#christ how long has it been since i used that tag.

[thetapirsarehyperfixating]

hi! first time making an original post in like years. anyways

this is my canon timeline for dragon age, written out in prep for veilguard's release :> larger versions of the busts, plus assorted rambling, below the cut.

eventually, i am probably going to cave and post some stuff about these bastards on ao3 - if you are interested, this is where to look: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tapir_boy/works

SARRELAN TABRIS: as im writing this post my partner looked over, saw sarrelan, and went "thats my fuckign WIFE". so shes highly reviewed

Sarrelan is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden, the woman who killed the Archdemon, ended the Fifth Blight, Arlessa of Amaranthine, and winner of Vigil's Keep's Biggest Bitch award twenty-two years and counting. she is full to the brim with autism, which is part of the reason she looks so. mad. all of the time. she doesn't mean to, she just does not Emote well and so comes off as being more aggressive than she actually is. now don't get her wrong, she is also full of rage and kind of jumps to violence as a first resort, but she is capable of listening to people and generally does like people, like she thinks good people deserve things and wants to give them good things. she just never looks like she does.

she's got kind of an immediate bond with Alistair, something to be said about him being basically the first human man who's ever treated her with respect and actually listened to her when she takes control of a situation. ive seen interesting commentary out there about how alistair immediately turns control of the situation over to the HoF and how that can be really disorienting/frustrating/upsetting for some characters, but its kind of the opposite for sarrelan. shes had almost two decades of experience getting into shit with her cousins, shes used to taking charge and she likes having that control, and its a relief that alistair doesn't try to fight her on it.

zevran is a little more rough-going to start as they're both very different people - zevran is used to reading more into people's body language, and sarrelan's body language is very disassociated from her actual emotions, so he does spend a good while thinking he's in like Imminent Danger while sarrelan's in the corner trying to figure out if she actually Likes this guy flirting with her. (she does).

zevran semi-accidentially insinuates himself in alistair and sarrelan's relationship right after it starts, half-jokingly offering to have a threesome to help them both get over their nerves of losing their virginity, and then oops oh no they all caught feelings and no one knows how to deal with it. they only figure their shit out a few days before the battle of denerim and it's as sarrelan is On Top of the archdemon, getting ready to kill it, still unsure if Morrigan's ritual will work and if she'll even survive this, that she's able to tell them she loves them.

zevran's earring is the only piercing she has, and she treasures it greatly. she's a two handed warrior and has a sword bigger than herself. shes also gone 1v1 with an orge alpha and survived. canonically. id say i have video proof but i dont. just trust me bro

(TW FOR SA, NOT GRAPHICALLY DESCRIBED)

CONNOR HAWKE: local man made of 20 different types of trauma in a cool chestplate

connor is actually adopted into the hawke family! long story short, he was born in kirkwall and was taken to the circle there, and only left because his enchanters conspired to smuggle him out after one of the templars assaulted him. he fled to ferelden where he came across the hawke family, who took him and his daughter in and helped him fake a new identity with them. he's not happy to be back in kirkwall, but the city is a part of him whether he likes it or not - it's eating him alive but without it, he doesn't feel like himself. he's a very dedicated and loyal person, usually to his detriment, but he feels like he can't keep running from the threat of the templars anymore, he has to do something to fix this makerdamned city now.

(TW IS OVER)

he's got Something going on with the whole kirkwall crew, it just never really expands into anything for years because he's basically married to the job. but his life has been intertwined with these people's since he met them, and at a certain point all of those feelings mesh together and he's sitting there at wicked grace night and realizes he might be In Love with all of them, and then he has to make a hasty exit before he has a complete and total breakdown over it. during the timespan of DA2, anders is really the only person he has a romantic relationship with, because justice is getting tired of anders holding himself back from maybe the one other man in kirkwall who would support him no matter what, and kisses connor like the day before he has to leave on a longer quest to the sundermount. connor makes them discuss their feelings afterwards and they end up figuring it out, although the rest of the kirkcule are like. still fucking each other and are by no means exclusive at this point. the rest of them just never talk about it, because things go downhill in act 2 FAST. like, within a month he loses his mother, almost gets dragged back to the circle, has to fake his daughter's death, completely destroys his relationship with carver, and almost dies fighting the arishok.

the connor hawke of reality and the Champion of Kirkwall that gets immortalized by varric are two very different people - basically by the time that connor gets the name of Champion, he's already been working on maintaining a public persona that he just calls Hawke, and after everything with his daughter being sent away, he never lets that mask down again. he really considers Hawke to be a completely different person to Connor, and varric tries to help cement that difference in the Tale of the Champion. Hawke's story is that he was always Ferelden, his daughter was adopted and really did die, and he had no idea anders was getting so radical until the moment the chantry exploded - connor's story is that from the moment he sent Lila away, he was planning to find some way to take down Meredith.

he and anders spend a lot of time inbetween acts 2-3 trying to figure out more peaceful ways to address the chantry and bring some - any - oversight to the circles, but when all of that fails, they finally resort to plan dynamite. when all is said and done, they go to amaranthine to be reunited with lila, and then go on the run trying to help the mages break out of the circles and evade the templars. when he hears that varric was kidnapped by cassandra and that she's looking for him to speak at the conclave, he sees it as an opportunity to make a case for the rebel mages, and goes despite all the warnings not to. he survives in the fade up until the questline where the Herald goes into the fade, finds him alive, and drags him back home to see his daughter again. then he stays in skyhold to basically act as an advisor to her, and when the rest of the kirkcule get their hands on him, it kind of spurs him on to finally address his relationship to the rest of them.

connor is a force mage by default, but given how long he spent in Ferelden living on the run from the templars, he mastered both casting without a staff and fighting without magic. he's both tall and strong, but he manages to avoid scaring people off through sheer Dad energy.

LILA HAWKE: hey look theres that daughter we've been talking about

Lila is very much her father's daughter, but she doesn't have his same talent for acting calm or friendly, if she doesn't like you she Will tell you to your face and she will not work with you. (cullen.) after hawke's "death" at the conclave, she kind of becomes the defacto leader of the rebel mages, which is definitely a normal amount of responsibility for a twenty-one year old struggling with ongoing mental health issues and overwhelming grief to handle. shes doing great

(slight detour: to address some of the weirdness with DAI's timelines im having there be basically 3 factions of mages in the rebellion: the Circle mages, who want to remain under the circles with the exact same setup as before; the College mages, who like the idea of having their own spaces and want some oversight, but also some oversight of the oversight to address the rampant abuses of powers; and the Hawkes, the rebel mages who want no circles and no templars and the ability to live their lives in the same communities as non-mages. the Circle mages mostly look to Vivienne for leadership, the College mages are rallied behind Fiona, and the Hawkes were roaming the continent with Connor, now working loosely with the Inquisition with Lila.)

she's got some health issues - she's shorter than varric by a few inches despite being a human, she has moderate asthma, and semi-regular psychotic episodes, mostly auditory/visual hallucinations and paranoid episodes. bubba, the family mabari, acts as a service dog for her when he isn't doing the same for connor, and i imagine at some point between inquisition and veilguard, she has her own mabari who works full-time as her service dog.

she is one of the co-inquisitors for DAI, but she is not the herald of Andraste; she wasn't actually at the conclave when it exploded, she was down in haven with varric and anders, but she kind of gets roped into everything because cassandra says "youre a hawke, you're going to get involved anyways" and lila... can't really argue with that, she's just mad that cassandra was right. arisas is the diplomatic one, she's the more experienced one, and they honestly balance each other out really well. it frustrates her to no end that arisas is almost literally twice her height.

lila kind of regards her time in amaranthine as the best of a really, really shitty situation - she hates that she lost so much time with her father, that her teenage years were so tumultuous and that she had so many milestones of her life and she couldn't talk to her father about them, she never got to introduce her first girlfriend to him, she had to come out to him over letters, and while she has a lot of respect for the wardens in amaranthine and appreciates them for taking her in with no questions asked, she hates that she lives in a world where that had to happen in the first place. sarrelan is the person who made her realize she might be kind of butch, and zevran taught her how to actually fight instead of just using her magic for experimentation. connor never kept a grimoire after fleeing kirkwall (too obvious and too much evidence, especially if it got lost or stolen), but she does, and it's filled to the brim with notes and homebrewed spells.

ARISAS ADAAR: please help him he is too young for this

arisas is by far the youngest person to get involved in a major political conflict in my canon - he turns 16 during the events of DAI - and he is trying so hard to keep people from learning that information. he grew up in tevinter, taken there from par vollen as a very young child, and doesn't have the greatest grasp of southern mage/templar politics and is very confused by everything happening at the start of the game. he joined with a mercenary company as his first job, and was only with them for a few weeks before they got hired for the conclave, and he was Not getting paid enough to get a crash course in the differences between southern mages and tevinter mages.

ari is a lot more hesitant / cautious than lila is, partially because he has an anxiety disorder, and partially because he just knows a lot less about the south than she does. if it were up to him, he would not be in charge of this mess, but he's the one with the Anchor so he kind of has to be. he takes to the diplomacy pretty well, and he at least always finishes the paperwork that josephine sets in front of him (unlike liia, who will get distracted and go do something else halfway through). it does mean that he is constantly sleep deprived

inquisition is probably his first big exposure to a lot of queer people in very close proximity to him - between lila, leliana, dorian, and bull, it's the first time that he's really considered that people could be queer, much less trans, and it starts to make him question some things that he really doesn't have time to question. and, as the game continues, it doesnt really seem like questioning it will do him any good, as the inquisition continues to erase him and fill in the blanks with the Herald of Andraste, so he basically goes "even if i am queer, looking into it now will do me no good, because no one here is going to listen or respect that" and continues on like normal. (post canon he does figure some shit out, although he still uses he/him pronouns).

ari looks up to bull a lot, at first because he's a qunari who actually follows the qun, and ari is very curious and kind of wants bull to take him under his wing and become a father figure to him; but when bull becomes tal-vashoth and leaves the qun, ari tries to reassure him that he's the same man regardless of the identity he ties himself to, and that there's no shame in acting outside of the qun if it means protecting the people he cares about. bull in turn tries to help ari come out of his shell and maintain his sense of self in the midst of everything that comes with being the herald.

he struggles a LOT with having his identity erased by the inquisition, being both revered and reviled and rewritten with every step he takes. it makes him feel just thorougly inhuman and alone, and causes a mental breakdown after trespasser. he tries to stay in politics for a few years post canon, tries to help dorian with reforming tevinter with all this newfound influence he has, but being in the spotlight so much is detrimental to his heath, and he ends up having an early retirement in his mid-20s. he moves to kirkwall and raises nugs. this is the greatest his life has ever been.

[eupheme]

— a good, good neighbor

john hancock x f!sole survivor/reader

rated e - 2.8k

tags: friends-with-benefits vibes, mutual yearning & jealousy, mention of chem usage, references to threesome, horny!desperate!hancock, desk/office sex, semi-public sex, piv, blowjobs

prompts: “i want to fuck you so badly” + “i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty.”

“How did you imagine us?”

“Every way,” Hancock husks, “Keeping my cock warm while I work. Eating you on the desk or bending you over it.”

“Hell, I’ve even thought about the balcony. I’d take you right over the fuckin’ railing if you’d let me.”

(Or - when you come back from a mission, Hancock can’t wait to get his hands on you)

Despite the bustle inside the Third Rail, it’s all just dull noise.

Hancock can’t say he’s heard a word Fahrenheit has said. It’s not his fault she had cornered him inside the entrance, right as he was on his way in.

Where he has a perfect view of the bar.

A perfect view of you, where you perch on one of the stools in front of Charlie. Looking like a dream, in your soft, faded clothes.

Not that he doesn’t like your vault suit. The way it fits like a glove around your hips and thighs, the swell of your tits.

He’s always been a fan.

But there’s something about this - how you look like you belong here, with him. It’s been a while since he’s felt his heart stir, but you really seemed to have woken it up.

His partner huffs, finally stepping to the side. Her own plans tonight, eyes already drifting over to the stage. A long-suffering sigh - a hand that pushes her undercut back, a scrunch of her nose.

“Remind me to let you two… debrief next time, before I talk to you.”

Hancock grins, only now coming back, “You got it, sister.”

He owes her one. Tomorrow he’ll sit down and really listen, but it’s been a long fuckin’ week and the chems he downed in his office are just now taking effect.

Tipping him towards being too high to be jealous that you’re talking to another ghoul - a sentiment that he’s only just becoming acquainted with.

That was never really his style, before now.

And just a tad too sober to suggest Deegan just join them, if your conversation doesn’t wrap up soon.

Really fuckin’ soon.

It’s as he sidles up to you that he notices just how good you truly look. Scrubbed clean from the wasteland, and he’s already imagining you in the Rexford, hands sliding over your wet curves in the shower.

Getting ready to come here, applying that pretty shade of red that darkens your lips - a treasure found on a recent favor you did for Daisy.

Something that had kept you away for days, his jaw gritting as you had left without him.

It’s the same shade as his coat - and that does something, too. A clenching in his guts, a wash of need as he imagines it marking up his cock. A pretty ring around the base, staining his skin.

Christ, he needed to get it together.

Your eyes brighten when you see him, “I was hoping you’d find me. Heard you were still working.”

He fits against you, leaning on the bar. A hand draping across your shoulder - eager to touch, as your head tips up to his.

“Never too busy for my favorite girl.”

The smile you give him, those pretty painted lips stretched wide, shoots straight to his cock. Uncomfortable, where it strains against the front of his trousers - and maybe, he just might be head-over-heels.

He needs to get out of here.

“You want to get out of here?” He asks - the back of your neck warm where his palm curves around it, thumb brushing over soft skin.

Feeling the low hum in your throat, as you answer.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“I want to fuck you so badly.”

Hancock growls it in your ear, as he wrenches the door to the Old State House open. Bypassing your room at the Rexford, opting for something closer.

He always seemed to like you in his bed. Late nights turning into slow mornings, getting acquainted with the soft drag of fingers against skin. Comparing scars until you’ve learned each and every one.

You think he’d keep you there, if he could. If you both weren’t so prone to wandering.

The rough admission sends your pulse racing. Never expecting to miss someone like you did him. Never thinking you’d get a chance like this again.

But something about being with Hancock feels so easy. Something invisible that ties you to him, but that tether is never-ending. Both of you always finding your way back to each other, in a slow orbit.

Never knowing what it truly meant to know that someone had your back - until you were looking down the barrel of something you weren’t supposed to come back from, out in the wasteland.

Knowing he would be there, as soon as you called.

“Then fuck me,” You sigh against him, at the landing of the second-floor staircase. The railing pressing into your back as his tongue licks into your mouth.

Hands fisting in the collar of his frock as his hips roll against yours. Getting turned around in path back to his room.

Ending up across the hall, in his new office. The door still cracked open as you both stumble inside. A soft sound of surprise when you find yourself bumping up against a heavy wooden desk, instead of the couches you’ve come to know so well.

He’s already herding you to the other side, moving his chair out of the way. Hoisting you onto the edge, before stepping between spread thighs.

Mouthing at your jaw, hands slipping beneath your shirt.

“Wrong room,” You sigh, as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

“Right fuckin’ room.” His hips meet yours, rolling himself against your core, “Know how many times I’ve dreamed about having you in here?”

The thought of him thinking of you has your thighs tightening around his hips. A needy moan when his hand fondles a breast over the fabric of your bra, before it’s slipping beneath.

“How-” You start, and then squeak as his fingers pinch against the tight peak of your nipple, “How did you imagine us?”

His black eyes are hazy when he pulls back. A shine on his lips from where his tongue soothed a mark left against your neck.

“Every way,” Hancock husks, “Keeping my cock warm while I work. Eating you on the desk, or bending you over it.”

You whine at the thought - a jolt of pleasure arcing through you as his hips jerk against yours, grinding against your clothed core.

“Hell, I’ve even thought about the balcony. I’d take you right over the fuckin’ railing if you’d let me.”

God, it’s tempting. Heat flaring to life in your cheeks at the thought - knowing he would.

He’s opened the doors to a lot of new aspects of yourself, but there’s still a shred of your old-world modesty that clings to you.

But it still sends a liquid warmth pooling in your belly. He can feel the way your hands tighten their grip that you’re picturing it too.

The balcony is out of the question, but the rest…

Your palms push at his shoulders, and he allows you just enough room to get down. To flip around until your hips are flush with the edge of the wide desk.

“Why don’t you show me?” You coo, with a glance over your shoulder, “Mister Mayor.”

There’s a flash of teeth with his smile - words as sweet and smooth as honey, “Sweetheart, call me that again and I’ll show you anything you want.”

His hand is quick to press at the small of your back, bending you across his desk like he had imagined. Your hand slipping down to work at the button and zipper of your pants, where he’s already gripping at the fabric to tug your layers down.

Hancock’s hips press into your bare center. Nudging the hard, clothed curve of his cock against yours, fingers already smoothing over your skin. Gripping on before nails drag over the curve of your ass, then slipping between your thighs.

You stifle a moan when he touches you, all slick and swollen already. A day-long lingering anticipation of seeing him, keyed up by his own laid-bare desire.

“You miss me, doll?” Hancock husks, when he finds how wet you are. The tips teasing your clit as he frees himself.

Fingers petting at your folds. Slicking them up until he can smear your arousal against his cock - the rough skin shining in the windows of light that peek in from the city outside.

“Yes,” You whine - he always seems to pull things from you, when he has you like this. Making you soft, willing to lay yourself open if it means he keeps touching you, “Hancock, please-”

The word strings out - as he grasps at your hips, tugging you back just as he drives himself deep into you. This is what you needed - the aching stretch, the way your blood sings already.

Squirming when he stays still, slipping half-way while his hands keep you pinned against the desk.

“Don’t slow down now,” You huff, as you rock back into his touch.

Hancock’s own laugh is low and throaty - you gasp when you feel his fingers slip from your hip. Boldly tracing where you stretch around him, letting his thumb rub at your clit until he can feel you clench.

“Just enjoying the view.” He husks, “It’s not every day I get to fuck someone so pretty.”

His words shoot straight through you, settling in your heart. So much understood and even more left unsaid.

You’re used to the before, when there were neat labels and expectations. Left on uneven footing now, with how the world has changed.

Maybe even scared to bare yourself fully - to let yourself feel so deeply for another person again.

But surely this - this partnership, his words, him - must mean something.

“It could be.”

It slips from you with a sigh, too late to snatch back. Something fluttering in your belly, a heady mix of apprehension and pleasure as he growls - a sharp thrust that has him filling you again.

A shift of his fingers until he’s circling your clit, with just the right pressure that he knows you need. A shallow roll of his hips that starts slow, and steady.

“That right?” His voice is low, lilting up at the end.

You couldn’t really ask him to join you - but tonight, you could pretend. The time you had spent together on the road was some of your best moments in this aftermath.

But you respected his decision to stay, to work a little harder at this Mayor business. Even if it had left you unsure of where you stood with each other.

Even if you did miss him, want him by your side.

“Yeah,” You manage, “Keeping touching me like that and, yeah-”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “Sunshine, you’re gonna have a harder time getting me to stop.”

He makes good on his promise.

A hand catching under your thigh, hoisting your knee onto the desk top. Opening you up further - a stifled cry pulling from you when he nudges deeper, stroking a spot inside you that steals your breath.

The door is still ajar - the thought of your whines and the slick drive of his cock has your heart pounding.

You’re sure he’d love that too - the shout of his name as he makes you come, echoing to where the drifters sleep above, and where the Watch lingers. The sound of his hips knocking yours into the desk, the rhythmic creak of old wood.

