#fear I didn’t even finish poor things

[wewontbesleeping]

I would really love to see emma stone in something that isn’t by yorgos lanthimos one day. as a little treat.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[bluebeary-jay]

A promise softly sung

Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Summary: before the battle that will decide his fate, Astarion is terrified of losing you to Cazador. you comfort him after a nightmare. (set at the beginning of act 3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, BIG angst and some fluff, poor boy doesn't believe he's deserving of love :( let's hold him until he changes his mind

Warnings: mentions of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, memories of past abuse and torture, c*zador, being unable to move (briefly), tadpoles mention (idk if that's a trigger)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hiiiiiiiii my darlings <33 soo this is something else from what i usually write but i finished bg3 recently and i LOVED IT but i'm on a trip rn so in the absence of my pc i found some inner inspiration to write something again. honestly i missed writing very much but i had the biggest block for almost a year now but maybe it'll get better now that my classes are starting again and i'll be needing a distraction lmao. anyway comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and don't be shy to send in a request! and as always, happy reading!!! <3

He was there again.

Astarion loathed those hard, stone walls as much as he feared them. It was here that he once spent an entire night, having infernal script meticulously carved into his skin. It was here that he was punished every time he disappointed his master, every time he didn’t do well enough on his mission. It was here that he was reminded time and time again how worthless, pathetic and meaningless his existence was. It was here he returned in almost all of his nightmares.

But now you were here, too.

Astarion couldn’t believe this, but no matter how much he blinked or willed himself to wake up, the view before his eyes didn’t change. It was you, chained by the wrists to the ceiling where he was hanging so many times before, your toes just barely scraping the ground that was already splattered with your blood. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and cuts and bruises covered almost every inch of your skin. Astarion wanted to run up to you, to get you somewhere safe and far away from this place, but he found that he was unable to move. It wasn’t shock seizing up his limbs, but magical paralysis which he had experienced a couple of times during combat. Even though he knew it was a spell that was holding him in place, he still fought against it with all the strength he could muster – but to no avail.

Your eyes, full of tears and fear, met his briefly before you looked past him at someone else.

“Ah, my sweet, insolent boy,” whispered a voice straight from Astarion’s deepest, darkest nightmares, causing him to tense up in terror. A hand – pale, all too familiar in its deceptive tenderness – brushed his jaw from behind before grabbing his hair roughly. The vampire spawn could do nothing but watch as his head was tilted back and he came face to face with his master.

No, it can’t be… How was Cazador here? How were you here?!

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Astarion,” Cazador tutted, shaking his head. “Running away like that, not returning home for months… It’s no way to treat family, isn’t it?” Astarion felt a sharp sting of his master’s quarterstaff at his back, digging into the scars made by the same hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. “But I’ll forgive you… eventually. After all, you brought me this delectable treat…”

Both him and Cazador looked up at you when Astarion realized what – or rather, who – that bastard was talking about. He tried shaking his head, tried begging for him not to hurt you, but he still couldn’t move, his voice was still stuck past his throat and no word or sound came out. In the meantime, Cazador stood up, walking around his spawn to stand in front of you.

“His own survival was always the most important thing to him,” Cazador said almost pitifully, and only after a moment Astarion realized that this time, he was speaking to you. “He’s a selfish, contemptuous creature, after all. Say, did he tell you he loved you before he lured you here like so many others before you? Did he lie, swearing how much you mean to him?”

“Yes, he… he did.”

Astarion prayed to any higher being that it was just the power of another spell compelling you to say that, and not what you were really thinking. He tried to struggle against his own magical restraints, but whatever scroll or verbal command was used, it was far too powerful for the vampire to beat it with sheer willpower alone. He was helpless again – but worse than that, he was forced to watch you being at Cazador’s mercy, too, all while he couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I honestly didn’t think poor Astarion had it in him,” Cazador continued calmly, gliding gracefully around you and disappearing behind your back. Your own eyes, now full of hurt and betrayal, were trained on Astarion’s. He couldn’t turn away, but in the corner of his vision the elf saw a flash of a blade against your bare skin. “To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him… But I’m so very proud of you, sweetling.” Cazador looked at him over your shoulder and licked his lips, so, so dangerously close to your neck. “You’ll live to serve me for centuries to come, and you can watch your lover take your place in my ritual… You did well, Astarion.”

