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hellishjoel · 10 months ago

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cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air.

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets. You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M.

Joel Miller.

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes.

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over.

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension.

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist.

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor.

Virgin.

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings.

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind.

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit.

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs.

You shakily exhale as he warms you.

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job.

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck.

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk.

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it.

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity.

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity.

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings.

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur.

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed.

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless.

“I think so.”

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it.

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time.

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you.

But thinking about him wasn’t enough.

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin.

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment.

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him.

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.”

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care.

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office.

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office.

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him.

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice.

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office.

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you.

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.”

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline.

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.”

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper.

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear.

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence.

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips.

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing.

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip.

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.”

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong.

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight.

You’ve never seen a man so hungry.

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils.

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point.

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind.

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush.

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words.

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows.

“You- what?”

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk.

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop.

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine.

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak.

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin.

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk.

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along.

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his.

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs.

“No, definitely not.”

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.”

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.”

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk.

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke.

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties.

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn.

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it.

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.”

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look.

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile.

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does.

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine.

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking.

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.”

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back.

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him.

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again.

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps.

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs.

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze.

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are.

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.”

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it.

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk.

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants.

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.”

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes.

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him.

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one.

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes.

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him.

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well.

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards.

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger.

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey.

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk.

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.”

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk, dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him.

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions.

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you.

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this.

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss.

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey.

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.”

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers.

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance.

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure.

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously.

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too.

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head.

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him.

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge.

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.”

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please.

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth.

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows.

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth.

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor.

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw.

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish.

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you.

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps.

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth.

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight.

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy.

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine.

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.”

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does.

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth.

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm.

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided.

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like.

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp.

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights?

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more.

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good.

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment.

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently.

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second.

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him.

Now you’re really aching for him, wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria.

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now.

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips.

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it.

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside.

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?”

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him.

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach.

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips.

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot.

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared.

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin.

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern.

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.”

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit.

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously.

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him.

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds.

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine.

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time.

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing.

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile.

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.”

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.”

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution.

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.”

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls.

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper.

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you.

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features.

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body.

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt.

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full.

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal.

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you.

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.”

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions.

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear.

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep.

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to.

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.”

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off.

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands.

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction.

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt.

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more.

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own.

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions.

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you.

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest.

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond.

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison.

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you?

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name.

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm.

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.”

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you.

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light.

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers.

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven.

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths.

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves.

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his.

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp.

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp.

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you.

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm.

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom.

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze.

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any.

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy.

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces.

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet.

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile.

“Or your tongue?”

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug.

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.”

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers.

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin.

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already.

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-”

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water.

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops.

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk.

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens.

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle.

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo.

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.”

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.”

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients.

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins.

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.”

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard.

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.”

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.”

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.”

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution.

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back.

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process.

Joel sighs.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this.

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him?

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him.

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back.

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.”

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused.

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.”

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.”

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller.

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title.

The Obsidian Gallery

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller.

next chapter ->

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tvgals · 2 months ago

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soccer! gojo who you often throw crumpled up papers at, just to see how good his reflexes are. he smiles and kicks them up , kneeing them behind him and finishing it with kicking it back to you. while you’re concentrated on trying to replicate what he did, he takes your chin between his thumb and index, bringing your lips into a kiss.

basketball! sukuna who you help train, passing a ball to him a couple times while he works on around the worlds. he can’t thank you enough when he hit the game winning shot from the toughest corner on the court, all the times you scolded him that he needed to work on his weaknesses paid off. he thanked you by taking you out to dinner and driving you to a drive in movie where you two cuddled and kissed the night away.

baseball! suguru who you play catch with in the backyard, telling him to not throw so hard. you two often go on batting cage dates, you paying extra for time so suguru can get extra reps in. suguru couldn’t describe how angry you were when he came home with ghost roots for championships that season.

rugby! nanami who taught you how to throw a rugby ball, his large palm over yours, guiding your fingers so you can get the perfect throw. you smile when the ball spirals across the backyard, jumping for joy as nanami looks down at you with pride, picking you up and kissing along your face while trudging into the house.

lacrosse! choso whose wounds you often have to patch from him falling so often. he looks at you in awe and love as you tend to his needs. kissing each scar you come across after sanitizing and laying a bandaid over it. he grins as you post you twos post-game pictures as his grinning face from winning the game takes up most the picture.

football! toji who you hate watching play. although you love seeing him win and be all manly, you can’t help but stress when he gets jumped and pushed on, being assaulted almost. you wanna look away and cover your eyes in terror when the ball gets passed to him, but he perseveres and makes his record-breaking touchdown in his last college game before the nfl.

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riordanness · 8 months ago

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slow motion, double vision - [w.scobell]

wordcount: 0.8K

warnings: self harm (reader)

requested: yes!

a/n: please do not read this if you struggle with self harm and won’t feel comfortable reading about it (it’s not described at all and reader doesn’t do it in this but it’s said that she has and a brief description of her wrist is also in this. don’t read this if you aren’t going to cope with that. and if you are struggling w self harm, reach out to me, please!! <3)

Another day on the Percy Jackson set. Today, we are filming a scene between Percy and Annabeth, an argument.

Walker gives me a grin once he’s finished up with the makeup crew. “Hey, you,” he says with an easy smile.

I try to replicate it. Walker has this gift. He’s so good at it. At everything. Life, acting, smiling.

All the things I struggle with.

“Hey,” I say back. “Looking good.”

“Says you.” He gives me an appreciative look. “My girlfriend looks adorable.”

I immediately get flustered. No matter how many days I’m dating Walker for, I think him calling me his girlfriend will always make me flutter inside.

“I'm not your girlfriend anymore,” I joke. “I’m Annabeth Chase, Seaweed Brain.”

He grins. “See you out there.”

As soon as he’s gone, my heart sinks again. It’s like he’s the only thing in the world that brings any kind of light to my darkness. The only smile on my sad face. The only sweet words I can say.

“The chair is the bargain,” Walker, as Percy, says. “One of us goes in, the other gets the shield.”

“I’ll do it,” I say, stepping forward, a determined look on my face.

“What? What a minute!” Walker reaches over and grabs my wrist. A flicker of pain crosses my features, but quick as lighting, I go back into character, hoping he didn’t notice.

“Whoever goes in isn’t coming out!” I say, my voice rising a little at the end.

“I know, that’s why I said wait.”

“This isn’t the arch, Seaweed Brain,” I snap in response.

“Cut!” someone yells, and I instantly break character, as does Walker.

The directing team is talking amongst themselves, which is usually a sign for us to just chat and wait for them to be ready to film again.

“Hey,” Walker comes close to me, his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”

I look at him, feigning a frown. “Course I’m okay. Why?”

He looks concerned, his blue eyes staring deep into mine. “You flinched just now. When I grabbed you.”

“Oh,” I laugh, which comes out so brittle I almost wince. “Nah, it’s all good. Just acting.” I’m brushing him off, and he knows that.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I tell him, and disappear before he can argue with me about it.

He finds me in the bathrooms. I’m standing over a sink, gripping the sides like a dramatic Draco Malfoy-wannabe. I have tears in my eyes, but the second I hear someone behind me, I brush them away.

“Y/n?” Walker asks quietly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I can’t answer, his sweet words just making me want to cry harder. I can only shake my head.

He buries me in a hug, his chin on top of my head, and his arms encircling me tightly. “Love,” he says again, speaking softly into my hair, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Walker, I—“ I cannot bring myself to say the words, so I pull back from the hug, and pull up the sleeve of my Annabeth jacket. Across the inside of my left wrist are stripes of harsh red, jagged and fresh.

Walker’s eyes shatter, a million emotions and words and thoughts all inside their clear blue at once. His mouth opens a little.

“Y/n—“

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so so sorry.”

He immediately folds me back into his arms. “You have no reason to be sorry,” he says roughly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you feel this awful about yourself. I’m so sorry you felt like you had no other choice. But please—“ I can tell by his voice that he’s upset. Somehow, that makes me feel even worse.

“Please come talk to me before you do something like that,” he whispers.

“Okay,” I manage.

“Do you promise?” he asks, his voice ragged.

“I promise on the River Styx.”

I feel his smile through my hair. “I love you.”

I smile too, his warmth and love spreading through me like an antidote. “I love you too, Walk.”

He pulls away from the hug, his fingertips brushing the broken skin of my wrist as lightly as he can. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get this cleaned and dressed properly, okay?”

I let him take me by the hand, and for the first time in my life, I feel completely and totally safe and understood.

With him.

#walker scobell #percy jackson #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #pjo show #pjo tv show #pjo series #walker scobell fanfic #walker scobell x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months ago

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Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eleven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Angst.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: This one takes a bit of a turn guys, but I promise I know what I'm doing. :) Maybe? Probably?

Previously:

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you answer, it's not Butcher.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

Present Day

“Thank you so much for coming!” Rosemary says dragging you through the front door of her two-bedroom apartment. “The sitter cancelled and I’ve got 5 minutes to make it to the hospital.”

Her dark brown hair frizzes out of a messy bun at the back of her head waving as she emphasizes her point with rapid hand gestures. The dusting of freckles across her cheeks catches in the light from the open windows at the back of her apartment as she traverses through the minefield of toys and children's books sprawled over the bright blue couches, the pastel rug, and the coffee table in the spacious living room.

As heartbroken as you were, you never regretted the night you and Ben spent together, because that meant you wouldn't have had Rosemary and you didn't want to imagine a world without her in it. She was the only good that came from that night. A surprise, but a welcome one. The years that followed losing Ben should have been empty, filled with an endless wandering of the world from someone who couldn’t age and couldn’t die, but they weren’t. Ben might have broken your heart, but he gave you the greatest gift. Rosemary filled the hole in your life and you wouldn’t change a thing. Even if it always ended up like this.

Well, besides the whole Ben possibly being alive this whole time and being tortured in a foreign country.

Rosemary was another reason why you had gotten out of being a supe. You didn't want that life for her and you were afraid that Vought would take her away. She was a second generation supe from two of the first and two of the most powerful supes. So for the early years of her life you lived on the coast of Maine in a small town, making sure that Rosemary had as normal a life as she could, despite having superpowers. At first you thought that she was like Ben, she was strong, faster than the average person, and had enhanced senses, but then you realized that her powers were more like yours except Rosemary did not have to die to obtain the powers of another supe. Rosemary could replicate any ability from a supe that she touched for one day, something you both realized when she was two and started to move things telekinetically around the house after she grabbed on to your arm and wouldn't let go. Which may have been fun for her, but not for you. Chasing around a two year old that could suddenly levitate sharp objects and throw them anywhere she wished was far from your idea of a good time.

When you moved back to NYC 10 years ago, the last time you saw Legend, you decided to introduce Rosemary as your cousin whenever anyone asked, including Stan Edgar, who showed up to one of your art shows as soon as you reappeared in the city, prepared to find out if you were Indigo.

You examine your daughter’s flustered expression, the wrinkled black scrubs, and the frantic beat of her heart that thuds loudly in your ears. Rosemary looked more like Ben than you. They had the same eyes, the same dark brown hair that turned into liquid honey in the sunlight, but you were the same height and had the same nose, your father's nose to be exact. And although Rosemary should be 39, she looked barely older than 27.

But despite her resemblance to Ben, it didn’t pain you to see her. You liked to think that she was a reminder of the boy you used to know, the one that you held on to for so many years when things got hard and all you saw was Soldier Boy and not the boy you loved.

She was the only person who knew everything about you and everything about Ben. She was the only family you had left, well, except for-

“Aunty y/n!” A small pink blur leaps towards your face from the end of the couch, to latch onto your upper body like a monkey climbing a tree.