It still lingers as a whimper - bitten back as the pleasure builds. He hasn’t forgotten in the time you’ve been apart, pounding into you again and again. His touch circling just as he bottoms out, a pressure in his own belly with each gasp he pulls from you.

“Fuck, John.” You keen - a number already seeming to tick down inside you, with each circuit of his fingertips, “I’m gonna come-”

“That’s my girl,” He coos - keeping the same rhythm, the same steady pound that threatens to break you, “Give it to me. Soak my fuckin’ cock, sweetheart.”

His girl.

It echos - your cry going silent, when as the pleasure washes over you. Leaving you trembling as you ride out the waves of pleasure, meeting the thrusts that grow lazy.

You needed this, needed it as much as he does. So much packed noise inside your brain going quiet the harder he fucked you, now blissfully silent.

“Look at you,” It’s muted, as your back arches - as you drip around his cock, “You feel so fucking good, not gonna last-”

Almost as if he gets off to this - making you come. Taking you apart, until each breath is a wrung-out gasp, your fingers curling into fists.

It leaves you thinking that if he’s staying here - if he’s been thinking about you, you’ll give him something to remember.

Another check off of his list.

“Hancock,” You breathe - eyes heavy and dazed as you glance over your shoulder.

Where he’s arced over you - grinding himself deep. His own gaze blown-wide with need as it tips to meet yours.

“Come in my mouth,” You beg, “Let me taste you.”

Eyes flicking to his chair, still pulled up next to the desk. He’s always been able to follow you, a rough sound in his throat when the catches what you mean.

“Fuck.” His hips stutter, before he’s slipping from you, “Yeah. Yeah, doll. Anything you want.”

You’re sinking to unsteady knees in front of him, as he drops down into the chair. Knees spread wide as your hands run up his thighs, to where his cock hangs heavy against the unzipped fabric.

Already missing him inside you. A rough groan when your hand wraps around, before you’re swallowing him down. Tasting yourself smeared across him, as your cheeks hollow, your fist pumps.

“So fuckin’ perfect, you know that?” Hancock hisses, the words coming out ragged. Hips bucking into the wet suction of your mouth.

No teasing this time, no kitten-licks. Just the familiar weight of him on your tongue, the jerk of your spit-slicked fist.

A ragged sound slipping from him when your eyes drag up to meet his. Peeks of reddened and rough skin along the way that make you want to take a bite as well.

Noticing how he’s marked up with you - faded shades of red stained on his lips and chin. Littered across on his cock, down to the base.

You think you like the look of it, something warm flickering in your belly - an echo of the pleasure he gave you before.

Wanting him to think about you every time he sits here, after you leave. The feeling of your mouth around him, how hard you made him come. Leaving your own mark on this room, as well.

He groans at the way you watch, the soft lap of your tongue. How you squeeze him bringing him closer - waiting for him to show you how much he needs you.

“Fuck. You’re gonna make me come, gorgeous.” It’s a rough warning, as his hand cradles your jaw. The bite of nails against your neck, as his hips buck.

The groan he makes is loud and low - shameless - as he comes. His cock throbbing in your mouth, each pulse leaking his spend as you swallow him down. Coaxing every drop from him, until you’ve taken it.

Keeping him in your mouth, after - your tongue sweeping lazily across his skin, until he goes soft. Easing off him then, letting your head rest against his thigh.

Hancock’s head still tips back, lost in that soft haze. The shallow rise and fall of his chest, a week’s worth of want spilled across your tongue.

“Was that like you imagined?”

There’s the tilt of his head as he grins, his thumb reaching to press against your lower lip - a low growl when you nip at it.

“Even fuckin’ better.”

The room shifts in front of you - Hancock’s boot propped against the desk, sending the chair back and forth on a slow sway.

Your legs thrown over the armrest, where you sit in his lap. The sounds of Goodneighbor muted outside, as the lights spill across the floor in the dark room.

“Thought I’d stick around a couple days.” You tell him, “Skip out later this week, maybe.”

“You just got in.” He rasps, fingers tracing a pattern against your shoulder, “Got somethin’ going already?”

You hadn’t planned on it. Had been hoping to stick around Goodneighbor for a while. Spend some time with him, before heading out.

But…

“Edward asked me to do a job for him,” You stifle a yawn, your head tilted against his, “Some girl he works for ran off, said she does that all the time.”

Duty always calls.

"Edward?" Hancock’s brow lifts.

“Deegan?”

His tongue clicks against his teeth, a soft pinch of his fingers against your skin, “Didn’t know you and Deegan were that chummy. Edward, huh?”

Your elbow sinks into his ribs, and he grins.

“Well, you don’t gotta wait on me,” He hums, already thinking ahead. “You wanna get this show on the road tomorrow?”

A small mark puckers your brow as you lean to face him, your gaze searching.

“I thought you stopped running.” It’s soft - a question, hidden in your words.

Hancock huffs, “Not running.”

His voice drops - a softness to his beetle-black eyes as he thumbs at your chin, drawing your mouth down to his.

“Just realized I’d rather be by your side.”

With his admission, the hungry press of his lips…

You think you fall just a little harder.

loved the idea of a desperate/lovey Hancock paired with a sweetly oblivious “what are we” Sole, haha 💖 thanks for reading!! and for this perfect request!

[inkedells]

look at me a little more | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

A/N: first of all, SMUTTT so much smut up ahead. holy crap this is the longest thing i've ever written (pathetic, i know, blame the commitment issues) enjoy lovies!! also lmk if you want a part 2 maybe possibly!?

m!dni | requests open.

summary: dbf!neighbor!joel accidentally drenches you (virgin!reader) while washing his car and you can’t help but notice the way he eyes you up. it’s only once he’s in your bedroom, fixing your closet door as an apology, that you realize the best person to rid you of your virginity and teach you precisely how to please yourself and others had been right in front of you the whole time; it's getting joel on board with the whole idea that's the hard part.

word count: 5.5k

tags/warnings: SMUTTTT, virgin!reader, dbf!neighbor!joel faces moral conflicts (to fuck or not to fuck!?!?), porn with plot, sooo much tension, dirty talk, use of pet names, blowjobs, handjobs, cumplay, reader eats joel's cum, grinding, making out, oral sex, no!outbreak au, reader's innocent in the sense that she doesn't really know how to do a lot of things when it comes to sex but still has a ton of desires

masterlist

There was a certain shame that came with being infatuated with your dad’s best friend.

You were sitting around on the porch on a hot summer afternoon, wearing your shortest cotton shorts as you sipped the juice box brand you had loved since you were a little girl. Legs crossed, foot tapping the air, and most importantly, eyes absolutely trained on the ripple of Joel Miller’s biceps as he washed his car.

You didn’t know why you liked to stare at him so much. But you did know it was wrong. Immoral. Eyeing up someone in their forties? What was wrong with you? That was your dad’s best f—

“Hey, Mr. Miller!” You called over, shutting down every ounce of doubt in your mind.

He turned around without hesitation, and when he did, you waved. The first time you’d done that, he had to work a little harder to figure out the source of the voice, eyes searching in random directions before finally settling on you. But now, it was like he knew exactly where to look—And, well, that was all it took for you to decide you would be spending the next hour washing a car if it meant spending time with Joel.

So you settled your juice box down on the wooden floor of the porch and skipped over to his house. He must not have heard your footsteps behind him over the sound of the hose, so your simple tap on his shoulder resulted in him whipping around, hose in hand, as he consequently drenched you.

You yelped, breaking out into nervous laughter both from shock and how cold the water was. Joel fumbled to turn off the hose as he began profusely apologizing. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry—”

Then he properly saw you. From Joel’s perspective, your clothes were reduced to translucency, practically melting into your skin.

But you didn’t know that. You never fully grasped just how vulnerable you had become from his accident, so when you caught him averting his gaze as quickly as he could, you were a little confused.

“You—Uh—I,” Joel stumbled before clearing his throat, “There’s clothes. Inside. Sarah’s. You can, um, you can go and… y’know. Change into them. Walkin’ all the way back to your house doesn’t seem like a… viable… option.”

By then, a blush had already risen to your cheeks just from how delicately Joel was treating you. As if you were something he had to be careful with, like if he didn’t think long and hard about every word coming out of his mouth, there would be consequences. 

“Lead the way.”

Joel gave you a firm smile before swallowing the lump in his throat and motioning for you to follow him as he walked. Once he had the front door open, he let you go in first. Even as you carefully walked past him, you could feel his eyes staring at you.

“Up there,” Joel gestured, “Um, first door on the left. I’ll… be outside.”

As he explained, you subconsciously scanned over the planes of his body—probably a habit you picked up from the multiple weeks of watching him work. But then he was turning to leave, and you could tell he was still really tense. You didn’t know why a simple accident had him so tripped up, but you had the urge to alleviate his worry.

“Hey,” You called, arms wrapped around yourself in an effort to stave off the cold. He turned around, concerned until he saw your soft smile and relaxed a little, “On a scale of one to ten, how sick and tired are you of washing that truck?”

There was only one way to break Joel out of his nervous state; you had to make the situation lighthearted; you learned that from years of watching him hang out with your dad.

He searched your eyes for a beat, eyes completely unwavering, before muttering, “Like a fifty.”

You both breathed a laugh at that. For the briefest moment, you thought you noticed Joel’s gaze flitting to your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could do a double take, his eyes were glued to yours again.

“So then,” You started, regathering yourself and pushing away whatever your brain was conjuring up, “How do you feel about replacing one lousy chore with another?”

“What kinda chore we talkin’?”

“Well, my closet door’s all screwed up. And you know, instead of apologizing for soaking me by way of expensive concert tickets and a brand new car, like how I know you were planning on doing—”

“—Oh, of course,” Joel sarcastically remarked, playing along as you quickly noticed the worry on his face faded into a crooked grin.

“Well, I really think I can just settle for the closet door fix. Go ahead and save the brand new car for when you break my toaster.”

“Okay, okay,” Joel laughed, “I get it. Go change, then you can lead me to this broken closet door.”

-

Sarah’s clothes definitely belonged to a fourteen-year-old. Not your taste, but then again, if you were fourteen like her, you probably would’ve dressed like that too.

You couldn’t settle on a top, all of them were either too small or bore a graphic design too childish for you. You did find a pair of stretchier shorts that fit alright though, so you decided you’d just pick up one of Joel’s shirts from the pile of clean laundry you saw sitting atop the washing machine downstairs.

When you made it out the front door, the hose was away and his toolbox was resting on the ground by his feet. Joel was drying up his car with a cloth, and when he heard you hop down the steps and subsequently turned your way, you weren’t exactly expecting him to completely stumble at the sight of you in his shirt.

“Oh—You, uh, I thought you were gettin’ Sarah’s clothes?”

“I was, none of her tops fit so I grabbed one of yours from the laundry downstairs.” You absorbed Joel’s cryptic reaction and began to worry. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I really should’ve asked—”

“—No, no, it’s fine. Really. Doesn't matter.”

Joel picked up his toolbox, then the both of you began walking over to your house. It wasn’t that far away at all, probably a couple of hundred feet at most, but he opted into small talk anyway.

“Um,” Joel began, “What’d you come over for in the first place? Didn’t really get a chance to ask ‘cause of this whole… debacle.”

You giggled at his old man vocabulary. Debacle.

“I wanted to help with your car, but looks like those plans got derailed.”

He breathed a polite laugh. “Yeah, well. Guess it turned out that way.”

Before an awkward silence could fall upon the both of you, your brain settled on something to bring up.

“Hey, my dad’s having that July 4th barbecue the day after tomorrow. You’re coming right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, honey.”

Honey? Honey. Honey honey honey honey—

He cleared his throat. “Where is your dad, anyway?”

You were both standing on your porch now, Joel’s eyes raking you over as you fumbled with the front door.

“Um, I think he’s out working.”

“Great.”

Great?

Before you could ask him what he meant, Joel realized what he had said. “Wait, no, not great. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You pushed the door open. “Hey,” You brought a hand up to his chest and patted it, “You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you keep assuming all your mistakes are colossal and worthy of that much panic.”

His shoulders seemed to relax a little at that—you weren’t sure if it was your hand or your words that did it.

Eventually, you both found yourselves in your bedroom. You were sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched Joel work. Kneeling on one knee with a screwdriver in hand, he fumbled with one of the closet door’s hinges as he muttered little things to himself under his breath.

“Thanks for this, Mr. Miller.”

He turned to you, nodding as he seemed to process that he was in your bedroom. Your bedroom.

“So,” Joel began, as he dug through his toolbox, “Is your boyfriend visiting too? Or, y’know, girlfriend. Three months is a long ti—”

You softly smiled. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend.”

He turned to look at you again as he turned a screwdriver, this time scanning you over. “Hm, I don’t believe you. Sweet thing like you? Single?”

“Oh, stop,” You blushed, shooing him off.

Joel stood to his feet, dusting his hands off on his thighs. “All fixed. Next time you ne—”

“—I’ve never been in a relationship before. Actually.”

Joel stared at you for a moment before diverting his gaze to the ground. “I, um…”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t wanna know about my completely nonexistent dating history,” You lightly smacked your forehead, “Wait, it’s existent if we count the boy I dated for a week in fourth grade.”

Joel laughed, sitting down next to you on your bed. “It’s okay. I haven’t really dated anybody since Sarah’s mom, either. Long-term, anyways.”

“Yeah, well at least you’re not a virgin.”

Joel seemed to tense at that, and you immediately regretted saying it.

“Oh gosh,” You cringed, hands gripping your head, “I really just say anything, don’t I?”

Joel chuckled, head hung between his shoulders with his eyes squinted shut. You eventually laughed, too, simply because—and you realized it sounded stupid—Joel’s laughter was contagious.

“Alright, alright,” Joel beckoned, “Lemme be serious for a second. C’mere.”

You slumped down next to him, staring up at the ceiling before turning to make eye contact.

“That’s not something you have to worry about. You got time, honey, you’re in college. All that crap about late blooming isn’t real. It’s about whenever you’re ready, and whenever you find the right person to do it with.”

You smiled up at him softly. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel. Just Joel.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. So you stayed like that, searching his eyes for something you didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

“Joel,” You echoed, repeating his name back to him, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I, uh…” Joel trailed off, his gaze flitting down to your lips. “I…” He tried again, but it went nowhere.

You exhaled, and almost immediately, his hands cupped your face as he leaned forward and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your lips.

It was warm, and gentle, and amazing, and you didn’t know if you could ever let him stop kissing you with how delightful the scruff of his beard felt against your skin.

He did break the kiss after a few seconds, though, and it left you breathless. “Joel…”

His muscles seemed to visibly tense as he mistook your speechless state for confusion. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why—”

“—No. No, I liked it,” You smiled softly at him, “I, um, you know. Wouldn’t mind if you kissed me… again.”

With reassurance that you weren’t absolutely appalled, his limbs relaxed. He leaned forward again until he was kissing you. Slow at first, languid. But then it turned fervent and desperate, breaths being exchanged into one another's mouths as lips slotted together like fingers intertwined—so perfect, as if they were biologically designed to do so.

It wasn’t long until he had your back flat against your bed, and you felt his growing hardness dig into your hip.

“Y’know what that is, don’t you?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“You know why it’s there?”

You shrugged.

He gripped the fabric of your—no, his—shirt as his voice rumbled, “You prancin’ around in my shirt did that.”

Without a second thought, you clumsily palmed him there through the thick fabric of his jeans and reveled in the consequential shuddering moan he let out

“Joel, I don’t… I don’t think I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay, honey, I’ll teach you.”

Propping himself up with his elbow, he placed his hand atop your own and guided the movements of your open palm. Things like pressing your hand further into him so as to increase the pressure between his legs, and encouraging back-and-forth motions that had his hips rutting and his breath hitching.

Once you got the hang of it, he removed his hand from your own. You felt his hand snake down your neck, then the side of your torso. 

“I trust you,” You whispered, fingers playing with the happy trail peaking Joel’s pants, hoping to absolve him of any guilt or doubt.

But the second Joel’s fingertips grazed the waistband of your shorts, he froze. He was staring off somewhere to the right, so you followed his gaze until you found what he was so disturbed by.

A framed photo on your nightstand, one of you standing next to your dad on vacation in Maui.

You understood immediately; that picture was an astute reminder of exactly who’s daughter Joel was about to debauch.

Your hand fell away from his crotch as he leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands through his hair with worried eyes.

“Joel?” You whispered, but then he was completely backing off of you as he muttered curses under his breath. “Hey, no, come back. What’s wrong?”

It was a dumb question. You knew what was wrong. Even though you were well beyond legal, it seemed to mean little in the situation—the facts were, if he touched you, it was betrayal.

���This is…” Joel panted, standing to his feet and raking his hands through his hair, “I shouldn’t have… Fuck. Fuck. I have to go.”

And just like that, he was gone.

-

That night, your lights stayed on and you didn’t close your curtains.

You stripped yourself of Joel’s shirt first, going excruciatingly slow in case Joel happened to be watching through his neighboring window. You occasionally shot glances at his window on the off chance that the window illuminated, but you quickly realized if the two of you made eye contact that wouldn’t be good either. You’d gotten all the way down to your underwear before you spotted his light flick on from the corner of your eye.

So you did the first thing that came to mind; You turned your back to your window. Panties halfway down your legs, torso bent with your knees straightened as you slowly shed your clothing. Hoping. Hoping for him to avert his attention ever so slightly and accidentally catch you like this. Hoping he would think of it every time he talked to you.

Without ever making eye contact, you would never know if Joel actually saw anything, and he would never know you hadn’t actually “forgotten” to close your curtains.

No pressure on either of you.

You went to sleep with a hand shoved down the front of your panties as you thought of all the things you wanted Joel to do to you.

-

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Jesus. What time was it? You stretched until sleep left you and opened your eyes as wide as you could (not very wide at all). From what you could gather, the sun was definitely up. You, however, did not have the willpower required to read off of your phone screen 5 seconds after waking up, so you answered the phone without reading the contact.

“Hello?” You groaned, voice gruff from sleep.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You knew that voice anywhere. Almost immediately, you shot upright and cleared your throat as you rubbed your eyes. “Oh, hey Mr. Mill—uh, I mean, Joel,” You breathed a nervous laugh before remembering his question, “No. No, it’s okay I was like, basically awake already, um, so… what’s up? Why’d you—Why’d you call?”

“Right, so just to preface, I understand things are not... ideal... between us right now. But to be honest, you’re the only person available who I trust with this, and… let me just explain. I got called into work unexpectedly and Sarah’s gonna be home alone. Lately, she’s been getting into these rebellious fits, and I just don’t want to risk another situation where she sneaks out at night to meet up with her boyfriend again.”

“Sarah and rebellious fits? Really?”

“Yes, believe it or not. So do you think you could just hang around my place for, to be honest, a long while? It’s looking like I’m gonna be home really late tonight. Oh, and I can pay you.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not paying me.”

Joel exhaled appreciatively through the phone. “Okay, well I’m home right now if you wanna come by and eat some breakfast. Least I could do. I gotta leave in like thirty minutes by the way, so. Take your time but also don’t take your time?”

You smiled, hoping he could hear it in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Oh god. There it was again. You thought you might actually pass out, but you quickly turned off your racing brain enough to mutter a small “mhm” before abruptly hanging up.

Okay. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, who was this close to absolving you of every ounce of innocence in your body… just asked you to watch his daughter. What could go wrong?

When you got to his house, he had left already (you definitely took too long in the shower). He did leave out a plate of food, though, along with the message, “Thanks again. Enjoy the pancakes,” scratched out on a post-it note.

And boy did it turn out to be a long day. Sarah wasn’t that much of a handful, she mostly took care of herself. The hard part was lunch.