No, Astarion cried in the prison of his own body, unable to reach you or to even stop Cazador from spilling lies into your ears. Not her, no, no, please–

“No!”

Cazador smiled widely and sank his teeth into your fragile neck, and you screamed, still looking at Astarion with this horrible hatred in your eyes…

“No, no, please! Take me, please, just don’t–”

“My love, it’s alright, you’re safe…”

“Stop! Please, just–!”

His body suddenly jerked painfully and his eyes shot open, darting around in confusion and trying to figure out where he was. Astarion wasn’t feeling the cold frigid air of the kennels anymore – instead his skin was almost hot, and damp from sweat, but there was something smooth and soft under his back… the sheets. He was in a bed, at an inn. Still panting heavily, he looked around, noting the details in his surroundings: the crooked chandelier, a little window with curtains drawn shut, his shirt hung neatly over the back of the chair… and your shoes right next to it.

At the memory of your battered and tortured body in Cazador’s dungeon, Astarion shot up with a belated sob, almost knocking you over in the process. Only when your warm hand left his cheek did he notice your presence. You were kneeling next to him on the mattress, expression worried and sorrowful, with the last traces of sleep just leaving the edge of your vision. His red eyes scanned your body, but there were no bruises, no cuts made by Cazador’s wretched blade, no burns on your wrists from the manacles he saw you in mere moments ago.

And there was no hatred in your gaze. Only love and care he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could run out of the room or hide under the bed, you opened your arms, gently offering him the solace within. And he, being the selfish, contemptuous creature that he was, didn’t deny himself what he wasn’t worthy of.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, petting his hair softly, while the other hand was – as always – mindful of the scars on his back. “It was a dream, my love. You’re safe here with us.”

His body shook with quiet sobs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin and your blood singing to him just beneath. He saw again before his eyes the way Cazador looked at him before he bit you, right in this place he was now so close to…

To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him…

“I’m sorry,” Astarion choked out, finding his voice at last, which made you pause in your ministrations. “I’m so sorry f-for not doing anything… He…”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, but then Astarion felt the most tender touch of your lips on the crown of his head, and he buried his face more into your chest.

“I’m here, darling,” you whispered. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

He didn’t answer, instead lifting his arm and tentatively brushing his fingers just underneath your shirt. He didn’t feel any scars mirroring his own, but could still see the blood flowing from your back and down your legs, could still hear your painful scream… It brought fresh tears to his eyes again.

“I… I swear, I would never do that,” he attempted to explain himself, but his words came out in a pathetic sob, and he shook his head again, curling in on himself. “He– he was lying. I’d never…”

A fresh wave of tears wetted your shirt, but you didn’t seem to mind as you gently rocked him back and forth, cradling him safe in your arms. Old Astarion would probably scoff at the condescending action of being treated like an infant, but he knew better now. He still found it difficult, but with you at his side he was learning what true care and affection looked like, and how to accept it. You were always so patient with him, so gentle, never rushing or angry when he couldn’t give you the closeness and intimacy you deserved. Astarion loved that about you – even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet.

“My star…” you hesitated, but ultimately asked, “what did you dream about?”

The vampire took a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes or speak about what he saw. Instead, he called on the tadpole in his brain and nudged your mind with it, wordlessly asking for permission, which you immediately granted. There was at least one thing the tadpole was good for, he thought as you lived through the nightmare his weak, broken mind had conjured. If by the gods’ grace all of them managed to get rid of the tadpoles and survive this whole ordeal… and if by some miracle you still wanted to stay with him after all was done… Astarion knew he would have to learn how to communicate his feelings on his own. But not tonight. Not tonight.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, only continuing to hold him close to your chest. In this position he could hear the soothing beat of your heart, proving that he didn’t lead you to Cazador, that he didn’t turn you into a monster like him…

“We’re gonna kill him,” you finally said with your throat tight from emotions. “I promise you, as soon as we get to the Baldur’s Gate, we’ll find him and end him for good.”

Astarion knew what he should say – he should agree, or maybe jest that this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, or even argue that it’s not going to be that easy.

But all he could do right now was to continue clinging to you like a child, too afraid to face you.

