#every year i grow more cringe

[likedbyuarmyhope]

i love festa i’ve been waiting all year its my favorite thing ever and im so excited to see what they’ve been preparing for us... im in this bangtan sonyeondan shit for life

[sweet-milky-tea705]

Still havent recovered from when my friend said "you seemed so happy"

[reignpage]

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to be balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and making sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxiously loud. It’s like he's suddenly realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the mornings that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say as if you’re yapping right in his ear. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake as fuck. What was the fucking budget for this shit?”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye nowadays. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Instead, he eats on the sofa or in his car.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

He gets two nights of decent sleep after that.

But then…

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted, just a day before you’re set to come back, to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

Everyone knows he’s losing his mind. They can tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he’s started snapping at women who are either flirting or just doing their jobs. And sometimes they even have to block his view of couples practising PDA. That’s the closest to hell they ever want to get around Toji. Suddenly, everyone’s hoping you throw the guy a bone and send a nude or something. Literally anything to rein him back in.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[talkbycolor]

mushroom oasis headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; im very sensitive about mychael too, oops

Pairing; "Mychael" x GN!Reader

CW; idk alien sex (jk) / this is actually cute, dont worry

Mychael as your boyfriend.

I just know that he likes to listen to ABBA with you and dance in the mornings when making breakfast or at night before going to sleep.

He purrs at bedtime, especially if you pet his hair.

You can caress his horns, they are softer than they look but also sensitive, be delicate

After a while of relationship, he could no longer avoid the growing guilt he felt and told you about the mushrooms in the forest and the brainwashing he did to you at the beginning.

Definitely identifies with Roar's "Christmas Kids" song.

Be thankful he doesn't have an internet connection or he'd make Deez Nuts cringe jokes.

He is the perfect person for fairycore, you have already begged him to do makeup together, even though he didn't need any of that.

He likes to feel safe, silly and childish with you, having learned to take care of himself since… well, always, it was a drain on the soul. what a relief to his heart to be able to be childish with you, like a break.

He still has certain self-esteem problems, his eyes always dilate when you say nice things about him (or when he's about to jump and attack ((kiss you)))

It's not like Mychael is an uncivilized being, but you've taken the time to teach him several things on dates you've had, things that perhaps he didn't know due to his isolation from society.

You're actually a little scared of what could happen if they discover Mychael's existence, so if you live together it will be in the forest.

Sometimes he is selfish and brainwashes you when he wants more kisses or just feels too needy to let you go out with your friends.

For him there is no such thing as breaking up, he will beg you for answers and ask countless times what the problem is or what you want him to change, as a last resort he would brainwash you so that you stay by his side, even if it's like a shell.

"They were 20 and decided to end their life just like this. They went up to the 21st floor and left without saying "goodbye." I wonder if when they were flying through the air they remembered… ..I once told him if you kill yourself I'm gonna kill myself too!" Basically Mychael not being able to continue with his life alone once he meets MC, if you leave, so does he.

The first time you had sex, bro, Mychael almost had to be chained up, he acted like a spoiled kid when he tried his new favorite candy.

Mychael composes songs for MC, he will even try to get new instruments, new talents, anything to entertain his firefly and have them stay in the forest with him.

Is the kind of old-fashioned sculpted lover, don't doubt that you will look like a 60-year-old couple with 3 chickens and a dog, your wish is his command. If you can't go out to eat at an elegant restaurant, he will get a recipe book to prepare the best dishes and put candles on the table. If you don't have new clothes, he will knit what you like. If you don't like the color of the cabin, he will paint everything as many times as necessary.

Physically? Mychael will never hurt you, using guilt as manipulation is not to his liking either, he loves you too much so he will only wash your brain to have a perfect life by your side, don't worry, you are safe from the world and you will have healing caresses every night , even if it is not today, if it is not tomorrow, you will learn to need it on your own and stay at will.

Mychael is terrified of people, the opinion of the masses made him think of himself as a monster and he can't help but blurt out little comments mocking his own appearance. Being with you makes him forget what he is. Why was he surprised? Because you didn't look away.

His saliva is a little salty and something tells me that he produces goo when he is excited, trust me (delulu)

♡

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

[woniedarlin]

Christmas with a Stranger

pairing: Jungwon x female! reader

synopsis: Jungwon never expected this. He never really thought he’d be spending Christmas with a complete stranger. But how could he resist when the stranger was you—an adorable girl wobbling through the winter market in more layers than he could count? Maybe this Christmas would be one to remember.

author's note: Hey darlings! I know I’ve been on a hiatus, and I’m sorry for disappearing for so long. As an apology (and a Christmas gift!), I’ve put together this story inspired by all those corny Christmas rom-com movies we can’t help but love. Believe it or not, I planned this fic months ago. It was one of the ideas I’d been holding onto, and now felt like the perfect time to bring it to life finally. I hope you enjoy this cozy holiday surprise! Happy reading and advanced happy Christmas 🎄

caution: It contains enough holiday spirit to make you cringe in the best way possible. You might find yourself layering up in hopes of catching the attention of a cute boy.

permanent taglist: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

The market was lively,

With holiday lights and stalls selling warm drinks, handmade gifts, and Christmas decorations.

Jungwon strolled along…admiring the festive atmosphere, when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone…

Unique.

There you were—A girl bundled up in what looked like five or six layers, wobbling as you moved from stall to stall.

You have this thick scarf nearly swallowing your face, a hat slipping over your eyes, and mittens so big they made your hands look twice the size. You struggled to pick up a hot chocolate from a vendor, finally balancing it with both hands.

Jungwon couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he watched you. You looked absolutely adorable and out of place in the most charming way, wholly wrapped up and making little grumpy faces as you tried to adjust your hat.

Just then, you turned, catching him watching you. Your eyes widened a little, and you gave a quick shy wave, which mostly just looked like your mitten bobbing up and down.

Jungwon saw his chance and walked over with a smile. “Hey, need a hand?” he asked, nodding at your overflowing cup of hot chocolate.

‘’Oh, um…” You looked down, unsure how to respond to your marshmallow-like layers restricting your movements. “I… I think I got it, maybe…” But just as you spoke, a bit of hot chocolate spilled over the side, and you winced.

Jungwon bit back a laugh. “Here, let me help.” Gently taking your cup, he offered, “They sell marshmallows over at the next stall… but I think you’ve got that covered.”

You laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I know, I must look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Jungwon echoed, feigning offense. “You’re the coziest thing I’ve seen all day.” His smile softened, the humor in his gaze replaced by something gentler. “Honestly, you’re hard not to notice.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “But in an adorable way.”

The word “adorable” struck you, your cheeks growing hotter. You glanced down at your layers, suddenly hyperaware of how out of place you must look. “I don’t usually wear this much…”

“Liar,” Jungwon interrupted with a playful smirk. “You’ve clearly been perfecting this for years.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your embarrassment melting under his warm gaze. “Well, I do get cold easily,” you admitted. “This is just… practical.”

“Practical,” he mused, “I like it. You stand out. It’s refreshing.”

Unexpectedly, Jungwon lifted the cup toward your mouth

Huh?

You blinked, momentarily confused, though he couldn’t blame you; after all, it probably wasn’t every day that someone tried to feed you while you looked like an over-swaddled snow bunny.

Jungwon chuckled softly, then reached up to adjust your thick scarf, tugging it down just enough to expose your mouth. “There we go. Let’s not have your scarf completely swallow your face.” He flashed a teasing smile. “This is a strategic move to prevent you from becoming an actual walking, talking marshmallow. I’m afraid I can’t let that happen. You’re too cute in this state.”

He watched as you sipped the hot chocolate, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. Your cheeks were flushed a soft pink from the chill in the air. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” He teased, tilting his head slightly. “I’m not sure how you managed to drink it with that enormous scarf, though.”

“You know,” he said after a beat, “it’s not every day I meet someone who makes winter look this cute.”

You swallowed hard, lowering your eyes as a nervous laugh bubbled up. “It’s not every day I let a stranger feed me,” you countered,

Jungwon smirked, leaning back just enough to give you some space, though his presence still loomed. “Well, I’d like to think I’m not just any stranger.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “Feeding beautiful snow bunnies in need of assistance is a specialty.”

“Jungwon,” he introduced smoothly,

You repeated it softly, savoring the way it felt on your lips. “Jungwon…”

His grin widened. “And you are?”

You hesitated for a moment before offering your name, the sound barely audible.

“Beautiful name,” he said without missing a beat, his tone sincere. He is still clearly amused that a fluffy creature like you could speak properly, let alone form actual words from beneath so much winter gear.

🍧

The conversation flowed easily after that, your initial shyness melting away under Jungwon’s charm. But when you mentioned your holiday plans—or lack thereof—his expression faltered.

“Alone?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if the very idea unsettled him.

You nodded, pulling your scarf back up as though it might shield you from the weight of the truth. “Yeah. My family’s… busy this year.”

He fell silent for a moment, observing your bundled figure. Spending the holidays alone wasn’t something he’d ever want anyone to experience, and the idea of you being alone on Christmas didn’t sit right with him.

Suddenly, an impulsive idea popped into his mind. It was unconventional, but it could change things for you this holiday.

“Spend Christmas with me.’’

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze intent. “Celebrate Christmas with me. I promise I’m good company. And I’ve got a knack for making holidays memorable.”

You stared at him, torn between disbelief and intrigue. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, grinning. “But that’s the fun part, isn’t it?”

You hesitated, the idea both ridiculous and oddly appealing…

“Well?” he prompted, his grin widening. “What do you say?”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding.

“Sure,” you said, surprising even yourself.

Jungwon’s smile lit up the market brighter than any string of holiday lights. “Perfect. You won’t regret this.”

What did you just do? Celebrating Christmas with a stranger? And a handsome one at that? Oh hell yeah!

🍧

As promised, Jungwon stood outside the market, patiently awaiting your arrival. He glanced up as he heard a familiar, slightly unsteady waddle coming his way and couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Ah, there’s my little penguin,” he greeted,

He looked you up and down, taking in the thick winter gear covering you from head to toe. “You’re even fluffier today if that’s possible,” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can walk in all that?”

You gave him a determined nod, wobbling closer. “Yup.”

He shakes his head in amusement. Even from a distance, your figure looked like it was about to topple over from the weight of all your layers, but somehow you kept on going.

At that rate, he was half-sure you’d make it to him by spring.

With a slight shake of his head, he extended an arm. “Here, lean on me for a second.”

When you finally reached him, he gently took your hand to help steady you. “Are you sure you’ll be able to move properly in… all this?” he said, giving a light tug on one of your oversized sleeves.

You nodded confidently. “Yeah.”

His gaze dropped to your large snow boots. “And you won’t fall face-first with those on?” he asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

“I won’t,” you replied, though the boots made you look like you’d sink into the snow at any moment. “So… where are we going, anyway?”

He smiled, his gaze holding a tiny bit of mischief. Jungwon had intentionally kept the specifics of their plans hidden to surprise you later, and he wasn’t about to tell you his master plan just yet.

“You’ll find out soon. But rest assured, it’s something you’ve never experienced before.” He reached up and lightly tugged on your scarf, grinning at the fact that only your eyes were visible under all your layers. “Ready?”

You nodded with enthusiasm, muffled slightly beneath the scarf. “Yeah.”

Seeing your enthusiastic nod, Jungwon reached down and interlaced your hand with his larger one. “Let’s go then.” He then began to lead you away from the market.

🍧

As the day progressed, Jungwon filled the hours with various activities, and the one thing that remained consistently adorable? Your attire. From clumsy attempts at ice skating to attempting to stuff your face full of food through the thick layers of clothing, you looked like the embodiment of winter cheer.

He found himself enjoying your company more than he thought. From your soft, shy smiles to your genuine excitement during each activity,

You effortlessly won him over with every passing moment.

You and Jungwon strolled through the snow-covered streets. Everything felt like a scene from a Christmas rom-com movie you used to watch as a kid.

Suddenly, Jungwon stepped on a hidden patch of ice. His eyes widened, and he gave a surprised “Whoa!” as he slipped, his arms flailing for balance.

“Oh no!” you gasped, reaching out to help without thinking. But as soon as you stepped toward him, your feet hit the same icy patch, and you slipped too. Your thick layers of clothing kept you from any real impact, but you landed right beside him, both of you now sitting in the snow.

Your face warmed in embarrassment, cheeks already pink from the cold. You tried to move, but your puffy coat and layers had you stuck in place. You gave a tiny, awkward laugh. “Um… I don’t think I can get up.”

Jungwon looked at you, his surprise quickly replaced with a soft laugh. “Are you okay?” he asked, still chuckling as he brushed some snow off his coat.

You nodded, feeling a little shy but smiling up at him. “Yeah, just… maybe a little too bundled up.”