You attempted to cook something for the two of you, but it only ended in disaster when you left the quiches in the oven for too long. Then you decided Penne a la Vodka couldn’t be that hard, and you couldn't be more wrong. A whole box of pasta was ruined because Sarah didn’t realize the pasta went in after the water boiled, not before. Eventually, you both just accepted defeat and ordered Panera Bread.

Later, Sarah popped into the living room to let you know she was going up to her room to take a nap, and you figured you’d do the same on the couch.

The last thing you read was the time on the cable box; 7:37.

-

Metal clanking. The turn of a key. The creaking of a door. The blaring siren of an alarm system.

“Jesus—Fuck. I thought I told her to turn off the alarm at 8.”

And Joel’s voice.

You jolted awake, blinking wide as you moved to sit upright on the couch. The time on the cable box was 11:50.

Soon, the alarm stopped, and not long after, Joel’s figure came into view. He was wearing a denim button-up with work pants and work boots.

“Hey,” Joel called, setting his things down next to the kitchen island.

“Hi,” You replied, “How was work?”

Joel gave you a polite smile before pulling open the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer. With his head still poked inside the fridge, he replied, “The usual.”

“Well, what was the usual li—”

“—Were you asleep?”

“Uh…" You cleared your throat in an effort to stall as you debated whether or not you would lie. "Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

Joel took a swig of his beer, staring at you from across the room for a minute before blurting out, “The usual is busy. Extremely busy and tedious. But, um, how was Sarah? Hope you weren’t asleep too long.”

“Nope,” You lied, “I Wasn’t asleep long at all. Sarah was great. We had a bit of trouble with lunch, but everything ended up fine.”

“Good. Good. Well you can head out now, thanks for taking care of her.”

No. You did not want to "head out." You rose to your feet. “Joel?”

He looked around as he swallowed his beer. “Uh, yeah?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you. About yesterday.”

He peered down at the ground, swishing around the bottle in his hand. “That’s—That’s okay, honey. I think it’s best we forget that happened.”

“What? But why?”

Joel crossed the room and sat down next to you, leaning back against the couch while you sat back down on the edge with your elbows resting on your knees.

“Come on,” He started, “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly why we’re… this… is impossible.”

“Joel, I—”

“—I’m sorry. You should get home now.”

You turned around to face him. “Joel. No one has to know.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry. I handled yesterday… terribly. There were a million different ways to go about that, and I somehow chose the worst one. But we don't work. We can't work.”

You felt your eyes begin to water, but you tried to push the feeling down.

“Hey, hey,” He lulled, the hardness of his attitude falling away as he noticed the sad shine in your eyes, “Don’t cry.” He pulled you against him, rubbing your shoulder firmly.

“Joel,” You mumbled in a small voice, sniffling against his denim shirt with a frown.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to justify what he was quickly realizing was inevitable. You were an adult, somebody else independent of your father. It was your choice who to get involved with, just like it was his. This was mutual.

He knew he would regret it later, but your innocence and desperation allured him to the point of no return.

“It’s late,” Joel began, voice gentle as he offered you one last out, “You should go home. You need sleep, you’re not thinking straight. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“No,” You replied, removing yourself from his body so you could look him in the eye. “I don’t want to leave. I want you to… I want you to do what you said you’d do.”

Knowing exactly what you were talking about, he redundantly asked in a whisper, “And what’s that?”

You wiped a stray tear as you clumsily moved to straddle his lap. Almost automatically, his hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the slivers of skin peeking between your cami tank top and the waistband of your shorts. But it seemed at some point his consciousness realized what he was doing because his hands suddenly dropped to his sides. And, well, you just wouldn’t have that, so you grabbed hold of his wrists and returned them to where they were settled on your hips before you rested your own hands on Joel’s chest.

“You remember, don’t you?” You shifted in his lap, “You said you’d teach me.”

“How to have sex.” He said it more like a confirmation rather than a question.

You blushed at his blatant use of the word. It was like every fifth thing coming out of his mouth was sending your brain spiraling. You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, sex. Blowjobs, orgasms, literal sex. All of it.”

Silence for a beat. “I have one condition,” Joel warned.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“The second I suspect your dad is onto us, that’s it. It’s over. No more messing around, none of it. I can’t lose my best friend.”

You nodded. You probably shouldn’t have agreed so easily, but you didn’t actually think you and Joel would ever get caught.

“Okay, then,” Joel whispered. “Good. What do you wanna do first? Start off easy.”

You looked around the room nervously, careful not to make eye contact as you spoke. “Like. I dunno. Maybe for right now, I could just… touch you. Touch it, I mean.”

Joel nodded, and when your breathing began to grow the slightest bit uneven from nervousness, he noticed and rubbed your upper arm reassuringly. “Hey. Relax. Climb down and sit right there on the ground between my legs, and I’ll show you where to start.”

And so you did. Joel peered down at you with heavy lids as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and thus began your first lesson.

“Unbuckle my pants.”

With shaky hands, you removed his belt and undid his fly. You couldn’t explain why, but as soon as you caught sight of the bulge in his boxers, your mouth watered.

“What…” You began, “What now?”

“Whatever feels comfortable.”

With a light, feathery touch, you delicately traced a singular finger along the outline of his cock. Joel shivered at the contact, hands shooting to grip the sofa. Touching it felt different this time, more intense because you could feel every ridge and vein; you blamed it on the much thinner fabric dividing your fingers and his cock.

Your breath shuddered before speaking, “Can I take it ou—”

“—Yes, God, yes.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling downwards until his cock sprang free. It was thick, long, and wet at the tip, and you found yourself instinctively leaning further into it.

“Okay,” Joel sighed shakily, “Now just form a circle with your fingers and stroke it.”

You did as Joel said, and when your fingers finally made contact with his cock, you sighed at how velvety the skin was there. Soft and smooth, except for the trimmed hair surrounding the base. You stroked him steadily, biting your lip as you watched the wetness leaking from his tip spread down his shaft.

“Twist at the tip, honey, twist at the—Yeah, just like that. So good, you’re doing so good.” You couldn’t help but smile when Joel tilted his head back from the pleasure of it all.

With Joel still reeling from the contact of your hand, you took his momentary refusal to look down at you as an opportunity to surprise him a little.

You leaned forward and kitten-licked his tip, and it had him finally making eye contact with you as he whispered, “Oh, do that again.”

And so you did, adoring the look of pleasure strewn across Joel’s face.

Joel offered you a quick, crooked grin. “How’s it feel?” He asked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip as your tongue played with his tip.

You pulled away for a moment to respond, “How’s what feel?”

“Licking a man’s cock.”

You let the spit that had gathered in your mouth drip down onto his length. “I have the urge to do more with it.”

“Like what?”

“Like put it all the way in my mouth.”

And so kitten licks turned into long stripes up his shift, which turned into eager suckling on his tip, which turned into forcing his cock down as far as it could go without making you gag.

Joel’s hand gripped the back of your head, but he never pushed you down. Whenever you did accidentally end up gagging, he petted your hair, mumbling encouragements as best he could through the blinding pleasure. Things like, “Yeah, honey, doing so good. That’s it. Just a little more. Mhm.” And his affectionate nature, his gentleness, his reassuring words—he was exactly how you hoped he would be like. Not to mention, the general hotness of it all had your hips canting down against nothing, in desperate search of relief.

“M’close, sweetheart. Take it—Take it out.”

“I don’t wanna,” You replied in a hoarse voice as you jacked him off.

“You’re not ready for that, honey, just take it out. Take it out.”

You reluctantly complied, removing him from the tight heat of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin as you stroked him rapidly.

“Joel, I… I think I’m wet.”

He moaned a curse at that, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as his orgasm approached him. “Jesus f-fuckin’… Tell me more.”

“I need you to touch it for me next time. Please. Maybe you could… Maybe you could put your mouth on it like how I put my mouth on you.”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, I’m cumming, don’t stop stroking it,” Joel moaned, hot white spurts shooting up and all over your hand as you stroked him through it.

With his breathing still labored, he panted out in a high voice, “You’re lying. You’re f-fucking lying. Tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“This isn’t—You’ve done this before. No way you made me cum this hard and it’s your first time.”

“Well,” You breathed a nervous laugh, “That’s flattering. But you’re my first. Trust me.”

When his orgasm fully subsided, Joel lay slumped against the sofa with his legs spread wide. You remained between them with your head resting on his thigh as you just stared at his cock. Took it all in, every curve, every vein, and inevitably, the cum that spurted itself over the surrounding area.

“What are you doing?” Joel chuckled, petting your hair as you smiled.

“I’m… I don’t know really. I just can’t stop looking at it.”

But then curiosity got the best of you, and you began to drag your fingers through the mess at his base. It caught Joel off-guard, his entire body stiffening as he watched you.

“What does it taste like?” You asked quietly as you examined the cum on your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” Joel groaned through his labored breathing, “I swear, if you do what I think you’re about to do, I’ll be hard again in five seconds.”

“I’ll take my chances,” You joked, bringing your finger to your mouth and licking it clean, ultimately wincing at the taste. “It’s like, bitter. And salty. And kinda sweet. But mostly bitter and salty. To be honest, it’s kinda nasty but I can see myself getting used to it.”

“Wow,” Joel sighed, “You just really know how to set the mood. Make things real romantic.”

“Oh, shut it,” You huffed, playfully swatting his thigh before getting up and plopping down next to him on the sofa as he got to work stuffing himself back into his pants despite the mess he made—that was a problem for future Joel. 

“Gonna miss you, little Joel,” You joked to his crotch.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Joel chuckled painfully with his fists in his eyes. “I’m never letting you near ‘little Joel’ again.”

“Mm, no, because I just made you cum so hard you thought I was lying about being a virgin.”

He sighed at that. “You got me there.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

You both laughed at that; In fact, you both were laughing a lot. And at everything. In your head, you blamed it on the ecstatic high of being in each other’s presence this way.

When the mutual laughter died down, Joel looked at you for a moment, admiring you. Then, slow and hesitant as ever, he leaned in to kiss you.

“Do you taste it?” You whispered, breaking the kiss as you fought another giggle.

“Yes, actually. Wait, don’t say it please, this is actually a nice moment—”

“—Your cum!” You loud-whispered.

Another sigh. “My cum.”

You eagerly kissed him back after that, swearing off mood-breaking jokes for the rest of the night. Eventually, you even became too tired to kiss, simply letting your forehead rest against his. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand snaked up your leg and inched under the leg of your shorts, using force to push your legs open wider.

“Need me to take care of this?” He asked into your mouth before letting his kisses travel down to your neck.

“Joel,” You breathed, breaths beginning to come out in rapid succession as your hips gyrated in response to how dangerously close Joel’s hand was to your pussy. “I… I’m tired.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do a thing,” Joel breathed, removing his hand from beneath your shorts in order to pull down the waistband. “It’s a yes or no question. Just give me a yes or a no.”

Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes and stared at the little bit of empty space left between you and Joel. The throbbing between your legs was bad, but it was something about the delayed gratification of saving things for later that stopped you from saying yes. “No, I… I think that’s it for tonight.”

Joel withdrew his hand, reassuringly cracking a brief smile. “Hey, uh, spend the night. It’s way too late, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but what about Sarah?” 

“I came home super late, you fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

You thought about it for a second before agreeing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you. But I’m taking the couch.”

“What? No—”

“—Joel. I’m taking the couch.”

He looked at you skeptically but then agreed. “If you change your mind just let me know.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Joel squeezed your leg before getting up and making his way to the stairs. “Goodnight.”

masterlist

A/N: strikethrough means i can't tag you, check your settings

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[hyewka]

Okay okay!

Imagine walking in on long time bestfriend Kai using a pussy pocket on himself! Like...he's whimpering and moaning, edging himself and bullying his pretty dick with it.

And reader is like standing there not knowing what to do in a situation like this except feel the heat pool between her legs until Kai loudly chants reader's name while he's cumming...moaning and whining as he drains himself of everything he's got.

(+ he has such a sweet, reddened face, all sweaty and breathy but his arms are all veiny, wrapped around his huge cock!!....???!!)

From your new freaky deeky anon that loves you so much!!

- 🩰

warnings. assumed kai stole mc’s panties, perv!kai, pocket pussy, sub!kai, childhood best friends, not proofread i got a little excited over this ask lol

when your parents decided to take up the chance of renting a summer vacation home with kai’s family tagging along, practically tight knit family friends because of you and kai’s inseparability since childhood, you agreed in a heartbeat. though you basically see hueningkai enough as it is, you haven’t seen his parents and sisters in forever.

it’s all cheerful and relaxing, getting pulled into a tight, all too familiar hug by kai’s mom when they finally arrive a few hours after you guys settled in, on about how much she missed you and playfully scolding you for not catching up with her that often. “any boyfriend yet?” she teases with a tilt to her voice.

you groan, cheeks hurting with the smile permanent on your face. “not yet aunty, still single.”

“but you’re such a pretty young lady!” Her flattery always has you feeling giddy because you know she means it every time. “stop it” you mutter, carrying her bag for her.

“you know he’s available right?” she gestures towards kai who was unloading the suitcases from the trunk. you unintentionally hone in the bead of sweat that drips down his face, the sun blazing hot shining on him. damn. you snap out of it when she speaks up again. “when you guys get married, i’m owed a thousand.”

you chuckle when he snaps his head to you guys as if his ears are trained to pick up on a conversation that had to do with marriage when it comes out of his mother’s mouth. this is such a typical interaction, always reminding you that you and kai might as well just get married already with like, five kids—you’re almost unfazed. “mom, stop!” he whines, the tips of his ears red.

“hey, this is a girl’s conversation you’re not allowed to join in.” she shoos and you almost double over in laughter at his facial expression as he immediately drops it, going in the house dragging two suitcases loaded with a duffel bag. he always pouts whenever he’s frustrated and its the funniest thing ever.

“he’s such a baby, jesus.” she sighs. “but he’s lovable.” it comes from a motherly place, but it still feels almost like she’s giving you a nudging.

he’s lovable.

but you know that. he is your best friend after all. So you laugh it off.

#######################

you feel like such a pervert. you’ve been standing here for an entire five minutes without a single movement of a muscle. but between the two of you, who was the nastier one?

the one peeking through the already halfway opened door coincidentally or the one having a pair of lace underwear pressed under their nose…while deliriously jacking off. well, okay, you’re kind of at fault for being glued to your spot and not just shutting the door for his privacy but jesus christ. kai was using an entire sex toy in a house full of family? you know the walls were pretty sound proof but your paranoia would dispel any reason for you to act on any sexual urges, so jesus christ.

was he that horny? well he looked it seeing that his legs were entirely spread on his bed. and were those his girlfriend’s panties? but his mom said he was available? so whose-

you’re scared shitless when you notice kai’s clouded, glazed over eyes firmly on you, no longer shut—your hand on the door knob shake. but once again you’re frozen in place, no matter how much your brain tells you to move, you can’t and even crazier, he doesn’t stop even when theres a flash of panic in his features getting rid of the panties pressed to his nose, no—in fact his hand almost blurs as he slides the pocket pussy up and down on his glistening cock. god, his cock. it’s pretty. holy shit it’s pretty. like every part of him, somehow he manages to make an organ that resembles a fucking overcooked hotdog look good. you feel your throat dry, because even more than it not standing weird or bending in directions, it was fucking huge.

you jolt a little when you hear creaking of stairs, immedietely entering inside hueningkai’s room and shutting the door behind you in panic. you lock it.

“fuck.” you breathe. you think you might’ve lost your mind. you really do. because in normal circumstances you would probably unintentionally cockblock him, or at least say something. anything. but you’re fucking enamored at the way his brows furrow, the way he hisses low curses, his broad chest unrhythmic as it falls up and down, heaving.

you’ve always had a hint of his size the few times you’ve caught what you assumed to be accidental boners, but you didn’t know it was this big. It’s almost intimidating. and it has you rubbing your thighs pathetically.

the squelching sounds of the terribly gracious amount of lube and what you assume to be his precum barely does the job of drowning out his pathetic mewls and whining.

all color drains from your face when he calls out to you. it almost felt like you were watching a camboy for a second there. “Y/N, fuck-fuck fuck, are you-” he chokes, the sweat making his face practically glow under the dim light of his room. “do you like this?” he pants, eyes wet and big—the most vulnerable you’ve seen them.

you find yourself dumbly nodding, like you were under some sort of spell, unable to get out words as his moan strains with a final breath, bucking his hip up with the pocket pussy firmly pressed down in his entire length. It looks straight out of a porno the way his mouth falls open, your name out of his lips sinfully once again as he tenses, orgasming.

your instinct is to immediately go to cover his mouth, because for a moment there, he was too goddamn loud! but, god was that a mistake. Because you get a closer look of the drenched panties peeking from under him and your breath hitches.

then your eyes slowly trail back to kai’s that were just completely fucked out. the sheets being covered with dried semen has you guessing that hes been going at it for hours.

was that why his texts to you to shut the bathroom lights were so weirdly full of misspellings? did he…leave the door open on purpose?

his whimper against your palm sends jolts, and your eyes widen at seeing he had his hand on his cock again, pain etched on his eyes, clearly from the overstimulation but he tugs until its growing hard in his hand again, all while holding his eyes on your face. you gulp.

this was going to be a long week.

###################

note. i love childhood best friends sub!kai like theres somethinggg about him

[sixhours]

looking for the light

Rating: Everyone Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel and Sarah, Sarah Miller, Joel Miller, baby Sarah, soft!Joel, Joel needs a hug, Joel is trying really hard OK, angst, angst with a happy ending, but mostly just angst, sorry Word count: ~750, it's a baby fic

Note: Y’all can blame @frannyzooey for this little bit of heartache.

You can also read on AO3.

~*~

She screams for what feels like hours.

“C’mon, baby girl,” he whispers, a note of desperation creeping in. He’s been through the checklist–formula, diaper, swaddle, rock–but she won’t settle. “Sweet girl, Sarah girl, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

We’re okay.

And she screams.

Her little face scrunched up, tears streaming down–those are new, he thinks dully–body arched taut as a bowstring.

Pace and rock and sway and prep the bottle only for her to spit it out, check the diaper, rub her back in slow, firm circles, pace and rock and sway and shush.

Screaming.

He turns 23 today. Or maybe it was yesterday. He doesn’t know what time it is, doesn't know how long she’s been like this.

“It’s alright, you’re alright. C’mon, baby girl. I got you.”

Screaming.

And then his hands are shaking too hard to hold her, his vision blurred with tears of his own.

He can’t do this.

He sets her in the crib, the one she hasn’t used since they brought her home, tiny limbs poking out of her car seat harness like a starfish, practically swallowed by the thing, so small.

Fleeing from the room. He doesn’t make it far. She is gravity and he is stuck in her orbit.

He slides down the wall in the hallway, curling in on himself, chest so tight he thinks he might pass out. When he finally sucks in a decent breath, it’s a barking, wheezing thing, and he wastes it on a sob.

Laureen walked out two weeks ago. No note, no call, just went back to her parents in Albany. The paperwork signing over her rights is sitting on the kitchen table, stained with coffee rings and sour milk.

Tommy’s bedroom is empty and he’s god knows where, probably drunk or fucking around with some girl. He’s 17, still a kid himself, another responsibility he isn’t ready for.

Joel bites down hard on his fist and wishes desperately for the mother they buried six months ago.

He can’t do this. He can’t. He can’t raise a baby and pay the bills and keep his brother out of trouble. He should…

No. No, he can’t do that. The nurse handed her to him in the hospital, all red-faced and slick, and she’d taken his heart when she wrapped her tiny hand around his thumb.

So that’s not an option.

But Christ, he’s drowning.

“Please.”

He doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Doesn’t know anything but the needling sound of her cries that he can no longer ignore.

