#chicken tenderly

[cosmophalhemr]

Going through the new event and rooms like

[milktea-grn]

quietly holds chicken

[miaumiaoumao]

So i wake up, look at tumblr, and see 13ISH NOTIFICATIONS. Someone found my goober and rb it and now all the artists i admire are also rb'in my goober

How dare you ò-ó (/silly /aff)

Tober deserves all the love and appreciation!

I see Tober, I reblog Tober!

[triviareads]

new favorite niche medieval romance trope unlocked: big man on a big horse carrying something significantly smaller, preferably a baby or a chicken.

[wetchickenbreast]

the thing is i respect and appreciate gen 3 monster high but she will never ever reach the level of cunt servage in my heart as gen 1 did

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

Follow @punkshort-notifs for fic updates ❤️

[icaruspendragon]

Hey I just wanted to say thanks, because idk why this didn't just occur to me, but I've been missing "family" meals, the kind of meals I get to make for people and sit down with people I love since I came out and had to leave my house, and idk why but you posting about having family dinners with your friends where you host them made me realize that like, that's something I can still do. If I don't have the people who will invite me over to eat a meal anymore I can always be the person who invites others over myself and idk, I just wanted to say thanks

this warmed my heart in ways i don’t know how to describe.

family dinner started because i’d get some friends over on tuesdays to watch supernatural prequel the winchesters and i’d make them dinner for their troubles. i was feeding like five people max. but then the show ended and one of my friends got a new job and had to move an hour away so we moved it to the weekend so she could still come.

and then i realized that cooking is actually a form of self care for me (let’s not examine too closely how my self care is still taking care of others, it’s been discussed enough in therapy). so we started inviting other folks. and family dinner went from five people regularly to seven. and then i’d have friends from out of town come and it’d be 15-17. and now it’s not unusual for a dozen people to show up at my house on a saturday night to drink and eat and make merry.

there’s a particular kind of warmth that comes from leaning against the entry to my dining room, glass of wine curled against my chest, seeing so many of the people i love sitting around my table as they laugh and bicker and eat a meal that i used so much love to make. food that i spent hours creating because they gave me the confidence and the desire to learn how to make new things. because the effort it takes for me to make pasta or gnocchi or sauces or broths from scratch is worth it. the hours i will spend standing over a hot stove as i make gumbo or chicken and dumplings or fried everything is worth it. the easy smiles and whiskey-reddened cheeks and raucous laughter and full bellies and warm togetherness is worth the trouble.

it makes me understand the last supper (you know, minus the foreboding of betrayal). there’s a divinity in making a meal to share with those you love.

i’ve yet to find a better way express my devotion than to say, “take this, all of you, and eat of it. for it is my love given up for you.”

because even though the darkness can be chasm-wide and canyon-deep, my love is wider and deeper. it’s the bridge over the consumption of it all.

when people sit at my table and break bread that my hands have tenderly prepared i see the point of it all. loving and be loved in return.

and sometimes that love is stored in poetic words and grand gestures. and sometimes, that love is stored in a stockpot full of soup. but they both accomplish the same thing at the end of the day. warmth and safety and care and devotion.

it’s love. plain and simple and small.

[hey-i-am-trying]

Qsmp ended but let's keep exchanging culture and language

I think it would be nice if we kept doing it even if we don't have the ccs anymore to be the voices of those exchanges. We could share expressions, untranslatable words or just little words we think are nice. You can also share some culture detail or facts about your country or language.

So, I will start with some of my favorites things in brazilian portuguese.

Untranslatable word

Cafuné - The act of brushing someone's hair tenderly with your fingers.

Anteontem - This one is not very exciting but I found funny that english doesn't have anything similar. It means the day before yesterday.

Expression

While we have a verb that translated to "give birth" (parir), we use "dar à luz" a lot too, the literal translation of this expression is "to give light".

"Amigo da onça" translated to "friend of the jaguar", we use to call someone that fakes to be a friend just to betrayed the person or use them.

Word I just like

Humming birds in portuguese are called beija-flor(flower kisser)

Fun Fact

Although tapioca and cassava are pretty popular in Asia, they are originally brazilian.

One of the most popular foods in a brazilian barbecue is chicken hearts, usually served in a skewer

[fandomnerd9602]

Farmer’s Market

Country!Wanda x Reader

Life around the Maximoff farm was falling into a lovely little routine.

Every morning, Pietro would head out to check on the crops and cattle. You and Wanda would go check on the eggs and chickens and horses.

By around 8, you would head into the little office that Piet got set up for you and do some work on your laptop. Meanwhile, Wanda would go and practice with her band the Good Witch Scarlett.

By the evening, you’d find yourself either cuddled with your favorite country girl on the couch or the three of you would head to the local watering hole where Wanda’s band would perform. They had been enjoying a new wave of popularity recently, even getting some talks with an agent. You were happy being your country girl’s manager for now.

You and Wanda found yourselves going to one of your favorite little outings during the week: the local farmer’s market. True, Pietro and his gal Crystal loved to run your little stall at the market too. It made for a nice little date day with your gal.

Pietro got to bring in a good source of income and trade with the rest of the farmers around your little town. Meanwhile you and Wanda got to wander the market arm in arm. No better way to spend a Saturday or Sunday afternoon in your mind.

One such day at the farmer’s market, you and Wanda wandered the stalls and came face to face with Agatha who was running a little jewelry stall.

“Hey stranger,” Agatha said with a smile, “fancy seeing you two here.”

“Hey Agatha” your gal smiled, looking at the handcrafted necklaces that her old friend made. “I swear ya get better and better with each necklace.”

“Ah shucks” Agatha said with a giggle, “thank you”

One particular necklace caught Wanda’s eye. It was a beautiful ruby stone necklace with intricate gold tracing around it. You noticed how your country gal was eyeing it up.

“How much for this necklace?” you asked.

“Five bucks if you throw in a little box of your famous Maximoff strawberries” Agatha responds.