“Here, let me help.” Jungwon shifted closer, reaching out carefully. He grabbed your hand, pulling you up gently, but you were so bundled up that you barely budged. His cheeks flushed with laughter as he adjusted his grip. “Hold on—one more try?”

You gave a slight, bashful nod, squeezing his hand as he gave a determined pull. With a bit of wobbling, he finally managed to lift you to your feet. You held onto his hand a little longer, both of you steadying yourselves, cheeks pink and eyes bright from laughing.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” you said, softly looking down as you adjusted your scarf.

Jungwon’s warm smile lingered as he let go of your hand, his gaze soft. “I should be thanking you… for trying to save me first.”

You both giggled and continued walking together, staying just a bit closer.

🍧

The two of you found yourselves back at the Christmas market. It was quieter at this hour, with only a few vendors left. Snowflakes drifted gently down, dusting everything.

Jungwon looked at you, his breath visible in the cold air, and smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a Christmas like this,” he said, his voice warm and soft.

You smiled back. Cheeks tinged with a slight blush from the cold—and maybe from his words. “Me neither… I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

For a moment, neither spoke, content to stand while the whole world quieted around you. Then, Jungwon took a deep breath, hesitating just a second before reaching out and gently taking your hand in his.

He looked down at your hands, bundled in mittens, and then back up at you. “I know we just met, but… I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warm feeling spreading through you. “Me too,” you whispered, feeling an unexpected connection that felt as natural as the snowflakes falling around you.

Slowly, Jungwon leaned in, his face close to yours, his gaze soft. “Would it be okay if…?” he murmured his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a lot nervous. And then, he closed the distance, pressing a gentle warm kiss to your lips.

When you pulled back, you were smiling, and the world felt even brighter somehow.

You held hands as you walked back down the quiet street, each of you knowing that this Christmas was the beginning of something extraordinary.

[rainylana]

“Don’t tell me no.”

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you and eddie fuck in an abandoned church.

warnings: prob the dirtiest smut i’ve written in awhile, imo, so enjoy!! warnings include, smut, sex in a church, dom/sub dynamics, sub space, pre-consented to as always, decrophylia, light slapping, dirty talk, it’s very hot in this church lmao, language.

You’re both giggling as you burst into the old church, the sounds of the doors hitting the wall amplifying with an echo. You squeal as you run down the isles, looking back as he chases you. His face squints, his legs beginning to cramp as he puts his hands on his knees.

“Ah, no more.” He waves his hand breathless. “I’m getting too old to be chasing you around, darlin’.”

You laugh breathlessly, sweat rolling down your neck from the summer sun. You look around the room, the church many years abandoned since it’s last service. There’s beautiful stained glass windows, empty pews and discarded Bibles on the floor. A large cross hung on the wall, catching your eye as you looked up.

“This place gives me the creeps.” You shiver, nearly tripling on a bible. “Why’d you wanna bring me here, anyways?”

He shrugged his shoulders, finally able to breath again. “I dunno. Thought it was cool. Wayne always said the place was haunted.”

You looked around and cringed. “Great.”

The room echoed with your voices, the walls chipped with old paint and rust, weeds that were starting to grow through the cracks in the walls. There were leaves on the floor, covering the old carpet that was in desperate need of a good washing.

You felt Eddie’s hand on your waist, his hand sweeping your hair to expose your neck. You smirked when his lips found your skin. “Oh, I get it now. You brought me here to fulfill some fantasy, huh?”

You felt him smile against your skin. “What makes you say that?” He muttered innocently.

“I should have known.” You relaxed back into him, the excitement of the situation making your belly heat up.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, angel.” He moves up to your ear. “I’m just givin’ my sweet girl a kiss, is all.”

You turn to look at him, noses barely brushing over each other’s as you lock eyes. You blink and so does he, eyes asking each other for permission to continue. His lips capture yours in a hot, desperate kiss that says I need you.

Your arms tangle around his neck, his wrapping around your waist. Your lips attack his, kissing him desperately, wanting more. His tongue isn’t enough, swiping over your teeth and licking up your saliva. It’s not enough. You let him back you up against the wall, the bounce of your bodies making dirt fall from the ceiling.

His leg parts your thighs, his own resting against your mound as he makes love to your mouth. “I can feel you.” He husks, hotly. The room, your bodies, it’s all so hot you can barely stand it. “You’re so warm.”

Your pussy flutters for him, the deep throbbing of your clit becoming an uncomfortable ache that needed to be fixed. You grab his face and break apart the kiss. “Touch me.” You beg, hiding your face in his chest.

He’s panting, laying his forehead against your shoulder. His cock is straining his boxers painfully hard, you can feel it against your clothed cunt. “Touch you?” He repeats, turning his nose to your neck. His tongue licks your sweaty, sun burned skin, before he’s pushing you back against the wall. “What do you say?” He’s gripping your chin, softly, yet enough to hold your attention, as if he didn’t already have it.

He looks at you sternly, seductively. Dominantly. Slipping into a role that you knew all too well. It made you feel small, but it made you throb every time it did. You instinctively rub yourself against his jeans. He doesn’t miss the action.

“Please?” You mutter, face flushing in embarrassment, or maybe it’s just the damn heat. “Touch me, please, Ed?” You push your weight down on his thigh, your mound resting perfectly against it like a puzzle piece.

He smirks, grabbing each one of your hands and pining them at the sides of your head. “Doesn’t seem like you need me for that, sweetheart.” His lips go back to yours, plump and pink that fight yours for dominance. He bites your lip, making you whimper into the kiss. “Fuck yourself against me.”

You open your eyes in surprise. “What?” Your voice is shaking for lust. “No, I-”

“Don’t tell me no.” He grips your face so hard your cheeks press together, giving your face a little shake. “Do as I say, or we’ll leave and you’ll get nothing at all.”

You’re whimpering at the harshness, the lust making you light headed and dizzy. You choke out a dry sob, embarrassed, as you rub yourself against his thigh. You look away, but he lightly taps your face.

“Uh-uh.” He disciplines you, giving you another light tap. “Eyes on me. Watch me as you fuck yourself like the desperate whore you are.”

It’s so hot, he panted out the words. It had to at least be 100 degrees in there. Your fingers squeeze at the hands that hold your wrists as you fuck your cunt against his leg. Your clit throbbing at the feeling of denim against the swollen bead. You moan, you can’t help it. You’re so hot and you feel so good, so fucking needy for him. You rock yourself faster, you’ve barely started and you’re already so close to finishing right on his thigh.

You keep eye contact with him, and he slowly inches closer to you to rest his forehead against yours. He helps you out, rubbing his own thigh against your pussy. You cry out, getting messy with your desperate rubs that attempt to get you undone.

“Good girl.” He praises you. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

You nod ferociously. “Yes, sir!” You slip into your submissive roll, sinking back further and further into your brain that makes you go foggy.

He stops you, pushing on your leg before you can cum, separating your cunt from his thigh. “Not yet, honey.” He let’s go of your wrists, hurriedly working to undo his belt buckle. “I wanna fuck that sweet pussy of yours.”

Your face burns bright in excitement, you’re nearly falling to the floor. He grabs your hand and urges you to follow him, bringing you to the closest pew and bends you over it, your hands resting on the old wooden railing of the seat.

“Hold on, baby.” He flips up your dress, pulls down your panties and slowly pushes into you so you can adjust to his size. A desperate moan ripples through you, your fingers gripping at the seat you’re bent over. You’re jaw falls slack as he thrusts all the way into you, that familiar, welcoming burn stretching you open.

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie praises after the first thrust, looking up to the ceiling with his eyes closed.

He pulls out and quickly switches the pace, now that you’ve adjusted to him. He fucks you fast and hard, messy and desperate, aching to please you and himself. Your legs shake so badly you fear they might fall off, you’re sobbing, hot, boiling tears falling down your face and onto the floor.

Your clit is throbbing, so you reach between your legs and messily swipe at it to dull the ache. His hands bruise your hips in a menacing grip, his hips snapping against your ass that had the room echoing with sensual, pornographic noises.

“Oh, god, baby.” His hair is damp at the tips from sweating, it’s dripping onto your back. He feels so good, his dick is throbbing and his belly is as tight as a drum. He’s so close to snapping that bubble, but he wants to give you more.

“Do you like it- when daddy, ah shit, fucks you, baby?” He’s getting messier, his voice is shaking.

You’re barely able to speak. “Yes!” You blubber, drool spilling out of your mouth that matches the tears in your eyes, the sweat above your lip that leaves a salty taste on your tongue. Each thrust leaves you hiccuping, sobbing. Your breath hitches when you body twitches. Eddie feels you, giving one last, hard thrust that his him busting inside of you.

You’re both releasing together, your pussy clamping down on his cock that his him spewing out curse words in the abandoned house of god. Your body is shaking so bad you can barely move, the tears haven’t stopped and it’s so damn hot.

He collapses atop of you, his body on yours as he fights for air. You’re slipping from your spot, making his eyes widen briefly before he stands up and catches you. “Woah, baby.” He says in exhaustion, heat exhaustion.

You fall into his chest and allow him to pick you up, your head lulling to the side. “You alright, honey?”

You smile, somehow manage to, your body rippling with the pleasure of his cock, his arousal creating a sticky substance down your leg. You’re not able to say anything, but you give him the goofiest grin you can muster, sticking up your thumb in a thumbs up motion.

He snickers and kisses your head, looking down to realize he’s still naked. “Fuck, babe, I gotta put my clothes back on.”

[ervotica]

the ones we love (will destroy us)

pairing; aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

tags; twincest (lol i'm sorry yk what the targaryens are like), aegon is so sad and babygirl and an idiot, hurt/comfort

note; heavily reworked repost of an old fic that i adored writing but needed a lot of editing! (i still lowkey hate it tho)

“Why is Aegon staring at you?” Aemond asks, a cruel smirk cracking his perpetually stoic facade; the's mocking in the way his gaze falls between you and Aegon, not entirely genuine as he takes amusement in his older brother’s miserable pining. Aegon watches your discussion with Aemond, sour faced from across the dining table. You’ve taken it upon yourself to sit as far away from him as you can manage; and where you’re usually attached at the hip - though he knows you’re arguing - he can’t deny the ache in his chest from your lack of acknowledgement. You're cold, unflinching as you stare right through him as though he's irrelevant, as though he's worth nothing to you.

“Because he’s a twat,” you answer bluntly. Aemond barks out a short laugh, coarse and harsh, that penetrates the quiet chatter of the room. Heads start to turn towards your avid conversing with your younger brother.

“What are you two bickering about now?”

“If he thinks it’s funny to to speak ill of me to everyone in the seven fucking kingdoms, I don't want anything to do with him.” Your lips purse as you cross your arms; Alicent eyes you, watching the tick of your jaw and flare of your nostrils - you’re upset, even if you’re excellent at masking it. 

Aemond watches on amusedly as your twin grows increasingly agitated the more you pointedly avoid his glances. Your mother frowns.

“Y/n, don’t you feel you’re perhaps being a little hard on Aegon?” 

“No.”

“He's your twin brother!” she sighs, ever frustrated by your stubbornness and your twin’s lack of consideration for anybody’s feelings, even yours at times.

“He’s still a twat.”

Aegon huffs and rolls his eyes. 

You continue to only speak about him indirectly. When you turn to Jace, he grins.

“Jace,” you start, clasping your hands where they lay on the dining table in front of you, “If someone said that you were ‘an ugly whore with no friends’ - as he so eloquently put it - would you be upset?”

“He said that?” Jace's jaw falls slack. “Wait, no. He honestly said that about you?”

The table clatters, cutlery bouncing, and Aegon stands abruptly, face screwed up in that way it does when he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t like that!”

“How else could you possibly have meant it?” You’re incredulous, covering your misery with spiteful words. You want to make him hurt, make him feel your pain, but run to him for comfort all at once.

“Not-”

“Gods, just be quiet,” you mutter. Your face is hot as you turn away and you feel your eyes prickling with the threat of an onslaught of tears. Aegon cringes, drawn tight and tense as though you share one body, as though he can feel the pain he’s putting you through. Your upset has always caused him real physical distress, from when you were tiny children and still to this day. Your voice lowers to a whisper. “You’re so mean.”

“Y/n-“

You’ve never seen him quite this distressed; his cheeks flush pink and ruddy and his eyes start to water and gloss over, not dissimilar to your own expression - though you’re much better at concealing your emotions. His nostrils flare the way they only do when he cries: the way they did when he sobbed in your arms for hours after your mother rejected his pleas for affection once again, the way he cried when you were ten years old and your father interrupted him every time he tried to speak. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Please,” he croaks. Your brows knit and crease your forehead as your chest tightens; you bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you draw blood. 

You stand and the solid wooden dining chair thumps against the floor. Aegon mirrors your movements, rushing towards the exit in your wake.