You catch your four year old granddaughter, Lou, with a smile, twirling her around in the air. Despite your relation, you made sure that Lou referred to you as aunt, as afraid as you were for exposing Rosemary to Vought, fear that they would take Lou away too haunted you at night. Rosemary also did not call you mom, except after Lou went to bed and only when she was upset.

You both figured that it was easier this way, at least until Lou was old enough to understand why you did things the way you did them.

Thankfully, Lou still hadn't presented any powers, which made you and Rosemary happy. It made finding a babysitter easier when you didn’t have to worry about a four year old picking up a couch and throwing it through a window.

Being with your family always made you feel better, despite everything that happened with yours, you always remembered what your father ingrained in you as a child- that the only real wealth in life was family.

Of course he also was the son of the man who owned more than half of the real-estate in Philadelphia and who personally invested with Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller, so he had room to make generalized statements like that.

When you first got the injection and refused to marry Howard it strained the relationship you had with your parents, well, mostly your mother. She hadn't taken it well, thought you were throwing your life away on Ben. Meanwhile your father and you continued to send letters back and forth until the day he died, despite your mother's want for him to cut ties with you. He was always supportive of what you were doing, wanted to know how Ben was, how you were, and would meet you for dinner occasionally in New York whenever he could. Ben would make an appearance every once in a while, but your mother never came, and it was always like a giant purple spotted elephant was sitting at the table beside you.

You wondered how much grief she gave your father whenever he went to see you. You had tried several times to send your mother letters, telling her of all the good you were doing, but she would send them back unopened. When your father died, you showed up to the funeral and she refused to let you sit on the pews reserved for family. Ben had come with you, and you practically had to drag him away when he started to yell back at her because he knew that despite you being all grown up, he knew that you weren’t strong enough to stand up to her.

"Hey Lou." You smile at your granddaughter. She too had Ben's brown hair, but her eyes were like yours that shone with excitement and happiness.

When Rosemary’s husband died just after Lou was born, you stepped in whenever you could to help her, that meant occasionally babysitting so Rosemary could go to work her overnight nursing shifts downtown in the emergency room.

"I missed you!" Lou hugs you around the neck. She's wearing a floral long sleeve shirt and a pair of pink overalls. Pink was her favorite color and you tried not to be reminded of the dresses your mother forced you to wear when you were younger.

"You saw me three days ago." You brush back the tangled mass of curls from her smiling face.

"Too long." Lou replies.

Rosemary breezes back into the room, toting a large bag over her shoulder. "Okay. I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologize again!" You wave a hand. "Just go. We'll be okay."

"What are you going to do?" She roots through the bag, looking for some unseen object.

"Oh the usual. Watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I've heard great things about the remake-" You wanted to test if she was listening.

"Y/n!"

She passed.

"I'm kidding Rosie." You put your free hand on her shoulder, noticing the wear in her eyes and the dark circles that frame them. You try to remember if things were as hard for you when you were her age. Given that you had already been injected with Compound V and were living as a superhero you figured that they were.

Maybe when everything calms down we can all go for a long vacation somewhere.

"Okay." She sighs. Her eyes search your face for a second, brows pinching together. "Are you okay?"

You always thought her ability to read you was almost supernatural, but Rosemary wasn’t psychic.

"Um. It's been a rough few days." You shrug, adjusting your grip on Lou.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She looks worried.

"Yes. There are a few things we need to talk about. But when you get home. Go on. I can take care of the little gremlin for a few hours."

You didn't like it when she worried about you. Rosie had enough on her shoulders, she didn’t need the 90 plus years of baggage you dragged around everywhere. But what had happened over the past few days deserved a conversation. You were going to go to Russia to find out what happened to Ben and you weren't sure when you would come back or if you could. Going to Russia might mean exposing your identity, which meant you might have to cut and run. You also weren’t sure how much damage had been done after what happened with Countess. When you killed her, you had expected Vought or the police to show up at your door, but you thought that you covered your tracks pretty well. There wasn't a piece of her trailer left and no evidence to convict you, well, aside from the burned jacket in your apartment that you needed to get rid of. You were still hoping that you could salvage it, but it was doubtful.

Your thoughts drift to Rosemary and Lou. The thought of leaving them behind destroyed you, but if it meant keeping them safe from Vought, you knew that you'd have to do it. But you also wondered if you could leave them behind. They were all you had left.

"Okay. I love you." Rosie half-hugs you with her free hand.

"Love you too. Be careful."

"I love you mommy!" Lou crows as Rosemary kisses her on the head and walks out the front door.

"Alright, what do you want to do?" You ask Lou putting her down.

"PAINT!" She raises her hands over her head like a triumphant gladiator.

"I like where your head's at kid." You smile down at her. "Go get your kit, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

When Rosemary gets home twelve hours later, Lou is asleep, but you sit up on the couch with your sketchbook.

Painting with Lou had been enough of a distraction from everything that happened the past few days and the memories of the past that kept rising at the back of your mind, but when she went to bed they started to rush back. The sketchbook had started as a way of escaping the thoughts of what you did to Countess and what she said about you and Ben, but the only thing that you could draw was him. His strong jaw, arching brow, bright green eyes, and mischievous smirk haunted you from the page in front of you.

You hadn't drawn him in over thirty years, hadn't seen him in forty, but you still remembered everything about him, his voice, his laugh, his smile… You had to actively shut off your brain to stop from thinking about him, but none of the usual tricks were working. All you could think about was what if he was alive out there and if the Russians had been torturing him all these years. He was alone.

Did he think that no one cared about him? That no one wanted him?

Yes you hated what he did to you, and as much as you wished that you didn't care, you did. And as much as he hurt you, the Ben you knew would have never left you to rot, he would have come for you and you knew that was what you needed to do for him. The problem now would be telling Rosemary.

Your daughter knew about him. You’d never held anything back when she asked you about her father, including the reason why you two "broke up." In hindsight it was probably not the greatest decision you'd made to tell her exactly what happened, but it was nice to have someone to confide in. And the two of you didn't keep secrets from one another.

"Hey." She whispers with a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the couch beside you. Rosemary drags here eyes around the apartment. "Did you clean?"

"Yeah. It was a bit messy." You smile, shutting the sketchpad so she can't see the page. "Plus I figured it would be nice to be able to sit on the couch without getting probed by one of Lou’s toys."

"Yeah. Don't think I need another little mermaid toy 'exploring' the secrets of the cave, if you know what I mean."

You laugh at her. "How was the shift?"

"Bleh."

"That good?"

"Mhmm." She leans her head against your bicep.

"You know I've been thinking," You put your arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we should all just get away for a few days. We haven't been to the coast in a while. And Lou loves the beach-"

"Don't you have that big show coming up next month?"

"Yeah, but I’ve been feeling a little bit uninspired. I'm thinking about postponing.”

She sits up to look at you, suspicious. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong-"

Everything is wrong and I have no idea how to tell you what I need to.

“You have never once postponed a show before.” She raises an eyebrow. "And you’re the worst liar.”

"I’m not lying I am feeling a little bit uninspired.”

"Mom."

"Fine." But you still have no idea how to start the conversation.

How do I tell her that it’s possible her father has been alive this whole time and that he’s currently being held against his will in a Russian Lab? Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve this?

"Is this about Crimson Countess?" Rosemary asks, nudging her shoulder into yours.

"What?" Your head snaps up.

"Her death was on the news. I figured that hearing her name again would make you feel a little-" She moves her head back and forth trying to decide on the word. "Weird."

"It's partly that." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm going out of town for a few days-"

Oh and I killed Crimson Countess.

"Where?"

"I can't tell you?" Your face scrunches up as you say it.

"What?"

You sigh and rise from the couch, pacing in front of it. How do I explain this? How do I tell her?

"Why can't you tell me where you’re going? Is this another retreat for your art again? Like when you went camping?“ She almost sounds hopeful, as if that will make any of this okay.

Nothing is okay.

"A few days ago some men showed up at my apartment looking for me."

"Really? Why?"

"They wanted to know about Ben."

Rosie frowns at the mention of her father’s name. “Why? He's dead. And it's been what? 40 years?" She pulls one of the multicolored pillows into her lap, smoothing her finger over the stripes. The shift in her mood is obvious.

"I don't know. They introduced themselves as government agents and I told them the usual lie about Indigo being my mother and that she was dead. And told them a limited amount of information-"

"I still don't see why you have to leave for a few days?" She interrupts.

You press your lips into a tight line.

This is not going to end well.

Rosemary frowns. “What did you do?”

How can she read me so well? I'm her mother, I should be the one doing the reading!

"Alright, I'm going to say something and you can't freak out." Your hands are clasped in front of your chest tightly, trying to think of a way to tell her that you killed Countess.

"What?"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"I killed her." You say it slowly, gauging her reaction.

"Who?"

"Crimson Countess. I lost control and I killed her."

"What?" Rosie rises from the couch so quickly you think she's flying. "You killed Crimson Countess?"

"Shhh. You're going to wake Lou. And what happened to the promise-" You look down the darkened hallway where your granddaughter is asleep in her room.

Because that's just what the situation needs, for Lou to find out I'm a murderer.

"Fuck the promise! Why were you even with her?" Rosemary asks you, her eyes are still wide.

"That's why it's complicated-"

"Uncomplicate it now." She puts her hands on her hips looking ridiculously like your mother.

"I went there because I started to think about how Ben died, and I realized that I never heard it from her. I heard it from Legend and from Stan Edgar and I wanted to-“

"So you killed her?"

"She said a lot of things that upset me, but she also told me that-" The words catch in the back of your throat. "That Ben might not be dead."

"He's what?" She shouts.

"Rosemary I'm serious you have to stop shouting. Your neighbors are going to call the cops and that's the last thing I want right now."

"Well obviously because you murdered someone and covered it up!"

"Please get off the high horse. She wasn’t a good person.” You snap before you can stop yourself.

Guess the guilt is gone. Honestly, what guilt?

"Fine." She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. "Go on."

"The Russian army took him. Which means that there's a possibility he's still alive and I need to know." You didn't expect her to understand why you needed to go. You just hoped that she would let you.

"Are you kidding? This guy did terrible things to you and to other people! He said horrible things to you and you're going to go help him? I say just leave him to rot!” Her green eyes flash around the room, familiar in a way that makes your heart ache.

Her harsh words hurt. Rosemary only knew what you’d told her about her father and although you tried to tell her about the way Ben was when he was younger as she got older Rosemary wanted to know why you and Ben had a fight. And you didn't like lying to her. Now you consider that maybe you should have.

Because what if he was alive? Would she want to meet him? Would he care enough to want to meet her or Lou? I mean I can cut him out of my life, but if Rosemary wants to know him I shouldn't stand in her way...

You and Ben weren't exactly careful that night, but you weren't sure if he just never cared about that kind of thing before. You weren't sure if he actually wanted kids, the one time you'd asked him and he'd said it "maybe" sounded nice to have some kids. You didn't know if that was a good standard to hold him to or not, given that he was drunk when he said it.

Then again, Ben was always drunk.

"I know that you can't understand this, but even though I hate him, I can't leave him. If the roles were reversed, if it was me, Ben wouldn't leave me. Even with everything he said.” Your chest tightens. "And it hurts me to think that he's been there since 1984 with those people doing God knows what to him."

Rosie sighs. "Mom, I know that you love him, but maybe it's better this way. He’s out of you life. You’re doing better than you were. You said it yourself you felt trapped when you were a supe-“

"He might not even be there. I just need to know what happened. And that means I have to leave for a little bit and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back.”

"Wait what do you mean? You'd come back. You'd go over there, find out and then come back right?" She looks confused.

You press your lips together. "There's a possibility that if I do this, it will expose me, and I’ve already evaded Vought once. I’m not sure I can do it again.”