You hand her a ten dollar bill as Wanda rushes back and grabs a little box of strawberries from Pietro’s stall.

“Thanks Agatha” you whisper to her as she puts the necklace in a small velvet box.

“Wanda’s a good pal of mine.” she shrugs, “I’ve never seen her as happy as she is when she’s with you. Best to take care of her, got it?”

“I will” you respond as Wanda comes back with the box of strawberries for her old pal.

You tenderly took the necklace out and put it around Wanda’s neck. Her emerald eyes just stared into yours adoringly.

“It fits perfectly” you remarked with a smile.

“Just like you for me, city boy” she smirked before pulling you into a small yet powerful kiss.

“Get a room you two” Agatha snickers, “or a barn”

Tags @lifespectator @idkwhatever580 @julieromanoff @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @olsenmyolsen

[girl-lostconnection]

Watching cooking documentary on Netflix (“Salt fat acid heat”, if anyone likes them as much as I do) and it got me thinking about Simon Riley with S/O that brings tasty gifts from their travels.

Cheeses and cured meats and teas and full on recipes to try at home. The man comes home from deployment, sees his sweetheart’s bags and practically throws himself through the door because god, he’s eating GOOD that evening.

The house smells heavenly, there is already something on the stove and there are the array of cheeses and meats on the countertops, beautifully cut and presented with some cut fruits. And yeah, he feels a little like a toddler on whom you test drive taste combinations (not that he’s complaining), but the bigger part of him — the one that remembers food insecurity and the one that is very very responsible about food and generally food sensitive — is over the moon.

I feel like he’d be someone who would love to receive actual edible gifts that were bought with him in mind.

He starts dating and puts good ten pounds (some happy relationship weight would do him good), eyes crinkling with excitement when you urge him to take a bite or a sip. To taste for you and tell what he thinks.

I feel like Simon would enjoy a lot different kinds of food — he’s incredibly open-minded in that regard, he has zero allergies and insatiable appetites of a dumpster fire. He’s gonna finish it all.

But I could bet that meat is his favourite. Red meat — tenderly cooked, still a little bloody. Birds like duck or chicken, fish and seafood.

As long as it’s hot and hearty he’s gonna eat it all up.

[notapradagurl7]

Hey boo, I have a cute lil request for Mr. Mufasa, him and his boothang attending Jamaican carnival together, having a wonderful while are absolutely cutting a rug, slow whining and grinding, sensual eye contact, as well as displaying a view hidden and freaky tricks that gets Aaron’s animalistic side seriously riled up. Garnering a bit of attention, hoots, whistles, and laughter ensue around them as they continue to bump and grind like nobody’s watching. By the time it’s time to go home Aaron is absolutely feral, what happens next 🤩

Have This Dance.

Pairings: Black Fem! Reader x Aaron Pierre.

Summary: See Ask. You and your London boy attend a Jamaican carnival together, having an amazing time while things get a little freaky between y'all.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz

@uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn

@secretlifeoofmarpessa @dpennedit

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert

@5starr-staciii @pickuptruck01

@lady-olive-oil @23jammy @zillasvilla @musicisme333

@chaoticcoffeequeen

A/N: I love this one this was so cute to write, thank you for this! lovely anon, I had fun writing this. 🩷 don't forget to like, comment, reblog and drop a request if you like, enjoy!

Warnings: fluff, grinding, smut, sensual eye contact, Aaron’s animalistic side, catcalling, spanking, praise, unprotected sex, a feral Aaron, slight breeding kink, slow whining, playful banter, fifth, dirty talk, consensual for both parties, hip rolling, a horny reader, not real, fictional. a naughty fic, Words: 2k

————

The sound of dancehall music boomed through the speakers up above, the vibrant green and black, yellow Jamaican flag hung high on the towering white polished flagpole, the scent of jerk chicken, and festival spices wafted through the air, mingling with the laughter and joy of the carnival.

You and Aaron were lost in the rhythm, bodies moving in perfect sync, each grind and sway igniting the kind of fire that only summer nights could inspire.

“I'm so excited to be here, thanks for taking me Aaron,” You exclaimed with a smile, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek but he turns his head to kiss your lips tenderly.

Aaron nodded at you and smirked back, his eyes sparkled with excitement as he surveyed the carnival, “Anytime, love. This is my favorite place to go when I'm feeling down, it's like coming back home,”

You and your man Aaron were at a Jamaican carnival close to the islands, with the sight of black people in vibrant costumes, the women shook their tails and ambiance was exciting. It was so perfect, it made you slightly homesick.

“Yeah, I'm missing home a bit, baby,” you told him with a lip pout.

“We gotta go on a trip to Jamaica,” He mentioned with a smile, kissing your forehead

Aaron made a mental note to plan a birthday trip to Jamaica for you, since you were getting homesick. Taking a vacation was definitely what you wanted.

“I'll be sure to do that when you're ready, darling.” Aaron spoke up with a reassuring nod.

He sported a white tank top, paired with a half-buttoned-up collared short-sleeved shirt, matching pants with cool sneakers on his feet. He wore his circled-shaped glasses behind his attractive face.

His hands found their way to your waist, fingers resting into the softness of your dark brown skin, while your own hands tangled in his curls, pulling him closer as you shared those heated glances that spoke volumes.

“Don't start something you can't finish,” you whispered to his ear, smirking.

“I always finished, last time you said that shit, you learned a lot

He loomed above you, his strong arm wrapped around your waist while yours secured his. Your head leaned against his arm, your ginger box braids pulled back into a ponytail.

You wore a green Jamaica skirt paired with a matching t-shirt, accentuating your curves while sporting sandals.

Your boo Aaron was a proud South London boy, he was also of Jamaican, Curaçaoan and Sierra Leonean descent while you were of Jamaican and Caribbean descent from your grandparents.

“What should we do first?” You asked him, lightly tapping your chin.