Once you’ve left the presence of your family, the tears come hard and fast and unrelenting. They’re hot against your cheeks, damp as your hands shake to scrub them away, leaving only a tender sting and blooming heat in your touch’s wake.

“Please talk to me.” The door creaks shut and then Aegon’s voice cuts through the sounds of your sniffles; you spin on your heel and he surges towards you in a bout of energy, clasping one of your hands in both of his larger ones. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about you, it was mean. And you should be angry with me. I miss you and I love you and I'll never, ever speak a cruel word against you again.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask; he lurches to latch himself to your body, anxious as though you’ll push him away at any given moment. His arms are tight and unmoving around your waist.

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently, “I don't know why I said it. I just wanted the others to respect me but shouldn’t have said such awful things. The only person I need is you.”

“What?”

“I don’t care about any of that now. None of it matters to me if you’re not by my side.” 

His body shudders when your arms close and tighten around his body and a sob looses from his throat. Your voice is thick as you murmur in his ear. 

“You hurt my feelings.” 

His head falls to the dip of your shoulder and he clings to you with a strength that you’re not unfamiliar with; it cracks your heart all the same.

“Please forgive me, sweetling. Please.” The velvet of your dress darkens in splotches where his tears fall. “I love you.”

You know he really is remorseful; the guilt eats at him until he can’t feel anything else, not until you’ve reconciled. He's always been the same, ever since you were six and he hit you in the face; you didn’t speak to him for four days and he cried with such vigour that he made himself sick.

“I love you,” you can’t help but whisper back. “But if you ever do something like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

He laughs wetly, an odd sound that gets caught in his chest as he presses further into your embrace. 

“Can I have a kiss?”

You hook a finger under his chin and tilt his damp face towards your own. His lips fill with air and push out into a pout. 

His muscles go soft and relax the second your lips mesh with his; your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He angles his head and deepens the kiss, licks into your mouth and murmurs something imperceptible. When you pull yourself away, he chases you, desperate to be close. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, plying you with damp, open mouthed kisses across your cheeks and neck. They leave glistening half moons in his wake. “I‘m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, tucking your head in the hollow of his throat. “I forgive you, alright?”

A laboured breath forces its way out of his lungs when your arm wraps around his neck for a hug.

“I didn't like you sitting next to Aemond,” he sighs. You shush him, rubbing thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks in unbridled affection. “I want you to sit next to me.”

“I always sit next to you,” you murmur. “I was upset, remember?”

“I know,” he whines. “but you’re mine.”

“Don’t be a baby,” you giggle. “I spend all of my time with you.”

He squeezes you tight then and buries his face in your hair. You grunt with the force of his weight.

“I missed you.”

[starsinthesky5]

quarterback || joe burrow x reader

description: joe is back to doing what he does best, and you cannot get enough of it ;)

a/n: seeing him back out there is a literal dream!! here’s a little something inspired by all the football content we’ve gotten over the past month 🤍 and good lord he looks FINE as hell.

fair warning, i struggled to write a part of the smut (wink wink) so i really hope it isn’t too cringe because it took me a second to write that

warnings: language, smut

word count: 5.5 k

—————————————————————

The sound of Joe’s alarm blared throughout your bedroom early Monday morning, causing you to turn over and pull your covers over your head. It was currently 6 AM, meaning it was too early for anything. You let out a little whine as you felt Joe’s arms snake around your waist and pull your back into his chest. You lifted the gray comforter off your head and turned your head to face him. You were met with his gentle eyes and messy bedhead, looking absolutely precious this early in the morning.

“Joee, it’s early,” you whined. He moved the covers down a little more so that your shoulder was uncovered, pressing light kisses to the soft skin.

“It’s Monday,” he said in between kisses. You were a little dazed and rubbed your eyes to snap the drowsiness out of you, realizing that it was in fact Monday meaning today was Joe’s long-awaited return to being a quarterback. 

You turned around onto your side to face him and took a long look at him, taking in every little detail. He was now lying on his stomach, his muscular back on display along with his messy hair. “Back to football,” you smile lazily while raking your hand through his hair, which he had been growing out since the start of the year. It was one of the few changes to his appearance, and you were loving it. It was getting longer in the back and the front, almost mullet-like (similar to what he had in college), but you didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to jinx it. 

You loved Joe’s hair. You loved it at the beginning of the past season even though it ended up looking like a wet mop by the end of the game, and you loved his hair during the end of the season as well, referring to it as ‘prince hair’. This hair might just be your favorite, referring to it as ‘prince hair volume 2’. You loved when he grew his dirty blonde hair out, partly because you loved running your fingers through the strands, but mostly because you loved playing with it during sex. 

“Back to football,” he sighs, the smile on his face fading. 

“Not excited?” You question. 

“Oh, I am, 100%. I miss being out there,” he says as he slides his hand gently across your shoulder. 

“Then why do you not look excited?” You softly ask.

“Nerves,” he responds, turning his face into the pillow to hide his telltale eyes. His eyes could always tell you the emotion he was feeling at the moment, thus the reason why he was trying not to let you see. There was no way you were going to let him get in his head again. He’d already done that enough at the end of the last season into the beginning of the off-season and it did not do anyone any good. 

“Joseph Lee Burrow,” you begin to lecture. 

“Uh oh, full government name never means anything good,” he jokes. 

“You have absolutely no reason to be nervous. You have worked your ass off to get better these past few months. I’ve seen it, the public has seen it, the fucking aliens have seen it,” you lecture as you hear a soft laugh come from his lips. 

“You came back from what could’ve been a career-ending injury and have killed it in rehab and recovery. You were ahead of all their timetables, no surprise there, but you did that all on your own,” you add, moving your hand to his bare back, sliding it down his muscular frame. 

“I’m just nervous about really getting back into it, you know?” He says as he takes his head out of the pillow. “I know I’m better for the most part and I’ve been throwing for a little over a month, but getting back out there with the guys means it’s time to face reality,” he says. 

You stay silent as you let him vent to you, which you had ensured he did while he was injured. “I just don’t want things to go south again, this season means a lot. I know what everyone’s been saying and I’ll be playing with a chip on my shoulder. I just don’t wanna lose it,” he says, referring to his reputation, accomplishments, and goals. 

“You’re not going to lose it, Joe. If anything, the public and the league will lose their minds over how fucking amazing you are after such a devastating setback. You’re going to kill it today, the next day, and every day after that. Now you know that you need to listen to your body more and not push yourself, which will make a huge difference in how you feel,” you smile. 

“I’ve seen you throw and in my unprofessional opinion, it doesn’t look like anything even happened. The team is ready for you, I mean you have 2 giants that are going to be on both sides of you and a whole new class of rookies that I’m sure are ecstatic to be around you,” you giggle. 

“It’s time to be quarterback again. You’re ready, trust me, Remember that you are Joe Fucking Burrow,”. 

Joe smiled at your little speech. You always knew how to get him out of his head and back down to earth and this was just another example of that. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He mumbles as he turns onto his back and pulls you on top of him, making you let out a little squeal. 

“Many, Many, Many times,” you say, moving a little so you were straddling his waist. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you down so that you are just inches from his face. “Well, I love you,” he says again before pulling you closer and seizing your lips in a slow kiss. The grip on your waist tightens as he starts to rock you back and forth. The soft fabric of your shorts was grinding against his black boxers, your core was throbbing with each movement. 

“Joe,” you whimpered into the kiss. He pulls you closer while his right hand slides under the fabric of your tank top, his warm hand sliding up and down your bare back. His perfect lips were devouring yours as if he had been starved for days and had just gotten his first morsel of food. He pulls away from your lips and presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eventually moving down to your neck and sucking on the soft skin. 

“Mmm,” you moan, feeling Joe’s growing erection and slick lips all over you. You knew where this was leading, and if it were any other morning you’d let it happen. But not today. 

You carefully pull away and move off of his hips before it could go any further, he has a look on his face that a child would have if they got candy taken away from them. “Baby, Come back,” he whines.

“Nope. Not right now,” you innocently smile. “You have to get up and get ready and I’m not trying to tire you right before your first day back out there,”.

Joe gets up from the bed and sits upright, “It can be my warmup,” he shrugs, his full bare chest on display sending chills down your spine. Another one of the physical changes Joe had gone through was an increase in weight and muscle, and boy did it pay off. The result was Joe being way bigger than he was before, once again similar to how he looked in college. Not only did it help him with training and recovery, but it also made you even more insatiable around him.  

You stare at him for a few seconds, wanting to jump into bed with him more than anything, but you shake your head and snap out of it. “Maybe after you come home,” you tease. 

“So like a reward?” He asks.

“Precisely,” you say. 

He lets out a dramatic sigh, “I guess I can wait,”. He moves out from the covers and stands up, walking over to you. 

“That’s my man,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. 

You quickly freshen up while Joe gets his things ready, and then you let him take a shower while you pack him a few snacks. You pack him his favorite protein bar, an Orange Mango Body Armour, and a Greek yogurt protein powder muffin you made last night. You open the kitchen drawer, searching for a notepad. You find one and grab your pen, etching a note onto the paper.

I’m beyond proud of you, and I mean it. You have been killing it since you started training again and it’s finally time to remind everyone who the hell you are, and this is step 1. You are amazing in every single way possible. Keep your head up, 9. I love you more than life itself <3

You hear his heavy footsteps descend the stairs and quickly put the note and snacks in his bag and back on the couch where he left it. 

You spin around to face him, “You want something to eat? I can make an omelet or something?”. 

“It’s okay, I think I’ll grab something at the Facility,”.

“Missing those nasty green smoothies aren’t you?” you chuckle.

“Yes, and they are not nasty,” he says raising his eyebrow as he grabs his water from the fridge. 

“Thaaat’s debatable,” you drag out as you stumble towards him. It was almost time for him to head out and you deep down didn’t want him to. It was nice to have him around more than usual and now it was time for him to go back to doing what he does best, which you were obviously excited about. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to curl up on the couch with him for hours doing absolutely nothing productive.

He looks over at the time and sees that he has to head out soon, a little frown appearing on his face. He places his water on the kitchen island and throws out his arm to pull you in for a tight hug. “Mmmm, I don’t want to leave,” he groans. 

You wrap your hands around his waist and pull yourself closer to him, “I know,” you mumble against his warm chest. “But the day will pass by and before you know it, you’ll be back home,” you say as you lift your head off of his chest and meet his starry eyes. 

“Back home with my mouthwatering girlfriend, hopefully too exhausted to get up from bed because of our extracurricular activities,” he smirks. 

“Are you always horny?” you scoff as you pat his chest.

“You left me hangin’,” he says while tilting his head. 

“Sorrryyy,” you say, feeling bad as you hide your face in his chest again. 

He laughs as his hand moves to the back of your head, softly placing his hand on it. “It’s okay, as long as I get my reward when I get back,”. 

You lift your head again from his chest and meet his eyes which were now dark blue and filled with desire. “You got it,”. 

Hours Later 

You were sitting on the couch reading one of your favorite books before you saw your phone light up. You placed your book down on the couch and grabbed your phone, seeing that it was a text from Joe. A smile creeps up your face as you read his message.

Joe: Thanks for the snacks, I was starvingggg and those muffins are the best things I’ve ever had to date. But most importantly, thank you for that note. Seriously. Your words are so important to me and I don’t know what I would do without your constant encouragement and love. I love you I love you I love youu

You blushed at the repetitive “I love you’s” at the end of the text, and then remembered what you and written on the note to make him act like this

“He must be doing good,” you whisper to yourself as you type up a response, getting a reply from him instantly. 

You: I love you ❤️ How’s practice going by the way? 

Joe: Really good. Been throwing around a lot today with the guys and worked through some other stuff. They took a bunch of videos for media stuff so that’s something to keep an eye on if you want a peek 

You: Is it finally time for more football thirst traps? 

Joe: You’re funny

You: Hey? Can you blame me? The increased muscle and the flow you got going on is about to break the internet for the 2nd year in a row. My boyfriend is the definition of sexiness and when he puts on that jersey… Whew, someone has to restrain me 

Joe: You’re lucky I’m not at home right now 

You: Oh really? 

Joe: Yes really. 

You were about to type up a teasing response but you got a notification from the Bengal’s Instagram and immediately switched over to see what it was. It was a compilation of Joe throwing today at practice. 

You watched as he moved around in slowmo, throwing the ball around to the guys, his luscious hair flopping with every movement. The jersey he was wearing and the compression sleeve showed off his large muscular arms, arms you wish were wrapped around tight you right now. You paid attention to the grip he had on the football, the grip you wished he had on your thighs as right now as he took you to heaven. God, he looked so good right now. 