"So, what? You're gonna go over there and throw away everything for a guy that shit all over your heart and threw you away? Really? You're going to throw Lou and me away for him?" She's gesturing wildly with her hands now, eyes flashing around the room and again you're reminded of Ben.

"I'm not throwing you away-"

It breaks your heart that she'd think that you'd do that, that you were willing to sacrifice them so easily.

Am I doing that?

"You're throwing away the life that you've built for yourself. You told me that you were more happy now that you'd been in the past. And now as soon as you hear about him you go right back? Just like how he made you leave your family-"

"He didn’t make me leave my family, it was my choice! I’m not throwing away the life that I have made and I'm not throwing away you or Lou. If you or Lou were taken, you better believe that I would fight for you, I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourselves for any amount of time. You are my family. And yes Ben is an asshole and I've hated him for the past forty years, but I can't leave him."

"I can't believe you're doing this." She pinches the bridge of her nose frustrated.

"I believed after all these years that the reason why Ben died was because I wasn't there. And Countess confirmed it."

"But he's not dead!"

"Maybe. But they made us fight so that I wouldn't be there. They wanted us to fight because they knew they wouldn't be able to stop me if they turned on him-" You try to reason with her, but you know she won’t listen.

She's just so damn stubborn. Just like someone else I know.

"That doesn't matter! That doesn't make what he did or said any less okay." Rosie snaps, before her gaze softens. “It doesn’t change anything. They may have caused you guys to fight, but Ben said those things to you. They didn’t make him say that or do that. He chose to. And I can’t believe that you’re going to forgive him-“

"I don't have to forgive him and I don’t want to. It’s not about forgiveness. I can't leave him. He might be able to turn his back on me, but I can’t stand back and ignore him if he needs help. Believe me I wish I could. I wish that after everything that happened I could walk away, but I can't. And I know you don't understand that but-" You try to take a step towards her, but she steps back.

"That's not what I don't understand. What I don't understand is you playing with the possibility of losing this for him." She gestures around the apartment. "Do we really mean that little to you that you drop everything for someone that used you and treated you like you meant nothing?"

"You both mean everything to me. Trust me when I say that, but the fact that those two men showed up at my apartment and everything that happened with Countess means that I'm already involved. They already made this about me. I don't know why they needed to know about him, and I want to know why.”

“I can’t believe this.” She stalks past you into the kitchen to get down a bottle of tequila from the top shelf above the stainless steel refrigerator where she locks it away from Lou.

“Rosemary you’re so young-“

“Don’t make this about age. You’re older than me and you should know better.” She angrily pours a shot of tequila before knocking it back.

You try not think that the answer to all of your problems might lie in the bottom of that bottle. Sobriety definitely wasn’t getting any easier, not after you killed Countess or the revelation that Ben was possibly still alive. And especially not now in this fight.

“When you finally told me about him, it was the first time I’d ever seen you break.” Rosemary isn’t looking at you, she's looking down at the floor. “You’ve always been this strong independent figure in my life. You never needed anyone’s help to raise me. You’re so strong and formidable, but then you told me what he did to you and I’ve never seen you look so small.”

The memories of what happened between you and Ben surge up again, but you beat them away with a stick. The last thing you wanted right now was to relive that in the middle of this fight.

She looks up, locking eyes with yours. “I don’t know why you would do this to yourself again, put yourself through that-”

“Because I still love him.” You mutter. As soon as you say it, you know it’s true. Ben did terrible things, said horrible things, but deep down you still loved the boy you grew up with. And maybe that was the problem, you imagined the boy you grew up being tortured and left to rot, and the thought broke you. “And I don’t know how to stop. Even after everything he did, we spent so many years together and the memory of them doesn't just vanish. I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I could have helped him and I didn’t.”

Rosemary stands there halfway in the kitchen and the living room, the bottle hanging from her right hand. This time she drinks right from the bottle before answering. “If you really need to do this, then I'm going with you."

"No."

"Why not? I'm as powerful as you-"

"It's not about being powerful, I don't want this life for you, I've never wanted this life for you. I've worked so hard to keep you out of it-"

"But-"

"No. This is why I introduce you as my cousin, why you were homeschooled, why Lou is homeschooled, why Lou doesn't call me grandma, why you don't call me mom around other people. If Vought finds out about you or Lou, it won't matter. None of this will matter.”

"You don't know that." She says it softly.

"I do." You take her hand. "Rosemary, you are one of the strongest supes I've ever met and you're second generation. And Lou, we don't even know what her powers are, but I can guarantee that as soon as Vought finds out they will come for you both. There's a reason why I never told them what my real power was. I kept you both far from this and I don't want them to know."

"I don't want you to do this alone. What happens if you get taken over there?"

"What if you come with me and we both get taken? What about Lou then? What would happen to her? I don't want her to grow up without a family. Please. Just let me do this. It’ll probably take 2-3 days tops.”

Rosemary doesn’t look happy. “I don’t care how long it’s going to take. The only thing I care about is losing you.”

“They’re not going to take me-“

“Not just then.” She sighs. “I mean after. If you do have to cut and run-.” Rosemary shifts her eyes towards the hallway where Lou is asleep in her room before bringing them back to you. “I don’t care how complicated it is, we will go with you.”

“I won’t ask you to do that-“

“It’s what family does. It’s a sacrifice that I’m willing to make. I can always get another job, Lou can be homeschooled anywhere, and I don’t want Lou to live in a world where you’re not here. She needs her grandmother.”

Her words make tears prick in your eyes as you watch her determined stance. Rosemary and Lou were the only family you had left, the only two people that you cared about in the whole world. And maybe she was right, maybe you were throwing it all away for Ben. You hated yourself for wanting to help him, but you knew if the roles were reversed Ben would have come for you.

Well, the old Ben would have come to get me, maybe not Soldier Boy.

"You got another glass?" You ask with a sigh, looking at the bottle in her hand.

"You sure?" Rosemary raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna need it to get through the next few days. There's no way I can do any of this shit sober." You mutter following her into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, you're both sitting at her kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey and a fresh bottle of tequila between you. The haze of alcohol is making you feel infinitely better given the past few days you've had.

The whiskey burns pleasantly as you take a drink from the bright green sippy cup in your hand. Rosemary hadn’t washed dishes so this was the best she had. You knew you probably looked ridiculous.

Rosemary eyes you. "I can't believe you're drinking."

"I really needed this." You snort. "Given the past few days I've had-"

"I also can't believe you killed her."

"She wasn't a good person." You frown remembering what Countess said to you. "Plus I never liked her even before everything that happened. I know that's not a god enough reason to kill someone, but I can't change that now." You run your fingers through your hair to push it back from your face, trying to lose yourself in the buzz, but Ben keeps flashing through your mind.

Damn it, he's invaded by subconscious again.

Another few minutes pass as Rosemary sits there taking a sip from the bottle in front of her. “Do you really miss him that much?”

You pause considering the question. “Yes and no. I miss the person he used to be, before all of this. I think that’s the problem. I’m holding on to the person I grew up with. That’s all I keep thinking. That boy I knew being tortured in that lab.”

“It’s why you stayed on Payback for so long?”

“Yeah.” You take another drag of whiskey frowning at the sippy cup. “Sometimes I’d get glimpses, shapes really and it would make me forget who he was as Soldier Boy and then when I woke up the next day, Soldier Boy was back and Ben was gone.”

There were always quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when you forgot who he became and all you saw was the boy you used to know. When the cameras weren't rolling, the team was gone, and Ben was crashing at your apartment, for some unknown reason. He would do that, continue to show up at your apartment like he had when you were kids. It never made sense to you, especially because he only slept in your room growing up to escape his father. You couldn't think of a reason why he slept at your apartment when you were adults.

Probably just didn't want to be alone.

“That’s why you slept with him?”

“Yes. That night all I saw was the old Ben. And then I woke up with Soldier Boy.” You bite the inside of your cheek as the memory of the morning that followed washes over your mind. You never understood why he ran to Countess, never understood how he could push you away after all the years you spent together. Why he lied and said that he didn't care, because he had to. After everything you’d been through Ben had to care. You remember what Countess said to you and your shoulders sink under the weight.

Or maybe he was just a better liar than I thought.

“Do you regret sleeping with him?”

You look up at your daughter. She really does look like Ben. She was strong, determined, stubborn, and the way she held herself was so confident. And even though she would have been one of the strongest supes she chose to be a nurse, chose to devote her life to helping people instead of the shock and awe of the superhero world. You were so proud of her. You wondered if Ben would be too.

“No.”

“Why? You say that you loved who he was and then he-"

“Because he gave me you. I wouldn’t change a thing. You and Lou are the only thing that matter to me. I know you hate it when I say this, but you’re so young, you have no idea what it’s like to live as long as I have without changing. And whenever it was just me and Soldier Boy I was so alone until Ben came back. I don’t think I would have lasted these years without you Rosemary, think I would have given in to Vought or maybe gone to the government-“

“Are you serious?” Her eyebrows pull together as a worried frown graces her lips. She knew what you were saying.

“Yeah. But I am happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. The problem now is dealing with everything over there.”

“How about I come with you and wait in a hotel-" Rosemary tries again.

“No. It has to be me. I have to go.”

She sighs. “I just hate the idea that you’re not going to come back.”

“I’m going to come back." You smile. "If you can remember I'm a supe too-"

“If they’ve been able to hold him all these years, that means they could take you too.”

“Don’t know if I should be scared or impressed.” You snort into the cup.

“It not funny.”

“Fine, if I’m not back in a week, then I give you permission to come. But I don’t think you’ll need to.”

"You're old and decrepit. Probably will need my help-"

"Low blow."

She smiles faintly.

You roll the glass in your hand for a moment, watching the amber liquid swirl against the green sides. "If he is alive, would you want to meet him?"

Rosemary takes a long pull of tequila, but doesn't answer for a long time. "When I was a kid, sometimes I'd imagine that he was still alive-"

"What?" You looked at her genuinely shocked. You hadn't realized that she ever thought about Ben.

"That he would walk up our long driveway at our house in Maine and we'd be a family. That was before you told me about that night." She runs one of her fingers down the label of the bottle frowning. "I don't know. After what he did to you, I don't know. Plus I’m almost forty years old, don’t really think I need a father now.”

This time you reach for the bottle of Whiskey, not bothering with the empty sippy cup. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you what he did. Should have let you fantasize about him, see the good-"

"I'm glad you did." She squeezes your hand. “And you didn't just show me the bad, you told me about the good times too."

"Maybe too much bad."

"I don't hate him. I'm mad at him for what he did to you, but I don't hate him."

"So it's a maybe?"

"I guess. I say that now, but I think my reaction if I do ever meet him will probably be the complete opposite. I’m also not sure if he should be around Lou.”

“Ben wouldn’t hurt her.” You press your lips together. "I don't think he would."

“Maybe not intentionally.”

"He's not a bad guy, well-" You take a sip from the bottle, remembering the fight. “He’s just complicated. I guess.”

And I'm still making excuses for him.

“Sounds like you’re going to forgive him.” Rosemary is frowning at you.

For someone who wants to maybe meet him, she’s acting like she still doesn’t want me to forgive him.

“Trust me, our story is over, finally. I’m just going to bust him out of wherever the hell he is and then I’ll never have to see him ever again.” You remember what you yelled at one another the night of the premiere and it strengthens your resolve. You didn't want to forgive him, you just wanted to get him the hell out of Russia and maybe slap him around a bit and then go home and finally move on with your life. Because you were slowly realizing you never did, you just packed it all away deep down and pretended to move on. "This isn't about forgiveness, it's so I can live with myself."

"I just don't think you should forgive him so easily."