“I’d never give you away,” he breathed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure you heard it, but he didn’t care. “Even if I had to suffer another two hundred years. I’d never–”

“I know, my darling,” you whispered back, and Astarion felt your own tears disappearing in his white locks. He still couldn’t believe why someone like you would waste your tears on him of all people, and it caused a new kind of pain to bloom in his chest. “And you’re not those things he told you. You’re… you’re everything to me, Astarion. Everything.”

Astarion wondered if he’d ever believe that. You proved to him time and time again that you can make anything possible, even change the worldview of someone like him… but with Cazador’s threat still looming, he didn’t have it in him to try and convince himself of your words.

Maybe after the bastard's dead, he concluded. Maybe then it’ll get easier and he can finally start becoming someone deserving of you.

You stirred slightly, breaking him out of his musings. Astarion hugged you tighter, sharply stopping you from moving away.

“Please. Don’t go.”

You just leaned back on the pillow and kissed his head gently again. Astarion felt the tension in his body melting away just a little, but the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“I won’t. Promise.”

And you kept your promise. Astarion didn’t fall asleep again, but your constant heartbeat under his cheek brought him some semblance of peace as he waited for the sun to rise. It didn’t feel right to let you care for him so much, to gift and envelop him with your love that he didn’t deserve… But it’d be even more wrong to take that choice away from you. He knew all about that, after all, and he'll be damned if he ever treats you the way he was treated.

So Astarion decided that he will let you love him and he will love you in return, for as long as you allow it.

Because, truth be told, he was nothing if not a selfish, contemptuous creature.

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), fingering, just smut tbh.

Word Count: 3.7k-ish

Notes: hello again lovelies! here is pt. 4 of pop my cherry! I hope you guys have been digging it bc I def have❤️‍🔥🫶 also, reader finally gets her coochie ate🗣️🗣️🗣️can we get some w’s in the chat or some hoorays because we finally made it lmao. lemme know what you think!!! enjoy you filthy rat🐀💖🫶💋‼️ also, credits to kithsune and reveriesources for the banners! check them out!

“Poor baby, can’t even make yourself cum. You need Toji’s help, huh? Lemme show you, love”

Toji has you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest, his mouth hovering over your pussy. You can feel his breath on you as he takes in the sight before him.

“You have such a cute fucking cunt, you know that? Can’t believe no one’s knocked you up yet, girl.”

You feel your pussy clench around nothing as you try not to beg him. Anything would be better than him staring you down like this.

“T-Toji, I’m nervous. I-I’ve never done any of this before, what if I-“

“Just be quiet and let me eat, y/n. Haven’t eaten all day and I’m fucking starving.”

He trails sloppy kisses from your thighs, down to your juicy pussy. He licks a long stripe on the side of your pussy, and sucks on your outer lip. He chuckles at how you squirm. He loves watching you melt for him. He’s desperate to pound into you but he knows he’ll break you if he doesn’t properly stretch you out first. Even the most, ahem, experienced of women have a hard time adjusting to his size.

“Lemme make you feel good, okay doll? Wanna watch you come undone for me.”

Without any warning, he flattens his tongue to lap up all of your juices as he licks your entire pussy. You moan and instinctively grab a fistful of his hair to ground yourself.

“Kinky are we, huh? Gonna have to grab it harder than that.”

You do as your told as Toji eats you out like a man starved. He’s full on moaning into your cunt as he sucks on your swollen clit. You taste so fucking good for him. Like candy.

“Like w-what?”

Oh. Toji freezes before he’s looking up into your eyes.

“Yeah baby doll, this pussy is sweet like fucking candy. I could do this for hours, but I don’t think you could handle it. I need you to cum all in my mouth, can you do that f’me princess?”

You cry out as he goes back to devouring you, bucking your hips into his mouth. You feel out of control at this point. You’ve been basically edging yourself all day thinking about Toji. Now, he’s in front of you eating you like this is his last meal. You didn’t know how much more you could take. You felt that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach as your orgasm approached.

“F-fuck, mngh Tojiiiii, m’gonna c-cum”

Shit, he wanted to say something to send you over the edge, but he didn’t want to stop his work on your clit for fear of you not finishing. Besides, you tasted like fucking gold on his tongue and he’d be damned if he let a little dirty talk stop you from cumming on his face.