“Fuckkk,” you whispered to yourself, squirming around in your seat, feeling a little horny at the sight of him all sweaty and footbally. He looked mouthwatering and you were regretting letting him leave without a little quickie this morning to satisfy both your cravings. His throws were absolutely amazing in the video, managing to make each one hit his guys perfectly. He really was doing amazing and you couldn’t be more happier to see him back in his true element. 

“Ooh, that’s new,” you laughed as you watched him do a backhand pass to one of the guys. The smile on his face made you incredibly excited and at peace, he was going to be just fine. 

You switch back over to your texts with Joe, finally typing up a response after taking a few seconds to snap back to your senses.

You: Saw the video and you’re killing it ;) You feel good?

Joe: Oh, I feel greatttt. I’ll feel even better by the time I’m home. Got a lot of energy today 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension through the screen. You needed him badly and this conversation was not helping the situation. 

You: I hope sooo. That video has me feeling some feelings that need to be cared for in more ways than just one. Maybe needing some gentle care, maybe a little rough care? Still trying to figure it out.. I think I need some help figuring out what it is 

Joe: I’ll be home in an hour

You: Drive Safe ;)

You turned your phone off, throwing it to the side as you threw your head back into the couch pillow. “He’s going to be the death of me,” you giggle before covering your face with your hands. 

An Hour Later 

You’re sitting at the kitchen island after taking a shower, making sure to scrub everywhere and anywhere with your new Rose Body Scrub, and scrolling through your Instagram feed until you hear the sound of the garage open. 

You felt heat rise up your body as you realized he was finally home. You turn off your phone and stand up as you hear the door open and close. Joe walks in, bag in hand, wearing his black sweat shorts and a loose sleeveless white workout shirt. You watch as he places his bag on the floor, takes his shoes off, and walks over to you without saying anything. 

He pulls you into him, hands wrapping around your lower back, and lips crashing down onto yours. His lips move against yours at a slow and needy pace, telling you everything you need to know without actually saying anything. His tongue slides into your mouth as his hand moves down to your butt. Your hands slide down his back and under his shirt, running your manicured hands across his soft back. Suddenly, he pulls away and meets your eyes. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with lust and desire once again. 

“Do I get my reward now?” He whispers as his hands slowly cup the flesh of your ass. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you tease as you break away from his grip. “I don’t know if you were quarterback enough today,” you lie, earning a scoff from him, knowing he absolutely was in every single way possible. You slowly walk over to where he dropped his bag on the floor, bending over slowly to grab it and making sure he was watching, and oh he was. 

“You and I both know you’re lying through your teeth,” he says as he walks over to you. He picks you up, causing you to let out a squeal, and throws you over his shoulder.

“Put me downn,” you laugh, patting his back. 

“Nope. If I remember correctly, it’s time for my promised reward and you apparently are feeling something that needs gentle and rough care. Time to kill two birds with one stone,”  he smirks as he walks over to the stairs, still holding onto you over his shoulder, and carrying you up to the bedroom. 

He enters the room and gently throws you down onto the silk sheets before ripping his shirt off so that his bare chest is on display. Your eyes move down to his chest, taking in every little detail of his upper body. His big muscular chest was tan from all the sun he’d been getting, his strong veiny arms on display, and that little blonde treasure trail that led down to one of your favorite features of his. 

“Like what you see?” He teases as he leans down to hover over you. 

“More than you’ll ever know,” you smile as you reach up and pull him down for a kiss. You kiss him hungrily as he starts to fiddle with the strings of your shorts. He unties the knot and slips his fingers into your panties, immediately going down to your wet heat.

“Mm, Joe,” you moan into the kiss as you feel his fingers tease your folds. He continues to kiss you as his fingers enter your core, slowly pumping in and out while his thumb toys with your clit.

You break away from the kiss and throw your head back into the pillow as his fingers pick up the pace, moans, and whimpers leaving your lips as he pushes you towards your pleasure. “Right there,” you moan as he hits your sweet spot. Just as you’re about to reach your high, he pulls his fingers out of your shorts.

“Why’d you stop,” you pant as you lift your head up.

“Because I don’t want you to cum yet,” he nods as he licks his fingers clean of your essence. He pulls down your shorts and panties all in one go and then starts to pull your tank top off, you lift your arms to make it easier for him. 

“I wanna take my time,” he says. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one making you feel good since this is your reward?” You ask as you unclamp your bra, freeing your breasts as Joe’s eyes travel down to them. 

“You are my reward,” he growls, pushing you back down. His lips wrap around your breast, sucking on your nipple. You move your hand into his long hair, pulling at the strands as he continues to suck on your breast. A few sighs leave your lips as he swirls his tongue around the bud. He pressed a few kisses in between them as he moved over to your other breast. His tongue swirled around your bud and the wet kisses sent shivers down your spine. 

“You smell so good,” he says in between kisses. 

“Joe,” you whimpered as you pulled his head back up to your face. You crashed your lips onto him as you hooked your leg around his body, pulling him closer to you. You could feel his boner through his shorts, only getting bigger by the second. 

“Let me take care of that,” you say as you pull away from the kiss, slowly moving you both up. 

“But I wanna taste you,” he mumbles as he presses kisses around your collarbone. 

An idea suddenly pops into your head. You hadn’t done it in a while, and when you did do it, you both absolutely enjoyed it. 

“Wanna kill two birds with one stone?” you echo his words from earlier as you run your fingers across his thigh. He pulls his head out from your neck and looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, searching your eyes. 

“Hell yes,” you giggle as you move out from under him, your body sizzling with desire and anticipation. 

A few minutes later, both of you are laying bare against each other. You move yourself further back and he grabs your hips, pulling you right to his face. 

“Ohh,” you whimper as you feel his warm tongue lick a stripe across your folds. 

You lean down and run your tongue across the tip of his cock, lapping up the pre-cum that was pooling at the tip. You feel Joe groan into your core, sending vibrations all throughout your body. Wet slurping sounds were coming from behind you as breathy moans escaped your lips. 

You wrap your soft lips around the tip of his cock, slowly sliding your mouth down, taking him inch by inch. You begin to bob your head up and down as Joe moves to suck on your sensitive clit.

“Joe,” you moan as you pull away, sliding your tongue along the prominent veins. You felt his warm mouth lap at your folds as he rhythmically sucked on your clit, sending you straight to heaven. You took him in your mouth again, this time sucking harder and setting a quick pace. 

“Y/N,” he moans against your core. You both are caught up in the heated moment for what feels like hours. He continues to eat you out like a starved man, and you continue to suck him into oblivion. His grip on your hips tightens and you feel him start to buck his hips, a sure sign he was close. You felt tension building in your belly as you felt his tongue slide into your core and his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. 

A few seconds later, the tension in your belly snaps as you feel a gush of wetness release from your core prompting you to moan around his slick cock. You hear Joe whimper as he laps up your juices, inching closer and closer to his release. You wrap your hand around his cock, sliding it up and down along with your mouth. A few more sucks later, hot spurts of his cum fill your mouth. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans behind you. You slide your lips around the tip of his cock, and then licking the sides, lapping up his release before turning around and sitting up so you were straddling him.

“That was so hot,” he smiles as he takes in your disheveled appearance. He runs his big hands along your sides, sliding down to your thighs. 

“So hot,” you echo as you move some of his hair out from his eyes. 

“Sooo, now that I got the gentle care out of the way, I think it’s time for the rough care,” he says as he flips you over, a squeal leaving your lips. 

“Was that not enough,” you giggle as he kisses down your body. 

“I think I quarterbacked pretty hard today and deserve a little more than that,” he says moving back up to your face.

“I guess you’re right,” you playfully tease. He presses a kiss to your nose and then to your lips, slowly sucking on your bottom lip as he teased your slick core with his cock. He slowly pushes the tip in, still attacking your mouth with his lips. 

“Shit,” you moan into this kiss at the increased pressure down below. 

“F- Fuck,” you whimpered as he slid all the way into your core, completely stretching you out with his big cock. He started thrusting into you hard, not giving you a second to collect your thoughts. Your cushiony walls felt like home to him and he couldn’t get enough of it, he needed you. 

“You feel so good,” He groaned as he pounded into your heat. He moved his head to the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side and softly sucking on the skin. He moved deeper and deeper into your core with each thrust, sending your hips further into the bed. 

“Joe, I-” you begin to say but are interrupted by a moan as Joe’s cock grazes your G-spot. “Ohhh,”. 

He uses his hand and lifts one of your legs, causing your knee to bend, and allowing him to thrust deeper into you. “Joe!” you screamed as you felt him hit your G-spot.

“Right there?” he smirked.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you closed your eyes, the pleasure becoming too much for you. “Right there,” you whispered. You felt as if you were floating on a cloud as your boyfriend continued to pleasure you in every single way possible. 

“You’re so wet,” he groans as he continues to thrust into you. Sounds of your skin slapping against his fill the room, a pleasant sound that signifies that whatever was happening inside the room made you both feel good. 

“Joe, Fuck me harder,” you whimpered as you opened your eyes, your arms flying to the side as you were being pushed into the mattress. He was balls deep inside of you right now, and you were loving every second of it. 

He drops your leg and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he thrusts into you faster and harder, causing your breasts to shake with every thrust. Joe leans down and licks a stripe across your nipple, sending chills down your body at the cool air hitting the wet skin. 

“Baby,” you moaned as the pleasure was building in your belly. 

The intense pleasure you were feeling right now was your favorite feeling in the entire world. Joe was so good to you and you were so good to him. The sounds that left your mouth and the feeling of you beneath him would often send him into overdrive. All he wanted to do was make you feel good, and you wanted to do the same for him. He was the only man that would ever see you like this and you were all his. He grinned at the moans and little noises leaving your lips as he sent you to heaven. 

You begin to buck your hips up into his, matching the pace of his quick thrusts. He moves his hand down to your waist, gripping you tightly, a bruise surely to form there later. His thrusts start to become more erratic, a sign that he was close. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

You moved your hands to cup his back, helping him move against you and guiding his thrusts. Each stroke hits every pleasure point, causing ecstasy to course through your veins. “Baby, I’m close,” he groans. 

“Fuck, me too,” you whisper. Your legs were starting to shake from his thrusts and your body started to become sore, but the pleasure in your belly only getting stronger by the second. A few well-placed and rough thrusts later, you felt the warmth of his release fill you, his head dropping down to your neck as he panted sweet nothings into your ear.

"You're so good. Fuck, I love you," he panted.

“Mpmh,” you whined as you were so close to letting go, your hands scratching the soft skin of his muscular back. Joe lifted his head from your neck, realizing you hadn’t come yet, and went back to snapping his hips against yours. How was he not tired yet? I mean, it really shouldn't be surprising considering his stamina. He can go for hours and hours if he feels like it.

He moved one hand down to your incredibly wet lower half and played with your clit. “Cum for me baby, you can do it,” he said as he pounded into you. The pressure in your belly was building up, but it was a feeling different than any other orgasm. This one felt strong, and a little painful, but also caused your stomach to flutter. “J- Joe, I-” you moan as you start to arch your back. “I- I can’t,” you whimpered. 

“Yes, you can. I’ve got you,” he soothes, moving down to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

A few seconds later, you felt the band in your belly snap hard. The result was you releasing all over the lower half of both your bodies and onto the bed. 

“Oh my god, Joe,” you moaned as you fell back against the sheets, throwing your head to the side, a smile creeping up on your face as you felt your extreme high. Now you really felt like you were on a cloud and the room was spinning. He uses his hand to turn your face to meet his, and his lips crash down onto yours in a delicate yet passionate kiss. He pulls away, a huge smirk on his face as he was taking in your fucked out expression, feeling satisfied that he could make you feel like this. 

“Now that was hot,” he laughed.

“It’s been a minute since that happened,” you pant, your eyes fluttering as you were trying to regain your senses. 

“I’m so glad it did,” he chuckles as he slowly pulls out of you, both of your releases dripping down your inner thigh. You hiss at the loss of contact but Joe presses a kiss to your cheek to ease any discomfort. He walks over to the bathroom to grab a towel and makes his way back to you. He cleans you up before picking you up and placing you on the comfy chair next to the windows so he can change the sheets. Then he walks into the closet and hands you one of his big t-shirts to slip on while he slips on a pair of shorts. He then digs through the drawer and pulls out 2 Tylenol tablets and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge for you.

You smile at his sweet gestures as you slip on the comfy shirt. Only he could be so soft and affectionate after completely re-arranging your guts.

A couple of minutes later, you both are back in bed, lying against the fresh sheets and wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Was that gentle & rough enough for you,” Joe teases.

“Oh, 100%. I don’t think I can move, you beat it up gooood this time,” you lazily giggle. “I’m surprised you’re so awake right now. You weren’t kidding about having a lot of energy today,”.

“I feel good. Hell, I feel fucking amazing,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. “Today was really good and being back out there feels incredible,”.