"I don't want to and I'm not going to. He doesn't deserve that." You mutter that last part into the bottle, because it was true. Ben didn't deserve your forgiveness, hell, he didn't deserve you risking your life to find him, but you had to. His death left such a big hole in your life and you beat yourself up about it for years, you not being there for him when he needed you the most. But now, going to Russia, getting him back, meant that you could finally move on, that you could close the hole and finally be at peace.

Rosemary leans back in her chair with a sigh. “Promise me, you're going to come back."

"I promise. Not even Homelander can stop me." You smile at her. “Now I just got to figure out where Ben is.”

Easy. Yeah right.

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 11 months ago

Text

My dear lgbt+ kids,

An underrated health and wellbeing tool is play.

When you think about playing, you may immediately picture little children - but by definition, play describes “any activity engaged in purely for enjoyment and recreation with no definite practical purpose” and those activities stay important throughout your whole life.

Why are those activities important?

Play is good for your body. Intentionally doing something just for fun helps to activate the “rest and digest” mode that is necessary to recover and heal from stress. It signals that you’re safe and helps your body relieve tension.

It’s also good for your brain. It can stimulate your imagination, visualization and critical thinking skills, which can help you build skills like resilience and adaptability.

Play can also foster empathy and understanding of others as it can help you see things from another’s perspective.

Playing can make you laugh, and laughter comes with a whole sleeve of health benefits, such as decreasing blood pressure and even improving your immune system!

Playing together can strengthen relationships. Positive, fun social interactions are important for your emotional wellbeing.

Now some of you may think “that’s all nice, but how do I even play as an adult?”. While play is a natural behavior of human beings, many adults need to re-learn how to play - it depends on your specific environment and social circles but you may feel a lot of pressure to be productive all the time and play is by its very nature not productive. So, the first step in re-learning play is to give yourself permission to just *be* instead of *do* (and that can be a huge step!).

Some ideas on how to ease back into play:

Think about your childhood. (Or if you can, ask a parent, sibling or childhood friend, that can be a great way to bring back memories!) What were your favorite ways to play back then? What did you love about your favorite game? Does any particular memory immediately give you that “I wish I could do that again” feeling? (You may not necessarily find anything that you want to just replicate as an adult as-is, this is just meant to kick-start your imagination!)

Gameify everyday tasks. Try to spot as many yellow items as possible on your commute to work. Make up a silly song about laundry while putting away the laundry. Pretend to be on a cooking show while making dinner. Do what you always do, just allow yourself to be silly about it!

Do something creative, even (and especially) if you’re not good at it. You may not think of drawing, writing etc. as playing but those are activities you can do for pure entertainment!

Moving your body doesn’t need to be purposeful exercise (and certainly not hating yourself in the gym), it can also be playtime: Do a silly little dance to your favorite song! Tippytoe, crawl, jump, walk backward.. from your bedroom to the kitchen, just for the fun of it!

Rethink toys. While it is fully okay for a grownup to buy, own and play with toys, and we should abolish the negative stereotypes about it (it’s creepy, it’s inherently a sign of poor mental health etc.) these stereotypes do exist and you may simply not feel comfortable. Luckily, there are a few toys that are generally considered socially acceptable for adults or are even marketed towards adults, such as board games, stress balls, adult coloring books, certain Lego sets or fan/collectors toys (like action figures). And when there are no judgy eyes watching, you may also have fun just playing with household items such as cardboard rolls! No need to go out and buy something!

Keep in mind that play isn’t a competition to win. You can’t play wrong - that’s the beauty of it! Just let your curiosity and enthusiasm guide you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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strawberrystepmom · 20 days ago

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shifting sands and the fingers they fall through | two

cw: discussion of an injury reader has with mentions of blood, pus, and infection. reader is also described as smaller/shorter than law. trafalgar law x fisherman f!reader. | word count: 3.1k, reading time: approx. 15 min.

note: this is a series. each post will contain warnings that pertain to that particular chapter. | part: one, three, four, five, six

A gulls cry has been the constant alarm clock through your adulthood for as long as you can remember. It has also become your background music and dinner bell; the cry that reminds you that you’re alive even on days when you aren’t as pleased to wake up as one perhaps should be.

Mundanity can have that effect on a person or at least that’s what you’ve read in some of the silly self help novels you’ve been able to procure from the small island library.

You don’t have enough free time to do much but reading is how you prefer to spend those few precious moments. Nobody will admit it on the island, least of all the librarian, but they ask other islands to send new-to-everyone here books solely for you to enjoy.

The gull woke and led you out to the shore this morning. It was a late night spent spearing flounder and coming up short. You’ve cast your net twice this morning, catching a few unimpressive but big enough to be sold mackerel.

You’re unlucky today but at least you’re at peace.

A contented sigh escapes while casting your net back into the shallow, turquoise water a third time. Your eyes aren’t looking down at the foamy waves, they’re locked onto the horizon. If the sunrise were less spectacular you’d be upset to be here. Everything feels drenched in a glow that no other time of day can replicate and you get to enjoy it all by yourself, uninterrupted.

This is the type of loneliness you wish you felt perpetually. Happy to be alone, embracing the world around you with no expectations upon you. Instead that pang comes in the middle of a long night or when you can’t reach something on the top shelf at home or when you see one of the few other young women on the island hand in hand with the one they’ve chosen to fill their time with.

You learned to more or less accept loneliness as a consequence of freedom years ago, not long after you finally felt accepted by your fellow fisherman on this little gem settled amongst the waves. Arriving here as a stranger and a young one at that raised everyone’s hackles but you proved yourself trustworthy and hardworking, simply pleased to be away from the shackles your life would’ve become if you’d stayed where you came from.

Drawing your net back up to shore, you sigh when it comes up empty yet again. Footsteps pad through the sand and their cadence sounds familiar to you, similar to the ones heralding the man you assured you’d tend to your wound three days ago.

As assumed, you did not tend to it at all. You’ve been too busy to focus on how it throbs, the current fishing season passing quickly and your stall as busy as it always is.

A chuckle rings from behind you. It’s quiet enough you’d miss it if others were around. It mingles with the waves lapping at your feet, encouraging you to look over your shoulder even though you refuse out of spite at this point.

You know it has to be this enigmatic man, Law, based off of the way your skin prickles with awareness of his stare just as it did a few days prior. Something about him makes your body react. It could just be an overreaction to someone new. Your best guess is that you are anticipating his imminent lecture and that’s why everything about you feels off right now, your usual go with the flow approach failing.

“How’d redoing those stitches go?”

Now you turn around, dropping your net at your feet and pursing your lips. He looks charmingly mussed up, wearing a tan button down shirt with too few buttons fastened instead of the blue t-shirt you saw him in prior. The unenthused look on your face remains although your traitorous eyes take a peek at the tanned, tattooed skin he’s showing off.

You’re caught in the act, of course. He rolls his shoulders when he catches your roving glance and you almost believe you see the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, those hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants that are as unique as the rest of him.

It’s the closest you’ve come to a smile or really anything that isn’t, in your opinion, overt disinterest from the man. It brings back that same feeling you had during your first meeting, stomach turning and feet itching to get away.

You promptly look away while pretending to busy yourself with your net, cheeks warm. It makes you wonder why he approached at all if only to give you a hard time which only makes your face heat further.

“Didn’t have the time. I’m a busy girl, you know.”

Grunting his initial response, he takes a few steps to close the distance between you two. You jump back a few steps, pretending that they were necessary to untangle your net. Law pauses, eyebrow raised.

“Does your health mean nothing to you?”

Sighing, you drop the net at your feet and fold your arms over your chest in an ill guided attempt to puff yourself up. He’s intimidating, not just in expression and brusque conversation, but in stature too - broad and twice your size. You’re no stranger to dealing with men who talk a big game but an eerie feeling in your gut makes you believe that this man could back it up.

This stranger who insists on disrupting your day, your silent, peaceful beach time with you and the foam and the fish. Agitation gnaws and you tilt your head to the side curiously, brows raised.

“Why do you care what a woman you don’t know does with her body?”

It appears you have finally taken control of the situation judging by the way he slowly blinks like he’s processing what you said. Then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes enough that it’s your turn to catch it and scoff.

“I’m a doctor. It’s my responsibility to care.”

Although that isn’t enough to explain to him why he cares. As a principle, he believes men like him should not take a vested interest in the wellbeing of civilians. Pirates live a life that few can understand and certainly not simple fisherman on an island that he and his crew are currently taking a brief respite on.

“Then care about someone else,” you shoot back with a smile, finally bending to reach for your net and walking a few steps closer to shore, back toward your unexpected guest. The gentle morning waves wash over your boots. He watches as you toss, seabreeze ruffling the end of your shorts.

Unburying one hand from his pocket, he scrubs it over his face defeatedly. You’re just an honest person trying to make a living as difficult as you are. That’s why he cares. Not this strange draw he feels, a little poke between his ribs every time he thinks about the unique woman from the fish stall.

“My ship has an infirmary. I can take care of it since you apparently refuse to.”

You glance over your shoulder, a single brow raised.

“I try to avoid following strange men anywhere.”

Law sighs, exasperated.

“We aren’t strangers, we’ve met before. You even know my name.”

You shake your head, heaving your net back toward shore. “And that suddenly makes you perfectly upstanding and trustworthy?”

He doesn’t miss the wince that flashes across your face when the knotted fibers drag across your arm and subsequently the wound. Looking into the weave, you frown when no fish are flopping around and prepare your arm to cast again but stop when your arm twinges.

The doctor shakes his head, pulling his other hand from out of his pocket and folding his arms over his chest. If he can’t reason with you, he believes he may know another way to convince you yet.

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. Let it fall off for all I care.”

Worked like a charm. That caught your attention, the ever astute man notices. The defiant smirk on your face falls, eyes widening in horror instead.

“Can that really happen?”

Internally he’s nearly aghast at your naivety but he nods once, face unchanging. He could sever it himself if he were to use his abilities, it would probably be less trouble than getting you to take him seriously would be but something tells him to be patient. You are a little prickly, perhaps distrustful, but you don’t seem to lack sense enough to dismiss his help a second time.

“Fine. But promise you aren’t going to steal my organs or hurt me in any way first.”

He snorts, shaking his head.

“I’m not promising anything. You can let me look at it or you can suffer, those are your options.”

You contemplate the suffering option for a second until your arm aches again. This draws a dramatic groan from you, your empty net tossed over your shoulder. It’s so rare that you need help from anyone for any reason but this is out of your wheelhouse. It’s time to take what’s being offered to you, albeit reluctant.

“Lead the way then, doctor.”

Thankfully Polar Tang isn’t submerged and waiting terribly far from where you stand right now. It’s how he stumbled upon you anyway, walking the shore before the rest of the crew decided to greet the day.

Things are already off to a strange start but once he gets this done, he can stop worrying about you completely and move on with his life.

—----------

You’ve never been aboard a submarine before and admittedly, you kind of would be alright not doing it again. Or maybe just not this one, its grumpy captain leading you inside and instructing you to remain quiet and walk straight in the direction he’s pointing which must be toward that infirmary he talked about.

When the two of you finally arrive, he shuts the door tightly behind you and instructs you to sit down near a stainless steel bench attached to the wall. While you do so he grabs his glasses off of the bench and a pair of gloves and snaps them on, leaning over you and grabbing your arm to stretch it across the table.

“This won’t take too long.”

You nod once, sitting in the stool and looking around at the incredibly clean environment he calls his own. It’s strange and you never would have considered looking at him that this is how he maintains his space. It seems like a direct contrast to the man in front of you who seems at least a little bit rough around the edges.

You suppose the same could be said about you though, precise in your work despite everything else about you being flighty at best, so you keep your opinion to yourself. It’s kind enough of him to see you in the first place that you don’t want to make him mad and potentially end up without an arm if his claims were to come true.

Noises on the other side of the steel walls capture your attention and Law groans, looking up from his work for the briefest moment.

“Go away. I won’t tell you again.”