He stands, swipes at his eyes, goes back into the room. Picks her up.

Pace and rock and sway and shush.

“Please, Sarah.”

Whispers swallowed by screams.

“Please, baby, tell me what you need. Please.”

Tears on his cheeks to match hers as he begs. He begs.

“Please, baby girl.”

And then he must bounce just right, or pat her just right, because she lets out the loudest, most magnificent burp Joel has ever heard. It shouldn’t be possible, such a big sound coming from such a tiny body. It rings in his ears and settles her quaking limbs, spit-up soaking the back of his shirt. He never has the burp cloth on the right side. It doesn’t matter.

Quiet.

“Was that it?” he sniffs, pathetic. “Was that all, sweet girl? Jus’ had a bubble, huh?”

Shuddery little hiccup against his chin.

“There she is,” he murmurs, cupping her tiny head in one palm, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “My girl, my Sarah girl.”

He collapses into the plush glider rocker, the one that cost a full month’s pay, the one Laureen insisted on. He hadn’t blinked, just wrote the check.

One foot on the floor, one on the ottoman, rocking. She settles on his chest, ear to his heart, already drowsy.

“We’re gonna be okay, you an’ me,” he whispers, nose pressed to her crown, tears still drying on his cheeks, willing himself to believe it. “We’re gonna be jus’ fine.”

~*~

Dawn.

She stirs, little snuffling noises, mouthing one tiny fist. 

He shifts her into the crook of his arm, sleep-crusted eyes blinking open to look at her, lets his thumb trace the velvet-soft curve of her cheek.

“Mornin’, baby girl.”

Dark brown eyes mirror his. The softest coo in answer.

And something new.

Tentative, hesitant at first, then blossoming.

“Yeah? You like that?”

Throat thick with love, shaky in-breath. Happy tears this time.

“Yeah,” he whispers, returning her first smile. “Yeah, we’re gonna be okay.”

[teojira]

[Together in every universe]

Summary: I'd find him in every universe trope + multiple different Raphaels! (2007,2012,2016,2023)

Word count: 1.7k

Pronouns: She/her

Warnings: None that I can think of! Do let me know if I do have to tag something!

A/N: everything I write is extremely self indulgent but this is MAJORLY so, like Jesus christ can you tell I've been attached to him since I was 6?

"Do you think we're together in every universe, Raph?" You mumble softly, your head resting on his shoulder while he breathes deeply, focused on the bike parts in his hand. 

It's a slow day, everyone really doing their own things in their own little parts of the sewers. Mikey and Donnie are working, Leonardo is meditating with Splinter and April and Casey are wedding planning, occasionally sending messages in the family group chat.

He's not really doing anything much with the parts, long past the point of actually trying to fix it, mostly turning them around in his hand. His senses are more attuned to you than anything.

Raph feels your hair brush against him. He fights back a shiver that tries to go through his entire body. He revels in the warmth your body provides, basking it in while he turns his body more so towards you. He snorts softly at your noise of contempt, rolling his eyes as a small smile appears.

"What's with the corny ass question?" God forbid he ever speaks without being a little bit of a dick, but it's part of his charm.

"Ugh, do you think so or not?" You grumble, lifting a fist up to lightly hit him on his shoulder, readjusting yourself to look directly into his eyes.

One of his hands immediately comes to wrap around your waist, sliding your body upwards to comfortably sit on his lap while his other hand none too gently tosses the parts onto the wheel caddy. Resting more of his weight against the weathered down tattered chair, he uses a foot to gently swing it into gentle circles.

Lifting one hand up, he pushes your head back onto his shoulder, resting his head on yours, and hums with content. You can't help but exhale softly, eyes shutting as you brush your fingers against his plastron, gently rubbing the nicks and scratches all over it.

"We are sugar, no doubt about it." With a soft kiss to your temple, he feels your breath even out against his chest and pulls you in just a bit closer. You've always joked that he wants to crawl into your skin, he has no comment.

If you can hear the churring coming out, you make no mention of it.

The bike can wait.

"Raph! I got some extra stuff for Spike. Can I feed him?" You run into the lair excitedly, footsteps loud as you change directions to get to him fast. As you rush to the dinner table, Raphael sits quietly.

Reading a comic that Leonardo left lying around despite him claiming that it was for 'nerds'. Raph never would admit that he's enjoying it, but he's already halfway through before he knows it.

His head shoots up and he lets out a little snort at seeing you bouncing on your heels, your eyes have a twinkle in them while you shake your dominant hand with some fresh greens for the tiny turtle. You're cute standing there, slightly out of breath, even with the sweat on your forehead beading down.

He's never been one to deny you, not of much anyway. It wasn't a secret that he'd let you get away with more than he'd ever let his brothers. He'd let you cling to him at any point but shove Mikey away at the same time, not caring if it got him teasing. (It was worth it to have any contact with you)

"Mmmm, guess so, since you're so excited about it and all." He shrugs with a single shoulder, trying not to show how excited he was.

You were so sweet to him, for no particular reason, and you loved Spike just like he did. He couldn't help but feel his heart clench. He can feel his cheeks warming, bringing a bandaged hand up to rub at it, trying desperately to will it away. 

"Yes! Come on, let's go! I did research and everything to be extra sure that they are safe for him to eat." Grabbing his hand, you're trying to pull him out of his seat with all your might (he finds it funny to watch you struggle). He lifts himself up slowly, enjoying the contact he lets you drag him to his room and to Spike's enclosure.

He's a little embarrassed at the state of his room, almost wanting to drop your hand so he can clean the mess until he realizes you couldn't care less.

You're still holding his hand tightly when you both sit down at the table that Spike's cage sits on. You pause for a second, hesitantly dropping his bigger hand in favor of reaching down and gently scooping Spike up, bringing him up to your face so you can leave a peck on his little head.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" You coo, gently petting the turtle's shell.

Spike basks in your attention, his little eyes staring at his owner with a smug little face, just screaming, "You wish this were you, huh?"

Raphael just rolls his eyes, and under his breath, he grumbles but nonetheless moves to grab the bag of greens, ripping it open.  Spike's lucky that Raphael loves both of you enough to share.

"Raph, is this really necessary?"

Up and down, up and down. His grip on your legs is starting to hurt. You wouldn't be surprised if you get impressions of his fingers in your skin, complete with the scales as well.

"Yea, now keep countin' for me." He grumbles, readjusting his grip on your body to make it more comfortable for you.

Back through the motions, it seems like you're not getting down anytime soon.

You groan as your hair swishes back and forth with your movement. No doubt, hair becoming undone and seemingly looking like a mess.

What's the said movement from? It's from Raphael using you as a barbell, his shell resting on the bench, he's been at it for the last hour and there's no end in sight.

Leo had tried to come 'save' you about an hour ago but Raph growled at him, so he just threw his hands up and walked off shooting you a look that screamed oh well, I tried.

It wasn't uncommon to see Raphael use you in his workout routines, whether it be lifting you up above him, teaching you how to defend yourself, or just using you as a weight. It was his way of spending time with you, but he'd always scoff and say otherwise. His favorite things in the world consisted of you and his workouts, can you blame a guy for wanting both at the same time?

Up and down, up and down, continuously. Alright, this is getting a bit old.

"Raph, babe, we hit 100, Can we please~" You drag the e out. "Take a break so we can eat?" The whine is apparent in your tone, finally wanting to get off this ride.

His arms get weak for a second, despite a year of dating at this point, he still gets weak when you refer to him with any pet name. He never hears the end of it.

"Who's we? Sounds like you're the one hungry. What's in it for me?" Raph teases after he regains his small loss of composure. He gently brings you down to rest on his chest, letting you move to wherever you see fit while he crosses his arms behind his head.

Raph finds it cute when you shift yourself around, moving to where you're sitting on his waist and using your arms to try and cage him in like he isn't massive and dwarves you in every way shape, and form.

I'll give you kisses if you help me make something~" You coo down at the big turtle, gently brushing your nose against his.

"Alright princess, you drive a hard bargain, let's go." He picks himself up, maneuvering you to be slung over his shoulder as he pats your thigh.

"Raph! Put me down!"

"Mmmm, nah, don't think so shortstack."

Raph's nerves are through the roof, he's never been truly apart from his brothers but now he's in high school and his schedule shows that he won't see Leo, Donnie, or Mikey until lunch and he tries his best to not freak the fuck out. Yes, he saved the world, yes he's arguably the most dangerous of the four, yes he has anger issues but he's still just 15 years old for fucks sake. 

He doesn't know the first thing about making friends, not like Mikey does. Donnie likes his geeky stuff, no doubt finding the anime or K-pop club already and joining, Leo is most definitely following April around so at least he's not alone, having her by his side.

His first period is history, a subject he definitely isn't confident in but he should get it out of the way first. He just has to make it to lunch, just until then.

Raph sighs through his mouth and rolls his shoulders, hyping himself up as he walks on and glances around the room, looking for an empty seat.

It's harder than it looks, with everyone already having their established friend groups and seats already filled in. Nervously, he makes his way to the back rows of desks, spotting a single empty one, and rushes to sit down, dropping his backpack on the floor.

He stares down at his desk, nerves fully engulfing him now as he waits for the bell to ring. Maybe high school was a bad idea? Maybe Sensei had the right idea to keep them underground. He should ask to stay home actually.

Movement out of the corner of his eye and oh. Oh.

There's a girl, staring at him as he mentally combusts. Great, she's pretty too and wow this is getting so much worse.

Raph feels his heart beat faster and faster, looking at her and taking in her features, shamelessly staring back.

 His hands shift in his hoodie pockets cracking his knuckles and making quiet pops. Should he say something? Pay her a compliment? Fuc-

"Hey, you're Raphael right?" She greets him with a quirk on her lips, reaching out her hand in a small fist. A fist bump, he can do that, this is fine.

He finds it in himself to smile back, lifting his own and gently knocking it against hers.

"Yeah, you can call me Raph, what's your name?" He sees your eyes light up, a prettier smile on your face now. You turn your entire body towards his own, uncaring that the bell has finally rung, class starting at any moment.

"I'm [name]! I gotta ask, who's your favorite artist?"

"Is that a joke about my name…?"

"I meant as bands but hey, that works too."

"Oh, in that case, it's for SURE Drake!

The first period wouldn't be that bad anymore, if you happily showing him you Spotify account was anything to go by.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓬 [Main Work]

You're supposed to keep him in check and integrate him into earth's society while he recovers from the aftereffects of catching a viral infection on his planet. All that, while you get to earn a pretty good monthly compensation for your efforts from the government of his and your planet.

Or more simplified: You're a paid babysitter for a 7' tall alien who's caught a virus that makes him act purely on instincts, rather than logic. Oh yeah- and he tried to eat your neighbor's pet bird. Yeah...

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Yes I'm writing that story..., mentions of doctors visits (needles, injections, medical terms, blood), mild Angst, so much chaos, he almost eats a bird once oops, mild Angst, strangers to lovers, more TBA

Length: 4k words

A/N: THERE IS NO TAGLIST. THERE IS NO TAGLIST FOR THIS. THERE REALLY ISNT. DO NOT ASK.

-> Masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

"Are you sure that's a good Idea?" Jimin asks, and you shrug, dipping your piece of bread in the sauce.

"Yeah, why not?" You say. "They're not dangerous or anything. I've met Yoongi, and he's cool. Can live alone, even!" You tell your best friend across from you, who doesn't seem convinced.

"Yoongi is different though. He's, like, recovered already." Jimin says. "You'll be getting one straight out of quarantine. I'm sorry but, are you sure you can handle that?" He worries, and you roll your eyes.

"Jimin you're acting as if he's gonna try and murder me in my sleep." You scoff, denying any of his worries. "I went to all the lessons and readings and educational stuff- I wouldn't have gotten approved if I didn't. So calm down, I got this." You chuckle.

Jimin simply shrugging, well aware he can't change your mind.

"Jungkook, no, come on." The careworker who's nametag reads 'Kim Namjoon' gently says, holding the hand of who you assume must be Jeon Jungkook-

26-year-old Vrota, straight out of quarantine, having been brought to earth for treatment earlier this year. He likes sports, has a pretty big appetite, and dislikes being left alone for too long. He used to work as a physical health coach before catching the virus on Vilia, and stayed in self-isolation for about half a year before being sent to earth to be treated in quarantine for the most severe portion of his sickness.

Now, he's deemed healthy enough to stay with a human 'caretaker'- or babysitter, how you'd call it. And to be honest, you didn't really think much about taking care of a Vrota at first, having met one by the name of Min Yoongi during your earlier days at the education center for Vilian people- and he was a pretty cool guy.

What you didn't take into thought was apparently that Vrota can look very different just like humans. So yeah.. the guy standing in front of you right now with his big brown cat-eyes and colorful tattoos isn't really comparable to the chill, rather laid back Yoongi you had met.

No.

Fuck no.

Walking into your home is a at least 7-foot tall young man of your age, simply black shirt stretching over the muscles of his biceps, jeans seeming to barely contain his thigh muscles. Jesus christ.

Maybe Jimin was right in his worries that you might end up dead at the end of this.

"So, Jungkook here doesn't have any allergies, so you don't have to worry about that. He's overall low maintenance, sleeps a lot, but when he's awake you might want to start taking him out a bit, since he get's a bit restless if he's got nothing to occupy himself with." Namjoon explains, giving you all the necessary papers in an envelops, while Jungkook walks around to explore your apartment. "Also, don't be intimidated by him. He's gone through multiple rounds of behavioral analysis, and has been deemed no threat whatsoever." He offers when he notices you watch the way the young man walks around, looking at pictures on your wall.

"So like, I guess he has to put that on when we go out?" You wonder, pointing at the simple black collar with a GPS tracking device on it.

"Yes, please. And also, keep a hold of his hand, just so he doesn't get lost." Namjoon chuckles.

"Sorry, but I don't think me holding him by his hand is gonna do much." You joke, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Ah, no-" He agrees. "-it's not to physically keep him with you. It just reassures him, in a way. He enjoys physical contact a lot." he explains.

"So- does he talk?" You wonder, watching how Jungkook looks out the windows, cat eyes jumping around at the nature and scenery outside.

"Sometimes, but barely. He understands speech fluently though. It'll take some time for him to come out of his shell, but once he's comfortable, he'll talk. The virus didn't injure his brain whatsoever, so he's expected to make a full recovery by the end of this year." Namjoon informs you, and you nod. "His scheduled appointments are in there, his current doctors are marked down as well. If you can't take him to one of those appointments, please call in advance, alright? Otherwise they'll immediately try and pick him up themselves, and that's gonna be a lot of paperwork on your side, and a lot of unnecessary stress on his." He explains further, and you nod.

"So, basically- cook him food, make sure he doesn't go missing, and take him to his doctors. Got it." You nod, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Pretty much. Like I said, he's rather low maintenance. You can occupy him with video games or movies as well- and when it comes to food, he's not picky. Doesn't like sour snacks though." He laughs, and you nod.

"No sour stuff, got it." You nod, and at that, Namjoon claps his hands together.

"Alright kook, I'm gonna leave you here then." He says, making the man in question walk closer again, nodding. "Do you like it here?" He wonders, and Jungkook shrugs, looking around-

before he nods, looking at you.

"Alright. His clothes and everything has arrived, right?" Namjoon asks, and you nod.

"All in his room." You say, making Namjoon nod.

"Don't cause too much trouble, alright?" He tells Jungkook, who nods a bit deflated, visibly a bit upset he's gonna leave now. But he doesn't show it too much, waves Namjoon goodbye until the door closes, leaving him alone with you.

"Your room is here-" You say, leading him to a small guest room where he spots his suitcases on the bed. "I didn't unpack them, cause.. privacy and stuff. So you can do that while I make something to eat?" You ask, and he nods, walking past you- and only now do you realize just how much taller he really is than you.

Jesus christ.

You break away your eyes from the sight of his broad back to instead run into your kitchen, putting away the papers and starting to cook instead to both calm yourself down- and make sure Jungkook feels comfortable too.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

It's been a few weeks- and thinks have definitely settled quite well.

You're currently sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office- waiting to be called in, as Jungkook keeps rubbing his ear. "No, don't." You quietly scold him with a soft tone, carefully pulling his hand down by his biceps, causing him to whine under his breath in complaint.

He's been having some issues with it recently- an underlying problem that had been overlooked due to more pressing issues. An elderly woman with a young looking Vrota girl smiles at you from where she sits across, watching rather fondly how you hold Jungkook's hand in yours. Namjoon had been right- it works wonders in reassuring the young man.

And it also kept him close at your side.

"Jeon Jungkook?" Is called by a nurse, and you follow her into one of the examination rooms, where Jungkook sits down on the bed, while you took a seat close by on a chair. It's routine to you both by now, after all. "Ah, there. Hello!" The doctor offers, bowing politely before he sits down across from you behind his table. "So- apparently he's got some trouble with his ear?" He wonders, and you nod.

"He's been pretty frustrated with it for some days now. Keeps rubbing it, and he doesn't like it being touched either." You inform the man, who nods and writes some stuff down in his computer with the help of his keyboard.

"Hm yeah, that looks pretty sore." The man says as he inspects Jungkook's ear further, his tail whipping around as he tries to stay composed.

Unbeknownst to you, he only really does it to impress you.

As soon as the doctor is done, Jungkook get's up to walk closer to where you sit, hand curiously playing with the shoulder strap of your top while the doctor explains what medication Jungkook will have to take. Touches like this aren't unusual- Namjoon had been right, after all. The Vrota standing next to you is very touchy, enjoying you close and seemingly seeking you whenever he can. From sitting on the couch so closely next to each other that your legs are touching, to snoozing during a nap with his full upper body on your thighs.

It's what happens later when you're back home, as you're scrolling around on your phone, while he purrs in his sleep on your thighs. He's full on hugging your middle, arms around you keeping you close while the tip of his tail moves a little as he dreams. He really is currently like a big cat in a humanoid body- and you wonder if it's still the aftereffects of his virus, or if he's always like this in general.

Almost as if on pure instinct, one of your hands falls into his slightly curly hair, nails running over his scalp, and at that, his almost unnoticeable purr turns into vibrant rumbling in his chest. His arms wrap a bit tighter around your body as he adjusts his position, a soft smile on his face as he buries his nose in the front of your t-shirt. In this moment, you have to think about Jimin, and his big worries.

What a load of bullshit, you think to yourself, as you watch the happy cat-boy-alien snuggle just a little closer to you.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

Scratch that. Scratch all of that. This young man is a menace, and you'll surely go to jail for not looking after him by the end of this entire situation.

"Jungkook…" You say, at a stand-off with the big cat-like alien across from you who stares you down with his stupidly cute big round eyes as if he's not doing anything wrong. "Where is pudgy?" You ask, and at that he fully turns around, squirming bird in his hand. "Jungkook, no, no no no-!" You dramatically call out, hands reaching for him- when he looks at the bird, then at you. "Give him to me, yeah?" you try, and he seems completely taken aback for a moment, and almost- shy?

Unbeknownst to you, he thinks you want the bird for something entirely different. In his mind, you're not asking for the bird itself- you're asking for him to offer it for you.

You want him to… court you?

He seems to deeply think for a good moment as he watches the bird breathe heavily, it's life probably flashing before it's very eyes before Jungkook brightly grins, sharp canine teeth making his happy grin look more dangerous than it probably is.

You don't know why he's suddenly so chipper, tail held high and eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, he holds the bird out to you like he's offering it rather than returning it- and you carefully take the poor thing from his rough hold, accepting it. It's something that makes the tip of his tail snap upwards in excitement, eyes scanning you for every reaction as you walk back.

"I'll be… right back.." You carefully tell Jungkook, who shrugs. "Do not do anything while I'm gone." You warn, before you dash out the front door to return the pet yet again, violently knocking on your neighbor's door.

