nice,” he grumbled at you.

You just giggled, guiding him out with slow, steady steps.

—

“Comfy, sir?” you inquired in an overly-babying tone.

You two had hauled it back to your apartment (Hoffman was seldom big on having you over at his, blaming the lack of comfort or too much mess) where you had let your boss settle back onto your bed. Lacey, silky trimmings fluttered around him as he took in the comfort of all your pillows under his back and head.

He didn’t quite answer, though he looked to be on the brink of sleep: eyes shading down lower than usual, blue irises glassy. A fragile “Mmmm” left his lips.

“Too tired for that birthday cake?” you prodded.

“Ugh… I guess not. Not if you promise to be sweet on me if I eat it.”

“Of course, Hoffy. Anyways, you gotta blow out your candle and make a wish.”

He nodded incoherently, allowing you the moment to retrieve the cake in the kitchen and plate it up with a single lit candle.

When you returned, seating yourself within the little room his lap allowed, he had groggily repositioned himself so that his suspenders were undone and slack at his sides, with one hand enveloped beneath his undershirt, and the other clutching one of your stuffed animals in the cleft between his chest and his tummy. It was too adorable. If he was more awake to catch you gawking he would’ve barbed something smart off at you. But he was so damn tired.

“Okay make a wish,” you instructed, cake held out in front of his face.

“Not even gonna sing to me, huh?”

“Do you really want me to?”

You exchanged shit-giving glances before he blew out the little flame. You immediately scooped a heaping bite of Devil’s Food onto the fork and poised it before his lips, your other hand gingerly propping his chin up.

Without question, he slid his mouth over the fork, pinkened thick lips becoming slick with frosting and saliva.

The motion repeated in silence, save for some quiet groans and hiccups on his part. The thing was, the slice was bigger than typical—really meant to serve two to four people.

“Such a good boy for finishing all that,” you cooed with a slight edge of condescending playfulness. “Whatta big bear.” You set the plate aside and gave his belly a light but firm pat. Other than the very obvious visual evidence, you could feel how stuffed he was in how his gut barely had any give to the touch, under that black, stiff, starched fabric. Only a solid wobble as he shifted around and breathed.

“Ugh, I feel like going into hibernation. You don’t need to coddle me like that,” he snipped, too incapacitated to sound threatening.

“Maybe I wanna. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing I guess. Too full of cake… Which is entirely your fault.”

You were about to sass him for such choice words, when you decided to indulge in the situation instead. You spread your fingers over his broad sides, brushing up against the dips of his love handles, and raked your touch in a deep massage.

Hoffman squirmed slightly, a tiny frustrated grunt bumbling from his lips. “Knew it.”

“What?” you feigned offense, not relenting at your soft, slow presses into his bulk.

“This wasn’t for my birthday, this was so you could get me all fat and sleepy and play with me like I’m some kinda toy.”

“Aren’t you? My big stuffed bear,” you laughed lightly.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Nonetheless he reached a hand over one of yours, guiding your smaller palm around his gut. “Right there… Ah… Yes. Like that. A little softer, please.”

“Usually I’d give you shit for trying to micromanage me, but I did promise to be nice.”

“That’s right.” Hoffman pinched your chin with his free hand.

You undid the rest of his shirt buttons, looking over how the tight white shirt underneath had rolled up over the curve of his stomach.

“I know it’s not typical,” he went on, “but would it be so bad if I fell asleep here tonight? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“I made a point to take tomorrow off. So if I’m not at work, neither are you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you murmured, roaming your hands up to his face, pushing away the unkempt curtain of black hair that had previously been slicked back. “Well, I’ll be sure to get up early anyways. Gotta make you a decent breakfast.”

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[dekusleftsock]

I think that there’s a fundamental misunderstanding of what exactly is…happening with Izuku’s character. Specifically in regards to chapter 425.

I’m glad that a lot more people generally recognize that Izuku is not a character that can be read at a surface level, given that he’s both a repressed person with built up emotion of basically everything and also a very glaringly HUGELY unreliable narrator, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with the ways I’ve seen this most recent chapter spoken about.

I see posts, comments, etc with ideas like “Izuku don’t suppress your emotions! Open up with people! It’ll be okay I promise!” When that’s fundamentally not what is happening here.

There’s always always ALWAYS been a distinct difference in character throughout horikoshi’s writing when he is showing that a character is:

A—Avoiding emotions, thoughts, ideas less than ideal for them. Not opening up when they probably should about their problems given that they’ve been handed the space to do so. Just genuinely not acknowledging, feeling, or expressing emotions that they don’t want.

B—Reflecting on the ways they feel about the world, themselves, or other people given their new perspective on a situation. Not outright reaching out to others to talk about these problems/feelings, but instead waiting until the moment they feel they have the most confidence to do so with their new outlook on their own life.

And genuinely, guys, to grab your BkDk attention rn, this is the exact reason why Ochako’s reflection on her feelings for Izuku and thereafter decision to pull away from them WAS NEVER GOING TO END IN OCHAKO EXPLODING WITH HER LOVE FOR HIM.

This was another common interpretation I saw of Ochako and Izuocha for a long time. That because she pushed these feelings away, they were somehow going to explode in this unbelievable way and she would “get the boy” because of it. That her arc would surround accepting her romantic feelings and that she can’t just push away how she feels for a career.

But yk. That didn’t happen. At all. Nowhere close even.