He doesn’t raise his voice because he doesn’t have to, the low growl clearly enough to send the several pairs of feet eavesdropping outside of the medical bay door scurrying. You giggle, shaking your head.

“Friends of yours?”

Law’s face is unchanging, glasses perched on his nose while he leans back in.

“My crew. I assumed they’d still be sleeping but apparently I was wrong.”

“Oh, a crew!” You exclaim and he shoots you a warning glance encouraging you to be quiet lest they catch wind of the fact not only a stranger but a female one is onboard. “Sorry, I was kind of excited to hear you aren’t traveling all alone. You seem like the type that does.”

A strange thing to say but he chuckles so quietly you believe you imagined it, that same thumb from three days ago holding your arm as though it’s made of glass. That feeling of being seen and not simply viewed returns, settling strangely while you kick your feet back and forth where they dangle.

“Do you guys go around the world and help people like this all the time?”

Reaching for his scissors that are in a cup on the table behind you, he shakes his head once but his eyes never move from your wound. He cuts through one of your poor stitches and then another, the tension keeping the cut closed finally releasing and showing you just how much pain you’re about to be in. You play it cool, kicking your feet a little harder to focus on something besides how bad it hurts and finally, he speaks.

“No. We’re pirates.”

Staring wide eyed at the man, you try to will your face to change before he can look up and catch the expression. Unfortunately, you failed and he looks over the top of his glasses, mouth set in a flat line.

“What? Are you scared?”

“No no no, just surprised is all,” you chirp, playing off your anxiety. “You’re helping me so I have no judgment either way. Besides, I don’t have much a pirate would be interested in anyway.”

Trafalgar could name a few things about you the pirates he knows would be very interested in but he keeps them to himself, squeezing the edges of your wound together to release any lingering pus. You wince but swallow it down, tough girl that you are, gnawing your lower lip and flaring your nostrils as you breathe through the sting.

“How did this,” he nods and you know what he’s nodding toward. ”happen?”

You swallow thickly, blinking fast to keep from crying.

“Uh, it was nighttime. I was by myself and something was caught in my nets that wouldn’t come out. I tried to cut it out and ended up cutting myself instead.” Sniffling, you wrinkle your nose to keep any further show of pain or emotion from arising. “Cut the net too which really sucks.”

The pain is immense but manageable while he cuts through a few more of the stitches, gently squeezing as he goes. It’s bad but it isn’t as infected as he thought, fighting off annoyance at your utter recklessness like he should care or something.

“I hate to break it to you but maybe you shouldn’t be doing things on your own if this is the outcome.”

Contrary to the immediate offended glare you cast toward him, you have to admit to yourself that he may be correct. This time wasn’t the first you’ve ever injured yourself alone and as long as it isn’t the last, you have always sort of just considered things even but this is bad. It aches. Every stitch he pops releases the tension of the thread and you hiss through your teeth.

“You’re probably right,” you admit aloud, feet no longer kicking out and instead planted firmly against the legs of the chair to brace yourself for the worst of the pain to come. “But all I have is me so I do what I have to.”

The remark about his crew suddenly makes more sense. He hums, reaching for cotton and disinfectant solution to clean now that it’s squeezed out and the stitches are gone.

“Then you need to be more careful,” he warns, that cursed thumb finally letting go of you so he can use both hands to soak the cotton with the solution. He gently swipes it across the surface and he feels the tension in your body return.

“This is what happens when you get hurt and ignore it. It’s a pain in the ass and it hurts when it comes time to fix it.”

Frowning, you can hardly hide your displeasure over his poor bedside manner. Not that you’ve been to many doctors in your adulthood outside of the one who occasionally comes to do semi annual checkups for everyone who lives here but you assumed being a doctor meant you kind of had to be nice.

“I’ve learned my lesson.”

Your words are dripping with sarcasm but he ignores them, stepping on the trash can pedal beneath the bench and tossing the cotton in there. He moves as swiftly as you’ve ever seen anyone work and procures a needle and thread also from the bench behind you. That thumb touches the outside of your arm, again, and he pauses a moment to look up at you.

It’s obvious that you’re in pain and pretending like everything is fine. He gets the sense you do that a lot. Not that it’s his problem but he feels obligated to take the best care of you that he can while this situation is happening so he speaks slowly.

“This is going to be the worst part.”

You nod.

“It was when I did it too.”

At least you can laugh about it.

Gently poking through one side of the wound with the needle, he pulls it through and you see a tidy line of thread left behind. Far better than the messy, knotted, too big stitches you had before. He continues his pattern - poke, pull, weave - and you marvel at the quality of his work. It’s clear he takes his duties as a doctor seriously and a wave of gratefulness washes over you. Sure he hasn’t been the nicest man alive but the fact he’s done this at all tells you that he isn’t all that bad no matter how he acts.

“Thank you.” You want to leave it there, mouth opening and then closing again, but you don’t feel right saying that and nothing else. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this but I’m not good at asking for help or accepting it either. Most people give up after I shoo them off the first time so I guess thanks for not taking me seriously.”

Finishing the final stitch, he cuts off the thread and looks directly up at you.

“Yeah, well it’s not like it was hard or took a lot of time.”

Averting his gaze back down to his work to give it a final inspection, he considers telling you he’ll check in again to make sure it’s healing right. It isn’t his responsibility now that the work is done but your honesty has convinced him you aren’t very good at looking out for yourself.

“Alright, I’ll walk you back up to shore.”

You’ll have to figure out how to do it without him because once you leave this ship, he won’t bother trying to see you again.

#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x you #law imagines #kendall writes #shifting sands and the fingers they fall through

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kikyoupdates · 3 months ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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You awaken.

It's a strange feeling, to go from complete darkness to a world of bright, shining artificial lights. The sudden exposure sends your senses into overdrive and causes you to blink repeatedly, to the point that your eyes start watering.

“...I can’t believe it,” you hear someone mumble. “It actually worked. I’m a genius!”

There’s a man in front of you. He’s got a bushy mustache and a pair of distinct, thick-rimmed goggles that prevent you from seeing into his eyes clearly. An elderly man, although it’s hard to tell his exact age. The only other noteworthy thing about him is that he’s wearing a white lab coat.

And based on how widely he’s grinning, he seems to be rather pleased about something.

He quickly clears his throat. “Ahem. I suppose I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. I need to test all your senses first. You can hear me, I’m assuming? You’re certainly reacting to visual stimuli, like the light shining in your eyes. If you can hear me and understand what I’m saying, nod your head once.”

At first, you just blink, still disoriented and confused, but soon enough, his words sink in.

You nod, and the man—Dr. Garaki—seems even more pleased than he was just a few seconds ago.

“Excellent!” he exclaims, and you watch as he scribbles something down onto a clipboard. “Language comprehension is working just fine too. Although now it’s time for the real test. Listen closely, please. I’ve decided I want to call you [Name]. Can you try saying that? Try saying your name for me, little one.”

You stare at him for a few moments, and even though you understand what he’s asking of you, it still takes a while for your mouth to move the way you want it to.

But eventually, you succeed.

“[N-Name],” you repeat, sounding a bit uncertain at first. You knit your brows together and try again, and this time, it’s far less shaky. “[Name].”

“Oh, marvelous!” Dr. Garaki praises. He even claps his hands together, incapable of hiding his excitement. “Yes, what a truly wonderful job! Well done. It suits you, too. I really have a knack when it comes to naming my creations.”

He doesn’t ask you to say anything else, so you sit perfectly still, just staring at him. However, you’ve just learned something. You have a name.

For some reason, it makes your heart clench, and you’re not quite sure how to describe what you’re feeling.

Perhaps that’s another thing you have yet to learn.

“You really are a masterful, prodigal creation,” Dr. Garaki says, stroking his mustache. “It’s incredible. All of your senses appear to be fully functional, and not only that, but you can understand things and communicate, just like a real human would. I always thought that creating Nomus would be the greatest exploit of my career, and I failed so many times before when I tried to artificially engineer a human without a corpse as a base... but you managed to surpass all my expectations. Perhaps I should call you my little miracle.”

You don’t understand what he’s trying to say, but once again, he seems rather pleased.

“Best of all is your appearance,” he continues, brushing a finger against your cheek. “Just looking at you, everyone would assume you’re an ordinary little girl! I truly have outdone myself this time around. The Nomus are beautiful in their own way, but you are a carbon copy of the human race. A perfect replication.”

This man sure likes to talk a lot. Or maybe he talks a perfectly normal amount, but you just don’t have any other frame of reference to compare it to.

Dr. Garaki steps closer to you and smiles. “Now, then. I still have some tests to finish running, so be a good girl and sit still. Don’t worry. It’ll only take a moment.”

You don’t really have any idea of what’s normal or not, which is why you don’t move a single muscle as he straps your limbs down to the chair and makes sure to tighten the fastenings shut, so that you can’t break free.

You are ignorant. You can’t possibly know any better. So, when Dr. Garaki inches towards you, gripping a scalpel between his fingers, all you do is stare at him quietly.

And then there’s just pain.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you scream out at the top of your lungs as Dr. Garaki slices into your flesh, showing zero remorse.

You’ve only ever spoken your name, so you’re not quite sure what to say to get him to stop, but eventually, the words bubble up to the surface.

“S-Stop... stop it! It... hurts...”

“Oh-ho!” he muses. “Already assembling sentences on your own, I see. You register pain just like a normal human would too. It’s truly splendid!”

Despite your outcry, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even bother to apologize. He just keeps carving you up, ignoring all of your tortured, anguished screams, as well as the look of sheer desperation on your face.

It feels like you’re about to die. You’ve only known what it’s like to live for a few brief moments, and already, it’s going to be taken from you.

All this pain, all of this blood... and yet, you still haven’t died yet.

Why?

“Ah-ha!” Dr. Garaki exclaims. He steps back and grins cruelly. “It took a while for your body to respond, but there it is! The regeneration is finally kicking in. For a moment, I was worried I hadn’t transplanted the Quirk correctly. Thank goodness everything is in order.”

He finally stops. You let out a shuddering breath, and you’re suddenly aware of a damp feeling on your cheeks, as well as the fact that your vision is blurry.

Oh. You must be crying.

“No need for tears, little one,” Dr. Garaki reassures. “Go on, take a look. Your body is repairing itself as we speak. Everything is going to be just fine.”

He’s right. Just a few moments ago, you were in so much pain that it felt like you would cease to exist, but now you watch as your bloody, mutilated skin pieces itself back together, until you’re practically brand new.

The injuries are gone, and so is the pain.

Dr. Garaki smiles. “See? There’s no reason to be afraid. I’ve made you durable. An incredible creation you may very well be, but you’re of no use to me if you break right away.”

Something about what he just said doesn’t exactly sit right with you. A voice in your head is telling you to trust this man and listen to everything he says. To follow all of his orders without fail and carry out his ambitions.

But another voice in your head—admittedly, a much smaller one—is telling you the exact opposite.

And for some reason, that’s the voice you choose to listen to.

“It hurt,” you mutter accusingly. “I asked you... to stop.”

Dr. Garaki frowns, clearly bewildered. “Hm? You sure are becoming increasingly talkative. You must be absorbing information even faster than I thought you would. But like I said, you’re fine. You can handle far more damage than this. Trust me. You can always trust me, alright?”

No. You get the feeling that you shouldn’t trust him. You shouldn’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth, and if you stay here, there’s a very good chance that he’ll hurt you again.

So, the solution is obvious.

You need to leave.

“I’m leaving,” you declare. Dr. Garaki proceeds to stare at you in disbelief, and he even sets his clipboard aside so that he can give you his undivided attention.

“You’re not leaving,” he frowns. “And why would you want to leave? I’m your creator. I brought you to life. I engineered you specifically so that you would serve me and obey my commands, and you say you want to leave? How does any of that make sense? Is it possible I made a mistake somewhere...?”