“Oh my, ohmygooood, m’cumming baby fuuuuck”

Your orgasm crashed into you, hard, and you thought you were going to pass out. No one has ever even touched you like this before, let alone devoured you whole. It felt sinfully good and you were cumming so quickly. You had no idea why you had waited this long to get some head, but you were surely addicted at any rate.

Toji doesn’t let you rest from your high, instead intent on overstimulating your abused cunt. He needed to taste every last drop, so he shoves his thick tongue inside your tight hole. If he could drink you until the well ran dry, he would.

“T-Toji please, s’too much, mmmmhh”

You were seeing stars at this point. His tongue plunging in and out of you, and his big nose was rubbing on your clit in a way that you thought should be illegal. You couldn’t help but hump into his face, desperately chasing your next orgasm much too soon.

Toji came up for air to take you in as you lie before him. He had to grip his cock again, nearly bruising the base of it. You had this dreamy, fucked out look on your face. Tears streaming down your temples, hair ruffled, and lips nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting them. He still held your legs taught against your chest, not giving you anywhere to run.

“It’s not too much, girl, I know you can take it. We’re just getting started, babe.” He says as he licks his lips and chin obscenely, trying not to waste any of your sweet nectar. He releases the hold on your legs, much to your relief. You finally felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time since you two began.

Your relief was cut short.

“Hold your legs up for me doll, need’ta stretch her out nice and good for me. Don’t want ya’ cutting my dick in half with that tight pussy of yours”

You obediently wrapped your hands around the back of your knees, pulling your legs back up into their original position. Of course, the original position had you bent entirely in half thanks to Toji’s brute strength, but this would do just fine. You bite your lip as you look down at him. You know what’s coming. You’ve been thinking about it for the past twelve hours and now that it’s happening, you don’t know if you should be elated or terrified.

“Good girl, hold ‘em just like f’me”

Toji looks at your glistening cunt and feels like he is suddenly 25 again, bursting with hormones and energy. Your pretty pink pussy was making a wet spot on the bed, but a little more couldn’t hurt right? He spits on your pussy, watching it drip down your clit, your folds, and inside of you. He was supposed to be ruining you, but goddammit if he didn’t feel as ruined as ever looking at your cute, helpless expression.

You yelp out as Toji lightly slaps your pussy. Not enough to hurt, but the stinging was still there. At this point, you were so desperate for him, you think you’d let him kill you if it’d meant he’d fuck you first.”

“S’probably gonna hurt, but I’ve gotta get you ready, okay love?”

(not toji being.. sweet?)

Toji runs his two fingers along your glistening slit, coating himself with your wetness. He places a sweet kiss to your clit before he’s pushing his middle finger into you, slowly.

“H-holy shiiit, ohmyg-ooood,” you choke out. It was better than you could have imagined. You fingered yourself once in a blue moon. It wasn’t your favorite past time since you could never make yourself cum that way. But this felt worlds better than what your small fingers could do. He’s barely starting pumping into you before you’re a whining mess underneath him.

Toji is rutting his cock into the mattress below, desperate for any sort of touch. You were driving him insane with those cute little gasps and whimpers. He could only dream of how slutty you’d sound when you were stuffed full of his cock.

“Fuck, look at you. Already ‘bout to cum, huh?”

You lift your head up to look down at Toji while he finger fucks you. He’s going almost too slow, but the stretch told you it was necessary. He wasn’t even eating your pussy anymore. His eyes were glued to the beauty in front of him.

He loved watching how your tight hole almost sucked his digit in, and he couldn’t imagine how heavenly you would feel clenching and sucking around his cock. He felt his mouth watering for another taste of you. He locks his lips to your clit and with a harsh suck, he starts moving his finger faster.

You were a writhing mess for him and you already felt your orgasm creeping up on you yet again. You were sure you could cum just from him fingering you alone. The sight of him taking in every part of you, watching you so closely while you whined for him; it was too much. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he starts suckling on your bud and pumping into you faster and faster.

He keeps pulling away from your clit, sucking on it and releasing with an obscene pop! He keeps giving you little kitten licks to tease you while you huff in frustration. You grab a chunk of his black hair and pull him into you, forcing him to stay glued to your clit. In doing so, you released one of your legs, letting it rest on the bed as Toji devoured you.