You look up at him and see his hopeful and excited facial expression. You felt so proud of him and so happy that things were going back to normal. The past few months were tough, but today, by the sounds of it, felt like a fresh start for him. 

“That’s really great Joe. I’m so proud of you,” you say as you press a kiss to his bare chest.

“Thanks for the reward by the way,” he says.

“Please, even if you sat out today or missed all of your throws, I still would’ve pounced on you. Nothing can keep me away from my own personal 6’4 bundle of sexiness,” you teased. 

“Good to know in case things go south again. At least you'll still want me if I fail,” he jokes.

“Hey, that is not funny,” you say, looking back up at him with a solemn face.

“I’m just playin’. I think we can save the repeat of your speech from this morning for another day,” he laughs. 

“Good. I’m too tired to lecture your ass,” you sigh. 

“I’m feeling it now too,” he yawns.

“You should be. You did most of the work tonight,” you say as you hook your leg over his hips so that you are straddling him again. His arms wrapped around your lower back, holding you close against him. You tuck your head under his chin and let out a content sigh.

“And that’s perfectly fine. I owe you for all those times when I couldn’t move my wrist because of that big ass cast,”. 

“Well, I’m just glad that we don’t have to ever deal with that again,” you say.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head. “Wait, you still didn’t answer my question from earlier,”. 

“Hm?” you question. 

“Was I quarterback enough today?” he asks.

You turn your face to look up at him. “Absolutely. In every single way possible. From the jersey to the thirst trap pics, the throws, the smile on your face, not to mention that stamina in bed. Yeah, you were quarterback enough today,” you smile.

His deep blue eyes were filled with love as he listened to you talk. Everything was going as planned now that he was back on the field, and he could see how relaxed and happy that made you. 

“I love you,” he says, hugging you tighter. "So, So, So, Much," he says, pressing a kiss to your head each time he says 'so'.

“I love you, quarterback,”.

–The End–

[808len808]

Breaking point

!Pupppy Leon S. Kennedy x Gender Neutral Reader!

Summery: Your poor pup was to scared to tell you that he's going into heat.

Authers note: I don't know what this is, I wrote half of it while I was drunk and the rest I wrote in the span of a month so the first part of the story is a bit messy, but I promise it gets better. !Disclaimer: by puppy Leon I mean a hybrid, I do not support zoophilia!

!Warnings!: Nsfw themes, "Reader" can be all genders.

(Words: 4,405)

(sorry if it's cringe 😭)

The summer had ended, well at least the vacation. it was the most awesome vacation of Leon’s life! You were home every single day, he went where you went day in and day out. To the park, lake, and forest, but also at home. He got all the attention. But now you had to leave for work again for 5 days a week from 9 to 5 and he was stuck at home, waiting for his precious owner to come back.

He spent most of his time just lying down in spaces where your scent was strongest, couch, bedroom, those spots. Usually, he’d stay on the couch sleeping or thinking about you, how you would greet him with a smile when you came back, how you would pet that special spot between his ears, his tail already started wiggling at the thought of it. 

Fuck, this was too hard. He looked at the clock; only 3 more hours, but for him it felt like years, mostly because he couldn’t sleep anymore, and because he really had to go out for a walk. 

He got up from the couch and went to the kitchen to see if you had accidentally left any food for him to grab, but unfortunately nothing, he could try to stand up and grab something from inside the cabinets, but then he would feel bad for disobeying you, then he wouldn’t be a good boy.

Ever since the summer vacation, he felt the need to be around you so much stronger, he felt the need to be with you at all times, to receive praise, to be held, to be cradled, and most importantly to please you. 

His ears perked up, suddenly feeling something in his stomach, it was weird, he went over to your bedroom your scent only growing stronger just like the feeling on his stomach. When you first adopted him you didn’t let him into your bedroom at all hoping to make a clear line between owner and pet but along the summer that line started to fade. The few nights he would spend the night curled up against you on your bed were the best.

He felt incredibly proud even thinking back to one of those nights, just sleeping next to you, your fingers going through his hair until he fell asleep. 

A huff grasped through his nose whiffing up your scent, his nose going up in the air. A small shiver went down his spine as he continued sniffing, trying to pinpoint the strongest scent, it was a whole different scent that he smelled, it reminded him of sweat but different much nicer, much more attractive, like it was pulling him towards itself. 

He followed his nose eagerly, coming to the bathroom connected to your room, he stopped in his tracks. He’s never been in your bathroom. He stared at the scary door gulping, he still had plenty of time before you would arrive home, but he already felt bad contemplating breaking your rules, well you never specifically said he couldn’t go in there… the times he tried, you had told him to wait outside or wait in the living room because you were having “alone time” whatever that meant. 

But now he was alone, he took one glance behind him, checking if you hadn’t suddenly come back. Luckily you didn’t, so he went in gently opening the door. It was just a regular bathroom, shower, toilet, sink with a mirror, so where did the scent come from?

Leon’s eyes scanned the room until he spotted the hamper, placed in the corner. He quickly hopped his way over, looking to claim his price. He stuck his nose in the pile of clothes in the hamper, all yours and a few of his garments. 

He never used to wear clothes, it wasn’t normal for hybrids to do, but since he was more on the human side -the only dog thing about him being his tail, ears, and senses, having human parts, and being able to do human things, he could walk and talk but it was just a harder to do so, he preferred not to but ever since he got off the streets, and adopted you learned him to do so,  also made him wear clothes. He still preferred to be shirtless so he would crawl his way out of them every chance he got.-

anywayyyy back to the story.

His hands mixed in throwing things away until he found the source, one pair of underwear more specifically your underwear. He happily took it in his mouth without a single thought. Proud to have found what he was searching for he went back to his crate, taking the used garment in his hands as he laid on his soft mat sniffing it until he dared to lick. An intense feeling sent shocks through his body, he felt something beneath him twitch. He didn’t register what happened. A breathy huff escaped his lips, but it sounded more like a whine. Hot flashed his face, taking another lick just to test if it would happen again, it did. 

His belly tingled a small sense of excitement filled his mind, he continued to lap only making the ominous feeling between his legs grow nose buried in the piece of clothing, curled up in his bench. 

He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep when you came back, he excitedly sprung up, tail wagging behind as you turned the key into the lock greeted by Leon’s big blues you closed the door behind you before getting down to pet him, he eagerly leaned in your touch small puffs leaving his nose as you pet his head to the place between his ears back to under his soft jawline. 

“I missed you so much!” Leon excitedly told you almost panting. 

He looked so excited you felt bad stopping now, you walked over to the couch, Leon almost blocking your way by circling around your legs. “Come here,” you giggled as you invited Leon to the space next to you on the couch. You didn’t have to tell him twice, he immediately jumped to the spot landing half on you in an over-enthusiastic way, he pushed one hand on your thigh encouraging you to continue petting him, which you gladly did.

“I was sooo lonely, I missed you so much, it’s so boring without you! I’m so so happy you’re back!” Leon rapidly bladdered making you chuckle a bit, he was always so energetic which could be tiring but you didn’t mind right now, it was actually kind of nice to have someone who was always excited to see you. 

Minutes passed, and he was still pressed against you talking your ear off with things he had thought of today, your petting eventually slowed into soft strokes, Leon’s tail slowed down as he ran out of things to say a big content smile on his face his ears were back eyes closed almost purring into your touch. So relaxed. 

It was all your normal routine until you spotted something particular, your underwear, in Leon’s crate. Your brows furrowed looking back to the innocent puppy next to you. After a bit of thinking and mostly contemplating what to do about it you got up from the soft cushions. Leon perked up confused at the loss of touch. He saw you walk over to his crate crouching down to examine your piece of clothing like it was a crime scene. 

“Leon? What’s this?” you asked looking over your shoulders to meet his worried eyes. He knew that look, and immediately he was stressed, Oh no did he do something bad? He really didn’t want to be a bad boy! What did he do?!

Leon tilted his head in shame not wanting to respond. Not knowing what to say, scared he would make it worse.

“Come over here,” you ordered, your voice rather sweet than commanding, hoping to not worsen Leon’s nervousness any further He hopped off the couch and did a small walk of shame to the crate, tail tucked between his legs, next to where you were crouched he sat down, trying to prove that he was still a good boy. 

“Well?” you started to get impatient. The scared dog avoided your eyes, going back to the now wet underwear. “I-… I just missed your scent…” Leon pleaded, looking up to you trying to win you over with his sad puppy eyes. You narrowed your eyes thinking of a way to teach your pup that this wasn’t okay, but you just couldn’t find it in you to punish him, until he spoke up again. 

“I just- it tasted so…good” Leon explained further as if it would help him, it didn’t, in fact, it did the opposite.

The gears inside of your head finally spun. Your scent, he wanted all your attention, the way he pawed at you all the time, this wasn’t a pet owner situation, he was attracted to you. 

You gulped deeply staring into Leon’s eyes, nothing but innocence and worry, the poor thing probably didn’t even know what he was feeling. Your lips pressed together into a thin line, you needed to stop this before it got out of hand even when you felt bad doing it. 

You picked your undies up, moving to stand up. Leon stayed down his eyes following your every move. “Leon,” you started putting away your feelings, you needed to set boundaries, you needed to be responsible here. “You can’t pick up my clothes, those are mine, not yours.” He looked down at his hands, anxiety spreading over his face, but you weren’t done yet he needed to learn there were consequences to his actions.

“I also do not want you to go into my room or the bathroom while I’m not home.” He absently nodded seeming like he was at the brink of tears for being called out alone. “Now I know you hate this, but you need to learn that there’s consequences to your actions.” His head shot up, panic in his eyes as you strictly pierced his eyes with yours. “no-no-please,-I’ll be good-I’ll never do it again-please,” he tried but you didn’t budge you stood your ground while pointing at his cage, Leon already knew what was coming to a terrified look on his face -god he is so dramatic- as you pointed to his crate. 

“No-no-no!”He franticly shook his head. “please, I don’t wanna go!” He pawed at your ankles pleading. You stood your ground. “Leon,” you warned, he knew he was only making it worse by begging but he really, really didn’t want to go on the crate. “Please-I’m sorry- I’m really-sorry- please!” He looked at you from where he was sitting his bottom lip trembling as he felt his eyes start to water.

“I’m not going in! I can’t- you can’t make me!” He raised his voice, which made you glare down at him. Immediately his ears went down as he felt himself cripple under your glare. 

“Bad. Boy. Go in your cage.” Tears started to fall you felt guilty for hurting your precious pup, especially about making him cry, but you didn’t let it show, you stayed cold and emotionless. He let out a small whimper as he obliged, unable to deny your order, he looked back almost betrayed, like he hadn’t had this coming. 

“It’s just for the night,” you said as you closed the bench trapping Leon in the iron bars, a soft mat, and a blanket on the ground (because you are not a monster) his fingers clamped around the bars. You left, you had eaten out, so you didn’t have any more business in the living room. You made your way back to your bedroom, throwing the clothes Leon had spread across the bathroom back into the hamper, throwing away your underwear later. 

So there he was, he had been so excited to be around you all day, and he actually could do that right now, be curled up against you snuggling but no, instead he was trapped in this cage, this prison the restraint that kept him from going to you. He sighed feeling betrayed in some way. He didn’t understand what he had done wrong, of course, he knew that picking your clothes was wrong, but getting punished for it, that’s a bit too much.

You never punished Leon ever, so this was really strange. Leon was confused but mostly felt bad, so very bad for making you disappointed in him. He curled up on the crate hugging the blanket in sorrow pretending that it was you as the last lights went out. 

-

The morning came agonizingly slow for Leon, the lack of sleep making him hump up as you entered the room, he sat up tail already swooshing side to side regardless of his exhaustion. You walked in your pajamas to his bench Leon’s fingers grasping the metal begging for his release. 

You kneeled down to his level, right in front of him. “Are you going to be a good boy?” you asked tilting your head in a questioning way, he nodded as fast as possible. “Talk,” you demanded. “Yes, yes I’ll be good,” he begged, half shaking the bars, you complied unlocking his “prison”. 

He almost jumped onto you making you sit back down on the ground. “I’m so sorry- it will never happen again, I promise, I promise,” he repeated over and over again as he tried to get you to hug him, you let out a breath chuckle and complied, “It’s okay sweetheart.” You pet his head to which he smiled even more leaning in your touch as he always did. 

And there it was again, that funny feeling in his stomach. At first, he thought it was just hunger, but the more you pet him the more he wanted to stay closer to you, press against you. The arousal pooling in his stomach stayed even when you pulled away, even when you fed him, even when you went out for a walk, and even when you left for work again. 

Leon was left alone with that unfamiliar feeling in his stomach leaving him to do the figuring out, Leon lay on his signature place on the couch. You had bought him a book for him to read. A simple book, just to help Leon fit in with the human side of him, also forcing him to walk upright on his feet when in public, he found it hard and tiring but he wasn’t about to disappoint you, not after he already did. 