The same kind of goes for Katsuki, allmight, etc. They all had moments in their arc where it was spent genuinely reflecting, and the only reason we as the audience never connected it in the same ways we do ochako or Izuku was ALWAYS BECAUSE the narrative showed their inner thoughts while doing so (mostly because Allmight’s arc after losing OFA and Katsuki’s arc on what it means to be a hero were so intrinsically tied, both starting at the same time and ending at the same time during the final war. And because they were so tied this caused their own reflections, development, and thought process to be broadcasted to us frequently throughout their arcs… to each other. They also somewhat shared aspects with Izuku, but these were cherry picked more often than not, like dvk2 for example).

To us Katsuki never seemed to be.. idk, suppressing his anger in any way because we were always told what he was doing and why (side note: this is why I’ve always thought arguments against Katsuki were so weird, bc unlike characters like endeavor or Ochako he wasn’t like… hiding who he was and how he was changing. Ever. Like the audience knows at all times past basically season 3 what Katsuki is thinking and doing. Like how do you watch this happen, stare me dead in the eye, and tell me how much of a terrible and awful teenage boy he is. Like damn I didn’t think we were this dumb. This is also my theory as to why he’s most popular, his arc is very… in your face if that makes sense). Katsuki’s entire mini arc on reflecting his mistakes and his childhood and his future is spent TELLING YOU that it’s what he’s doing. (I’m referring mostly to the endeavor internship arc, the provisional license exam makeup, and basically everything in the war arc related to him leading up to bakugou Katsuki rising here)

And see, Horikoshi will stare you dead in the eye, tell you “this girl has taken into consideration that she doesn’t want to waste her time training her career focusing on a boy because he kinda caught her fancy”, and y’all will still say that this will explode in her face.

Y’all this is a series about learning how to manage emotions, maturity in relationship to one’s emotions, how to feel an emotion, but in a way that is helpful. Horikoshi isn’t telling you “go buck wild, feel everything all the time and always express it”, in fact he explores why you DONT do that! Through Toga or Shigaraki, they show how grief and anger can genuinely consume you. But he also shows why you shouldn’t just put everything in a box to never look at or acknowledge, or why you shouldn’t just let your grief destroy the world around you, or pretending that some emotions simply don’t exist.

I can’t say this enough, so let me say it now, mha is about the extremes of your psyche. That you should control something, but not too much. Everything can be harmful. Everything can be good.

Izuku is not controlling too much, he’s expressing just enough.

I LOVE shaming this dickhead at all times in all my posts. I love saying he’s an ignorant dipshit with a weird amount of distaste for a girl who just confessed to him. I’ve joked that chapter 348 is basically an entire chapter spent on Izuku calling Himiko a mean dyke. And yet I also believe he’s doing nothing WRONG here.

In fact, I’ll even say that this moment right here?

ISNT EVEN IZUKU DOING THE SOCIALLY APPROPRIATE THING ABOUT IT! But he’s still TRYING to reach out to someone he thinks MIGHT be able to understand. (And frankly, this moment is far deeper than what it’s being made out to be, to me it reads more like an unrequited friendship that Izuku both desires and has thought of them to have, while simultaneously showing the distance Ochako has successfully wedged between them for her own sake. Maybe it was always there though, maybe in weird, miscommunicated Horikoshi fashion, this is a representation of how Ochako always read all those “fun friend hangouts” as a little more than that, and without those feelings the friendship never really held any substance to her in the first place. Where Izuku saw his first real friend at UA, she saw little more than acquaintance)

Simultaneously, Izuku is genuinely reflecting on what it means for the world to change, to be a hero, to live after loss—and trying and failing to gain the connection he desires from individuals who can not and will not afford him that.

Izuku is ready for the world to change, a few select characters are also ready for the world to change (mirio, for example), but not nearly enough are. So maybe I’ll have to take this back if I’m proven wrong and I accidentally looked into this far past what everyone else did for no reason, but I genuinely believe with moments like this

And this

Aand this

That Izuku has come forward with that aspect of his character development. He’s reflecting on his new beliefs, not repressing his emotions for them.

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[yellowjackets-1996]

(do you love me like that?) you're a reckless driver (I'm a reckless driver) and one day it will kill us if I —

[justskyla-art]

PHIGHTER 15!!!!!!!! don't know much about the game tbh LOL! i just watch my friends play it and follow their hype. love the characters in that game though, even if i don't really know much about their personalities or lore or anything. but coil got announced today!!! i love their design so so much so i HAD to draw this like IMMEDIATELY. hope you like it!

[zenitsuinamogus]

Today's Fishuary prompt was Salmonid, so I made a colorful Chinook Salmon since I live very close to a Salmon Hatchery where they are raised! Thanks to @fish-daily for the prompts ☆

[faithfromanewperspective]

what’s there not to understand about hypomania? you know when you get overtired, and like a toddler, you get all hyperactive and also want to cry or do Every Fun Thing you can think of and it actually becomes harder to sleep? like as a result of too much overwhelm or being so emotionally exhausted that’s how your body makes you able to cope, the aftereffects of too much adrenaline? just imagine being stuck like that. and every day it triggers itself more, overload of emotional whiplash and energy and you’ve lost all ability to think rationally and you can do anything at this point, because why not? you’ve got nothing left in you to hold back on any idea that could be exciting and stop you from falling into the void where the wiredness you feel has nothing to latch onto to burn off that nervous energy in a positive way, emotionally. for days or weeks or months on end. you don’t need to have ever experienced this fully to extrapolate and be like. yeah. I can see how it would suck eventually to get stuck like that