He scratches his mustache, unable to make sense of the situation. Even now, there’s still that irritating voice that’s telling you to obey, but you grit your teeth and fight against it, refusing to succumb to the pressure.

And then you feel it. Something wells up from deep inside you, and as you stare down at the infuriating bindings that are tying you down to the chair, you suddenly realize: Oh. I can break these.

So, you do.

“...what in the world?!”

Dr. Garaki lets out a squeal as you break free of the restraints and kick the chair to the side. He instinctively reaches for the scalpel, then points it towards you, most likely as an act of self-defense.

Unfortunately, seeing that bloody scalpel again elicits painful memories, and it makes you really, really angry.

You feel it again. It’s as if something is bubbling up inside of you, desperately seeking release. It pulses and flows, moving through your body in the form of energy. Power. Strength.

“You’re out of your mind!” Dr. Garaki screams. “You’re supposed to listen to everything I say! What’s wrong with you?! You’re a faulty product! You're damaged goods! Now, sit back down and stay put before I—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. You swing your arm out, and he should be thanking his lucky stars that he managed to jump away in time.

Destruction unfolds. You’re not quite sure what you did, but you made sure to channel all the strength you could muster, and now the room you’re in—which upon closer inspection, is some kind of lab—has practically been torn to shreds.

Dr. Garaki is trapped underneath a pile of rubble, and he whimpers helplessly. “I-I don’t understand. The only Quirk I gave you... was the ability to regenerate. Is this... some kind of mutation? But how did it...”

He passes out, either from shock, pain, or some combination of the two.

It’s then that you spot a hole in the wall that must have formed when you unleashed your attack earlier. It’s quite small, but you’re fairly small too, so there’s a good chance you’ll fit.

You drop to your knees and crawl. It’s a snug fit, but you manage to wiggle your way through, and after a brief patch of darkness, you emerge on the other side.

A bright sky greets you. It’s sunny and warm, and you decide that you quite like this feeling. It’s certainly far more pleasant than being inside the lab, with its murky scent and unnatural lights. It seems as though your decision to leave was the right one after all.

You clench your hand into a fist. That strange burst of energy you felt earlier is completely gone. You must have used up all your strength. But it’s okay. You’re free now.

You’re free, and you will discover all that life has to offer.

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richarlotte · 3 months ago

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Most important steps to your glow up?

Top Tier.

Braces.

I had my braces on for 18 months, and they were the best decision of my life. I can breathe better, my jaw and chin look better, my teeth are straight, and I have no more pain. Facial harmony is everything, and mine was restored by an expert orthodontist and continued use of my retainers. Jaw surgery wasn’t reasonable or necessary, but I can’t even begin to describe the impact that dental whitening, braces, weight loss, and proper dental care work had on my face.

Electrolytes and Hydration.

I was severely dehydrated and in need of electrolytes for years and years. I thought that drinking enough water wasn’t as important as people made it seem, but my life changed when I started to do it. Life feels much less stressful now that I’m properly hydrated, and I make sure to toss a little lemon and salt in my water and drink a Gatorade or Liquid IV to get electrolytes.

Darker and Longer Hair.

I look better with hair that’s long, dark, and thick. I have alopecia, so I did a number of things to disguise my hair loss growing up, but I wear wigs now that my hair is gone. I was told to wear my hair long, dark, and straight last year, and whenever I do, people tell me that I look otherworldly. Now that I know what to do with my hair and what looks best, I’m a million times more confident about myself.

Less Dairy.

I am not lactose intolerant, but I do not need to be eating dairy in excess. I enjoy dairy, so I won’t cut it out of my diet, but I don’t need to be eating it in the amount that I did. I was bloated, always breaking out, and tired all the time, but my low energy dissipated the second I cut my dairy intake. I’m not 100% dairy-free and most likely won’t ever be, but I’m careful with the amount I consume.

Korean Contact Lenses.

Americans think that all colored contact lenses are unnatural, and American-made colored contacts are. I use Olens contacts and only use the dark shades, and they’re amazing. I find that having huge, dark, striking eyes helps me get exactly what I want, and I love the way I look when I’m wearing contacts. I use contacts to craft my look and emphasize my eyes, and I never buy or use colors that aren’t brown or black. Wearing dark contacts has reduced my need for so much bright eye makeup; they make me look friendlier, and I look better in photos.

Better Quality Makeup.

Investing in higher-quality makeup and actually learning how to apply it was crucial. Buying Hourglass, Pat McGrath, Charlotte Tilbury, MAC, and Nars was sort of essential to my makeup journey, and I look much better now that I’ve invested the time and money into learning about makeup. Dupes just don’t hold up to the real things, and I look better now that I’m spending $45 on one product instead of spending $45 on five different products to try to replicate the look.

Urea, Glutamic Acid, and Dry Brushing.

I used to have serious strawberry arms and legs, dry skin, and dark spots from body acne, but all of that has cleared up. Hyaluronic acid and body serums have nothing on this combo, and dry brushing has completely cleared up my rough skin and helped with my stretch marks. If you want skin that’s plump, hydrated, glowing, and looks healthy, then you have to exfoliate your dry and wet skin and start using this trio to care for your body.

Better Skincare Products.

I invested a lot in using fancy designer brands, but the things that helped me the most were basic, unscented, and quality. I use Paula’s Choice exfoliant, plenty of SPF 100, retinol, and a variety of Korean and American products. My facial acne is gone, my dark marks are cleared, my skin barrier is healed, my skin looks healthier, and I’m glowing. Drunk Elephant, celebrity skincare brands, and trending products didn’t do it for me; figuring out what I needed and then implementing it into my routine helped.

Creating my own aesthetic.

I won’t stop talking about The Blend because it helped me become who I am today. I wanted to create a look that would help me, and so I had to spend months solidifying my image. It took me a year to get to where I am today, but life became easier once I was able to figure out what I should be doing, what I should be saving for or investing in, and what suited me. The Blend isn’t just about style, and I had to be scientific with it at times and really work with the resources I had and what was readily accessible to me.

I can do Mid Tier next.

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werediabla · 8 months ago

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teaching katsuki how to dance bachata.

tw // nsfw, sexual tension.

author’s note: as a latina, i just couldn’t get the concept of teaching him how to dance bachata out of my head 😩 iykyk. (i dropped a link if you don’t know what it looks like).

if ares ever dropped his sword from the heavens and lost it to the coil of the mortal world, you’re certain you’re staring right at it. there’s no other metaphor to describe the way katsuki moves; sharp, slick, and decisive — with the one-track intention to tear everything that stands between him and victory asunder.

you’ve never even openly admitted that he reminds you of some mythical weapon meant to be wielded by nothing less than the hand of a war god (not if you want to avoid the following protest of “huuh?! what the fuck are ya talkin’ about?! i’m the only great explosion murder god around here, damn you!”) but it’s true.

his physical prowess leaks out of every pore even where it doesn’t count.

like now, as you try to teach him how to follow the sensuous beat of your favorite bachata song, but he continues to move like he’s cutting through a damn battlefield rather than the dance floor.

“you’re stiff!” you huff for the fifth time, pausing the music to adjust his stance. “loosen your hips, kats.”

“that’s exactly what i’m fuckin’ doin’—“

“—feel what i’m doing and try to follow my lead, yeah?” you intercept. to his credit, he pays rapt attention to the way you let his knee melt between yours, keeping you anchored chest to chest as you roll your hips with that little bounce that’s been pissing him off since he agreed to go through with this.

well—

pissing him off might not be the right word for it.

it’s more frustrating than anything else. downright distracting. absolutely unfair. stupidly — hot.

“this ain’t workin’.” he blurts out, brows furrowed into that severe frown you’ve grown tender to.

“it’s because you’re overthinking it,” you reassure softly, continuing to break him into rhythm with gentle nudges meant to guide him into a steady beat. he picks up on it almost instantly, but the fluid motion of your hips is something he just can’t seem to replicate no matter how hard he tries.

“just grind. it’s a natural instinct between couples, why do you think the genre is so popular?”

that seems to snap something into perspective because the next four-steps, katsuki works you against his thigh like he was born and bred for it. it cuts your breath short as the two of you pace around the terrace, watching your shadows flicker under a canopy of fairylights.

“like this?” he asks gruffly, one arm curled around your lower spine and the other keeping your hand trapped in his. you can smell the faint traces of smoke and nitroglycerin clinging to his skin like this — it reminds you of fireworks in summer festivals, when the air is heady and sweet.

“yes.” you murmur more airily than you meant to, squealing when he lifts you into an improvised spin and sets you down far too slowly to fit the choreography. you practically glide down his front, letting him feel every inch of your body on the way down until you come face to face with him again.

for a moment, neither of you say anything. you’re too lost in the stillness of his scarlet gaze to break the impasse between you.

he puts an end to it when his lips capture yours with an irritated growl, feeding you slurred complains that sound suspiciously like “damn brat.” and “you’re so annoyin’.”

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha deku #imagine #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x you #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime

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qiupachups · 1 year ago

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miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

#miles g morales x reader #miles g x reader #prowler miles x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv miles #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction #chewy writes ♪

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m0thlegs · 3 months ago

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You can’t devour the souls of orphaned victorian children anymore. Because of woke.

(HEADCANONS UNDER CUT!! + sebaciel/proship DNI)

BONUS HEADCANONS I CAME UP WHILE DRAWING THIS!!

-Sebastian’s form isn’t always consistent. I recall someone saying that the black butler art style tends to slightly change with each new story arc and I thought it would be cool if this applied to Sebastian too. As if his form is completely unable to capture or recall in memory by any normal person, like if you met him in person and were suddenly asked to describe him - you wouldn’t be able to remember; and by the time you did, he would’ve already tweaked his appearance once more.

-In his true form, he doesn’t have any need for anatomical correctness since he can move regardless of anatomical logic. Instead of a normal human skeleton, he’s just a warped abundance of replicated bones clipping and weaving into one another, yet still moving smoothly. Sort of like an AI generated skeleton that only mimics the intricacy of detail without truly caring to pay attention to the vital information.

-Going back to the AI generated sort of shapeshifting, while his human form is still normal I imagine it would also have a sort of AI-generated feel to it. Like his face might be abnormally symmetrical or something, like he’s so INCREDIBLY close to human form but there’s something deeply wrong with him that you can’t quite put your finger on, like an AI generated human vessel or a hyperrealistic 3D model. His form walks a very fine tightrope between regular human form and the uncanny valley.

-goat eyes surround his true form to represent all the souls sacrificed for him and devoured by him

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existslikepristin · 11 months ago

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Hey @worldsover. Happy birthday.