So maybe that was why he was picking up the book, and starting to try and read it. It was easy enough. As time passed the feeling in his stomach tightened, like his organs were tormenting him. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, more like a neediness for something, only he didn’t know what. 

It came to the point where he couldn’t focus on the words anymore, his problem shadowed all his thoughts and made sure it was impossible for the poor pup to think straight. The only thing he noticed was that his pants felt small, smaller than usual, even when he had gotten used to them by now, they suddenly felt too small.

Leon frowned putting the book down to finally try and do something about his problem, he looked down to check if he could see anything from the outside. His face lit up as if he had just opened the previously used oven, and slapped the heat in his face, down his body making his skin tingle.

His hands followed the skin of his stomach expecting to find some kind of bruise or lump, but nothing only hot skin. His hand found its way to his pants to see if he could feel anything there. He let out an embarrassingly loud whine as he felt the bulge tenting his pants. His eyes dared to look down, only gasping at the sight, his hands weren’t betraying him, there really was a huge bulge. 

Contemplating what to do he experimentally cupped it with his hand through his pants, a whine even louder ran over his tongue, so hard that he swore he could hear it echoing through the walls.

But it felt good, it felt sensitive, but in a good way, in a very very good way, he has to feel it again. He slightly squeezed the bulge making his stomach turn in a way that felt so satisfying he couldn’t help but double over. 

Leon could feel his body trembling not used to these sensations at all, but he couldn’t stop, he started to create a small friction for himself, trying to satisfy this overwhelming need he suddenly felt. 

His hips involuntarily jerked up in his hand making his crotch throb as a whine left his mouth, his eyes closing in concentration trying to find whatever he needed, but it was hard to think, he felt so powerless, so desperate for something, but what was that something? 

Leon’s hand slightly sped up making him pant. His whole body felt on fire, so hot, he felt the need to take his suffocating clothes off but was too overwhelmed to do so. 

He kept going his legs trembling hands shaking sweat making everything stick together, but it still wasn’t enough, Leon didn’t understand, he never felt this, and frankly, he didn’t understand one bit of it. 

Eventually, his member felt like it was going numb. Leon desperately kept going even when it was starting to hurt, but to no avail, it just wasn’t enough. His hand stopped and so did the friction, his thoughts coming back to him together with a worried feeling, what even was that? What happened? He was left feeling guilty somehow like he did something shameful even when it felt so good. Was it bad? Was Leon doing something bad? 

He started to feel stressed, it feels bad now… and he really didn’t want to disobey you again especially when he was already put in the crate yesterday. Just then the lock turned, Leon’s ears perked up he hadn’t even smelled you, his arousal taking up all the scent in the room. 

Leon quickly jumped off the couch tail turning into a blur by how hard it was wagging. He was more excited than ever to see you. He whined a bit as he struggled to walk over to the door, the now painful bulge rubbing against his pants, he needed to get them off but that was not the priority right now. The priority was you.

You opened your front door, Leon’s face immediately greeting you, you always loved to come home to him, and his sweet smile, it grew only brighter as he saw you. (2 meninges 😧😏) 

“Hi! how’s your day?” Leon immediately spoke as you walked in hanging your coat up and sighing not noticing Leon’s state.

“It was fine” you shrugged putting away your shoes and patting Leon’s head. “How about you, have you been a good boy?” You said grinning as Leon grew red. “Mhm, I’ve been good all day,” Leon answered only it was a lie, a lie because he wasn’t a good boy. He did something new and it felt bad so so bad and he was scared to tell you. What if you’ll put him in his cage again? He’d rather lie than be imprisoned again. 

You walked over to the kitchen picking out food from the cabinets. “Yeah? What you do all day pup?” Leon followed you into the kitchen looking at the ingredients you put on the marble countertop. 

Leon thought his tail still rapidly swinging behind him. “I read like you told me to.” Leon smiled sheepishly at you ignoring the pain he was feeling downstairs. He could ignore it, he would ignore it for you. 

But eventually, you break, eventually, you burst, as any normal person does. A pup can’t hold something that big from you, and hide his pain…

His breaking point came at midnight. 

He was happily cuddled by you, he adored being small spoon. Until he woke up, drenched in sweat, panting, every piece of skin sticking to something. Leon groaned the world coming to him as he awoke his eyes and mouth dry. Waves of pain hit him from his crotch through his legs, a small whine escaped as he looked down, it was still the same, it was a wonder you hadn’t noticed yet. 

Leon’s whole body was in a state of fight or flight his senses heightened. He couldn’t take this anymore. He whined again as he stood up, legs trembling under his weight as he made it to the bathroom. He felt like throwing up. He struggled to grab a hold of the sink hoping for some stability but the cold on his sweaty hand only made him hiss. 

He was hot and cold at the same time, was it some kind of fiver? No this was different much different. Another wave of heat surged through Leon’s body his face red his lungs having trouble keeping up with his heavy breathing. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, his eyes caught glimpses down his body but none registered. With whines still leaving him he clawed at his clothes trying to wiggle his way out of them. The pants dropped to the tiles and so did his shirt everything was off but still he was as hot as one can be.

It was all too much and what was worse was that he didn’t even know what was going on. At this point Leon didn’t care if he got sent to his cage he just wanted the pain to stop nothing else mattered. 

He shook as he stumbled back into the bedroom. “Leon?” You asked just woken up as well, squinting your eyes to make out your pup’s features. His breath and his whimpers together with Leon not responding got you worried. “Leon, are you okay?”

“Please,” he whined collapsing next to you on the bed. “Please what? What’s going on?” Your voice continued to grow more and more worried. You turned and switched the light on, and there he was in full light his chest heaving up and down sweat dripping down his face, his ears flat on his head. His eyes closed tight his eyebrow furrowing into a painful look. 

With one glance down everything became clear. “Oh, baby,” you muttered softly. He was going in heat. “What’s wrong with me?” Leon choked out. “Nothing sweetheart, nothing at all,” you reassured brushing strands of hair that stuck to his face away. 

“I’m going to help you okay?” Leon nodded frantically in response tears brimming his eyes as tears slowly fell down his face, landing on the pillow, your sweet pup, he must be in so much pain for so long, poor thing was suffering in silence all this time and you hardly noticed. 

He was squirming waiting for you to do something, to do anything, anything to make the pounding in his head go away. His consciousness almost faded when you scratched behind his ears making his tail wag despite the pain he was in. It thumps against the white covers beneath him with it forming a small smile on your face.

“You’ll be fine sweetheart, I’ll take care of you,” you cooed softly multitasking as you moved your hand down his sticky body going gently over all his shapes and moles, going over the small trail of hair leading to the source of his problem. His hips jerked up a few times as you did. 

His cute little cock stood high and proud, pearly beads leaping down his length it was a beautiful sight. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve admired your pet for hours like this but this was a case with urgency and there was no time to spare.

Leon’s eyes shot open when you wrapped your hand around his base, a hand flying up to your shirt to take a handful of the soft fabric. “Wh-what?” He looked up at you with big eyes then back to the scene, blinking. Before he could do or say anything else you stroked up and down again. Leon quickly deflated, eyes rolling back as his head fell back into the pillow. Whines and whimpers fell from his mouth as you continued.

You started off slow so he could catch up with you twisting your wrists a few times and pulling utteral moans of pleasure from him. His plump lips kept parted eyes half-lidded going down and up with the movement of your hand and then to your own eyes. He strictly held on to your shirt as if his life depended on it his grip only growing stronger with every stroke of your hand. 

“Hmm-s’good-please-nhgh,” incoherent mumbles escaped his lips it was adorable. His pitch went up only higher and higher to a point that you almost couldn’t recognize the vulnerable voice of your pup. 

You sped up, his hips struggling to keep up with your pace, his eyelids scrunched together, you grabbed the hand holding your shirt and wrapped it in yours intertwining your hands while the other was cramping on Leon’s puppy dick. His tail was rapidly moving the sheets his ears perked up straight into the air. 

“Ah-wait-!” You didn’t react or wait instead you did the opposite only going faster. Leon let out a gut-wrenching moan his voice cracking into a whimper multiple times as he came white sputtered all over his stomach, continuing to drip down the white sheets as more continued to flow and coat your hand with sticky white ropes.

You slowly stopped, leaving his cock flat, Leon hesitantly opened one eye before the other a sit he was scared but he only saw your sweet smile. Before he could open his other eye you had your clean hand which was previously holding his, in Leon’s hair. “Good job Leon” you comfort his ears immediately twitching as you did. 

A cheeky smile was returned his cute bright eyes staring at you with excitement. “I did good?” He sat up slightly, the bed dipping in weight as he did. “Yeah, you did amazing sweetheart.” You cupped his cheek he sighed and closed his eyes, his body turning soft in your touch. 

[rueclfer]

acquainted with the drummer // sero hanta

a/n: writing this as im getting ready for a function rn and super indulgent but idgaf i think u guys needed this too!!! we all needed this!! sero nation hi ily!! also maybeeee wanna do more with this idea another day when i have time

the double tequila shot doesn't feel like a good idea anymore now that it's fighting its way back up your throat.

"chaser?" mina offers, holding out a clear glass with a sip's worth of soda sitting at the bottom of the cup. her eyebrows furrowed into a grimace as the alcohol settled in her own stomach.

you wave her off with a cough, bringing the back of your hand up to your mouth, as if that'll hold back your vomit.

it somehow does.

the burning sensation dissipates with a new feeling- euphoria.

it's a loud and rowdy bar, and you're not used to this scene like mina is, but it's a saturday night and she knew you had nothing more to do than waste the weekend away.

mina has her arm slung over you, essentially forcing your shoulders down to headbang in rhythm with her. you two are laughing at each other in a drunken haze- slightly off beat, hair thrown around and getting caught in the corners of your mouth, and your eye meeting the drummer's every now and then.

you don't formally meet him until you're pressed up against the grimy bathroom stall- the door is as cool on your back as he is hot on your front.

"hanta." he says in between whiskey coaxed kisses "sero hanta."

"hi." you mutter against his lips. "it's nice to meet you, hanta. you were incredible up there."

the light praise sends a chill up his spine. he pulls away for a moment, taking in the sight of your swollen kissed lips, tipsy lidded eyes, and knotted hair.

god, you're so pretty.

he's known about you for a while- mina's quiet roommate. he sees you in passing whenever the group goes over to your apartment for band practice or to just lounge around, but you'd always stay hidden in your room.

sero has a habit of wanting to meet and say hello to everyone. jirou says he's easy kidnap bait, but he thinks everyone's worth knowing.

he should actually be out there in the main bar watching the next band's set and hanging out with the rest of his friends who came out to see them perform, but here he was getting acquainted with you.

"it's nice to meet you." he chuckles, bringing his hand up from your waist to the nape of your neck, as he crashes his lips back into yours, simultaneously pulling you deeper into him as he presses you back against the door.

he wants to devour you at this moment. show you how a real drummer does it. not many get to experience it, but there's a secret plus to the endless stamina after all these years of practice and bar shows.

"ow, hanta." you pull your head forward away from his grasp.

"oh fuck." he brings his hands back to your shoulders, lighting rubbing his thumb over the bare skin in silent apology.

you look down and eye the spiked bands snapped onto each wrist before meeting his gaze again.

he awkwardly huffs out a laugh, connecting his forehead to yours.

"i'm so fucking dumb." he cringes at himself. "sorry."

you run your hand up his chest and to the side of his jaw, brushing your fingers against the slight stubble.

"we should get back to the others, anyways." your cheeks grow hot, suddenly aware of the situation you've gotten yourselves into.

"right." the corner of his lips quirk up, leaning into your touch.

sero suddenly grows nervous, his feet shifting under him.

"raincheck?" he eyes darted away from yours. "you know, maybe you can stop by for practice? or a private show?"

"minus the spikes?"

his eyes widened with a wicked grin.

he leans in and presses one last gentle kiss to your lips before reaching for the doorknob, letting yourselves out and reunited with your friends.

"no promises."

[gor3-hound]

GIVE ME LOVE // NAOYA ZENIN

ft. brother!naoya x sister!reader

a/n: art by @/sakurai_itachi on twitter/x !! another commission for my fave @nexysworld ♡ more naoya... i feel like i'm single handedly populating the naoya x reader tag atp 😭😭😭 as always, feedback and reblogs super appreciated !!

cw: 18+ content, brother/sister incest, breeding, misogyny, kinda dub-con but very barely, spit, kissing, p in v, creampie, biting, tinyyyy amount of blood, naoya has feelings that he doesn't know how to handle, cockwarming

word count: 1.9k words

Growing up in the Zen'in clan taught you one important lesson - women would always be seen as inferior to men. It did not matter how hard you worked to prove yourself to the Elders in the clan. You were a woman, and that was crime enough.