“How about we hit the dance floor first? I hear they’ve got some of the best DJs in the game spinning right now. Plus, I can’t wait to see you show off those sexy moves,”

You felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought of dancing together. “Alright, let’s go! I’ll show you right now,” you replied, pulling him closer as you navigated through the crowd.

“You think you can handle me?” he challenged, his voice low and playful, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Oh, I can handle you just fine,” you shot back, hips rolling in a way that had him biting back a groan.

As you reached the dance area, the rhythm of the music enveloped you both. The bass thumped through your chest, Your hips swaying with the booming beat and Aaron tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“Just feel the music with me babe,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

With every beat, you began to lost yourself in the rhythm, your body moving in sync with Aaron’s. His hips grind forward with yours, making him bite back a groan. You could hear him panting slightly heavily, not in panic.

The vibrant colors of the costumes, the laughter, and the energy around you made your heart race. Garnering a bit of attention from the crowd, cheers, whistles, a few hoots and joyful laughter. Bumping and grinding while Aaron moved his hips with yours perfectly.

“Look at you, dancing like nobody's watching,” he teased, his breath warm against your ear. With a playful hip roll, you responded, your eyes never leaving his.

“Maybe you'll like this dance, London boy,” you teased with a smirk, your hands on his arms.

Your ass repeatedly whining in a circle onto his clothed crotch, he grunted and felt the blood rush through his dick, his tongue gliding across his lush lips. Watching you bounce against him spurred him on.

“Just like that, you're perfect,” Aaron praised, his voice deepened with his British accent. Turning you on.

The music changed to a slower groove, you found yourselves grinding against each other, the chemistry between you palpable. Aaron’s hands roamed your hips, guiding you as you swayed together.

“So this is what you wanted to do?” You teased, raising an eyebrow while biting your lips to muffle a moan.

“More than you know,” he replied, his voice tinged with a playful growl. The way he looked at you made your insides flutter.

Finally, the music changed to reggae, and the two of you stopped dancing, you earned applause from the crowd and you giggled at the attention, your eyes flickered toward the striking 6’3 man with a smirk hovering over your pretty face.

“We move well together Aaron,”

“We sure do,“

Your hand gripped the back of his neck, drawing him closer for a passionate open-mouth kiss that made your clit throb, while he felt his dick grow hard and fuller.

You moaned with him in the kiss, your tongues twirling together and pulling away with a chain of spit between your lips and his plump ones.

you could see the wildness in Aaron's eyes. “I think we need to go home,” he said, his voice low and husky. You nodded, breathless from the dancing and the heat radiating between you both.

And with that, he drove you back to your humble home, and stepped inside quickly, locking the door behind himself. Aaron scooped you up in his arms and hurried into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed.

Clothes almost ripped, tossed aside on the floor, sloppy making out with each other and plopped onto the bed, soft smacking filled the room, you moaned in the kiss.

Aaron’s dick was thick, long and held in your palm, he groaned from your touch. “Put your dick inside me,”

“I don't have a condom, but i’m clean, I swear,” he reassured, kissing your lips twice.

“It’s alright, I'm clean too, I'm on the pill Aaron,”

He kissed your lips again, this time with fervor, he pushed his dick between your wet folds. You moaned wildly from the sudden friction but you needed this so much, “I missed this..ugh,” your hands rested on his shoulders.

His slim hips thrusting, rolling into you with a fast yet passionate rhythm, same as the dance floor you recently escaped, he groaned against your ear.

Relishing in the soft squelching sounds of your pussy sucking him back in, your walls latched around his dick too tight. “I missed this too,” he growled, trailing kisses upon your skin.

“Damn, you feel so good wrapped around me,” Aaron murmured, his voice of awe and pleasure as he buried himself deeper inside you.

You gasped from his tip hitting your sweet spot, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you urged him on. “Just like that, baby. Don't stop.”

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Taking me so well, fuck,” You watched every inch go in and out of you, could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you up just right, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each movement. Your moans grew louder and louder.

“Look at you, so perfect for me,” he said, his breath coming in quick bursts. He rutted against you, went harder, his mouth wrapped around your nipples, suckling them while pinching the other nipple.

“S-shit, you make me feel so good, Aaron,” You babbled, your voice breathless, hands balling into the sheets. Moaning at his words, hips moving with that pace.

Aaron’s lips curled into a smirk, his confidence radiating as he leaned down to capture your lips once more. Your moans muffed until he pulled away to gaze into your eyes. You gasped for air once his fingers pinched your clit, he went harder and your essence pooled his dick even more, “Fuck..me..like that..” you cried out, tears falling down your cheeks.

He pulled out, flipped on your side. Gripping your hips once he slid back into your pussy with ease, “I'll never get tired of you, pussy’s so tight..” he grunted deeply, his hand gripping your asscheeks and spreading them apart.

At the moment, you felt everything of him, your mouth parted wide with words coming out, Aaron watching you bounce after every thrust,his swiveling at a new pace, “Teasing me on the dance floor, wetting my dick like this, that's my girl,” he sang playfully, his hands tracing shapes on your stretch marks over your ass.

That man must've have been absolutely feral in the festival, his thrusts were relentless, The kiss was deep and fervent, a perfect blend of passion and urgency. He pulled away just enough to gaze into your eyes, his expression filled with a wild intensity.

“Tell me what you want, love, I want to hear you say it,” Aaron urged, his hazel-greenish eyes locked on your brown ones, watching you fall apart underneath him, he ducked his head between your breasts, kissing your dark brown skin lovingly, fully enamored with you, every part of you.

“I want you to make me scream your name, just you like did on the dance floor,” you replied, your voice shaky but cut by a moan, a sultry whisper.

His eyes darkened with desire, and he increased his pace, hitting all the right spots that made your body arch and writhe beneath him. “Scream for me then, baby. Let everyone know who’s got you like this.”

You bit your lip, holding back the sounds threatening to escape, but the way his dick moved inside you made it impossible. With each thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge, your pussy clenching eagerly to his every command. His hand wrapped around your neck, his thumb pulled down your bottom lip, allowing you to scream out.