"What?!" Seokjin yells almost, when you hold out his bird to him. "Pudgy!"

"Yeah, fuck your bird Jin!" You yell at the young man. "Jungkook almost fucking ate him, keep the thing in his cage for god's sake! Do you know how much trouble I would've been in if he actually ate him? I'm not ensured for accidental pet-ingestion!" You complain, making the man laugh a little.

"I'll keep the windows closed from now on." He reassures you, and you nod, pinching the bridge of your nose as you make your way back downstairs into your apartment-

where a not so happy Jungkook waits, arms crossed and tail whipping angrily from side to side behind him, knocking down some papers on the kitchen table. He's clearly unhappy, growling a little with every breath, eyes sharp and glaring at you dangerously.

"What happened?" You wonder, and Jungkook himself wants to just yell at you.

You're so stupid, he thinks to himself.

Why would you insult him like that? He caught that bird, and you wanted it- so he offered it, thinking you finally understood his intentions at this point- but no. Instead you insult him by giving HIS offering to that stupid human man upstairs, as if to mock him!

Do you want something more impressive? Maybe a tiny bird isn't enough to win you over. But on earth, there's not much prey to hunt- and considering he's a little bound to the interior of your apartment, he doesn't have any other options, really. And even if he was to catch something better- like the deer he'd almost caught if it wasn't for you scolding him for it- you still don't seem to like that at all. He doesn't know what else he could do to impress you.

What the hell do human woman want?!

Maybe he just really chose to court the most stupid and ungrateful human he could find- but he'll make sure you understand his intentions soon enough, and he'll teach you proper manners as well, once he's better. Right now, he's still unable to really do much in his state- but once he recovers a little more, he'll make sure.

He'll make sure you know exactly what he wants from you.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

It's been a few months, and Jungkook has started to find his voice again, it seems like.

He hums a lot when doing household tasks, sings to himself while he folds laundry, throws random half-sentences at you here and there whenever he feels like doing so. And all of that is fine and dandy- if it wasn't for that very specific nickname he's come up with for you. You try to tell yourself that he just doesn't know any better, that he's just overly friendly, that there's no way he'd be using it for those specific reasons. It doesn't help that he's horribly attractive, and nice, and, ugh.

This is getting more complicated than you hoped it would.

"Kitty!" He chirps, as he leans over the couch, and holds something out to you. You can't help but flinch a bit internally at the way he says that nickname. You're guessing it came from when he'd asked what those cat-plushies in your bed had been called, and you had answered Hello Kitty to him. He'd laughed, pointed at the toy, and then pointed at your cheeks, poking them.

Ever since then, you'd been stuck with that name in his head, it seems like.

You eat from his fingers as he puts the piece of meat on your tongue, an odd, focused gaze on the action found in his eyes as he licks his own lips the same way you do yours. "It's good!" You praise, and he grins brightly, eagerly running back into your kitchen to finish whatever he's cooking. He's been becoming a lot more independent- and it makes you a little sad, considering that once he's deemed healthy enough, he'll leave you behind, move back to his planet one day, and forget you even existed.

A little bit of a bummer, really. But at the same time, there's nothing you can do about it. You don't feel good about asking him out- because what if he feels obligated to say yes?

It's like he senses the slight shift in your mood, slowly walking back up to the couch again where you sit, sitting down next to you on the couch, knees digging into the soft cushions while he curiously watches you with a tilted head. "Huh?" You wonder, smiling- but he frowns, shakes his head.

"What?" He asks. "Sad?" He questions, and you shrug, shaking your head.

"No no, don't worry." You shake it off. "Are you done cooking? Turned everything off?" You ask him, and he nods, but doesn't let off from his question it seems. He opens his arms, makes a grabbing motion with his hands, and you laugh. "You want a hug?" You giggle, but he shakes his head.

"No, you." He argues gently, urging you once more. "You, hug. Sad." He explains, and you laugh.

"Jungkook, I'm not sad." You say, and suddenly, his hands flop down, a frustrated look on his face.

"Don't want?" He hufffs. "Hug me?" He complains, and you look at him with questioning eyes.

"I do wanna hug you, kook." You say, and he perks up at the nickname used. "Just- you don't have to do that just cause I'm like, not feeling happy." You explain to him. "I'm here to take care of you, after all, not the other way around." You laugh, and he watches you a bit more serious right now.

"Right." He suddenly says with a flat tone. "You.. hm, get paid." He says more or less to himself. "For me." He finishes his sentence, sitting properly on the couch now, feet on the floor, arms crossed.

"I mean.. yeah." You say, carefully. "You're gonna leave as soon as you're good to go, you know that." You say. "Would be kinda weird to start like, a friendship or stuff when your stay is limited down the line. I just wanna look out for you- and myself too. Save us the hurt later on." You shrug, and at that, a lightbulb seems to blink out of nowhere over his head, as he looks at you.

"So you? Like me?" He asks, and you stammer an answer.

"Uh, no- like, yeah as a guy you're pretty cool but like I said-" You scramble for an explanation, but he just crawls back on the couch, over you, until he's got you practically pinned down beneath him.

"You like.. me." He says, as if it's a fact- and yeah, it is one. But it shouldn't be. "I like you." He offers. "I.. tried, hm.. Im-pressive- impress you!" He seems to think hard to make his words make sense, brain still a bit slow most of the time when he tries to talk. It shows by the way he still stutters, gets stuck on syllables or by the way his brows scrunch together in thought. "But you- dumb!" He scolds, pointing at your head.

"What the fuck- I'm not dumb!" You complain, and he laughs, sharp canine teeth showing.

"Yes!" He argues, though he seems to not mean it badly. "Really dumb!" He continues.

"Well at least I don't try to eat the local animal population!" You argue.

"But- offer!" He argues, tail puffed up and swaying around. "I need.. to impress! Hunt!" He complains.

"For what?" You laugh.

"You!" He whines loudly. "Mate, make mate- impress mate! You, so you- argh!" He growls out, and you can't help but laugh.

"Jungkook." You softly say, and he looks at you with a face looking like you just told him he has to sleep on the balcony outside. "You don't have to do that, you know? Just cause I take care of you, doesn't mean you.. have to like, be nice like that." You say, and at that, he huffs angrily to himself, tail all fluffy as the fur stands out to all ends in his growing frustration, his arms crossed.

"No.!" He argues. "Stupid!" He curses, getting up to walk into his bedroom, before he emerges back out with some papers in his hand, and red ears as he slaps them on the couch, fleeing the scene right after before slamming the door shut, and locking the door.

And on your couch are two papers, one of them having writing on both sides- the handwriting sloppy and crooked, but readable. And while some sentences don't make sense, it seems like he's tried to take his time and write down what he can't say, at the moment.

'Kitty is stupid' is written on top of the first paper, and you scoff to yourself. 'Kitty doesn't get it.' it reads further.

'I want cry. I catch her prey, I offer it, and she give away to man downstairs. Man downstairs can't even hunt at all, keeps stupid bird in a cage but doesn't ever eat it. Who keeps food alive in home? Why she likes him I don't know- he stupid, just like her. But I like her. Maybe I can teach her one day. But what if she hunt for her then? No, I want to do that.'

'I want to show that I can be good partner. I learned to cook with human foods! She likes food, likes eating. I like eating too, so we eat together often. Then we hug, and she scratches my head. I like that. She's warm.'

'Maybe she doesn't like me. Doesn't like my kind. Doesn't want my kind. Or me. Just me? Maybe just me. I'm the problem. She doesn't want me.'

You turn the page around. It's written with a different pen- probably written on a different day.

'She likes me. I know she do.'

'I made nest for her, today, and she smiled. Smiled happy, cute, like kitty-toys on her bed. Has cheeks round just like them. Soft, too. She is soft. Body soft. I like holding her often. I like holding her in nest I made. And she hugged me, too. Let me hold her instead. Normal, she hold me. But this time, I hold her. I want to hold her more from now. She can be held anytime she want. She smells nice too. Smells best when happy, and after shower.'

You chuckle as you remember that day. It had been raining, you'd gotten caught up in it on the way home from grocery shopping, and after putting all things away and showering, Jungkook had waited on the couch for you, blankets from his bed placed on it, his hand inviting you to sleep there with him. And you had simply accepted the offer-

After all, you didn't know what exactly he'd been trying to offer you with those pillows and blankets placed there. You were educated on his physical health and general behavior- not about courting rituals and how to spot if the Vrota you've been taking care of has developed a romantic interest in you. Why the hell would they teach that anyways? It's not like they are known to have a huge interest in humans.

If anything, they're typically looking down on humans.

You move the paper, and turn to the last one. There's not much written on it, but the sentences are clearer, showing how his health had started to increase again, brain starting to work better these days. They're not perfect, there's a lot scribbled out, but it's clear that it must've been written recently.

'I don't know if she enjoy my company as much as I do her. I know she gain money from taking care of me, but it feels like she also doing it because she care about me. Will she abandon me once I am healthy? Will she leave me once I recover? Will I forget her if I go back home? What if home is here now and not where home was? I don't want to go home anymore if she not there.'

'It's not home if she's not there. It's just a house, just a planet, just a place. But I want home. I want to be her home. I want us to be each other home.'

Can you even be a home? You haven't at all planned any further than up until he's healthy enough to go back home. You've got no clue what to really do after he leaves- so what the hell are you supposed to do now? A relationship with him would be perfectly legal, sure, but he's also only got a Visa for his earth-stay up until he's healthy enough to return to his home planet, once they've gotten their whole pandemic situation back under control. You don't know what to do now.

Maybe you really are stupid, like he says.

So you decide to be even more stupid, as you take a small post it note from your kitchen, and write down a single sentence, before you slide the little note under his bedroom door.

And as he reads it, his eyes become wide, while his fingers clench the pastel pink paper.

'I want to be your home, too.'

[dickgraysongirlie]

When Jason Finally Comes Back (Smut)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: smut, light angst, afab!reader, use of words describing vaginas.

A/N: short and sweet smut w/ a little, light angst. Jason's been out of town for a long while, and you really missed him.

It had been over two months since Jason left on his mission. You had known he’d be gone for a while, but this was beyond the pale. The first few weeks, you´d been able to throw yourself into work and see friends and fill your days. Then, a month had passed with minimal contact with the man you loved more than anything, and life was dragging. As much had you had worried before the fourth week came, it became overwhelming. For the past five weeks, all you could do was worry about Jason. It had begun affecting nearly every aspect of your life.

But, then, suddenly and beautifully he was back in your apartment, making it look all small again.

From the moment you flung yourself into his treetrunks of arms when he walked through the door, it had been like you were on cloud nine.

“Jay,” you breathed into his collarbone, unable to get another word out of your choked-up throat.

“Hey, darling,” he murmured back. “I missed you.¨

That's all it took for the dam to break. You became a babbling mess in the crook of his neck as he cradled your body against his like it was nothing. It was an incoherent mash-up of I missed you, I love you, and I was worried all paired with his name over and over again like some prayer

Jason let out a watery chuckle, “It’s okay, darlin’, I'm right here. I got you; I’m not going anywhere.”

That was a good hour ago, and now another type of reunion was about to happen.

Jason and you were getting hot into your makeout, his hand finally slipping into your panties, and you felt like you could already combust.

¨Aw, darlin', you’re already so wet. Been missing me that much?”

All you could do was desperately nod as his fingers began running through your folds  “Yes, Jay. Missed you so much, please.

“Please what,” he asked with that devilish smirk of his.

 “Please this?” Jason asked, finally dipping one of his massive fingers into your dripping cunt.

Had you been in a different state, you'd probably feel embarrassed by the fact that you immediately started convulsing around his digit, cumming as hard as if he’d been edging you for hours  Which, in a way, he’d been doing much worse over an even longer period of time. It was just, so big, so much, and too fucking long since the last time Jason had touched you.

“Holy shit doll, did you just cum?” Jason gasped before pulling you into a bone-melting kiss. “That's so fucking hot.” 

As you caught your breath, he immediately stole it away again by beginning to move that one digit around your still-fluttering pussy.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you're so tight, it feels like you haven't been touched since I left.”

You clutched his arm as it went in and out of you as you vehemently shook your head. 

“No? No what darling?”

“N-no..I haven't t-touched myself since you left. Co-couldn't.”

Jason stopped, looking at you gobsmacked as you writhed against his still finger, begging for more, “What did you just say?” He couldn’t look away from you. Your face all twisted with pleasure and he’d barely done anything to you at all. There’s no way you really, for two months, didn’t cum once.

But, you nodded, still trying to get him to touch you more. “I tried but it was too hard. Not as good as you. Made me think of you. Made me miss you too much.”

Jason pulled his finger from your core but before you could whine at the loss, he has both hands on your face and pulled you into a searing kiss as if he was trying to kiss you all the way to your toes.

When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with reverence as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. How did he, this Lazarus-filled murderer, get such a sweet thing like you? “You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love you so much.”

Tears started to fill your eyes again, and you werent surorised to se the emotion mimicked on Jasons. But, he pushed past the feeling of his heart bursting with love. After all, he had a very needy girl to please.

Quickly he pressed one last loving kiss to your lips before giving you a look that was pure filth. that almost had you cumming again. “Well, if my poor girl’s pretty pussy hasn't been getting enough attention, I have my work cut out for me. After all, I have to make up for all those lost orgasms, don’t I,” his voice that teasing kind of condescending that had you burning. “Let's see if we can get four more out of you, how about that, pretty girl?”

He didn't give you a chance to respond before his fingers descended back to your cunt.

[aekatty]

𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢....

if the sun refused to shine…baby, would i still be ur lover?

a/n: my first angst, no judgement pls >.<

⋆.ೃ𐦍*:･⋆𐦍.ೃ࿔*:･

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: angst, troubled love, established relationship, mentions of past intimacy (sexual & emotional), slight cursing

tags ✮⋆˙ oneshot, angst, distantlover!zoro x y/n, gn!reader, falling out of love trope,

now playing: intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me like I love you?”

He couldn’t lie when he felt surprised hearing those words out of your mouth, “Yea, why?”

You sighed, “I’ve been thinking…we’ve been distant recently and it’s making me question our relationship.” You sat next to him as you laid back on the cushioned seat. The somber blue tint illuminating on both your faces as you guys sat alone in the aquarium room. It’s quiet.

He went silent for a minute before letting out a soft chuckle, “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t ya?”

“I’m not joking, Zoro.”

The way you said his name struck a nerve in his body. He wasn’t used to this type of confrontation, rather, he wasn’t used to feeling this type of way at all. He hated it. It was like his heart strings were tugging at him as if it purposely made him uncomfortable.

You huffed, “Five weeks…” You felt your lips quiver as you swallowed the lump in your throats. You wanted him to understand, “That’s how long it’s been since we’ve held a proper conversation, since you’ve kissed me on the lips, since you told me I love you.”

“Babe-“

“Don’t mess this up, please.”

His mouth went dry at your words. He has so many questions pooling in his head. Yet, he couldn’t find the right words to answer you. His mind went blank.

He choked on his words, “I guess I’ve just been really busy training.”

You looked up at him with saddened eyes, “Is that really it?”

Fuck. The realization hit him like a truck. He questioned his inner monologue, did he really love you? You’ve been together for a year now. It felt like forever ago when you first became a part of the crew, you automatically clicked with everyone with your bubbly personality and generosity. The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but be drawn to your aura in a different sense. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way your eyes locked with his; It drove him nuts. You were just so alluring the swordsman couldn’t understand the feeling forming in his stomach. Was he nervous?

During those two years, his feelings only grew even more for you. Everything was all confusing. He was a swordsman for christ’s sake, he don’t have time for sappy love. Yet, you lingered in his mind like a treadmill. He wanted to pull on the emergency stop so badly, yet…he still kept running.

The day you asked him out, he couldn’t help but feel his heart explode into pieces. You were just so beautiful/handsome, he felt like he didn’t deserve you. The devil on his shoulder was practically yelling him to run away, yet his conscious was practically telling him to say yes. You both shared your first kisses that day.

“I love you.”

“and, I love you.”

The months turned into a year, you experienced everything together. Sure, there were moments were you both had alone time for yourselves. Pretty arguments turned into “make up and forgets.”

But, this time felt different.

Whenever you kissed his lips, his heart didn’t flutter like it used too. He stopped initiating sex even in times when he needed relief. It was like you just became a blur in his mind as he started feeling himself slip away from your embrace. He wanted to love you back…but he just couldn’t. Each day felt like his grasp was slipping away from you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it.

“I’m tired. I’m tired of waiting, avoiding the truth, running in circles for you.”

“We’re 21, not 19 anymore…For fuck sake, Roronoa, I just want you to hear me like I hear you.” Your lips quivered as you choked back tears.

“No, [name], listen. I do love you, I just got caught up with bulking up I just unintentionally isolated myself.”

Slap

The sound of the hard contact of your hand to his face echoed before the sound of water bubbling in the tank continued.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

He rubbed the impacted area, “Heh, I guess I deserved that.”

Even in times like this, he had to still be a bit humorous…You hated it.

“The faster we talk about this, the faster we resolve this.”

He gulped, “If I tell you, you would hate me.”

“I will hate you more if you don’t tell me.

“…As you wish.”

It was taking everything for you to not tear up from anxiety.

“I feel as if our paths are just too different.”

You knew it. You fucking knew it.

“Was I not good enough for you? Was I lousy in bed? Did I do something to piss you off?” You spoke in a panicked tone as you held his hands.

He gently squeezed your hands, “No, [name]. I just…I just don’t feel anything for you….not anymore”

You felt tears fall down your cheek before wiping it. It was like the world stopped hearing those words. Deep down, you wanted to beg him to take you back…But all you could do was just lightly punching his chest as you sobbed your feelings out.

“I hate you, I hate you so much.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sighed as you halted your light punches to his chest.

“So you don’t love me anymore…”

He gazed into your eyes with a gentle look, his voice had deepened, “Of course I love you, but just not the same way.”

You went silent as you decreased the pressure of your hands in his grasp, “You’re right…”

“We’re just on two different paths…”

You stroked his cheek with a smile, that same smile that was plastered on your face the moment you said your first I love you, the moment when you first stepped onto the Thousand Sunny’s. A smile that made him fall in love with you.

“I want to ask you...”

The room had become silent. Not even the ambience sound from the aquarium tanks could reach your ears. The sound of your heart pounding screaming in your ears as you coughed up your words.

“If the crew splits up permanently or if we move on…Hell, if we’re on the brink of death, old age or not,”

“Would I be the one on your mind?”

His eyes widened at your question. He felt as if his thoughts were running laps in his head.

He scoffed, “Of course, you were my first.”

You smiled, “Lemme ask you this again: Do you love me…like I love you?”

The knot in his stomach tightened as he contemplated his decision. No more kisses, no more dates, no more intimacy, no more i love you’s.

“Even if the sun refused to shine, I will love you forever and always.”

You wiped your wet tears and snot, “If the moon ever goes dark, I’ll love you back.”

You kissed his cheek before walking out the aquarium and headed to your cabin.

As he heard the door close, he couldn’t help but drop to his knees as tears fell onto the cold floor. For the first time, the swordsman felt vulnerable to his emotions and it was burning him deeply. He caressed the scar on his torso, before muttering curses to himself.

———

“Luffy, calm down! The food isn’t gonna run away, you know!” You snatched the plate from the hungry boy.

“Come on, [name]! It’s not my fault Sanji’s cooking is delicious!” He used his rubber powers to steal the plate from your hands and ran out the dining room with it.

You laughed at your captain’s actions when suddenly, you felt hands snake around your waist. As you turned around to see who was the culprit, you yelped as you felt soft lips touch yours.