Well now, that simply wouldn’t do. While he didn’t mind you being aggressive with him, he needed those plush thighs up and out of the way so he could consume every part of you.

“No ma’am, hold those legs or imma do it for you,” he winks, and you feel yourself losing it. You didn’t know if you had the strength to hold them anymore. The pace he was going at, his tongue feeling too fucking good on your clit. Your legs were starting to shake and they were tired, and you were scared you might clasp them together on his head whenever he made you cum next.

Noticing your failure to pull your legs back up, he takes his hand off of his long cock and uses it to shove your knees back to their original position.

“H-holy shiiiit Toj-“ you can’t even finish your exclamation before your breath is stolen from you. He pushes another thick finger inside of your soppy cunt and just goes to town, sucking and moaning on your clit.

“-told ya’ t’watch that mouth, bitch,” he says, muffled by your sweet pussy as he tries his hardest not to fuck you within an inch of your life on his fingers.

The stretch was painful, but it only added to the sensations you were overwhelmed by. Your high still hadn’t worn off, so Toji, who would normally be considered a 10/10 pussy eater, was feeling more like a 100/10.

“Mmmmh, I bet you wanna cum so bad, huh doll? Should I give it to you? Have you earned it?”

Toji smirks as he sees the look on your face. He has never seen anyone look so desperate and needy for anything in their life. As if you were a glass of water in the desert and she was dying of thirst. That look might kill him if he stares too long.

While he awaits your answer, he continues torturing your pussy with the slow thrusts of his big fingers.

“Y-yess, oh god, yes, I-I promise I’ve been good for you, sir”

Have you lost your mind?? The nicknames Toji gave you made you weak, so you wanted to try one out. What if he thought it was stupid???

Sir? He didn’t want to let on that the little nickname you just gave him had his dick spurting precum all over the mattress. You were so desperate to cum, he started to almost feel bad for you.

“Sir, hah, you must wanna cum real bad, huh? Do it then, bitch. Cum on my fingers if you want it so bad,” he says as he quickens his pace, and starts curling his fingers inside you with every thrust. He figured he had teased you enough and you looked like you’d explode if you didn’t get your release. He started sucking on your clit again, anxious to feel how tight you’d get when you came for him.

“Fuck, baby please, just-just like that, I-I’m, shit, gonna cum, ohmygoooood,” you whined. You thought it couldn’t get any better until he was curling his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. That was the spot you would fail to reach every time you fingered yourself, so you hardly bothered with it. He kept hitting that spot, over and over again. You were going to cum any second now. Your felt your stomach tighten so much you were scared you’d burst. You knew your orgasm was approaching, but it felt so much more.. intense. It was almost like the pressure you feel when you have to pee really bad, you thought. But you had used the restroom when you came in from tanning, so surely you didn’t have to go again, right???

Toji looked up at you while he ate you, listening to your moans turn into gasps and cut off breaths. You were so close, he knew it. He couldn’t let up now, he needed to feel you cum. He had to mentally prepare himself for how tight you’d get when you were cumming on his cock later.

He speeds up his movements, not letting you have a moment without constant stimulation. He was going to pull this out of you one way or another. With one final thrust of his fingers, you were screaming.

Your pussy clenches on his fingers so tight, they’re nearly pushed out of you from the sheer pressure. He never lets up, drinking in your juices as you squirt all over his face. Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stop. You were groaning with how intensely your orgasm washed over you. You thought squirting was just a thing in porn! You never knew any of your friends to do it. But here you were, gushing around Toji’s big fingers like you were on cam.

Toji thought he might cum seeing you like this. You were screaming underneath him, attempting (poorly) at pushing his head back, your thighs squeezing together as the stimulation was beginning to be too much. Your pussy squeezes his fingers so tight as you squirt all over him. He was in fucking heaven.

“Atta’ girl, look at you. You’re ready for me now, yeah?”

“T-Toji?”

You look down at him, still shaking as he pulls his fingers out of you, the sudden loss of his warmth making you whimper. You watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. He even licks his fucking palm. God, he was feral. He still wasn’t looking at you. Was he talking to your pussy?