More than anyone, Naoya had every right to resent you. Your mere existence was an inconvenience to him, but more than that, your birth dishonoured him. He already had to fight harder than your brothers to climb to the top and become the head of the clan, but sharing a womb with a woman was unforgivable. He was constantly ridiculed for having a female twin, and in turn, you were treated as a stain on the Zen'in name for bringing shame to a Zen'in heir.

Despite everything, Naoya could not bring himself to hate you. You were nothing but a woman, a thing. But he could not see his own twin as such. You were close when the two of you were younger, but as the years went on, you grew more and more distant. Now, with both of you past the age of adulthood and his claim to the clan stronger than before, you've been completely avoiding him.

If anyone asked why he was so obsessed with your absence, he would lie and say that his ego would not allow a mere woman to disrespect him so heavily by thinking she could be the one to ignore him, but the truth of the matter was that he missed you. Dearly. The thought alone had him burning red with embarrassment. He was meant to be better than this, and yet he was letting his emotions get the better of him over a stupid girl.

He strolls to your room late at night when he's sure he won't be caught. He doesn't want to explain to any of the assholes in his clan that he was about to grovel to his sister because he missed her company. He'd never recover. In fact, Naoya would rather die on the spot than be caught being so soft around you.

Naoya takes a deep breath before he pushes open the door to your room, eyes falling on your form sitting at the edge of your bed, bent over a book. He runs a hand through his hair before rapping his knuckles against the open doorway to get your attention.

“Hey.” He murmurs, shifting awkwardly between his feet, clearing his throat when you look up at him. “I piss you off or something? No need to be a bitch about it. Can't do anything if you don't tell me.”

He inwardly cringes at his words. He doesn't know how to do this, but he was willing to apologise if he upset you. He shuts his eyes for a moment sighing before speaking up again. “You've been avoidin’ me. Don't let what the old bastard said at dinner the other night get to you. I know you're a woman, but you're still a Zen'in. No need to be so sensitive.”

“I haven't been avoiding you.” You say in response, brows knitting together. Both of you know it's a lie - you'd always been an awful liar. Naoya scoffs, raising a brow at you. “And it had nothing to do with father. I've gotten used to him over the course of over two decades being his daughter.”

“You are avoiding me.” He huffs, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. “Don't bullshit me. You're a fuckin’ awful liar.”

Your jaw tenses for a moment as you close your book, setting it on the bedside table. Your eyes flick up, meeting him as he sits at the head of your bed, leaning back against the pillows.

“Father has not bothered me.” You repeat, running a hand over your face. “But our eldest brother has spoken of marrying the girl he's seeing. You spend too much time with me. We aren't kids anymore. My presence isn't helping your reputation. If we were seen less together, you could have more luck producing and heir to solidify your claim to-”

He should hate you, really. You'd ruined his chances at the life he wanted - the life he deserved a chance at by birth. He wasn't used to this tightness in his chest. Why was he so upset by you acting as if you were the reason he was seen as lesser by the clan if it was the truth?

“Are you fuckin' kiddin’ me?” Naoya hisses, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “We both know my claim was practically non-existent the moment your gender was revealed at birth. Not spendin’ time together isn't gonna do shit.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes dropping to flicker over your body in a way that makes you tense. You can feel his gaze burning through you, a knot twisting your stomach. His expression darkens as he meets your eyes once more - he's made up his mind.

“You can fix this, y'know.” He murmurs, shifting closer to you in the bed. He chuckles as you back up, grin spreading across his face when you're pressed back against the headboard with nowhere to go. Naoya let's his head dip forward, nosing at the crook of your neck.

“So worried about my reputation. It isn't your place as a woman to worry about me.” He growls against your neck, continuing the trail of heated kisses along your skin, tongue darting out to taste you. He bites down before pulling back to meet your eyes. “If father needs an heir to legitimise me, we'll give him one.”

“Naoya, we can't. You're my brother-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, running his tongue along his teeth before he continues sucking marks along the length of your throat. “And? Our cousin did it, and he's on a vacation in Venice with his sister. As long as it's not a servant girl, our dear father doesn't give a shit.”

“You're nothing.” He hisses against your skin. To him, it isn't an insult. It's a mere fact. His breath is hot against the skin of your neck as he pulls back just enough to gaze at your body, hands moving to gently pull open your robes. “I can make you something. Give you some power in the clan. Just need you to go along with this, yeah?”

He kisses you to silence any protests that might bubble up, pushing the fabric away from your body as he works on undressing himself. He kisses you like he wants to possess you, teeth pulling at your lower lip, hands grasping your waist tight enough to bruise as soon as they're free. Naoya slips his tongue into your mouth with a groan, tasting you, claiming you. 

You break the kiss when you feel his fingers hook themselves in the waistband of your panties, eyes shooting open. “Naoya, wait-” 

“Shut up.” He hisses, but there's no real bite behind his words. He lines himself up with your entrance, chest rising and falling more rapidly than usual as he struggles to calm his breathing. “This is your duty. You ruined me. You can… you can fix this. You said you wished to help me solidify my claim, yeah? That's why you're avoidin’ me? This is how you can make up for all the years of ridicule I was subjected to.”

He presses forward slightly, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cock trying to break through the tight ring of muscle. You take a deep breath, waiting for movement that doesn't come. He's just staring at you - waiting for some kind of agreement, you realise. With a shaky breath, you push back against him, nails digging into his arms as he presses forward, slowly sinking into you until he's buried to the hilt.

Naoya knows you're a virgin - not only because you're his sister, and he knows you enough to know you wouldn't destroy your honour before marriage - but also because of how fucking tight you're squeezing around him. He's warring with his body, trying to bring himself to go slow, to ease you into it.

But he's selfish. Even when it comes to you. He can't stop himself. He fucks into you roughly, shushing you gently as you make soft, pained noises. He grunts words of praise under his breath - so tight, so good for me, doing so well. Anything he can think of to soothe you.

“Gonna stuff you so full… gonna have you dripping me for weeks.” He groans, bracing himself with his arms either side of your head, holding his weight up as he fucks into you harshly, each thrust making the bed frame creak. The sight of your lips parted makes him feel a little dizzy, the pleasured little gasps spilling from them making his cock twitch. Drool pools on his tongue as he leans over you, and he opens his mouth to let the spit trickle onto your own before he leans down to press his lips against yours. The movement of his hips grows sloppy as he licks into your mouth, tongue exploring you forcefully, like he's attempting to claim every inch of you.

He bites your lip when he pulls back, drawing blood. His gaze is hooded with lust as he fucks into you, tongue darting out to lick the blood clean off your lip. He grins as he straightens back up, his hands grasping your hips as he begins to fuck into you with slow, deep thrusts, grunting as your cunt clings to him every time he starts to pull back.

“Milkin’ me dry, huh? Clenchin’ around your own brother's cock, don't even want me to pull out…” He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, pulling you back against him. “Gonna cum… gonna fuckin’ cum, shit. Cum first, baby. Wanna feel that cunt grippin’ me before I fill you up.”

It doesn't take much more than that to have you seize up, body tensing as your release rushes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, drawing out your pleasure until he stills inside of you, choking out a moan as he shoots his load deep inside of you. He stays there for a moment, just taking in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His gaze flutters down to you, and he collapses on top of you with a sigh before flipping the both of you over so you're lying on top of him without pulling out. His arms snake around your waist, your head resting against him.

“Didn't take you for a cuddler.” You tease after a moment, practically going up.

“Shut up. Fuckin’ brat.” He huffs, a hand coming up to the back of your head to press your face into his neck. “S'not cuddlin’. I'm making sure it takes. Gotta keep you plugged, yeah?”

You both know that's not the whole truth, but you say nothing as you settle against him, shutting your eyes as you relax in his arms. You'd deal with whatever this leads to in the morning, but for now, you were content to fall asleep with your brother.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Can we please get some milf Abby or Ellie the lesbians who like older women are in a drought

💘

Headcannons: milf!abby anderson x reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who was divorced and who had full custody of her 4-year-old daughter.

☆ Milf Abby who worked as a lawyer and got her daughter into the best schools.

☆ Milf Abby who went to a parent teacher meeting, to meet her daughters’ new teacher.

☆ Milf Abby who met you for the first time and thought you were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

☆ Milf Abby who stood behind everyone else because you made her shy.

☆ Milf Abby whose palms felt sweaty when you walked close to the direction where she was standing.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart rate increased when you asked the parents “any questions?” with a smile.

☆ Milf Abby who went home that night and stared at the ceiling because she just saw an angel.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter about you the next morning.

“What’s she like?” Abby asked as she placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Aubrey.

“she’s nice” the little girl started. “she always likes my drawings, and she tells funny stories!”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s face.

Pretty and funny, huh?

“she’s pretty too” Aubrey said with her mouth full off eggs. Abby chuckled at that.

“Your right baby, she is”

☆ Milf Abby who almost shit herself when Aubrey told you that she finds you pretty.

“You did what?” Abby said frantically.

“I told my teacher that you said she was pretty”

Abby groaned, her large hand coming to rub her temples.

“Baby you aren’t supposed to tell that to people, it was a secret”

“Yeah, it was red ones”

“But Heathers dad brought her flowers, and that’s not a secret”

“what?”

“roses?”

“I think so” she spoke

☆ Milf Abby who gets jealous even though she barley knows anything about you.

☆ Milf Abby who watches Heathers dad bring you snacks almost daily when she picks up Aubrey.

☆ Milf Abby who wants to vomit every time you smile at him.

☆ Milf Abby who realizes she had to make a move.

☆ Milf Abby who was nervous because it’s been a while since she’s asked someone on a date.

☆ Milf Abby who writes you a letter and sends it with her daughter.

“My mommy sent you this” Aubrey ran to you with a white envelope. You thanked her, as you opened the letter, eyes widening at what it had to say:

“Hi, are you Tennessee because you’re the only ten I see.

I’m sorry I know that was inappropriate I didn’t know what to say.

Would you like to go on a date with me? I promise no cheesy pickup lines”

☆ Milf Abby who almost jumps out of her car when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Milf Abby who rolls down the window and tries to act cool.

“Sup” she said, but soon cringed.

You giggled “I’d love to go on a date with you Miss Anderson”

“Call me Abby”

“Abby… I’d love to go out with you”

A grin spread onto the blondes face.

“Friday?”

“Friday”

☆ Milf Abby who fist bumps the air because she’s just that excited.

☆ Milf Abby who almost cancelled because she was so nervous.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her 4-year-old outfit advice.

“What about this?”

“No”

“Aubrey you can’t keep saying no”

“But I don’t like it”

☆ Milf Abby who kisses her daughter goodbye as she bought you a bigger bouquet of roses.

☆ Milf Abby who takes you to a fancy restaurant to impress you.

☆ Milf Abby who finds out you were 20 years younger than her.

Abby blinked a couple of times at the information.

“26?”

“yeah�� do I not look my age you?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You really don’t”

☆ Milf Abby who enjoys the date more than she intended to.

☆ Milf Abby who almost combusts when you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night in denial that she liked someone so young.

Age is nothing but a number, but you were years younger. What were you doing with someone like her? Why her? Why not someone your age? What happens if Abby grows so old that you become bored?

☆ Milf Abby who ghosts you for 5 months.

☆ Milf Abby who avoids looking at you when she gets her daughter from school.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your texts because she thought you deserve someone better.

☆ Milf Abby’s daughter who gave her an awaking.

“Can you stop crying at night mommy? It makes noise”

Abby looked up from the stove.

“you hear that?”

“Yes”

A few seconds of silence passed before Aubrey spoke again. “You made my teacher sad”

“she’s sad?”

“yes and she asked me about you”

“and what did you say?”

“Nothing, you said it was a secret” Abby groaned at Aubrey’s response

“you need to stop pushing people away because you’re insecure”

Abby looked at Aubrey with wide eyes.

She was right, because Abby was so insecure she’s losing a perfect girl because she was scared. How sure was she that you would leave her? How sure was she that you were only using her? Maybe you were the one.

“Where did you hear those words?”

“from grandpa” she said with a shoulder shrug.

“He said that to Nora”

Your back was facing the door as you were writing something on the board.

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your classroom the next day with flowers.

“I’m sorry” she spoke. She watched you flinched as you turned around.

“what?”

“I’m sorry for just disappearing and not saying anything”

“ok” was all you said as you turned back around to continue writing.

Abby walked towards you with long strides.

“no- no don’t say ok please- give me a chance”

she watched you sigh as you turned around:

“look Miss Anderson-“

“Abby”

“Miss Anderson” you said through gritted teeth.

“It’s ok, this should have not happened”

“Don’t say that”

“Let’s move on, I’ll pretend this never happened” you said with a fake smile on your face.