“Come on, don’t hold back,” he coaxed, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I want to hear you.”

You turned around, facing him forward in missionary and gripped his shoulders tight, you screamed, your body shaking as the man thrusted deeply within you, your eyes closed shut, and the waves of pleasure crashed over you. “Aaron!” you cried out, the sound echoing through the room.

“That's it, just like that,” he groaned, his own release following soon after as he buried himself deep within your pussy, holding you close as you both rode out the waves of ecstasy together. “Cumming..”

“Cum with me, let me feel you on my dick,” Aaron encouraged, wrapping his arms around you in a bear hug.

As you both came undone, he shot thick jets of his warm cum inside, you screamed even loudly, down from your high, he collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You turned to face him, a satisfied smile gracing your lips.

“That was…” you began, searching for the right words.

“Amazing?” he finished for you, pulling you closer to him, a playful glint in his eyes. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, your heart swelling with warmth. “I can’t wait for our next adventure together.”

With a soft chuckle, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “Just wait till I take you to Jamaica. You won’t know what hit you.”

You giggled, excitement bubbling within you as you snuggled closer. “I believe you, London boy. Just promise not to keep me waiting too long.”

“I promise,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, his eyes filled with affection.

“Now, let’s take a shower, then rest before I have to show you just how much I missed you.”

As you settled into his embrace once he scooped you up, he carried you into the bathroom. Running you a hot bath while he took a hot shower, washing yourself clean.

Both of you stepped out, squeaky clean. Aaron smacked your asscheek and you hissed, giggling in response. Drying off with towels as you dressed yourself in a long tee shirt, while Aaron puts on some grey sweatpants, you smirked at the man while he towered over you in the bedroom.

“You know better than to tease me with those sweatpants, Aaron, let’s go to bed,” You shot back, chuckling lightly.

“Alright, let’s go to bed,” Aaron pouted with a chuckle, guiding you toward the soft bed. He flipped the light switch.

You gently plopped into the bed, with your British boothang Aaron. He grabbed the covers, laying them over both of you, he kissed your cheek twice and lips, his arms wrapped around you, snuggling close. You smiled as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

————-

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

sfw first kiss headcannons please? 🍎

aww first kisses! this was so much fun to write! thank you for the ask, dear <3 i saw the apple emoji, but wrote for all five boys, so i hope that is still okay.

rating: sfw cw: kissing ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier: -It sort of happens…accidentally? -Xavier has been ignoring your text messages, and you sent him some funny videos that you knew he would love -Since he just lives upstairs, you decide to take it upon yourself to make sure he is doing okay -When you knock on the door, it takes him a while to answer it. When he finally does, his hair and clothes are rumpled and he is rubbing his eyes -“Is everything okay? I guess I fell asleep early.” -His voice is that scratchy sort of sleepy and you feel your cheeks flush at how adorable he is -You: “Everything is fine, you just weren’t texting me back so I got worried.” -He smiles, eyes softening, and then invites you in -You’re sitting on the couch together and while you watch the videos you sent, he is starting to doze off again -You: “Xavier are you still tired?” Xavier: “Mmm, a little. Nap with me?” -When you agree, you both reach for the blanket that fell off the couch, and collide into each other, bumping heads -Giggling, you move to pull away, but Xavier tilts your chin up and kisses you -“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Xavier murmurs in between kisses. “I’ll always be by your side.”

Zayne: -This man has been stressed trying to plan the perfect time to finally kiss you -He’s thought about it since you were children, but never actually worked up the courage to do it until now -First, he plans to do it right when he picks you up to get the nerves out of the way, but when you answer the door you look so cute he feels tongue tied. He tries again at dinner, but a bunch of waiters come out singing ‘happy birthday’ to another table. Then he plans to do it at the coffee shop, but you point out that he has whipped cream on his upper lip, so he chickens out again -He resigns that it won’t happen today, but then you decide to take a different turn on the way home from your date, out across the bridge that overlooks Linkon City -He’s holding your hand as the two of you stare out at the water and twinkling city lights -He thinks: Now, just do it now. Don’t lose your nerve -You: “Zayne…I…” Zayne: “Yes?” -He is completely caught off guard when you stand on your tiptoes to give him a swift peck on the lips -When you pull away, both of you are furiously blushing and you stutter out some sort of apologetic excuse -Zayne takes this moment to cup your face in his hands and kiss you more tenderly, more gently, trying to infuse each moment with how much he has wanted this to happen for so long -You: “I was worried you would take it badly.” Zayne, chuckling softly and brushing your cheek with his thumb: “And I was worried I’d never actually get the chance."

Rafayel: -Rafayel is lamenting his lack of inspiration when you visit one day -Dramatic fishie moping around the house, wondering if he lost his talent, until he gets a lightbulb moment with that familiar mischievous grin -Rafayel: “You could always pose for me, cutie.” You: “Me? Why?” Rafayel: “If you don’t, these artist hands that bring magic and joy to the world will go unused forever.” -Cue eye roll, but you agree -You feel awkward, having never posed for a portrait before -Raf is looking from his canvas, to you, and then frowns. Holding out a thumb and squinting with one eye, he says, “You’re a little lifeless.” -You tell him it’s because you’ve never done anything like this and he laughs, hands in his pockets as he walks over to you -Rafayel: “You just need a little more color in your cheeks.” -He leans forward and silences the question you are about to ask with his lips. You’re stunned for a moment, but then you kiss him back, letting your arms loop around his neck and pull him closer -He pulls away, cheeks equally as flushed as you feel, and then says, “There we go, but I don’t know if my painting could possibly do you justice now.”