“Shut up, girl, wasn’t talking to you. I was asking her, hah,” he laughs. He was so far gone he didn’t know if he’d be able to go another moment without your pretty pink lips on his cock.

“O-oh, s-sorry, Toj-“

He interrupts you, not giving you a chance to finish whatever apology you had come up with.

“You talk too much, brat. Need to stuff that mouth shut.” Just the thought of his dick anywhere near that pretty mouth had him feeling out of control.

Opting to keep your mouth shut like Toji wanted demanded, you (somehow) managed to sit up, crawling on your hands and knees towards him. You continue forward until he is leaning on the footboard of your bed, with his hands placed behind him, holding him up. And what a sight it was.

His cock was stiff, leaking precum all over his shirt. The sight of you crawling towards him like a little minx, tits hanging in front of him, had him going insane.”

“Come here, doll, lemme show you how good you taste”

You sit on his lap, being careful to not sit all the way down on his cock. You were still so sensitive from the orgasms he had yanked out of you. You had to hover on top of him so you wouldn’t yelp from the overstimulation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, ready to have your lips on his after such a long intermission. You close your eyes, ready for him to meet you halfway, when you feel his (still wet) hand grab your chin roughly.

“What, are you scared of it or somethin’, woman? Put that pussy on me, bitch, need to feel how good I did for ya’,” he growls, grabbing your hips as he pushes your heat down onto his throbbing cock.

He wasn’t going to last at this rate. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it while you moan into his mouth. He had your sloppy cunt running up and down his length, covering every inch of him in your lust. He thrusts his tongue in your mouth, wanting you to taste how good you were for him. It didn’t exactly taste like candy like he claimed earlier, but it wasn’t bad. It was a little sweet, even. He was intoxicating.

Your hips were aching as Toji’s hands were bruising you from the grip he had on them. You felt another orgasm approaching, very apparent from your shaky legs and pathetic moans.

“You sound like such a little slut for me, baby. Ya’know, next time you should record it. We’d make a killing, you just sound too good.”

Next time??? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. You were so lost in the moment you failed to realize that Toji may not ever be able to get enough of you. It wasn’t far from the truth to say you felt the same too, as conflicting as it was. At this point, you were too far gone and you felt too good to care anymore.

You stilled your hips, needing a break and you found it hard to talk with your pussy grinding on Toji’s lap like you were, “T-Toji, god that’s so embar-“

“I didn’t say stop, woman. Learn how to talk while I please you or we’re not gettin’ anywhere,” he says as he grabs your plump ass and rubs you against his cock again.

“S-sorry sir, I just feel like… I s-sound weird, mmmnh,” you respond, moaning as he plants a firm hand on your ass cheek, spanking you.

“Shut the fuck up little girl. Can you see what you did to me, huh? I’m about to cum just looking at you and you sound like a fucking pornstar,” you can’t help but hide behind your hands as you blush for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, doll. Ya’know what? You don’t have to post it or nothin’. Just send it to me so I got something to beat off too later, okay?”

The thought of Toji pleasing himself to your voice had you melting. Maybe he’s just super pent up from work and hasn’t got laid in a while? Surely that had to be it. You were a 6/10 on a good day, and you had maybe 1% of the sexual experience that he had.

“Okay, okay yeah we can try next time, I-I guess. Would you really…. touch yourself to it? Why?” You ask, knowing that the plethora of porn available at his disposal was immense. Why would he pick a shitty homemade video of you moaning for him for jack off material??

“That’s it, good girl. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, you know that, y/n? If I had a video of you moaning on top of my dick, it might be the only thing I cum to ever again”

Toji was fucked. Since when is he this honest? To a woman he barely knew, nonetheless. It was so true, though. Having you whining for him, pleasing yourself by using his cock on cam? Pfft, he might not even need to get laid again if you got that video (false).

Your face was beet red at this point. You moaned in response to his confession. Instead of question him further, you decided to take the initiative for once. You kiss him as you finally rub your hands under his tight shirt, feeling how rock hard his torso was. He was sweaty and had just a few chest hairs and you didn’t know why you wanted to rip his shirt off so fucking badly.

“If you wanna see, all you have to do is ask, hun”

“Please Toji, I want to see all of you. Please, I’ll do anything,” you confess, because it was true. You wanted to see him just as exposed as you were right now.