“Ignore that idiot, my love. I’m surprised he doesn’t have diabetes yet.” He shot you a cheeky smile which caused your face to heat up.

“Sanji, I’m gonna dump you.”

“NOOOO MY SWEET [name]. I’LL GIVE YOU A THOUSAND KISSES IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER,” He starts to cling onto your leg like a kid throwing a tantrum.

You laughed before kissing his cheek, “Oh don’t worry, baby, you can make it up tonight.” You wink at him jokingly.

Oh man, the mess you’re gonna have to clean up from the amount of blood he let out hearing that…

“Christ, how are ya’ll this loud at this hour,” the hungover swordsman yawned.

“It’s noon, mosshead,” sneered at him.

“Whatcha say, curly brow?!”

You facepalmed before slapping their faces to shut him up.

“This is getting old, guys,” you nodded your head in disapproval.

They both apologized before they went back to glaring at each other to which you gave up on.

———

As you finish cleaning up, you turn to face the green-haired swordsman, “Oh, and Zoro.”

He felt his heart stop for a moment before replying back to you, “Uh- yea?”

“Don’t drink too much, I don’t want you dying of alcohol suffering,” you jokingly giggled before taking the sake bottle from his hand.

He laughed before shooting you a smirk, “Trust, Il be fine.”

You smiled before the cook wrapped his arms around your shoulders, “Come, Mon Cherie, let’s get away from this evil ogre-”

“SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU CURLY BROW ASSHOLE-”

“Ooooookay this is our cue to leave,” you laugh awkwardly before pulling your blonde boyfriend out of the dining area.

Zoro felt his smile fade as he watched you look at your new boyfriend with loving eyes. The same eyes he would gaze upon when you both were still together.

He grabbed another bottle of sake from the cabinet before chugging it down like water. The thought and sight of you with another man, especially with one of his crew mates, was like getting stabbed with his own swords. Maybe those feelings didn’t go away like he said that night.

All he could do now was stare at the ceiling while swishing the alcoholic beverage in his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you go like that he thought to himself.

Will I still be on your mind?

He chuckled to himself before finishing the remnants of the bottle, “Dumbass, if she’s moved on then…maybe it’s time I move on.”

Maybe there was another universe where we got married and had kids, maybe there was another time where I didn’t lose feelings for you.

Maybe there was another time where the sun did shine…

Maybe in another lifetime…

[simping-overload]

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏʟ' ᴛɪᴍᴍʏ Qᴜɪᴄᴋɪᴇ

a/n: I was possessed by the writing gods and was forced to write this at 3 am. I was so tired, but I literally could not put my phone down.

tags: quickies, public sex, library sex, anal, spit as lube, male/amab reader, no pronouns used.

characters: tim stoker and reader

read on ao3

wanna support me or commison a fic? check out kofi!

You were tired, hungry, and most importantly horny. Being teased all day with very scandalous pictures from Tim during his many coffee breaks while you slave away, sorting the archive.

You had your final straw when he sent you a picture of him holding his half-hard cock. You slammed your phone down so fast and hard(ha) it scared Martin. You apologized profusely to the man leaving the room, not bothering to bring your things.

You're quick to text Tim again, covering your phone so the cameras couldn't see anything. Not as if that would stop a certain someone anyway.

'get your ass to the library.'

';) knew you couldn't resist me'

With your speed walking nearly jogging pace, it took you no longer than 6 minutes to reach the library. Slipping into the area and to your usual corner.

You've done this a few times before, and there's no point in stopping since you've never been caught. The spot is thankfully not a well traveled section. Even the clerks choose to stay out of it unless they have to go in. It was a small area, tucked into the farthest corner of the vast library.

Tim is already there, sitting in one of the chairs. His shirt partially opened, showing off his cleavage. He smirks when he sees you, leaning back and spreading his legs, clearly inviting you to feast.

And feast you do.

You waste no time in diving down. You place a knee on the cushion in between his legs as you steal his lips for a sloppy kiss. You can still taste the faintest bit of coffee on them.

Your hands move up his thighs and under his shirt. His stomach flexes when your cold hands touch his warm skin.

Tim curls his arm around your neck, intangling a hand in your hair. He tugs, you hiss, allowing his bold tongue to slip in and feel the inside of your mouth.

You take your hands from under his shirt and move to unbutton it. You fumbled with the buttons a bit but managed to get it undone soon enough.

He whines when you part from the kiss, and you shush him. Kissing down his neck and to his chest, you latch onto one of his nipples, a tongue swirling around the bud.

Tim bites his lip to muffle his whines. Christ, he keeps forgetting how sensitive they are— and the fact you're so skilled at using your mouth doesn't help.

You pull off the nipple. A long thing of saliva follows you for a moment before you latch onto the other. With a little more bite into it, you managed to squeeze a low moan out of the man.

He already felt like he was getting close, but he couldn't cum not yet. Not until he had you inside of him.

He tugs at your hair, pulling you away to look at him. "Please, I need you." He begs, you comply.

With ease, you unbuckled his belt and undue his pants. He lifts himself up slightly, so you can help pull his pants down, fucker went commando.

His dick was long, slightly thick, and a slight curve to the left. His tip was a pretty pink that matched his nipples.

You began to unbuckle and unzip your pants, ignoring the inpatient grinds of the man before you. Pulling your pants and boxers down your cock springs free, hard against your stomach.

Tim drools at the sight.

You pause for a second, digging through your pants pocket for a condom.

When you pull it out, Tim frowns.

"W-Whats that for? I thought you were going to creampie me." He says, talking in a low volume just above a whisper. He's right. You were planning on that.

"Since you decided to go commando, I won't risk a stain appearing on your pants. Unless you brought a plug."

He sighs, he wouldn't mind it no... but he'd rather keep his poor excuse for a job. He nods, understanding.

You lean forward, mouth close to his ear and whisper, "Wait for me after work, I'll take you home n' give you a real one." Tim shivers.

Tearing the wrapper off, you roll the condom on until it's secure enough to saty still.

"Prep?" You ask, you know he likes having the ability to choose depending on his mood. His mood now is that he needs you, no matter how much it'll hurt.

He shakes his head.

You hold your hand out, "Spit." You ordered.

He complied, watching as you smeared it all over the condom. You straightened up slightly, grabbing a hold of Tim before turning him around. It'd be easier and more comfortable, for the both of you, to fuck him this way.

His hands were holding onto the top of the chair, knees now on the cushion. His ass down and flushed against your pelvis. You spit on his hole, and he clenches at the feeling.

He looks over his shoulder, grin wide on his lips as he wiggles his hips. His mouth opened to taunt before shutting close when he felt you press into him.

Tim lurched forward, his knuckles turning white from how strong his grip was. It hurts, burns, and holy hell, it feels so good.

You lean forward, resting your head against his shoulder and your hands resting over his as you bottom out.

No matter how many times you've fucked the man he will always surprise you with just how tight he is. The way his ass sucks you in like a vacuum, walls clenching around you, not wanting to let go.

You begin to move slowly. Wanting to have Tim adjust to the feeling before going faster. Tim let's himself be rocked to your movements, eyes shut to try and feel more of it.

You press kisses into the back of his neck, sucking in a hickey as you increase your pace. He turns his head to you, resting his temple against your forhead.

His eyes are filled to the brim with lust and yearning. Gods, he looks beautiful like this. Unbuttoned shirt, slightly messy hair, and lovely ass clenching around you.

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips as you had before. You brush against his prostate, causing him to moan loudly into your mouth.

You move your hands from his, one goes to his dick and the other to his chest. Twirling a nipple in between your pointer and thumb, you can hear your balls slapping against his rear.

Now, with your hand on his dick Tim was not going to last. You swirl your thumb around the tip, feeling the tip leak more precum.

You start to stroke his cock matching it to the rhythm of your thrusts. Tim whimpers, a shakey hand moving to tangle itself in your hair again. He was going over the edge and needed to feel grounded.

The chair squeaked under you, stressing under the power of your thrusts. Tim feels himself get lost in your mouth, barley leaving your addicting lips. The tight knot of arousal pools into his stomach, as it does yours. Parting from the kiss, you keep your forhead to his, eyes shut and enamored in the pleasure.

Your hips stutter and with a final thrusts you cum. With a few more strokes, Tim lets himself relase into your hand, uncaring if any spills out.

His chest is heavy as he breathes out, "That was...so hot." He mutters, with a knowing smile on his lips.

You grunt in agreement, pulling away with one more kiss before you carefully pull out of his ass. His hole instinctively clenches around the now empty space.

You bring the cum covered hand up to your mouth and lick until it's cleaned. Salty as expected, but not an overbearing kind.

You peel the condom off of your cock and tie it. Leaving it hidden on the ground to dispose of later. You look to Tim, who smiles back at you, giddy.

"How're you feeling?" You ask, rubbing soothing circles into his hip.

"Really good...sleepy now though." Tim did look tired, his eyes drooping ever so slightly as he sways.

"Let's get you dressed first, and I'll take you to the room in the Archives." You wipe any excess cum off of his dick before tugging his pants back up. Buckling and buttoning it. You do the same to yours.

He groans as you turn him back around to button his shirt, leaning the top two unbutton just like he prefers.

You grab the condom, hiding it in Tim's lap, using his hands as a cover for it.

Tim leans into your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he falls, sleep to the white noise of your breathing, and the Institute.

[daniyummy]

PART TWO! I'm sorry this took so long, I've had no motivation. But here I am, anyways, this will have fluff, angst and a twinge of smut. CW: Unprotected sex. (Assume you're on the pill)

Part 1 | Part 2

Happy reading!

----------------------------------

You saw it. Of course you did. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of people tagged you. Did you feel bad? No, you were in the right. But, did you miss him? Yeah, really badly. You wanted to go to his apartment and tell him all the things you've been think since he posted that a few days ago.

You wanted an apology in person. Not on a Instagram post. Yet it took balls to do that. Post publicly that you were an asshole to your ex-girlfriend? Sure, you wanted an in person apology, but you were glad that he at least apologized for being an ass. You still loved him. But you didn't know if he moved on already. You didn't know what to do.

Or, did you know what to do?

Were you being a coward? 100%. Hell, you've been staring at the post religiously, it's become a part of your routine. So it was no surprise when you went to scroll you "accidentally" liked it. You quickly unliked it, praying Colby didn't get the notification. You knew he did, but hopefully he missed it. Little did you know, he's been staring at his inbox waiting for that one notification from you. His heart jumped out of his chest once he saw it. He sat up in his bed and nearly tripped well running downstairs to find Sam.

"Sam! She saw it!" Colby screamed, Sam flinched. "Lower your voice, dude." He mumbled, then looked confused. "Who saw what?" Sam looked at him with furrowed brows. "Y/N. Aka the love of my life." Colby held his phone out Sam looked and scrolled to find the notification, his eyes widening. "You think she's still into you? Also, that was cheesy as fuck." Sam cringed, Colby rolled his eyes. "Shut up, it's true. I don't know if she still feels that way.. " He sighed.

"If she liked it, it meant she saw it. She would've ignored it and blocked you if she didn't." Sam says, looking at his friend, a little concern behind his gaze. "Don't wait for her to come to you, one: she won't, two: it makes you seem like a dick who thinks you're above bring the first one to apologise first. But...if you apologise first, you seem desperate." Sam shrugs, Colby looks at him and furrows his eyebrows. "I am desperate.."

"Jesus Christ Colby.." Sam sighs, a slight smile on his face, Colby raised his hands on defense. "What? You told me you wanted me to be more honest with you!" Colby points to Sam, he chuckles softly. "Whatever. You gonna go see her..?" Sam asks, the concern returning. "I want to..I miss her. I'm an idiot for a losing girl like her." He replies, Sam nodded. Colby looked at him in faux shock. "You weren't supposed to agree, you dick!" Colby smacks the back of Sam's head. "They were your words!" Sam argues.

Colby rolled his eyes before grabbing his keys. "I'm going to see her.." He walks to the door before Sam calls out to him. "Use protection!" He teases, Colby grins. "She likes it raw." Colby counters, Sam makes a gagging noise. "Gross, man...I didn't need to know that.." Sam mumbles as Colby leaves to his car.

Colbys drive was quiet, his hands sweaty as he grips the steering wheel, his breath shaky as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment. He steps out, picking up the flowers he got at the store before driving to your apartment. Colby walks towards to elevator, clicking the button he had multiple times. Walking towards the door he has multiple times. Knocking three times. Preparing for you to open the door. The first thought that came to his mind when you did was

How he forgot how beautiful you are.

You stare at him in shock, and maybe a little pent up anger. "Colby? What the hell are you doing here?" Colby just stares, until he eventually gathering himself. "I-I wanted to apologise..in person. Not like a coward online." His voice is shaky, something you've never seen happen to Colby. He's usually so confident. Not nervous. Like he's confessing to his crush in middle school. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I realize now how much of a dick I was to you. You deserved better. You still deserve better. I never had a serious relationship, one I was monogamous in. That's not an excuse for how shitty I treated you. You don't have to forgive me, but I love you, and want to try again. I under-"

Colbys cut off by your lips pressed against his, his eyes widen before he kissed you back, this wasn't like your usually rough and sloppy kiss with him, he's gentle, loving. He sets the flowers down and pulls your body against his, you pull him in your apartment and he kicks the door closed. He picks you and carries you to your room. Something he's down multiple times, but this is different. Colby gently lays you on your bed, kissing and nipping at your neck.

You watch as he slowly removes your clothes, kissing every inch of your exposed skin. Colby runs his cold hands down your side, you shiver as you gets goosebumps, he chuckles and kissing your forehead softly. "Sorry, darling.." He looks at you, noticing how impatient you look, he smiles and settles between your legs, kitten licking your thighs, moving towards your heat, before, finally, he drags his tongue down your eager cunt.

You moan, Colbys eyes on yours as he continues licking at your pussy, sucking at your clit, lapping your juices like it's his favourite meal. His cock strains against his pants as he hears your moans and whimpers, he speeds up his movements. Colby notices your moans become needy and he smiles. "Cum on my tongue, love. Wan' to taste how good I make you feel." He mumbled into your cunt, and at his words, your body shudders with your orgasm, which he eagerly laps up. Colby slowly comes to a stop, he stands up and takes off his clothes before settling into missionary.

"You want this?" He looks at you, making sure you're okay. You nod quickly, he smiles, but wants to be sure. "I need words, baby." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "Please Colby...I need you.." Your voice barely above a whisper, he kisses you as he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt, you gasp, you forgot how big he was. Colby bottoms out, not moving until you tell him he can, once you nod, he slowly starts thrusting, the thrusts deep and deliberate, you look at him as you realize..

He's making love to you.

Colby Brock, who would usually fuck like a dog, thinking with just his dick, is thinking with his heart and head. He's not being rough. You like this. "So good, sweetheart. You feel so good." You felt that coil in your stomach at his words, you look at him, your eyes needy. "Colby I'm going to cum.." You moan, he kisses your neck and thrusts faster, his hands lazily playing with your tits. "Me too, darling." Colby groans and kisses you as he feels you clench around his cock, he's thrusts become a little sloppy as he fills your pussy with his cum, you finish just after he does.

He pulls out and stands up, throwing his boxers on before walking out of the room, you watch in shock, thinking he was just going to leave. Until he comes back with a damp cloth, a few snacks and some water, he cleans you up gently, like he's afraid he'll break you, he puts his shirt on you, finding a pair of his boxers you "accidentally" kept to slip them on you. before setting the snacks in front of you. "Thought you were tired, so we'll shower in the morning. But thought we could watch a show, eat snacks and sleep." Colby kisses your lips softly, cuddling you.

"Can we watch Brooklyn nine nine?" You ask, he smiles. "Of course we can. I'm still sorry for being a dick." Colby cuddle closer to you. "I'm not going to say its fine, cause it's not, but just work on it. I forgive you." You smile.

You two talk a little, watch the show and eat snacks, before you fall asleep on his chest, he smiles and takes a picture. He posts it on Instagram with the caption "My girl."

Which gets thousands, maybe millions of likes and comments saying how happy they are for him. Colby smiles and kisses your forehead before letting sleep take him.

-----------------

Finally got part two done! Hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you have any feedback, and feel free to leave requests!

-★⋆Dani⋆★-

[scary-pixie]

November 1st = New Tina Year! (secret diary entry and upcoming goals)

I'm mainly writing this down so I don't slack off! Cause if I slack off I can look back on this and think, "wow, you failed terribly. dingus."

Ahem.

Anyways, I am in the process of thinking up some new short term goals now that:

2024 con season is over (with the exception of some smaller events)

Spooky Season is almost over (I like posting non-stop spooky stuff during this delightful time)

Twitter is going inside the toilet

Magazine troubles (more on this below)

I have met the famous man whose inspiration played a big role in both: a) getting back into drawing my old OCs after 15+ years (little round glasses are a bad influence), and b) getting brave enough to be on video after saying I would never do this for god knows how long. (secret: I watched a certain music video with one of his characters the morning before I made my own). BUT HE WILL NEVER KNOW ABOUT THIS AND I WILL NEVER TELL! I AM FULL OF CRINGE!!!

This is what I'm thinking at the moment, in terms of my next creative direction. I appreciate any thoughts or advice!!:

My OC art was an absolute flop in terms of gaining new social media followers. Bluesky seems to be a LITTLE bit better, but it's still early to tell and I haven't posted too many of my OCs there yet either. For the time being, though, I plan to get back to my Schoolism subscription assignments since I've been neglecting them for a bit!

good lord I need to flatten my stomach somehow, as I cannot fit into my preferred fashion choices. I quit watching TV for a while in the summer, which helped a bit (I tend to eat everything in the house while I watch), so I may try this again soon.

arm workouts are going alright I guess, I am gaining a bit of muscle in my armes so they do not look so much like noodles.

Tempted to get back into posting video game screenshots and mini-reviews on social media since people really liked this stuff, but I'm worried it might just add more to my plate.

I'm really enjoying doing videos now, I'm just not sure which direction to take them (or if I even should take them places). I tend to film a lot of myself and a long-time friend in the car just saying stupid shit, but I don't really want to post all of these.

I wish to read more books without falling asleep, jesus christ this is tough.

On a similar note: the magazine I used to write book and comic reviews for has SHUT DOWN GOD DAMN IT so maybe I'll write some new stuff here?? Not sure yet!

I need to get back to my Japanese studies!! I used to do them at lunch and dinner but now I get distracted by all the awful political shit online! Aaaaaaaa!! I really hope America doesn't combust in the next few days but I guess we'll find out soon...

Finally, I need to be more active HERE! It's the best place for longform writing and art that might be a bit too "cringe" for the general public. Let's see if I can stick to it!!

I think that's all I have to SAY for NOW. Wish me luck in sticking to my goals instead of spiralling into ADHD Twitter nonsense, aaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Tagging a couple frands: @prometheus-ghost @fadingdreamerdream @thewebspinner @autolykiss @draganwhorror

Also anyone who actually wants to watch my shitty ass videos, the link is below. I have a bunch more but haven't posted them! https://www.instagram.com/kittensoft39/reels/

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XXXI

prompt: ducky ball gag

joy of joys

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: bottom!alastor x top!luci, brat summer never ended for some of us, ducky ball gag, masturbation, tentacle play, bondage, degradation / embarrassment, dirty talk, choking, tongue sucking

word count: 2.1k

summary: alastor was in a rare mood and had the perfect plan to alleviate his ache. but when lucifer ends up paying more attention to the gift he received, alastor has somewhat of a pity party instead to teach his king a lesson. 🐤🛁

author’s note: it’s been a wild month, but we have finally made it to the finale of kinktober! thank you to everyone who read along — i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did! it was definitely a challenge, but i would do it all over again. i had a lot of fun, and even learned a thing or two along the way! as caesar said: veni, vidi, vici hehe and bonus points to anyone who knows where i got the title from 😈

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven's kinktober masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It had been a long day, and Alastor was annoyed.