Sylus: -On your way to work one morning, you see a flyer about a local Night Market, and you text the details to Sylus -Sylus responds with: “Trying Linkon cuisine with a local? Hmm, alright sweetie. I’ll be back in town tomorrow. Be ready by 6:00.” -The next evening you arrive at the market, but angry gray clouds are starting to appear overhead. You brush it off, ready to enjoy your time with him -You meander all the way down to the end of the stalls (he orders one of everything that you say sounds good), talking about everything and nothing, trying to ignore the way your heart pounds in your chest whenever he catches you staring at him -You: “Want dessert? They have a cotton candy stall here that shapes it like different animals.” Sylus: “Sure, then I’ll have two cute kittens to look at.” -When the kitten shaped cotton candy is ready, Sylus holds it out for you to take a bite together -At this moment, the sky takes the perfectly inopportune time to open up, and it begins to rain -Sylus lifts his jacket to shield you from the rain as you run towards a nearby tree for cover. By the time you get there, the cotton candy has all but completely dissolved  -Disappointed, you look down at the stick Sylus is holding and say, “I’m sorry about the kitten.” -Sylus, drenched from the rain, laughs in a way you’ve never heard before. A jovial sounding chuckle, that is loud and sincere and real -He tilts your chin up to look at him, brushing strands of wet hair out of your face as he leans in and says, "My favorite one is still right here in front of me.” -He brushes his lips against yours, tentative at first until you kiss him back, and then he lifts you off of your feet to kiss you more fully. -As droplets cascade from the sky, you wonder if anything will ever be as romantic as a first kiss in the rain

Caleb: -Let’s be honest, the two of you shared at least one kiss when you were younger -But Caleb wants a redo because no way that time you dared him to kiss you in the attic actually counts -He’s helping you clean out your closet, because you told him that he owes you a favor but also because he wants to spend time with you. He stumbles upon a big box labeled “Memories,” dusty and shoved up on the top shelf -When you come back into the room with lemonade for both of you, you’re mortified as he rifles through the box filled with your most precious memories -You: “What are you doing?” Caleb: “What, are you embarrassed about what I might find?" -He holds up an envelope with your ten year old handwriting scrawled “super secret future plan, DO NOT OPEN!” on the front. -You lunge towards him, needing to get the envelope away from him before he opens it and sees that your super secret future plan was a drawing of a house and two kids with him -In your determination, you haven’t noticed that you’ve fully straddled him until your chin bumps the top of his head  -The fear of him discovering your secret dissipates, and it is replaced with a tension in the air that you can both feel -“You don’t have to hide anything from me,” Caleb says, nuzzling his nose against yours -Caught up in the moment of it all, you lean in and kiss him -Just enough to catch him off guard and just enough to snatch the envelope away -“Ha!” you say triumphantly, but the telltale blush on your cheeks tells Caleb all he needs to know about how you really felt   -Still though…guess he’s going to need another do over

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 8﹕✦﹕┈・୧

Hawks x f!reader -> Cockwarming

Event Masterlist

a/n: soft hawksie, comfort, slice of life <3, cockwarmin.

there are times your work, your day absolutely drains the fuck out of you. you want nothing more than keigo and to be covered in the duvet of his wings. today you were late from work, reaching home at 10 pm. it was irritating— you were drained and your shoulders were slumped, keigo noticed the lack of ease and effortlessness in your body language and facial expressions in the morning itself. a sudden murmur when he wore his hero jacket, “why don’t you take an off from work sweetie? take my card and spoil yourself a bit mm?” keigo tried, but you dismissed his proposal. “no, im good thanks kei” your smile also seemed forced—

now that you had returned home, keigo came over to you immediately. wearing his grey joggers and a white tee. fuck he didn’t even have to try !! he was so ethereal. the blazing sun had toned down in japan & keigo’s golden tan with it. you walked towards him, hugging him eagerly. a musical chuckle escaped him as his hands groped your back, “aww~ my cute little birb.” he mumbles, leaning back and kissing your lips softly, melting away your stress and worries. “dinner?” he muses, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“mhm, what do we have?” you asked him, nuzzling against his palm when he cupped your face. “mm, whatever you want is what we have. keigo’s kitchen especially catered to his baby girl.” he grinned. you love that he addressed himself as keigo and not ‘hawks’ in front of you.

“some chicken soup.” you hummed, smiling back at him tenderly, through tired eyes.

“gotcha~” he took out his phone to check for outlets and you chuckled, “hey now, wasn’t this keigo’s kitchen?” keigo bit his lip, blushing with a grin. “yes it is, just out sourcing some stuff.” he winked, sounding exactly like the man of your dreams — oh wait, he is.

the dinner came in quick, by the time you were out of the shower, a stray plume caressed your cheek, making you giggle as you paved your way towards the dining area. “dinner is ready missy, sit down.” keigo looked at you, still in the bathrobe and whistled. “oh my~” you blushed and rolled your eyes at his antics, sitting down and having dinner with your husband. things seem so great when you start counting these little moments that life awards you with your man.

once the dinner was finished, where you talked to him about work, he talked about his— well, as much as he could share of course. you got up. flustered at what you’re about to ask. “wanna, cockwarm.” the words came out of your mouth easy. keigo smirked, “mm? want to feel daddy that close huh?” you nodded, blushing and looking down.

you nodded, looking into his eyes because you know he likes it. “yeah, wan’- wan’ to feel you close keigo.” you looked down, fuck his siren gaze with his marked golden eyes made you shiver. “and too tired for the whole sex.” you pouted, while keigo observed you in awe.

“mkay, if my sweet little girl wants that, who the hell am i to deny her demands? don’t want to be a bad daddy to my kid.” he winked, carrying you bridal style, a low purr escaping him when you lean against his chest as he took you to your shared bedroom.