Tags: NSFW, smut, Dreamcatcher, teacher!Jiu, student!Gahyeon, male reader, threesome, big ol’ noncon warning here, or is it dubcon?... no don’t fool yourself this is noncon, mysteeerious circumstances ooOOooOOh *finger wiggles*, no beta read and no editing I had to go fast cuz this is for a birthday and it’s already late by two days, blowjob, deepthroat, a little fluff, a little romance, a really poorly thought out B plot, absurdity, hypocritical “protagonists”, Jiu is stronk and rips clothes, the relationship is toxic but not the usual way, also butt stuff babyyy

B-Side: [title] ft. Gahyeon, Jiu

~~~~~

“Honestly,” Jiu says, slapping a bead of sweat off her forehead, “She's heavier than she looks. Must be a lot of muscle under there.”

You stare at Jiu, then at the other girl on your bed. What’s her name again? Gabriella? No, there’s no way that’s it. That’s a stupid guess.

“Gahyeon,” Jiu reminds you, as if reading your mind, “Do you remember what I told you about her? Well she did it again. She came into class drunk!”

Still in a certain amount of disbelief, you can only hope that Jiu’s telling you the truth, and that it’s the whole truth. If not, there will be no small amount of trouble stemming from this night. Jiu knows things. Specifically, she knows things because you’ve demonstrated them for her. You’ve regretted that for a while now, because Jiu is also impetuous, to put it mildly. If she managed to replicate—

“Turns out it’s really easy to do what you taught me on someone who’s already in a receptive and reduced state of mind like drunkenness.”

Fuck.

“Jiu, you can’t just…” you struggle for the words.

To describe how what she’s done is wrong? No.

To describe the harm Jiu may have inflicted? No.

To describe how absolutely fucked you may be here? Yeah, that’s probably the one.

“Can’t?” Jiu asks, “But it worked, didn’t it? I mean, I think it worked. Here…” Before you can stop her, she slaps Gahyeon’s thigh. “‘Ey! Get up and show us your tits, slut!”

You choke on your spit and flinch backward. This is bad. It’s not too late to run and remove yourself from any direct implication. Gahyeon’s starting to sit up, so you pivot around and take a stride toward the door.

“Damn,” Jiu half whispers, “Those are nice.”

No way.

Surely, your ears and eyes deceive you. When you turn back around, you’re assaulted with the view of what will most likely be considered assault. Gahyeon is upright, her sweater bunched up around her collarbone. Jiu is palming her bare chest, bouncing a boob as if she’s estimating its weight. To say that you’re mesmerized would not quite be accurate for a couple of reasons. For one, you’re terrified. Gahyeon’s half-lidded—but open—eyes take in your countenance, probably forming a permanent mental image that can and will be used against you in court. And for another, it’s Gahyeon that’s mesmerized in a sense. You can’t just claim to be in a state that someone else in the room is actively in. That would be asinine.

“Jiu…” you start, trying somehow to save face, “Jiu, stop, oh my go—”

“She always comes into class without a bra, and… well, this sweater isn’t the norm. Usually, it’s cleavage all the way down, or nips stabbing through a sheer tank top. So fucking distracting,” Jiu definitely doesn’t stop at your insistence. She ignores you entirely, groping, squeezing, pinching, every little motion sparking a twitch in your face. “Not that a pair of tits is inherently distracting, obviously. I’m no prude. Free the nipple, right? But she flaunts these! Pushing them together in my face when she hands in papers. Calls attention to them every chance she gets. Just the other day, she asked me to borrow a pencil, put it down her shirt in front of me, and then went back to her table and used a fucking G2! We’re working with volatile chemicals! She doesn’t have to be courteous, she just needs to think about some damn safety!”

You blink, suddenly realizing that you waited for an entire rant to finish while doing nothing but stare at the mammary glands in your girlfriend’s hands. Maybe you’re mesmerized after all. Mesmer was a hack, so any word coming from his name is likely an accurate description for a half-assed (or full-boobed, in this case) party trick.

“Alright Jiu, you’ve had your fun,” you blurt out in the brief moment of clarity you can find, “Don’t you think the nice girl should be on her way?”

“Gahyeon? Nice girl? This slut? I’ve told you all the shit she pulls in class.”

“Including in the last thirty or so seconds, yes.”

“And you think she should just get to go?”

“I mean, morally speaking, we haven’t heard her say a word of consent here, so yeah, perhaps it would be best to—”

Jiu cuts you off with a cock-browed stink eye that reeks of the sentence: Are you fucking kidding me?

“Are we gonna have a problem here?” Jiu asks, out loud this time.

“Whaaat?” you creak, “Nooo, no. I’m just saying, what if she…” You pause, trying to indicate nonverbally some deeper implication to your words with a series of bonkers facial expressions. Jiu hasn’t always been the most reliable at catching on to double entendres though. “What if she’s not into it?”

Jiu squints. “What? Are you saying all those other people have been into it? I sure didn’t hear them consenting.”

Fucking holy shit fuck, you’re fucked. Jiu’s fucked. You’re both so fucking fucked.

“NO.” You try to contain your volume, but it still comes out a bit loud, even through your gritted teeth. “I’m saying… what if… someone were to think… that perhaps… they might discuss this… with an official?”

There is a cursed moment of silence while Jiu simultaneously judges you and mulls over your words. Finally, she clicks her tongue, “You think I didn’t do it right, don’t you?”

You put your hands up, unsure of how to respond without giving everything away to the potentially fully aware Gahyeon.

“You really think I fucked it up, huh? Hey Gahyeon, what are you gonna remember later?”

The silence is palpable.

“See? Nothing. You always say they can’t talk back like this, right?”

“Because…” You pause to develop a new double entend—Who are you kidding? You’re already fucking fucked, as previously stated. “Because I tell them not to talk back! It’s not an inherent factor! Did you tell her not to talk back?!”

“Oh…” Jiu says.

“OH?!”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure I built that in.”

“Pretty sure?!”

“Look, like it or not, I’m gonna keep on keeping on with these titties. If you don’t think I did it right, you can run away. Otherwise, you can get your cock out of your pants.”

“And the memory?!”

“Same diff. Built that in.”

“How?!”

Jiu sighs and climbs further onto the bed, behind Gahyeon. She snakes her hands around and continues groping away. Something that she whispers into Gahyeon’s ear gets Gahyeon to finish removing her sweater, and she merely sits, politely, silently, while continuing to be assaulted before your very eyes.

Suddenly, Gahyeon’s head is thrown back. It's not her doing it, it's Jiu with fingers entwined in her hair.

“Look at her,” Jiu hisses at you, “I don't even care if she does remember. She's a stupid hot slut who teases me every day, and has no respect for my cooking class. If anyone needs to get their pretty little throat fucked, it's her.”

Hang on, what?

“I'm going to get my strap and I'm going to fuck her so raw that she won't even be able to come into class for a week. Maybe then the other students can actually get something done for once—”

“Don't you teach chemistry?” you ask.

Jiu pauses her gripping of Gahyeon’s body. “Yeah…”

“I could have sworn you just said cooking.”

“What? That would sure be a silly class to teach!”

“I mean, not really. That would actually be pretty cool if you taught cooking. You're really good at it.”

Jiu’s head fully pokes out from behind Gahyeon. her eyes are glistening with tears. “Oh my gosh, you really think that?”

“Of course. Babe,” you pause, and move to stroke her cheek, “you've always been passionate about your cooking, and I just want you to pursue your career the way you want to. Cooking, chemistry, it's all the same to me as long as you're happy.”

She sniffs hard, clearing out her nose. “Aw, honey… You'd support me if all I taught was cooking? Really?”

“Absolutely.”

She gives you a pouty-lipped stare for a few seconds, clearly holding back the waterworks. “O-oooh, get over here!” She shoves Gahyeon over and holds out her arms.

With a smile, you take Jiu up on the embrace, squeezing her tightly and basking in her warmth.

Sniffling even harder directly into your ear, Jiu babbles little nothings for a moment, and then says, “You sweety, you… can I suck your cock?”

“Sure, babe,” you say, pulling her back a little so you can give her a brief kiss.

Jiu gets your pants off fast. She's always quick at that. Lots of practice. Your dick hangs free until she gets it in her hand, working you up to full mast while she kisses your neck. It only takes a quick pull from her on the hem of your shirt to remind you to take it off for her. As soon as you do, her kisses go lower, and lower, and lower. Your eyes naturally flutter closed and your hand alights on her head, not so much guiding her as petting her.

Then, you’re inside her. Her lips, so incredibly tender, wrap the head of your cock, and her tongue pulls you in deeper. It’s sensual, slow, relaxing even. All of your worries fade away. You stroke her hair, and look down at your lover to take in her beaut—fucking dammit, the girl’s still here! How the fuck did you forget?! She’s literally lying down, half naked, between you and Jiu, and this is very concerning, obviously!

“Jiu! Jiu, wait! We’ve got to do something with her!”

She pulls back, still rolling your cockhead over her tongue. “Oh. Yeah. Let’s fuck her! Sit up, slut!”

Gahyeon does as she’s instructed, slowly sitting straight back up and slotting herself between you and Jiu. Her tits end up smushed against your pelvis, hugging your dick. It’s not quite as good as a blowjob, but her boobs are big enough to fully engulf you, and that’s pretty great… but you can’t think about that right now.

“No, babe, we need her to—”

You just can’t get a word in today, can you? Jiu’s mouth covers yours. Her tongue dives in, stealing away whatever you were going to say and the throat on your dick turns any thoughts into pleasured moans. But that is a problem in and of itself, the throat on your dick. Because it’s not Jiu’s.

Sneaking a glance down, you see that it is in fact Gahyeon whose head has been shoved and is now deepthroating you with no resistance. Her hair is bunched up in Jiu’s hand, and she’s bent over at one hell of a severe angle. Her ass looks real good in those tiny, tight shorts from up here.

“Please, wait for just a second, Jiu.”

She backs off, but only barely. Her eyes capture yours, lock them in place, and throw away the keys. “Yes, honey?” Jiu has never been good at hiding her smiles.

“Okay, let’s fuck her.”

“Yeah!” Jiu jumps with joy, and would have continued the alliteration if allotted adequate hours, but instead she kisses you again, on the nose, cheek, and lips before falling onto her back to undress.

Ignoring the storm of projectiles that Jiu’s clothes become, you actually take a good look at Gahyeon. Her eyes are still half closed, just like before. In fact, her whole face is slack, fully relaxed, not something you often see when your cock (or anyone’s) is fully stuffed down their esophagus. A light bidirectional breeze tickles your stomach at a steady rate though, so if there’s a lesson to be taken away here, it seems the real secret to comfortable deepthroat is to be entirely unresponsive to the dick you’re sucking. Both arms are resting to her right side, where they landed after she was told to sit up.

Once Jiu is naked though, things change up rapidly. She grabs Gahyeon by the hips and yanks backward. Being the ragdoll that she currently is, Gahyeon limply falls forward and end up with one cheek shoved up against your hip. Miraculously, your dick being so far down her throat is what prevents her from face planting at the foot of the bed. Jiu pays this awkward positioning no mind as she, bare-handed, rips apart the sides of Gahyeon’s shorts and the underwear beneath, as if you needed the reminder that she’s both the beauty and the beast in your relationship. If it turns out she pulled everything off correctly today, she might be the brains too… Nah, she’ll always be your favorite dumbass. How on Earth did she convince you that she taught university level chemistry?

You politely readjust Gahyeon so she’s flush with your pelvis again, and you start to thrust. “Gabriella…” you start.

“Gahyeon,” Jiu corrects you as she yanks Gahyeon’s legs back again, diving between them and hungrily pressing her face into Gahyeon’s ass crack.

“Right. Gahyeon, hold yourself up and suck.”

Oddly, she doesn’t do as she’s told. That’s not how this normally goes. You continue thrusting down her throat, kind of monotonously. “Gahyeon?”

Jiu comes up from Gahyeon’s ass for a breath and to let you know, “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I forgot to mention, you need to say the trigger word.”

“You gave her a trigger word?” you ask, actually somewhat impressed, “Nice! What is it?”

Jiu beams a cheesy smile. “It’s ‘titties!’”

FUCK.

“TITTIES?!” you can’t contain the shout. Gahyeon twitches, but otherwise remains unresponsive.

“Hehehe, yup!” Jiu looks so pleased with herself.

“It’s supposed to be something that she’s not likely to hear!”

Jiu cocks that eyebrow again and waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, no decent person says ‘titties’ in public.”