While he preened on providing his acts of service, it didn’t mean much when those efforts were glossed over. Admittedly, that didn’t happen very much — hardly ever, if he was being honest with himself — but for some reason that wasn’t taking the sting out tonight.

He watched as Lucifer hummed to himself, playing with one of the little rubber ducks Alastor was now regretting having brought into the bath. They were bought with the intention of making His Majesty happy, of course, but they were never meant to become the focal point of the evening. Alastor had been thrilled at the positive reaction from Lucifer when he brought them out. But when the fascination passed the twenty minute mark, Alastor couldn’t help but feel a bit ignored as he pruned on the other side of the large tub.

It had all gone so differently in his mind.

Alastor had been in a mood all day and was aiming for a bit of romance. A nice bath, a gift to surprise his love, followed by some affection. Lucifer hadn’t even given him a kiss, he was so immediately distracted by the present. On one hand it was a sign of a job well done. On the other… Alastor really didn’t care for being second fiddle. Especially not when he had been hoping to be fucked within an inch of his afterlife. He was even wearing a plug, for Christ’s sake!

It didn’t take much to get Lucifer going, and with the ache Alastor had been feeling since this morning he had the forethought to prepare himself. The fact that it helped keep him content until he got what he wanted was just a happy coincidence (or so he told himself). He wasn’t here to waste time. Set the mood, of course, but waste time? Certainly not.

He wriggled in the water, the heat between his hips stirring with interest despite his irritation. Lucifer was none-the-wiser; playing some sort of make-believe now with two of the ducks. If this were any other day, Alastor would have watched with a benevolent neutrality. He found this side of Lucifer to be rather charming, after all, though he’d never freely admit it. The fact that he allowed Lucifer to call him Ducky as a term of endearment said it for him, as far as he was concerned. A familiar throb in his heart as he thought on it bringing a small blush to his face.

He had hoped to hear that term tonight. Moaned through Lucifer’s lips in the throes of passion. It was becoming more of a diminished reality, and Alastor grumbled to himself as he remained invisible to the angel. A passing thought of getting out of the tub crossed his mind, before an even better idea replaced it, his hand finding its way into his lap. If Lucifer was content to play by himself Alastor didn’t see why he couldn’t do the same.

How long before he notices?

Alastor began massaging himself under the water, fangs digging into his bottom lip to keep himself quiet as he breathed through his nose. It wouldn’t bode well for his little game if Lucifer caught on too quickly. When he managed to get himself halfway there, he began to stroke. Careful not to be too eager, lest he make a splash. Ha ha!

But when a few minutes passed in Lucifer’s continued disinterest, Alastor knew he had to up the ante. It would be too pathetic, jerking himself off and sullying their bath without a witness. When Alastor finally let out a soft moan, Lucifer did a double take. A golden flush burning his face as his eyes honed in on the motion of Alastor’s hand under the soapy water. 

“Al, are you —”

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor transformed one of the little rubber toys into a makeshift ball gag. Secured in place with neon green chains instead of the usual black leather. Alastor couldn’t help but moan at the sight as he continued his languid stroking. While Lucifer was eternally picturesque, the shock in his eyes and the sudden intrusion to his mouth was nothing short of exquisite. 

“It’s my turn to play now,” Alastor sang, elongating the final word and finishing with a sharp grin. “I was hoping you’d fuck me tonight, but you became distracted. So I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Canned laughter filled the room at the entendre as Alastor’s shadowy appendages crept out from behind him, taking hold of Lucifer’s arms and legs. Alastor purred at how immediately he complied, almost relaxing into the bindings as the tendrils brought him closer. His darling dove needed a front row seat, after all. Though he had to admit that he was surprised Lucifer was allowing him to do this, given the shock that had yet to subside from his yellow and red eyes as they stared intently back at him. It only made Alastor more eager, his erection pleading for attention with a throb under the water. 

He watched as Lucifer’s eyes followed in a slow trail down his body, traveling down where Alastor’s hand and cock remained obscured by the opacity of the bathwater. Lucifer swallowed hard, but as his throat relaxed a high-pitched squeak resonated throughout the bathroom. Perpetuating Lucifer’s clear embarrassment as the sound echoed off the gilded tile walls. Alastor’s grin widened with a sadistic glee, delightfully surprised by the embellishment of the toy. 

“Oh, this is turning out to be more fun than I expected,” Alastor cooed, letting his head fall back as he ran his thumb through the slit of his cock. “You don’t even know what I went through to prepare for tonight.” 

He interrupted himself with a moan and resumed eye contact with Lucifer when another squeak and splash of water hit his ears. He needed to see Lucifer’s face with his next admission, humming through another moan just thinking about it as his hand maintained long, even strokes. 

“I was thinking about you all day. I had it all planned out — the bath, your present. All in the hopes that you would bend me over this bathtub and fuck me senseless. I’ve been wearing the plug you gave me for hours, so you wouldn’t even have to wait.”

The pout in his voice was authentic, part of him truly lamenting the missed opportunity. He really had been looking forward to a good fuck, but it was worth the sight he got in return. Lucifer’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he whined and squirmed against the shadows, desperately bucking his hips into the water as more squeaks punctured the room. Lucifer’s chest was heaving, the ridiculous sound of the toy mingling with splashing water and Alastor’s gasps and moans as his hand picked up speed.

“What do you think, Dove? Should I take it out?” 

It was rhetorical but Alastor asked anyway, all too pleased to see the way Lucifer nodded his head with sloppy enthusiasm. How pretty he was with his furrowed brow and radiant skin, dripping with beads of sweat and bathwater. His mouth drooling obscenely around the yellow rubber duck, unable to get out even a single noise without being overshadowed by the squeaking mechanism inside.

Another tendril snaked its way behind Alastor as he sat up on his knees, the tip of his cock poking out from under the surface of the water. He felt it twitch against his stomach as the plug was removed, groaning at the loss of fullness he had grown used to over the course of the day. He wiggled it in front of Lucifer with a grin as the shadow slipped into his softened hole with ease to begin a steady pace. Moaning openly in Lucifer’s face from the feeling of it, so much closer to what he had been craving all day.

But, regrettably, still missing the mark. It was almost enough to make Alastor angry, the way he yearned to have Lucifer inside him.

“Ohh, fuck,” Alastor whined, his eyes fluttering shut as the tentacle pressed against his prostate. He shook through his next breath, forcing his eyes open to watch Lucifer through heavy lids. “I wish it were you, my little dove. Your cock is so thick and warm… makes me feel so good. But I have to suffer through this imitation.”

Lucifer writhed against the shadow bindings, his anguished cries encompassed by the absurdity of the gag. Alastor brought his hand up from under the water, allowing one of his many appendages to take over so he could caress himself. His wet hands further dampening the fur on his chest as the shadows worked him in tandem. Without meaning to he had closed his eyes again, lost in own ecstasy as Lucifer thrashed in front of him, crying out from behind the toy in his mouth. 

Alastor didn’t think he had ever been so hyper-aware of his body as he rocked back and into the cool slick of his tentacles. How warm he felt, the rising tension between his hips, head dizzy from steam and shallow breaths. With his eyes closed, it was all too easy to replace his own touch with that of his King’s. Oh, how he wished that it was.

“Lucifer,” Alastor moaned, earning another squeaking sob from his lover. 

He was so close to his climax, and knew exactly what he needed for that final push. Barely managing to open his eyes before snapping his fingers to disappear the gag from Lucifer’s mouth. The plastic toy hit the surface of the water with a loud slap as Lucifer groaned with relief from its absence. 

“Ducky, please. I’ll fucking beg if I have to,” Lucifer pleaded, his favorite term of endearment in the rich timbre of his voice music to Alastor’s ears. He should have been hearing it all this time, and whined again thinking of his ruined plans as his tentacles fucked him with a renewed fervor. “Please let me touch you. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Alastor drew his lips between his teeth to stop himself from giving in, stubbornly shaking his head as his face scrunched up. With a gasp he brought himself to look back at Lucifer, fighting against the hot coil in his gut that promised such sweet relief. The lewd sounds of the tentacle fucking his ass was nearly drowned out by Alastor’s desperate, growing moans. All the while, the other massaged his cock and balls under the surface of the water.

“Not yet,” Alastor said breathlessly, and Lucifer groaned in agony as his body went limp in defeat against the bindings. Lucifer jerked as Alastor’s tongue snaked out to lick between his pectorals, placing his face under Lucifer’s view. “But I need to suck on your tongue, Dove. Please… I can’t finish without it.”

Lucifer cursed and bucked his hips against the water again, his eyes glowing red before Alastor felt something tighten around his neck. He keened as he realized it was Lucifer’s spaded tail, the avid grin on the angel’s face one of satisfaction as the tail gave his throat a testing squeeze before pulling him forward.

“Come and get it, brat.”

Alastor moaned, high and loud as horns and flame sprouted from Lucifer’s forehead, his forked tongue extending languidly from his mouth. He didn’t waste any time, eagerly taking the appendage into his mouth and groaned as he felt it slither down the cavern of his throat; swallowing around it as Lucifer’s tail tightened yet again. Lucifer hummed as he began to fuck Alastor’s throat, feeling thick in the tight, wet space as the muscles swallowed around him with the added constriction from Lucifer’s tail on the outside.

The pressure in Alastor’s groin was reaching peak now that he was so full and surrounded, losing himself in the intensity of Lucifer’s crimson gaze. They were both moaning into each other, bucking against the shadows that were keeping them apart. Until Alastor’s resolve finally snapped, his orgasm hitting him fast and hard as he thrashed against the tendrils. Water splashed over the tub as Lucifer’s body collapsed into Alastor’s when the shadows disappeared, Alastor too distracted to keep them tangible. 

Lucifer pulled his tongue back just enough to kiss Alastor properly, his tail still wrapped around Alastor’s throat as his hands were finally free to roam. Petting every part of Alastor that they could. They were breathless when they managed to draw themselves away; Alastor burying his face in Lucifer’s neck as he held him close in his lap, very aware of the erection that was pressing into his abdomen.

As if sensing his thoughts, Lucifer chuckled. The mischief in it making Alastor shiver with something not unlike dread.

“You don’t think you’re getting off that easy, do you?” Lucifer posed, raking his claws down Alastor’s back. “Why don’t we draw another bath and take this from the top?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

banner by @synamartia

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

All For Naught

Day #29 - Behind the Music | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Jeff | Pairing: Jeff/Goodie (Freak), Minor Steddie Mention | Tags: Future Fic, Band Breakup, Angst, Jeff and Goodie are Best Friends, But Goodie Learned How to Run from Eddie, Unrequited Love, Or Is It?, Hopeful Ending

Jeff loads the last guitar into the back of the pickup. He can't believe it's over. Just like that. They tried so hard, for so long, that he kind of assumed that they would forever. 

He definitely hadn't expected Goodie to be the one to throw in the towel.

Not like this.

He thought if they broke up it would be Eddie that called it quits. Eddie, with Steve at home. Eddie with a whole life outside the band.

Or Gareth. He's getting married. It'd be fair to want to settle down, to stay close to home. To give up on the band that has only had middling success, at best. 

But, no. It was Goodie. His best friend, the one that he thought he'd ride or die with until the absolute end, that pulled the plug. Sure, they could get another bass player, but they'd made a promise to each other years ago that Corroded Coffin was the four of them, and the four of them alone.

No additions. No replacements.

So, with Goodie out, they're just done.

All they have left is cleaning out the rehearsal garage, dividing up stuff that they can't remember who it belonged to in the first place. They aren't even fighting. That's the thing that hurts the most. That they are all just resigned to letting this go.

It's been their life for almost two decades, and now it's just over.

Jeff moved back home for a while, but looking up at the ceiling in his childhood bedroom was too depressing, so as soon as he could get his shit together, he fled. Out of town, out of the state. 

He went from living in close proximity to the three of them, to now, all alone. Staring at the blank walls of his apartment as he tries to find a job. He had a job. It didn't pay particularly well, but he loved it. 

Loved Corroded Coffin. 

Loved them all.

Loved Goodie the most.

And now they haven't spoken in six weeks. Goodie's just vanished off the face of the earth, and Goodie's mom and dad won't tell Jeff anything useful. He's just gone.

His last private lesson of the day is over. The kids are kind of fun to teach, even if he doesn't expect any of them to be the next Jimi Hendrix.

He teaches lots of guitar, and a little piano. He knows enough to teach the beginners, anyway. 

Mr. Clarke, back home, was able to pull some strings, even from states away, vouching for him. And now he's a music tutor.

It pays well. He often makes more in an afternoon than his cut would be from a weekend of gigs. 

He's not passionate about it, not like he was about Corroded Coffin, but it definitely pays the bills more reliably.

Eddie and Steve have been out a couple times, and Gareth once, and they all tip-toe around him, like he might explode. Since when is he the unstable one? Eddie always had the dramatics locked down for himself.

"I'm fine," Jeff says for the tenth time since Eddie flopped onto his couch this afternoon.

"You're not," Eddie argues.

"Do you want me to cry, or what?" Jeff snaps.

"Maybe you'd feel better if you did."

Nothing is gonna make him feel better. His best friend basically wrote his ass off, along with everyone else, in one fell swoop. He took that pretty damn personally. How could he not? It was fucked. 

"Goods called last week," Eddie says, as casual as can be. 

"Jesus Christ, Eddie. That's what you lead with. Not Steve's new lawnmower," Jeff bitches, "Well? Where is he?"

"He said the South of France, but I don't believe him," Eddie says.

No shit. Jeff wouldn't believe that either. Goodie hates the sun.

"Well, did he at least explain why he imploded the band?" Jeff asks, because that's what he needs to know.

"He didn't. But you know why," Eddie says, and Jeff pauses, looking at him.

He most definitely does not, "I do?"

"Think," Eddie stresses, as if Jeff hasn't been thinking about this, and only this, for months. 

"Because we weren't making money?"

"No," Eddie says.

"Because he had finally had enough of Gareth?"

Eddie laughs, "No. But a better guess."

"I don't know. I feel like maybe I never knew him at all, if he's capable of just bailing on us all for no good reason."

Eddie raises an eyebrow, "C'mon. You know better than this. You know how he's always felt about you."

Jeff opens his mouth to laugh, but Eddie doesn't, so he snaps it closed again. No. That can't be. Goodie never. 

No, no, no.

"You're not saying…" Jeff trails off.

"I am saying. We all saw it. How did you not?" Eddie asks, and Jeff's confused. That's not. They never. Goodie never said anything. How was he supposed to guess that?

Goodie came out a few years ago, as loath as he was to follow in Eddie's footsteps about anything. 

Jeff's dated women and men. Why wouldn't Goodie just say something? It's not like there was a zero percent chance. 

But it must have felt like it to him, he supposes. 

Goddamnit.

Sure, there's been some moments over the years. But he was, is, his best friend. And not fucking up that, not fucking up the band, always quashed anything that ever bubbled to the surface.

And now, there's no best friend, and no band, so the caution was all for naught.

"Well, fuck," Jeff says, and Eddie laughs, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. 

An address.

The door opens, and Goodie looks surprised. Eddie didn't warn him.

Jeff takes one big step forward, pushing into his personal space, "You're an asshole."

It's not graceful. Too many teeth, and noses bumping like they've never done this before, but Jeff keeps at it, keeps kissing him, not intending to give him the opportunity to slip away again.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[roxyteal]

(Jesus Christ it happened again. Mobile decided to not only publish the draft but also not save any of my edits. Pardon me if you see any appear) (Oct 30: Put context about his sobriety in the beginning, as opposed to in the middle out of nowhere.)

Today I am compelled to talk about Joe 5. It may include things I already mentioned in a different post, but those were in the tags so if any of this seems like not new info, sorry about that.

ANYWAY

Joe 5. Also this gets long so bear with me.

Joe 5 (but you can use either Joe or 5) came from a complete set copy of "Joe`s basics joke game". He was relatively fine as a person, with highs and lows. He's a bit of a snark but it's usually lighthearted. He even realized he had a problem and got clean, though... Alcohol still kinda haunts him as a result.

At some point, he and his entourage found the Webspace. On that day, they were among two others - a copy of Denied's Basics (the 10th apparently), and the 82nd Dave, who was a rogue for some reason.

Things were alright until it was mentioned that there was a pre-existing Joe and company around, and whether or not they'd like to merge with him, and so on. 5 thought that was weird as Hell and said no. But his companions said yes.

This resulted in 5 distancing from them since they're "not my friends anymore", and "I don't even know them anymore". And from then on, he resented the idea of merging, and that damned "Joe 1" for being so Goddamn happy. What's he all smiley about, he thought. The fucker.

But at least he still had his school. His empty, ghost town of a school. He quickly realized he couldn't live alone in that so he started staying in a tiny apartment, which quickly became a mess because of his plummeting self-worth. If only he'd just gone with everyone else, this could've been avoided, he also thought. It's his punishment for going against the grain. Being different. Maybe even "defective". Well shit, let's be defective. Why not.

He would have his code and model changed so that his hair would grow naturally. Somewhere in his reasons for this was needing to feel responsible for something, so he wouldn't completely fall apart. And maybe having it would make him feel better, whether about himself, in general, or both. He recalled that he considered asking his player about it in the past, but never got the nerve. Better late than never, he tried to rationalize. That's what people say to forgive themselves, right?

But the shoulder-length he requested (and wavy to boot, he didn't realize he had that...) spiraled out of control and now reaches his waist. Of course he couldn't keep up the end of the deal he put upon himself. It really needs the trim, but he couldn't be assed to try, and it disgusts him. The only good thing was how it never tangled. Game magic shit or whatever. But regardless of that, he looked like a cryptid, and he felt like one too.

At this point, his only comforts was TV, eating, and sleeping. He didn't need to do the last two obviously, but it gave him something to do, a distraction. When he ate, he could focus on the taste and nothing else. When he slept, he would stop being able to drown in his thoughts, welcomed instead into nothingness. When he watched TV, it numbed him enough to stop caring.

But even in his lowest moments, he refused to give in to his old addiction of... That. Diving back into it would truly mean the end had come. He'd rather be tortured to the brink before he had a sip again. Even now. Especially now.

He rarely ever left the apartment, kept the lights off, curtains to the balcony closed, and didn't allow visitors. He rarely ever left his bed, in fact. Sometimes he'd lie there and daydream about leaving. To where? Who knows. But this place was so painful to live in because everyone else has it great and he's got nothing so it's like... Just leave. But where?

He'd ponder it. Maybe just go out that tunnel and see where the Internet busses take him. Leave it up to fate. Maybe he'll find a nice little NeoCities domain. That whole area's so fuckin' large, there had to be a place where even 5, a worthless piece of shit, could fit right in! Yeah...

But he never gets out of bed. Out of the apartment. To the entrance tunnel. To the bus stop. To NeoCities. He just lies there, thinking about it. And nothing happens.

One day, he realized he was running out of food. The only reason he'd ever leave his trash heap of an apartment. By this point it was a matter of looking presentable enough to go out into that bright, colorful, vapid world crafted by that... Uh, mask man, and his spooky associates. Or keep staring at the dump that is 5's living space and contemplate if he could live without the sensation of eating. He still had his two other trusty vices, is it okay to lose one?

But, fuck. He loved the instant noodles. The frozen meals. The rice cups he could drizzle a little soy onto. And all the other kinds of convenient, packaged stuff. Goddammit.