“looks like gotta work you up first mm? how else are you gonna take daddy’s cock?” keigo smirked, oh he had no filter at times… you pouted, quite impatient and wanting to feel stretched & full already. after all these years with you, keigo has become an excellent mind reader. “okay okay~ let me get the lube, mm?” he cooed, pulling the knot of your bath suit and kissing your exposed tits. tugging at your nipples just to check how far he could go with them. they get really sensitive depending upon the time of the month & keigo doesn’t want to hurt his darling.

spreading your legs, pupils dilating in anticipation, keigo lubed up your pretty pussy and groaned when you arched your back at him rubbing your clit. “there she is, there she is.” he hums, spreading your cunt lips and thrusting himself in slowly. you arched your back and whined, gasping at the stretch. “fuck— i can’t.” you moaned when keigo pressed your pelvis, making you feel just how deep he’s reaching.

“that’s it sweetness, that’s it. ssh~ you’re taking it so well.” he crooned, kissing your neck and stilling. your eyes were glossing up. overwhelmed by the smouldering amount of love keigo showers you with. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he said it like a silent prayer, smiling tenderly at you and leaning beside, adjusting your position & kissing your forehead deeply. “cute. my cute little angel birdie.” he smiled, kissing your eyelids. “let it go for me okay? all your worries, all your stress. because i’d always be here.”

and he’ll always be there for you. <3 you don’t doubt that.

[d3add0vedonoteat]

Chicken Soup for Carmy

⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺

-

It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.

Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.

Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”

You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.

You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.

“Yeah?” His voice responded.

“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”

Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.

“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.

Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.

“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.

“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.

Love.

Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.

That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.

Yeah. Not special.

Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.

“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”

You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, in a bit.”

You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”

“What?” Carmy asked, confused.

“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.

You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”

“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”

“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”

He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”

Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”

Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.

All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I said I’ll walk home with you.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“

“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.

The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”

Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.

“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.

“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

“You live over there?”

“Yeah? Like a block down?”

There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.

“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”

Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-

“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”

Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”

Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[TF141 with a fragile reader]

Price

He couldn’t forget the first time he got the phone call from the hospital only to learn that you passed out and got sent there. You set him as your emergency contact, so when he knew that you were at the ER, he lost his usual calmness, even forgot to bring his favorite cigar with him, and rushed to the hospital. After the experience, he bought you a watch that could monitor your health state, and make sure you text him once in a while so he knew that you were okay. He goes with you to the return appointment too, and asks how to improve your health or take care of you more properly.

Soap

He’s not as worried as other men, not that he doesn't care about you, but he just chooses to keep an optimistic attitude. Your doctor tells you to do some exercise every day, and Johnny is your best companion. He will walk with you even though your pace is slow, he has all the patience to follow your speed, brings water and some snacks with him in case you get tired, and rambles and entertains you during the stroll so you won’t feel bored.

Gaz

He searches through the whole internet to understand your disease more, taking notes and buying the things or nutrients that could help you sustain your health. You sometimes forget to take your pills, and he will scold you tenderly while bringing you your medicines, he makes sure to stick notes everywhere in the house, so wherever you go, the notes remind you to take pills on time when he’s deployed.

Ghost

He always keeps an eye on you, You are frail — sometimes will even pass out — and this makes Simon additionally aware of your state. If he notices you start walking wobbly or your eyes are unable to focus, he will rush to your side and carry you to bed. Insist on wrapping you in 500 layers of clothes if you two are going out in cold weather, or force you to stay in bed and cook some chicken broth for you when you’re feeling sick.

[magdalence]

word count: 3,141

pairing: sylus/mc

rating: explicit (18+)

tags: spanking, humiliation, vaginal fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, clothed sex, oral sex, come eating, brat taming, degradation, porn without plot, penis in vagina sex

Sylus' got you bent over his lap, skirt pulled up around your waist. He threatened to put you over his knee if you misbehaved, and you countered with: put me over your lap and consider whatever you do to me as repayment. It made him smile at the time.

Or: you walk right into one of Sylus' clever traps trying to pay off a debt.

(cross-posted to ao3)

You haven’t been playing according to his rules, because, well, he’s frustrating, he knows exactly how to edge himself in under your skin and get to you. And if you’re honest with yourself – something he delights in pulling out of you, much to your chagrin – he’s so damn good at it you have started enjoying walking into the traps he sets for you.

Not that you’d ever admit it to him.

“Kitten…” He sighs, dragging a finger up your exposed thigh, the touch sending goosebumps shivering across your skin. Even when you don’t want to, your body betrays you near him, like he knows how to call it in ways you have never known before. It’s… Exciting. A tangled and messy feeling you don’t know what to make of. Some days you want to drown in it, let it suffuse you, let it take you completely.

Tonight is veering there. And you really want to clear out some of the debt between the two of you.

He’s got you bent over his lap, skirt pulled up around your waist. He threatened to put you over his knee if you misbehaved, and you countered with, put me over your lap and consider whatever you do to me as repayment. It made him smile at the time.

“Are you chickening out?” you ask defiantly, turning to look over your shoulder at him. “If so, just pull my skirt down and –”

The palm of his hand lands on your ass, hard, and you jump a little, shocked at the sting of pain unfurling throughout your body, and hot on its heels comes another sensation, a hunger whispering more.

He chuckles at your reaction. “I’d never back down on a promise to you,” he says, dragging his nails over the sore spot on your ass, and you can’t catch the moan in the back of your throat fast enough as it spills out. “I did say if you failed my test again, I’d have to truly discipline you.”

“Hardly felt it,” you lie, feigning as much haughtiness as you can muster.

His hand is quick to react, hitting the bottom part of your ass harder. You inhale sharply through your nose, biting the inside of your cheek. There’s not letting him know just how much it stings, and the other part of knowing what this kind of pain does to you.

“Can you keep count for me, kitten?” He tenderly strokes the same spot he just hit, and you whine, blinking hard as you nod. “I can’t hear you. With your words, please.”

“Two,” you say, and the second word lingers on your tongue, the key to giving him what he wants, and you swallow it back down hard. All you have to do is call him master, and a whole new realm opens up between you. But not yet. All you have to do is say please, and... It'll get to his head so fast.

“Two, good. Seems you have enough thought in your head.” His palm hits your ass again, lighter this time, a touch that feels distractingly good. “Make sure not to lose count?”