“god you’re so-“  before Abby could even finish her sentence she grabbed your face, and caught your lips in a kiss.

☆ Milf Abby who was surprised when you kissed her back.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpered when you pulled away.

“What can I do to fix this?” she spoke as she held your face.

“take me out on a date again”

a smile spread on the blondes face: “yeah I’ll do that”

☆ Milf Abby who realizes you won’t make it easy for her.

☆ Milf Abby who was willing to work for this relationship because you were worth it.

[tenjikufag]

Blue lock, Isagi, mutual pining and fluff ending with smut?

Love-Sick

Yoichi Isagi x Male Reader

-mutual pining, oblivious dorks, fluff, smut ending (no penetration), teammate!reader,

-thank you for the request! I am definitely projecting when it comes to the practice part, sports are hard. -ex athlete

Yoichi Isagi.

The male stood beside you, squirting water into the side of his mouth. You were kneeling down and tying your cleats, being sure to tighten the laces snugly

“Flashy cleats you got there.”

He laughed lightly, looking down at the colourful sports shoes with bright laces. You only hummed, gazing up at him as you stood up and adjusted your jersey.

“Yeah, gotta get noticed some way.”

“Don’t think your skills are enough? I think they are.”

He was being truthful, he admired your skills and your work ethic- you were so particular about how you practiced that even walking on the field was a no go for you, he would watch you as your brisk jog across the field entertained him in-between drills.

You had been someone he’d wanted to catch up to ever since he met you, in every aspect of life. You were smart, you were sociable, you were good-looking, and at the very heart of his admiration you were athletic and determined.

Everything he could ever want in a partner, really. And god did he want you to be his, he could never imagine himself settling for someone that wasn’t you- and that’s what it would be! Who is content with settling when what he wants is right there?

But, that was the problem. You were right there, and yet he couldn’t stake a claim on you.

Stretching his arms over his head, he shook out his limbs before following behind you to join practice.

He stood in line behind the others on the team, watching as you demonstrated the drill as the coach instructed- he couldn’t help but focus on the way your body would flex the muscles in your legs with every sharp step and turn around the spaced out fluorescent cones. Along with the rest of the team, a low grumble of understanding was heard as you jogged to the back of the line with him, his half focus on the next in line but the other half was on you and how you caught your breathe.

“Those cleats makin’ you any flashier?”

“Ugh, I wish. Did you see me almost clip my ankle up there?”

You said in a hushed voice, in hopes to not get yelled at for talking. Really, he didn’t notice. It looked so smooth when you did it, in contrast to the teammates infront of him looking almost rigid trying to remember the sequence of steps and strides.

He was next up.

And his mind blanked, maybe he should have been paying attention to the actual drill and not just how you looked.

“Yoichi! Come on, get moving!”

The coach called out, noticing his stalling. The boy nodded, trying his best to remember the sequence- he’d give it his all even if he got it wrong just to try and impress you and not look dumb..

“What the hell are you doing?! Back of the line!”

He cringed, plopping down his foot heavily as he walked to the back of the line…

It was going to be a long practice.

By the end of it, everyone was panting heavily and hunched over their knees trying to catch their breathe.. you were still happily talking away between breathes to your other teammate.. isagi squinted, watching as the other boy seemingly blushed at whatever you had said.

In truth, you were both talking about your crushes- your teammates on a girl classmate of his and yours on Isagi, no one really cared if they knew you liked guys but Isagi didn’t know. Not yet, at-least.

You had liked him for quite some time, playing with him for atleast a couple of years and knowing eachother outside of soccer only made this crush harder to let go of, the love and adoration you felt for him only growing day by day. Hell, probably even minute by minute if you really gave it thought.

“Dude, you should just ask!”

“What if it doesn’t go well? What if I get rejected?”

Isagi perked up, the dispersion of bodies making your voice more clear in his ears. His heart couldn’t help but beat faster, he’s gotta know!

“Rejected? Who would reject you?”

You felt yourself pale, your teammate almost busting at the seams trying to contain his laughter.

“Hey! Quit laughin’!”

With a solid shove, you sent the laughing boy to the ground where he only continued laughing at the cliché predicament.

“C’mon Y/n! Tell ‘im!”

Isagi crossed his arms, pouting.

“Yeah, tell me! I am your friend!”

You looked over at him with wide eyes, jaw almost slack with surprise..

You couldn’t tell him! Not here atleast, you were both sweaty and gross- and you didn’t even have an idea of what to say!

“Whatever, my ride is probably here- I’ll leave you to it.”

Your teammate laid his hand on your shoulder, mumbling something Isagi couldn’t hear but it made you blush and drag your hand down your face.

“Anyways, you wanna stop by the convenience store with me? I’ll tell ya on the way.”

Isagi nodded, following you to the benches to grab your bags and switch out of your cleats.

“God, do you ever wash that thing ‘sagi?”

You grimaced watching him put on a familiar pull over hoodie. It smelt faintly of old sweat and obviously doused in whatever cologne he used.

“It’s my practice hoodie.”

“I can smell that!”

He laughed, pouncing on you with a hug to tease you with the smell. You pretended to gag, pleading for him to let you go.

“Let’s go! I want some Gatorade and chips!”

The two of you walked side by side in a comfortable silence, the typical routine after practice was just this then you’d take off in opposite directions on most days but since it was the weekend and there was no practice tomorrow- sometimes you’d go over to one of your houses.

Isagi was hoping you’d stay the night at his place, his family wasn’t home and the two of you would have the whole space to yourselves.

“So who’s the one that’s gonna reject you?”

Curiously, he glanced over at you and saw you flinch- the bag of chips crinkling in your hand.

“You remembered that?”

Scratching the back of your neck, you sighed and mumbled a “in a bit.” And he left it at that, both of you paying for your snacks and stuffing them in your bags.

The two of you stepped out of the convenience store, you already half-way done drinking what you’d bought.

“Alright, I’ll tell ya but I gotta ask you somethin’ first.”

Isagi nodded, his eyes big with curiosity and hope.

“How do you feel about me liking guys?”

“It’s a guy?”

“Yep.”

You popped the ending vowel, looking at passing cars while swirling the half full drink around the bottle.

“That weird you out?”

“Oh, uh. No, I may like guys too- but no I don’t have any problem-“

“Cool. When we get to the stop light I’ll tell you then.”

The stop-light was where the two of you would typically separate and it was roughly a block away.. he wanted so badly to question further but you kept quiet. Your brows were tightly knit together in thought.

If he could hear it, your heart would sound like the biggest drum in the world being played- you were almost worried about it. Isagi wasn’t any better but he hid it a lot better.. he thought maybe you were just shy about the whole thing.. when you said you liked guys something in him leapt for joy, he had a chance if you actually got rejected!

He’s methodical, he would swoop in to make you feel better then maybe he would be able to swoon you enough to be his. It really was a foolproof plan in his mind.

It went quiet, no cars, no people, the walk signal red to halt pedestrians. It felt like his heart would stop with everything too.

“You sure you wanna know, Isagi?”

He nodded deliberately, clutching the straps to his bag tightly in his hands. You smiled, looking up at the timer.

10,

9,

8,

7,

6,

5,

4,

3,

2,

1,

“It’s you, Isagi.”

Your bright smile stretched across your lips, your feet taking you towards your house.. he stood in place, trying to comprehend what had just really happened.

You like him back?

For how long?!

He could have been already dating you?!

Even if it felt like he took years, he was quick to grip your wrist and pull you back to him. You initially wanted to pull away, afraid he was going to berate you but when you saw his shy smile.. you knew he had something else in mind.

“Come over to mine?”

—

You laid pinned to his bed, the familiar scent of him on his sheets and the leeching energy of need filling your heads.

He sat ontop of you, kissing you like you would disappear if he stopped; gasping for air in-between every kiss but never daring to pull away. Drool clung to the corner of your mouthes, the kisses wet and sensual while he swerved and circled his hips against yours in need of some type of friction.

“You.. need… to stop..”

He only moved to grind on you more, now moaning into your mouth. Your tongues prodded against each other, he was clearly inexperienced as were you but it was a chance to learn how to love, how to love each other in an intimate way.

With your hands messily running through his hair, he finally pulled away with a gasp- breathing just as hard, if not harder, than at practice. The once pale skin was flushed a bright pink, his eyes glazed over with what you could only see as arousal.

“Woah, I don’t.. think we should go that far. Not yet..”

His hands were already fumbling at the hem of your shorts, his big eyes looking at you, begging to atleast see and touch it.

“Please?”

Running your hand through his thick black hair, you sighed and nodded lightly- hands quick to pull down your shorts to your knees. His eyes widened a fraction, never seeing anyone’s but his own dick.. with a lick on his lips he lowered his face down to really inspect it.

“I’ve never seen anyone else’s..”

What? With the way he was so quick to undress your bottom half you had imagined he’d.. done it before?

“Really?! Are you sure you want to do this now?”

With a determined nod, he took your member into his hand- it was warm and he liked the way it pulsed and got firm in his grasp.

“Have you done this before?”

“Uh, yeah. A couple times but-“

He sneered, a pang a jealousy coursing through him at the thought of someone else having seen you like this before.. and he shut you up before you could tell him anymore.

“I’m going to be better than them.”

The confidence in his voice made a chuckle reverb through you, hand petting his head in reassurance.

“I’m sure you will.”

“And I’ll be your last, the victor. The best..”

As much as you wanted to laugh, a light hiss of satisfaction ran through you first- his tongue taking an exploring lick up your shaft and flicking your tip.

He experimented, running his tongue around your dick and making notes of which part elicited a reaction from you. Coming off your tip with a pop, he gave a long, slow, lick up the bottom side before taking the plunge and shoving you into his mouth- his tongue licking against the sensitive spots.

“Fuck!”

Bucking your hips, he gagged at the sensation of you in the back of his throat. He wanted to come off, catch his breathe and relieve the momentary nausea from the action but he kept himself suctioned to you.. remembering the porn he’s watched throughout the years and the random sex talks among his more horny counterparts as he tried breathing through his nose.

It made a word of a difference and his eyes widened, pleased with his research paying off before he began bobbing his head up and down.

“‘Sagi.. I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer..”

He hummed, big blue eyes looking up at you.. he wanted a taste. It was his first time after all.. and he’d heard it could be addicting to swallow your partners load, he didn’t know what to expect but he hoped it was nice..

“I don’t think… you’re gonna like it..”

You warned, lightly tugging at his hair to lead him off. He swatted away your hand, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance- he wanted it and he’s gonna have it.

You fairly warned him, it wasn’t but seconds later that you twitched in his mouth and unloaded deeply in the back of his throat.

He gasped, gagged, and choked, the load being far bigger than he expected but he tried his best to actually taste it before it went down his throat. He popped off, your soft dick now laying against your stomach.

He frowned, you sat up and began apologizing but he sat up and licked his lips

“I didn’t get to taste it properly..”

Your mouth gaped open, he was deadly serious. With a hard blush, you covered your face

“You can’t be serious..”

Sighing, you seamlessly switched positions with him- he was too deep in his thoughts to comprehend that you’d pulled down his shorts, only refocusing when he felt a hand jerk his cock a little bit.

“What’re you doing?”

“You don’t think I’m gonna let you sit around hard all night do you?”

With a deadpan face, you kissed his tip. He flinched, the unfamiliar sensation making his abdomen burn instantly.

“I’ve never…! Gotten a blowjob! Hah, fuck!”

You already had almost all of him in your mouth, he was perplexed at the sight of his dick poking out the side of your cheek. He was embarrassed, admittedly but the roll of your playful eyes eased the anxious tension he held.

When you pulled off momentarily, you spat on him and jerked him slowly.

“Just sit back and relax, I don’t bite. Not here, at-least.”

With a smirk, you took him in your mouth and connected your eyes with his- he intently watched how you followed your mouth with your hand, making sure every inch of him was taken care of and touched. He moaned loudly, head thrown back at the wet and warm tongue that swirled around the head of his dick.

Without warning, he came. And he came a lot.

You too, swallowed his load but didn’t choke or gag like he did. He looked down at you briefly, one eye shut as he tried to refocus on you.. that was the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced and the biggest load he’s ever produced.

He felt a slight jealousy in him again; who else got to experience that with you before him?! Who taught you, how many dicks have you sucked before he got to you? It was envy, really.

Smiling up at him, you crawled up and hugged him- leaving a soft peck on his cheek.

“So..”

He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“We boyfriends or what?”

He looked at you, almost offended.

“I would like to be your husband but yeah, boyfriends, husband later.”

You both blushed at what he said, he went to correct his blunt, but truthful statement but you shut him up by squeezing him tightly in a hug.

He felt.. happy. A new kind of happy, it was warm and fulfilling. He was almost mad that you didn’t confess, or more so he didn’t say anything, alot sooner.