So, he stepped around the trash, and next he knew, he was out the door. Fine. Fine. Fine! He'll get so much, he'll never have to come out again!

But as soon as he was outside the building, hair almost encasing his torso like a shroud, something shifted. Today's the day he's going to leave. Yeah. He'll get this done, pack up, make a pitstop to Vincent's or whatever pretentious name that supernatural son of a bitch had, flip off the gaudy building, then head straight for the tunnel. If he had time, he might even egg that fucking place!

This is it! God, it'd been so long since he was excited. Genuinely excited. He wanted to hold onto this forever.

Mood improved, he carried on with his mission. He ignored the other shoppers, checking off everything he picked up from his list. It was one of his first lessons here, because how could anyone remember everything they needed? He sure couldn't.

Things were going fine, until... He bumps into someone. Baldina. And she single-handedly became the craziest thing to happen to him.

He barely recalled the conversation, but it led to her hiring him as an assistant at her school, despite his clear lack of qualifications. It seemed that like Mr. Strobe-bow-skis, she too had plenty of people under her thumb, in numerous positions. A whole network of them.

One of which, 5 got to meet while struggling pitifully with the coffee machine, just seconds away from having a breakdown right then and there. This guy called himself, er, "I'm never"? But one word. Okay sure whatever. And in spite of 5's threatening tones and verbiage, Imnever was patient enough to show him how to use the brewer. Even informed him of how Baldina takes her coffee.

So what's Imnever's story? Oh, he teaches art here. He's more of an animator by trade, but this suited him just fine. Huh. Well, still more impressive than anything 5's ever accomplished.

The three of them became friends. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but finally he had a reason to go outside more often, instead of stewing in his own suffering for weeks at a time. In fact, slowly that poor excuse of an apartment turned into something a little more decent. It wasn't super tidy, but if Imnever, Baldina, or both wanted to visit, finally 5 could and would allow it.

It got to a point where, one morning, they surprised him with a present. A motorcycle. Apparently the two had taken his daydreaming musings seriously, about how cool it would be to have one. Also, 5 had forgotten what day it was - his birthday.

He cried. He couldn't possibly accept this. He didn't know how to ride it. He'd ruin it or hurt someone. All the classic, self-depreciating excuses he was told he was using.

But, as Imnever said, what you don't know, you fear. Once you do, you don't. Frankly that sounded confusing, and yet, these types of phrases helped him get this far, so... Just accept the damn thing.

The helmet was really cool, but he had so much hair that it wouldn't be able to fit. At long last, he got the trim he had desperately needed; up to just below the shoulders. But Baldina did it for him. Almost ironic, but at this point, who cares?

He forgot how light his head felt after the excess was cut down. It was a nice feeling.

Once he actually tried to overcome that fear of failure and took the chance to learn something, he was surprisingly quick on the uptake. And before long, he was zooming down streets in that badass chopper of his.

Maybe the Webspace isn't actually so horrible. But, thinking that, he reminisced about that day, where he was so sure he was gonna leave this domain behind and start over somewhere else. He slowed to a stop in front of Infinite School or something like that. Hm...

And he gave that treacherous high-rise building the bird, laughing manically as he drove onward. Of course he was going to stick around nowadays, but it still felt right to do. And boy was it worth it.

Life here had finally looked up for 5. Until, well... The demon showed up. But that's a whole other fuckin' story.

[latibvles]

trouble's always gonna find you, baby.

okay hi, here's a piece of that western au I've been yapping about all week!! wahoo!! you can find my thoughts in the tag #western au (creative I know) but in short summary this is a Wild West au, the Bucks and (some of) the guys are in a vigilante-esque cowboy gang, Viv is the banker's daughter, and there's a whole lot more details about it because I've subjected Several people to it. Do not come to this expecting peak historical accuracy but do come here if you want John Egan and Friends in cowboy hats. TW for blood & discussion of a gunshot wound if that bothers you at all — otherwise here's three of Bucky's meetings with his ahem "angel" of sorts. tagginggg @hellofanidea , @saturnwisteria , @shoshiwrites & @upontherisers for having to listen to me yap about this (this is not proofread folks be kind to me)

I.

He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven the first time he sees her.

Not that Bucky thinks he’s necessarily deserving of it (he knows he’s not, has known as much since the first time he felt the spray of blood on his face) — but that’s the story isn’t it? Jesus comes to the Apostle John on a white horse, something like that. Resurrection, salvation, and all that fun stuff he didn’t pay much attention to as a kid despite his mother’s best efforts. Why Christ would appear to him and not someone like Brady or Jo, who are much better about praying and piousness, he doesn’t really know why. He’s also pretty sure Christ was supposed to come back the same way he left, so maybe it isn’t Jesus himself after all.

Her horse is pale and white, like her nightgown; early morning light and slight mist in the air make her look somewhere between an angel and a ghost. What was that thing his mom used to say? When the Devil tries to take you, he could see her now, pinching his chin between her finger and thumb to keep her looking at him, tilting his head up to her to ensure it, he’ll sink his claws in while giving you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, John. That feels more reasonable. The closer he gets, the easier it’ll be for her to drag him to the pit.

She reflects all the light of dawn — he can hear her mare chuffing, moving this way and that as she grazes the field, her white coat glowing in the haze. Bucky can’t fight that urge to move closer to her — but to his credit he’s not really trying either. He knows he shouldn’t, that he should just keep going, but curiosity grips him and doesn’t let go.

Maybe it's temptation. In his experience they tend to overlap anyway.

 He can see the grass stains now on the hem of the gown where it falls on either side of her; vibrant green against thin white fabric, flashes of olive skin that he tries not to linger on as he moves closer.

“You an angel?” Bucky asks without thinking, watches how she jumps slightly and snaps her head to look at him— eye level on their respective perches. She laughs a little, shaking her head.

“No,” she looks him up and down. “You from around here?”

“No,” Bucky’s lips curl on a grin, taking in the way her hair falls around her shoulders in soft brown waves. “Two towns over.” She whistles low, raising her brows at him.

“Long way from home then, sir.” Bucky reaches up, tipping the brim of his hat and she laughs a little as her horse moves again, a bit closer and still trained on the grass as opposed to his curious stallion.

“Not sir,” he declines. “It’s Bucky. You got a name?”

“Maybe.”

“Well I can keep calling you angel if you want.” She rolls her eyes at that, a smile tugging at her own lips. Gotta be an angel he affirms, just from the sight of the small strip of white between her lips, the amusement clear in her expression. Christ, she really is beautiful. Hers are some kind of warm hazel; a little gold, little green. Her hair falls freely past her shoulders, a bit past her chest — warm and brown and wavy.

“Seems a little dishonest if I’m not one though,” she notes. “Are you a liar, Bucky?”

He’s about to give her an affirmative no ma’am but it catches in his throat. She’s been holding his stare for a while now; arched brow, head tilted and he has the strangest inclination that she’d know even his answer would be a lie. Hell, for the past few years his mother thought he was working on a ranch with a buddy and his wife. And yes, he’s working with his buddy, and his wife — but it’s not a damn horse ranch.

“You give all strangers the third degree?”

“Just the chatty ones.” She looks him up and down, smile growing a little wider. “Guess I got my answer then.” Bucky kisses his teeth, feigning disappointment.

“Guess that’s a no-go on the name then?” She hums, looking around for a few seconds like she’s searching for something and Bucky can’t help but look around too — towards the barn on one end of the field, the house behind them with the pale white siding, and the mostly-broken and rotting fence encompassing much of what he assumes now is her backyard.

“Race me to that fence over there and you get it if you win,” she declares, pointing straight ahead. “But if I win I get yours.”

“Already told you. It’s Bucky.”

“You also told me you’re a liar. Maybe I’m shooting for last names,” she counters with a slight shrug. “Deal or no deal? I don’t have all day.” Bucky snorts at that, the edge of impatience, the way her mare seems to dig at the dirt in an antsy way to emphasize the point.

“Alright, deal.”

“And you better not go easy on me, Bucky.” He tries not to preen at the sound of his name on her tongue, the slight toothiness to her smile and how her brows furrow at him — voice taking on a competitive tone that stokes at some kind of fire within him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it ma’am.” She snorts at that as she leads him towards the center of the field with a slight tilt of her head, and he follows with a grin making its way onto his face. He sidles up next to her, watching with interest as she holds the reins a little tighter, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

He hardly even registers her counting them off — which is to say he doesn’t register it at all. Too focused on how her lips move and the slight uptick at the corners of them. The crack of the reins is deafening when she takes off, a blur of white that has Bucky chasing after her — the heavy thundering of hooves loud in his ears. She’s faster with the transition but he’s really only a few paces behind, cracking the reins and urging the horse beneath him forward.

She looks over her shoulder, barely, at him and smiles again. Her nightgown’s rippling with the speed of her movement, dark hair whipping behind her with every thunder of her mare’s hooves against the hard dirt.

Bucky feels his heart stutter in his chest.

She slows at their agreed upon finish line, but he continues to move forward until he’s a few feet past her rotted fence. She eyes it, then looks back up at him. 

“I win.” She declares, and he can’t help but chuckle at that, taking in this newly windswept state of her. So if they ever do this again, he’ll know exactly what to expect, and if he never sees her again, he’ll have this memorized in its entirety. He nods a little, tipping his hat to her once more. He’s been lingering long enough. He could already envision the way Marge would turn his face this way and that, looking for scratches and Willie’s sage, mildly annoyed “you’re late” when he walks through the doors. But he likes this silence between them, in an odd inexplicable way.

“John Egan,” he says after a minute’s past, watching her brows raise slightly. “Friends call me Bucky, though.”

“We’re friends?”

“Halfway there, ideally friends know each other’s names,” he teases. Her lips press into an indiscernible line as she looks him over, before nodding slowly.

“Maybe next time.” Bucky grins at that, nearly preens beneath the promise of a next time.

“I’ll hold you to it, angel.” he counters as he turns to leave, relishing in that slightly amused scoff from her as he takes off once more.

II.

The second time he sees her is about as unplanned as the first time.

There’s a lot of things he didn’t notice before, that he’s noticing now for better or for worse. He’s pressing a hand to his side haphazardly, barely upright on his stallion as bright vermillion leaks through his fingers despite his best efforts. The bullet went clean through, thankfully, and the other guy was laid out in the middle of the dirt path for his guys to come pick him up if they cared about that kind of thing.

The territory they consider theirs is a handful of towns in close proximity to one another — close enough to share one Sheriff. He knew the dangers of traveling to the fringes of it — a general no man’s land that was riddled with bandits and scouts from other gangs searching for a means to expand their reach. Which is why he went at all; Buck and Willie with him to check out a commotion that ended up in a shootout. He’d broken off from them, drawing a couple riders with him despite Buck’s protests, and maybe he ate a bullet in the process but the other two guys were laid out which was what really mattered anyway.

He’s not really guiding his horse anywhere. Sometimes he decides to just do his thing and Bucky isn’t too hard pressed to stop him as he steps over rotting fence work and makes his way towards a barn with the doors left ajar. It’s mostly hay and workbenches in there, a couple stables and saddles hanging about. He dismounts unceremoniously and his horse immediately lays on one of the piles of hay.

His head’s spinning as he slumps against the pitch-black mount, sliding his shirt up to assess the damage.

It’s not pretty but it’s not life-threatening. Maybe. Okay, how should he know? He’s not the goddamn doctor. That’s Jo — or, technically, Jo’s brother, but neither of them are here right now. Christ he’s dizzy, head leaning against his horse’s torso as it expands with every inhale, and he presses a little harder against the wound — it’s not like he’s got bandages on him.

There’s a brief moment where Bucky wonders if this is meant to be his final resting place. Bleeding out over a surface-level bullet hole, Christ, what a way to go out. If he had the blood for it he’d be flushing. The notion makes him snicker and feel half out of his mind for laughing at his own unfunny joke.

He barely registers the creak of the doors, but he feels the warmth of sunlight as they open, can see the dust hanging in the air from the loading hatch also left inexplicably open — his gaze fixed on the beams and ladder leading up to the hayloft.

“Miss Vivian? Are you—” A soft gasp brings him back to reality. He tilts his head to look ahead at an older woman; much shorter than him and heavy-set. They hold each other’s stare before he smiles and waves with a bloodstained hand. She’s taking off like a bat out of hell.

Whoops.

She moves faster than he’d expect for a little old lady, and he almost laughs at that if there weren’t black spots in his vision, if his mouth didn’t feel dry, if he wasn’t jumping from one thought to another as the adrenaline wears off and leaves much of his body feeling sluggish and heavier than it already was. Back to staring at the ceiling, then, counting dust particles and biding his time as he waits for the Devil to finally come pick him up.

“John?”

Fuck. He recognizes that voice. He lifts his head again. She’s different in this light — hair pulled away from her face, in a much nicer dress than the nightgown he’d first seen her in. She pays them no regard though as she walks forward, casting a shadow over him. He thinks she might yell at him. He laughs half-heartedly at the odds — noticing everything except that it’s apparently her barn he found himself making a mess of, things tucked into the crux of her arm.

A bottle of whiskey, a flask, cloth dressings, rags— oh, she really is too good to him.

“Hey angel,” he murmurs as she kneels before him without a word. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Of all the barns to go and die in you had to pick mine?” she asks, exasperated as she untucks his shirt to undo the buttons. He tries not to let his mind wander with every brush of her warm fingers against his skin. She pulls him up by the pits to a proper sitting position, and he grunts as he tries to help her with that.

“What can I say? Had to get that name.”

“Well you’ve got it.” He watches her drench the rag with the alcohol, running it across the exit wound first. He’s silently grateful it didn’t hit anything vital — or at least, he doesn’t think it did. It’d probably hurt even more than it already does.

“No I don’t,” he counters. Her movements stall for a moment before she continues, shifting again to clean where it’d entered him. Her head is bowed before him as she works, and once again his heart’s stuttering a little when she looks up at him through dark lashes, squinting at him.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Wanna hear it from you,” Bucky shrugs a little. “Doesn’t count if you’re not the one telling me, angel.” She mutters something about him being ridiculous that has him chuckling as she grabs the bandages. There’s smudges of mud on her skirts now that he can’t look away from — jaw clenching as she wraps his torso with careful precision. Her fingers drag across his skin, rough palms pressing to his stomach, his back. It’s all he can focus on; the roughness of her hands and the mud on her skirts, he damn near misses what she says next.

“Vivian,” she murmurs. “Viv. Whatever works.”

“Vivian… Viv… angel,” he chuckles a bit. “You gotta give me a third.”

“Does bandit work?” she asks as she assesses her work. Bucky kisses his teeth.

“I mean I prefer vigilante.” This makes her snort, and with her state of dress he practically relishes in how “unladylike” it is. Lifting her head, Bucky can’t help himself — reaching out to tuck some strands of hair behind her ear that fell out of place, aware of how close she was to him now. “We’ll put a pin in it.” She holds his stare for a few moments longer and he selfishly takes it in — the hand pressed into his outstretched leg so she doesn’t lean into him too much, the gold of her eyes. When she retracts, he swears that she’s branded his thigh with her handprint; he’s not mad about it.

“But I’m right, aren’t I? You’re…” she trails off, like saying the word will summon Sheriff Harding in a flash of holy light. He figures that explaining their unique relationship with law enforcement is a conversation for when his head is no longer swimming. His horse swats at him with his tail as if he’s trying to keep him awake, and he nods a little.

“That bother you? Bandit in your barn?”

“No. Just… surprised is all,” she looks away, wiping her hands with the rag — which is how he realizes that it’s his blood on her pretty fingers. Part of him wants to press further, just to see if she’s lying about it, but he ultimately decides against it. For now, he adds internally. “I’m not gonna have a bunch of your guys on my doorstep treating it like a hostage situation, am I?”

Bucky laughs, half-surprised by the look she gives him. It’s something between irritated and concerned, like it’s more of a convenience than anything else. She’s thrusting the small flask into his chest as she asks it.

“No, probably just two annoyed friends of mine. And they might apologize for me,” Bucky explains as he undoes the cap. He half expects the burn of alcohol when he raises it to his lips, but it’s just water on his grateful tongue. He licks his lips to gather what tries to escape. “Sorry for scaring your uh…”

“Maid?”

“Yeah. She seems nice.”

“Good at keeping secrets, too,” she adds flippantly. She takes his shirt in her hands. “I can… clean this. Get you a blanket. Gets cold back here at night you just… can’t come in the house.” She’s rubbing the nape of her neck and he nods, nonplussed at the boundary there. He smiles, running his hand over the dressings once, then twice.

“I’m getting the five star treatment, huh?” She rises, rolling her eyes a little as she takes the whiskey bottle and the dirtied rags.

“Better than most,” she affirms. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

III.

Willie and Buck found him in the middle of the night. She was in her nightgown when she led the two of them to the back, to the barn where he’d wrapped himself in the blanket, knocked out cold. The vision of her when he brushed past was another he was adding to the gallery in his brain just titled Vivian. Bucky couldn’t really ride on his own; still a little loopy, his face pressed against Buck’s back while Willie led his horse beside her own.

“That the angel you were talking about, John?” Buck asked, gruffly.

“Mhm. Pretty little thing, don't you think?. Beat me in a race, too.”

The anecdote was met with silence from both of them, and if he wasn’t tired, he’d be more hard pressed to figure out the reason why.

Afternoons on Sunday are always the busiest — and the Church in their town is the closest of the bunch. Bucky hasn’t attended in years, and he didn’t this morning either, but he’s here anyway with Curt, waiting for Josie to get out. Sunday errands, her brother was a protective type and considering he patched up most of their wounds without questioning where they got them — the least they could do was accompany his sister to run errands.

And Josie’s sweeter than candy, so it’s not like Bucky minds much.

“How’s your side?” Curt asks curiously, bumping his arm. Bucky shrugs.

“A little sore. That’s about it.” Curt chuckles at that.

“Alright tough guy,” Bucky grins a little at the sarcasm. “When we gonna meet this angel, huh? Or is she a secret or something?” Bucky doesn’t answer for a moment. Truthfully, he hadn’t made the ride out to see her since, and that was a few weeks ago. He’d wanted to, but he’d been healing and there was a feeling in his gut that sending a letter would be a bad idea. So he shrugs once more, scanning the flood of people exiting the church in search of Josie.

“Well you think I’m making it up, so who’s to say?”

“Don’t tell me I hurt your feelings, sweetheart,” Curt teases, and Bucky’s about to counter with a remark of his own when his breath catches in his throat — lips parted, staring only a few feet away. Fuck.

He recognizes her immediately, talking with somebody, or listening, more like. The man next to her is doing the talking, and she’s holding onto his arm — not pressed into it, but definitely holding onto it. And it’s damn near impossible to miss the ring on her finger, chunky and attention-grabbing in the afternoon light. The older woman they’re talking to takes her hand to look over it, running her thumb along the back and the man next to her preens, talking so fast Bucky doesn’t even attempt to read his lips.

“Bucky. Bucky?” Curt snaps his fingers in front of his face and he jumps a little at the sound, whipping his head to look down at him. “You alright?”

He looks back up at Vivian, and for the briefest moment, he swears he’s caught her gaze before she looks away immediately — a full turn of her head like she’s looking at the other people around and not just trying to avoid him. There’s a want there to cross the threshold and speak to her — not out of any desire to embarrass her. More like see if he could get her the hell out of there. The stiffness in her posture is so plain to see that it’s impossible to ignore.

He’s also far too aware of who he is in comparison to who she probably is, which is to say — if a nobody from nowhere came up to her, it’d probably raise a few eyebrows. He looks back at Curt, who’s staring at him expectantly.

“I’ll tell you later,” he mumbles. Curt nods, and Bucky tries not to stare at her for too long.

Even if he so desperately wants to.