You palm your face with both hands. One isn’t enough. Gahyeon slides off your cock and face plants at the foot of the bed. So much for avoiding that. “Dammit, everybody says ‘titties’ in public these days! More and more people every day!”

“But…” Jiu takes a quick breath. “If more people are saying it every day, that means not everyone is saying it in public yet.”

Claw down your cheeks, leaving red streaks. “That’s not the fucking point, Jiu! Lots and lots of people say it these days, especially on college campuses!”

Jiu screws up her face the way she does when she tries really hard to find the answer to a tough question. “Okay, how do we get rid of it?”

“Just tell her, but it doesn’t go away immediately. Every time she hears it, it lasts a little longer.”

“Oh. Easy. Ey, Gahyeon! Forget about ‘titties’ okay? It’s not your trigger word anymore.”

You glare at Jiu, but she ignores it, happily going back to devouring whichever hole she was working on before.

“Okay,” you whisper, “okay okay okay. Gahyeon, get up on your elbows.”

This time, Gahyeon does as she’s told, propping herself up. Excellent. You lift her head by the chin. You’ve always had a thing for a good pair of lips—it’s no wonder that you’re dating Jiu (for that, among her many other qualities)—so you find yourself rather taken with Gahyeon’s. They’re very slightly thinner than Jiu’s, but they’re curvy, like the rest of the girl. You run your thumb over her lower lip, simply taking the time to admire her. Jiu has good taste. And if what Jiu’s told you about the attempted seductions is accurate, so does Gahyeon.

“Tell me if you can talk now,” you mumble.

“I can,” Gahyeon mumbles back. Her voice is kind of… creaky.

“Are you any good at sucking cock?”

“Yes.”

“And do you enjoy sucking cock?”

“Sometimes.”

You roll your eyes at the lukewarm answer and straighten up so that your dick is directly in front of Gahyeon’s lips again. “Tonight, you love sucking cock. So take it deep.”

It’s still a requirement to place your dick to Gahyeon’s lips before she starts. In the state she’s in, she can only really react to physical touch and sounds consistently. She should be able to see, but what she sees may not be exactly the same as what she perceives. You’d be very curious to know what she is currently perceiving, but her ability to describe it is most likely inadequate, or even entirely inaccurate.

Regardless, she does as she was told. Just like before, she gets all the way down, but now it’s intentional (technically). And she is loving it (technically). There’s not a gag to be heard as she takes your cock as far down her throat as it will go, backs away until the tip is at her lips, and the process repeats. The corners of her lips curl up into the tiniest smile (at least, more than usual).

“Honey? Mind if I use this slut’s mouth?” Jiu asks you after a bit.

You’re tempted to say no and follow through with this face fuck until completion, but you know what they say: Always let your girlfriend do whatever she wants with the sluts that she brings into the house under mysterious circumstances. It’s common courtesy.

“Sure thing, babe. Gahyeon, get on your back so you can service Jiu.”

Gahyeon’s movement is suspiciously sluggish, as she slowly extracts your cock from her throat. She blinks a few times before pushing herself onto her hands and knees.

“What’s taking you so long?” you ask.

“I don’t understand,” Gahyeon responds, stopping her movement altogether.

“What part?”

“I don’t know a Jiu.”

You’re briefly puzzled, but you figure out the problem in the moment immediately before Jiu clears the air.

“My students call me Ms. Kim.”

You scowl. “Not even ‘Professor’ Kim, huh?”

Jiu shakes her head and shrugs.

Annoyed, you grab Gahyeon by the arm. She has no mechanism to resist. “Don’t you respect your professors, Gahyeon?”

“No,” she says simply.

Annoyance justified, you continue, “Why not?”

“They claim authority that they don’t generally deserve.”

“What if they work really hard?”

“It doesn’t matter if their ability to teach is hampered by the school.”

“Then why go to school?!”

“Taking down an establishment is impossible without knowing it intimately.”

You and Jiu both blink in surprise.

“Well, okay… What about your cooking professor?”

“I love Ms. Kim.”

Jiu puts her hand to her mouth and squeaks out, “You do?”

“Yes.”

Well now you’re getting somewhere. You lay Gahyeon down on her back and release her arm. The handprint fades slowly. “Why do you love Ms. Kim?”

“She teaches a valuable, practical skill without being pretentious and doesn’t shill fascist propaganda to her students. She is also extremely attractive.”

You smirk at Jiu, but continue addressing Gahyeon, “Have you tried to seduce Ms. Kim?”

“Yes, with minimal effort to avoid disrupting her work.”

“How would you feel if you did disrupt her?”

“I would feel the need to apologize.”

Jiu’s lower lip quivers and her eyes glisten with tears yet again. Crying is not an incredibly uncommon occurrence for her.

“Would you consider being her slutty little sex slave?”

“No.”

What a fucking downer! All that build up only for her to reject the proposal! You and Jiu gawk at each other incredulously.

“What?!” you demand, “Why not?! You just said you tried seducing her and find her extremely attractive, both of which are totally valid!”

“Unbalanced power dynamics in sexual relationships are morally reprehensible.”

Jiu and you share a look down at Gahyeon’s supine form and back, and then you both burst into laughter. Forget her being a downer, this girl’s hilarious!

You give Gahyeon’s bare thigh a couple of hearty slaps. “Sure, sure! That’s a good one, Gahyeon. You want to be a slut for Jiu!”

Then you remember that Gahyeon doesn’t know Jiu as “Jiu,” so you open you mouth to course correct, but Jiu goes first.

“Yeah, you little slut! You are going to get weak in the knees for Ms. Kim from now on. Hearing her voice will make you uncontrollably horny. Her spit will be a delicacy to you.”

You smile broadly. Jiu really has learned a lot. She’s incepting Gahyeon correctly, using the second person future tense without contractions! What a fantastic, sinister girlfriend you found yourself!

“Your ‘morals’ will always be worth compromising when it comes to Ms. Kim,” Jiu keeps going, voice curiously peppy for something so dark, “Ms. Kim will own your holes, and your desire to please her in every way will rival your desire to undo the societal imbalances caused by authoritarian capitalists. You will do anything for Ms. Kim.”

Clap for that devious performance. Applaud, even. Jiu grins from ear to ear. “How was that, honey?”

“Excellent, babe! And for a first attempt, too? Incredible.”

Jiu blushes, “Well, I did try it once before on another student.”

You nod approvingly. “Did that one go just as well?”

“He hasn’t left his work station without first cleaning it in the last two weeks, so it seems to have been good!”

“Oh, that guy? I was wondering where all the complaints about him had gone.”

Jiu slips her hands beneath Gahyeon’s shoulders and yanks her to the side, finding a good position to straddle her head. “I can fill you in on the details later, but for now I think you should hurry up. Don’t want to let my new slut’s ass dry out.”

You hoist Gahyeon’s legs out of the way, dipping down to investigate. Indeed, her tiny rosebud is gleaming with saliva. So it was her asshole that Jiu was eating out! No sense in allowing such a lovely, courteous thing go to waste! Before you get back up and line up your cock, you give it a quick lick. You can’t help yourself. Jiu’s spit is delectable. Fitting, for such a good cook.

Speaking of fitting, your cock and Gahyeon’s ass? Fantastic fit. The preparation provided by Jiu is what really seals the deal though. The entry is a dream, metaphorically for you and something close to literally for Gahyeon. You expect you’ll have an absolute blast once you start fucking in earnest, but you want to wait for Jiu to get settled in first.

And Jiu does just that. She faces you and settles in on Gahyeon’s face, as expected, humming cheerfully. It’s hard to believe just how enamored you are with the way she wiggles side to side, getting a feel for the facial contours most suited to being seating.

“Get a taste of Ms. Kim’s pussy, Gahyeon, and tell her what you think of it,” you suggest, already knowing that Gahyeon is in for a treat.

Gahyeon sticks out her tongue, and immediately recoils with a gasp. “You taste so much better than I imagined!”

She knocked it out of the park with that one. It’s uncommon for anybody to show much of any enthusiasm in this state of mind unless they’re specifically told to.

“Awww!” Jiu coos, “You little sweetheart! Eat me out, deeply.”

Gahyeon seemed quite unbothered about sucking your cock, but she seems downright pumped about this. Her arms even leap up, blindly falling over Jiu’s thighs. Jiu squeals with delight as Gahyeon’s tongue flies over her clit, through her petals, and straight inside her. You can see the sparks in Jiu’s eyes before they shut tight, the instability in her legs before she presses her palms into Gahyeon’s breasts, and the crack of a smile before she groans in blissful passion.

Oh, Jiu. Such a good woman, doing such bad things.

Suddenly, you remember you’re balls deep inside this girl’s ass. Right. You can admire Jiu and still get yourself off.

Pull back a stroke and slam back in. It doesn’t matter one bit to Gahyeon how rough you are, but you don’t want to do anything that would ruin Jiu’s enjoyment, so you push down on Gahyeon’s hips, pinning her mostly in place (it’s not perfectly effective) while you fuck her.

That puts you and Jiu face to face. Heavy breaths hit each other over and over. You kiss. You lean into each other, nipping lips and necks, giggling darkly. Sharing a little sex toy like this is perfect for affirming your affection for each other. Jiu stares into your eyes, trying desperately not to blink as she reaches climax.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, caressing her trembling jawline.

When she manages to get a lungful of air, Jiu whimpers back, “I love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” you return. You punctuate with a new kiss, firmly gripping the back of Jiu’s head to ensure you can stay attached while you both pound and grind away. You even give her hair a tight little tug, which seems to give her a miniature, aftershock sort of orgasm.

Surely, you imagine, she must be all but drowning Gahyeon, but that’s no reason to stop. Not when the girl’s neurons are registering the fulfillment of her fantasies (whether they be brand new fantasies or older ones), and her body reacts accordingly, her pussy grooling all over your cock and making your ass-smashing even smoother. You even detect moment or two of slight tightening. All these orgasms urge you to join in, and you have no reason not to.

Except, perhaps, one.

You take Jiu’s hand and give her knuckles a quick kiss. “Jiu…”

She already knows. With a completely unnecessary seductive lip bite, she slips off of Gahyeon’s face and down until she’s fully on top of the girl, back to Gahyeon’s stomach, legs spread to fold around you.

Pull out of Gahyeon. The toy doesn’t matter anymore, not when you have Jiu below you. Your cum is for her. Without looking, you find her pussy easily, naturally, even. It’s unclear to you whether you were this close to cumming already or if it’s just Jiu’s body that speeds you along that path, but it begins as soon as you reach her furthest depths. Now this is a perfect fit. You drop on top of her, desperate for her mouth on yours again as you fill her with pump after pump after pump of your crème de la penis. She moans your name repeatedly between hitched breaths, and you repeat hers as well, voices indicative of a need that falls on every level of the hierarchy. Only once you’ve been thoroughly depleted do you notice the little sharp pains of Jiu’s nails digging into your shoulder and back.

Neither of you move, if you don’t include your heaving chests, focusing on each other’s eyes and bathing in each other’s auras. This time, you say it first, “I love you, Jiu.”

“I love you,” she tells you back.

The three words practically turn into a chant, until each of you is smiling uncontrollably and rubbing your noses together as if you can’t come up with something more interesting to do.

Eventually, as all things must end, you break apart with a last giggle. You’ve gone soft, but you don’t know when exactly your spent dick fell out of Jiu. Taking a quick look, she’s leaking an incredible amount of cum directly onto her student’s pussy.

Sighing wistfully, Jiu reaches back over her shoulder to stroke Gahyeon’s hair. “Well, how long do you think it will be before she’s begging me to use her?”

“Well, normally it takes a few months for someone to mull it over, but every time she goes under it’ll speed things up. If someone were to give her a super common trigger that she’ll hear accidentally multiple times a day… maybe two, three weeks?”

Jiu whines incoherently and rolls off of Gahyeon’s body, casually grabbing a boob and rolling it about. “Oh, I’m sorry for having faith in humanity, that people would have the decency not to say ‘titties’ in public. Anyway… I guess I’ll just have to keep her close while I wait.”

You nod approvingly and massage the back of Jiu’s leg.

“Hey, since you said she wants to be my slut tonight, what do you think would happen if I woke her up right now?” Jiu asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Gahyeon, wak—”

Your anxiety spikes.

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