“Or else?”

“Or else, I drop you on the floor and leave this room.”

You want to choke him. You want to beg and plead and you want to tie him down and make him stay with you here forever, right in the grey zone of tipping over, and you want him to hit you again so bad before he notices you’re dripping on his tailored pants.

“Three. Four. Five. Ah, ahhh, six, seven, ah! Eight!” Your whimpers echo in the room, intertwining with the sound of his dry palm on the warm skin of your ass, always finding a new angle to hit against so that each impact stings just enough to make tears threaten to spill. Not enough, but just enough to wrench something open inside you.

“What an impressive show you’re putting on,” he hums, his feather-light fingertips dancing across your skin. “Could it be that you are distracting me from something?”

“Such as?”

His finger stops, drifting down between your thighs, and the humiliating sound of wetness fills your ears, a hot blush blooming down your face.

“If you were trying to hide it,” he says, dragging his nail along the seam of your panties, “you did a poor job. It’s been glistening since before I even hit you.”

You let out a frustrated groan, digging your fingers into his leg.

“I know you’re aching to say it,” he laughs, his free hand pulling at your hair until you’re strung between his hands, taut and wanton, your back arched in a perfect curve. “Why don’t you try me? I have my moments of mercy, you know.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you hiss, your hips twitching. “Nothing I’ve seen from you has been close to merciful.”

“Is that what you think of me?” he drawls, clicking his tongue. “That won’t do.”

He moves his knuckle against your wet cunt, pressing the fabric in between the folds until you feel it glued to your skin and soaked through completely. The breath catches in your throat as he runs his fingers down your labia, as he circles the swell of your aching clit without touching it directly. It’s infuriating how close he is, how little of a touch you’d need to fall over the edge right now, and yet – he won’t. He’s a bastard and he knows it.

“See?” He strokes his wet fingertips against the seam of skin at the back of your thigh. “I could be so good to you if you let me. All you have to do–”

“Nine,” you say, breathing between gritted teeth. You won’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet. He has to earn it with every inch of his rotten self.

“If you’re sure,” he sighs, sounding more bored than excited as he raises his hand and it falls hard and sharp on the curve of your ass. “You make everything so hard for yourself.”

He’s not wrong, but it only solidifies your iron will. For a moment, at least. There is a little bit more force in his hand this time, a flick of the wrist at the end of the strike that stings so sweet and horrid in your flesh. The pain feels fresher, sharper, and you are ashamed at how badly you want it.

“Ten,” you say, barely able to contain the moan as his hand meets your skin. “So did that put a dent in my debt?”

“Barely.”

You huff. “Fine. Eleven.”

“Bold.” His hand connects with your skin and it’s like fireworks going off in your body. “But do you think you can keep this up?”

“Twelve.”

Another slap. “I will admit, it is delicious when it is you asking for the punishment yourself.” His grip tightens on your hair, and the strain on your neck makes it harder to swallow – and worse, harder to grit your teeth. Like everything he does, it has to be intentional. He knows you too well already.

“Thirteen,” you say, but your voice has a flutter to it.

“As you wish.”

Pain straddling pleasure straddling your certain unraveling creeping closer.

“Fourteen,” you whine. He’s won, he’s known that since the start, but you cling to the hope of dragging it out just a little more.

“Don’t wear yourself out, sweetheart,” he murmurs, shifting his legs. “I wouldn’t want you to be too sore.”

With the change in position, you can feel a tell-tale hardness pressing against your belly, and your resolution begins cracking at the edges. You whine, mouth watering at the thought of his cock in you, jaw quaking as you speak.

“Fifteen…”

It is hard to tell what is singing louder in your body as he spanks you, the pleasure or the pain, the fine line between them blurred completely. All you know is that you’re so wet all he has to do is slide one finger inside you and you’d crumble.

“Had enough?”

You nod, straining against his hand holding your hair.

“And what do we say?”

“Please,” you whimper, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. You blink, lashes heavy, and draw in a shaky breath. “Please, Sylus, touch me.”

“I knew you’d break eventually.” He laughs, soft and tender, but his voice is husky, betraying him just as much.

In one smooth move, he shoves the underwear aside and dips two fingers inside you, and you let out a scream as a surprise orgasm ripples out from the touch, so hard and fast that it pulls you under. You shake and thrash on his lap, squealing as he won’t let you get away from his fingers, pushing them in to the final knuckle and curving them down against your abdomen.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, letting go of your hair to cup your chin, sticking two fingers into your mouth. “Now be still and take your reward like a good girl.”

The fingers in your pussy thrust in and out, the curve of them just right to hit your g-spot, and you don’t last long, still weak from the first orgasm he barely had to work for.

“You’re so easy for me,” he whispers in your ear, tip of his tongue touching the curve of it. “You’re soaking wet, all for me. Isn’t this a better use of your time? Of you?”

Your head spins from the way he’s talking, and you can’t come up with anything to snap back at him, shamefully sucking hard on his fingers instead, something to keep the drool from spilling from your lips.

His expert fingers press down inside you and you barely muffle the cry as another orgasm rolls through you, your entire body shaking as you feel the tell-tale wetness dripping down the inside of your legs. You moan and whimper, grinding futilely against him, unable to exert any control of your body.

“Ssh,” he intones, and you hold a shaky breath, listening.

Nothing, except your heart beating so hard you feel deaf to the world, and then: a wet drip-drip-drip on the cold marble floor.

“Hear that? That’s all you.”

Shame unfurls inside you, sticky and warm, and you feel how his fingering has opened you up. You clench around his fingers, but instead of continuing to fingerfuck you as you desire, he pulls them out and leaves you gaping open and empty, pushing you off his lap.

You squirm on the floor, humiliated and flushed and above all, weak – your limbs are soft, and it takes so much effort to even get up on your elbows to glare at him.

“You could try being gentle.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He bends down, wrapping your hair around his fist, hard enough to draw a hiss from your parched lips. “Now be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” He runs his thumb over your lower lip, and your gaze flutters down between his thighs. Despite the low lighting in the room and the black pants he wears, you can tell he’s hard.

“And what’s my incentive?”

“I believe you can see it for yourself, no? So get to work.” He drops you unceremoniously, your face falling flat into the puddle you’ve created on the floor from how hard he made you squirt.

His fine designer shoes clack against the marble as he circles around you, watching, waiting. You wait until he’s within your line of sight before you stick your tongue out and lean down, licking along the cold floor in one long stripe. It’s humiliating, and he loves the sight of it.

“How far you’re willing to fall for me,” he murmurs, studying you with a smug smirk.

Your tense breathing aches in your chest, and you dip your head down again, licking up as much as you can and raising your head back up to show your open mouth as you swallow, sticking your tongue out.

“Good enough?” you ask.

“For now, yes.”

His eyes shimmer a brighter shade of red and shadowy tendrils wrap around you, lifting you up from the floor – a sensation you haven’t quite gotten used to yet. You gasp and writhe as he beckons you along to the nearby couch, depositing you facedown on top of it.

Before you even have a chance to turn around, he pins you down with his body on top of yours, the heat and pressure making you moan.

“Stay still for me, darling,” he hums against your neck, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin. One of his hands find your neck, cradling it with a surprising amount of tenderness, his thumb swiping over your lower lip – and the other brushes against your naked ass, the telltale sound of a zipper opening making you whine deep in your throat.

“You could have ended that charade quicker if you’d just had some manners.” His cock freed, the tip brushes against your soaking wet folds and you think you might lose your mind if he doesn’t shut up and push into you already. “Then again, I adore watching you like this, rendered a filthy mess just for me to use.”

There’s a snappy demand on your tongue, but it turns to dust as he presses himself inside you from behind, pinning you down with his full body as he slides in slowly. His cock stretches you open, and you claw at the leather before he catches your hands and hold them still.

“Relax,” he whispers, biting your earlobe. “That’s just the tip.”

He takes his time, pressing and pushing inside of you, the position of you prone on the couch with him sliding into you from behind undoing you little by little. The angle has his cock dragging deliciously against all the good spots inside of you, and each time you think he’s all in he finds a way to press a little bit more.

When he finally, finally is flush against you and bottomed out, you heave a loud sob and feel a shivering orgasm drip out of you.

“How cute you are when you’re all sensitive like this.” He turns your face to the side, leaning in to lick at the tears sliding down your cheek. At the same time, he begins to move, a slow motion that drags against your insides and leaves you gasping for air. It’s too much it’s too good it’s too perfect, he fits inside you so well, he fills you up to the brim, and you can’t breathe properly for how good it feels to have him thrusting deep and hard inside you.

“Such a mess you’ve made of yourself.” He slides his hand down over your half-buttoned shirt, finding your breast and pinching the nipple so hard you cry out. “Sensitive? I’ll remember that.”

How dearly you wish he hadn’t stolen your way with words right about now.

When you cum again, he laughs, his tongue licking at your mouth until you stop quivering enough to return his kiss. He holds it and fucks you, slow and patient, wrenching pleasure after pleasure from you even as your ass aches from how he’s pressing down on the red welts he’s inflicted. You cry, moan, gasp and scratch at his hands, whimpering – but never for mercy, only for more.

As you orgasm, having lost count long ago, his breathing grows hot and heavy against your neck, and he leans his forehead against your back. The pace of his thrusts grow erratic, his fingers digging into your hips as he groans and buries himself deep inside of you, a hot heat following as he bites down on your shoulder when he cums.

Your breath trembles as he remains inside of you, and you feel… Messy, filthy, ruined, and absolutely adored. You rest your tear-stained cheek on the dark leather, his heart hammering hard against your rib cage as he goes soft inside you and you begin to feel the humiliating drip of his cum trickling out of you.

“It seems I’ve made a mess,” Sylus says, stroking his hand against your cheek. “That simply won’t do.”

You cry as he slides out of you, wanting him to stay longer, for hours, to keep his cock inside of you, to fill you up because that’s the best way to keep you, to use you.

With a tender touch, he guides you so you’re sitting somewhat upright, slumped against the backrest. You are a mess, drenched in both his and your own cum, skirt bunched up around your waist with torn seams at the thigh slit, breasts hanging out of your shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he stops briefly to admire you, something so gentle and loving in his gaze that it makes you melt.

He kneels down on the floor between your knees, spreading them apart and letting them rest on his shoulders as he leans close to your swollen cunt and licks a long stripe along the labia. You sigh, a shiver passing through your body.

“Has anyone ever told you how delicious you taste?”

Before you get a chance to reply, he takes the opportunity from you – something he seems to treasure doing, you’re realizing – and dips his tongue inside of you, licking and sucking. He cleans you out with his tongue, swallowing and humming each time he does. All the while, his intense gaze has you pinned down. There’s so much in it you can’t read, but there’s such a devotion to him that it makes you feel exposed. Naked, beyond everything. Laid bare for his consumption.

“Did that put a dent in the debt?” you ask, hoping to pull some focus back to yourself. It’s so hard when his tongue is inside of you, cleaning up all he’s done to you as if he is the one owing you something.

He leans back, swallowing loudly. “I’d say you got somewhere.” His eyes sparkle with mirth, touching his lips to the inside of your thigh before standing up, pulling your skirt down and adjusting your shirt to cover up your breasts. “Though you can come up with something better, can’t you kitten?”

You glare at him, opening your mouth to a snarl – and he catches your chin, smirking down at you before leaning in to kiss you deep and hard, the salt on his tongue sending an electric spark through you all the way down to your core.

He drives you insane, he gets under your skin – and by all that is unholy and horrid about him, you want him right there, pushing you senseless, right on the edge of everything. Being with him feels like you’re one breath away from falling into a dark abyss, and you want to see if he catches you… Or falls with you.