“Oh, anything, huh? Even if I wanted you to suck every last drop of your cum off my cock?” If you kept grinding your little pussy all over him like this, he was going to finish well before he intended to. If you sucked him off, at least he could have a break from the constant friction you were giving him.

“Oh… I mean, yes, yeah I would. I wanna be a good girl for you, Toji,” and to be fair, you had been dreaming about how he would taste, and how quickly he’d fill up your mouth with his massive cock. Your mouth started to water as you waited for his response.

Jesus Christ. He didn’t think you’d be so quick to agree, but he also didn’t know just how wrapped around his finger you were. The thought of stuffing your throat full of him was intoxicating, and he was scared he may not last long enough to fuck your tight cunt like he needed to.

“That’s what I thought, baby doll,”

He watches your heavenly figure as you lift off of him, scooting back to come face to face with his throbbing dick.

You were impossibly nervous. You wanted to do a good job, but all the other blowjobs you’ve given before were for much, much smaller dicks. You’ve never even made a guy finish with just your mouth before, always being interrupted by roommates or your jaw being so tired that you had to jerk them off to finish the job. But you were determined to make Toji feel good after how hard he made you cum.

“Uh-uh, what do ya’ think you’re doin’, woman? Get on your fucking knees,” he spits. He knows with his extreme size and girth, it’d be much easier for you to take more of him if you were on your knees and had your throat at that angle. Plus, seeing you on your knees throating his cock was a requirement at this point.

“Okay, yeah sure, s-sorry,” you say as you step off the bed and get on your knees in the floor in front of the wall. You sit back on your heels as you wait for him, the excitement rushing through your entire body.

“Girl stop apologizing and just make it up to me, yeah?”

pt. 5

@scorpiosugar mwahahah

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Antler Play (Demon Alastor x Doe Reader)

Did you miss me?

CW: Lightly used incorrect deer facts, ruts and seasons, insertion of an item 100% not safe or intended for insertion, light fem receiving oral, female masterbation Rating: Adult Requested by: Anon Summary: Alastor, having just rode out his rut alone is faced with the startling realization that you, a fellow deer demon in the hotel, have not just come into season but your first season since your death. Alastor is left unable to mate you due to the poor timing but finds other ways to see to your needs and trick your body into thinking the deed has been done.

ps- please don't put antlers in your whooha.

Alastor was less than pleased to have a doe join the hotel residence. He found you to be a distraction, ever so alluring and tempting him away from his tasks. That didn’t stop the two of you from bonding, however, over the shared difficultness of being deer in hell. 

Time passed and bonds deepened, though only in the privacy of your rooms. Alastor’s hesitance to have another deer in his territory shifted into acceptance and then something darker, more protective as seasons changed. Though he hadn’t expected someone who had just landed in hell to have anything in common with him, he was horrified by the tales of your father and soothed by those of your mother. 

You bonded in the stories of mistakes made, sins committed and, while you were so much more innocent and sweet than he was, you had that darkness in your heart that he knew well. Blood-stained hands touched another set in passing, neither really speaking of the trust building between you.

Alastor had early on intended to send you away when your season drew close and yet he failed to do so. Week after week, he put it off, not so much as even mentioning it to you until he was in no condition to be anywhere near you. His rut had hit him like a train, leaving him no choice but to isolate himself to keep you safe from him. The last thing he needed was to force himself, driven by biology, onto you. Worse yet, he knew if you scented him too much, you would be rushed into your own season. 

If he tried to say he didn’t know why he had let your first season sneak up on you, it would be a lie. He failed to warn you for fear that you would seclude yourself from him. It was the same reason he had failed to send you away as well- Alastor had grown attached to you. It was one thing when he was isolating himself from you but the idea of you doing the same to him caused a deep ache in his chest. 

There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would risk some other buck finding you in season and take you as his. That was a privilege Alastor intended to claim for himself. 

And he would, at the right time. 

He had put off having that conversation with you until it was too late; he realized as the floral scent of your season filtered through his door, announcing your presence before you knocked. 

Alastor had been beyond thankful that he had just finished his own long month of rut when he opened the door to your wide, teary eyes. Tall ears laid flat, twitching as a single tear ran down your cheek.

Rather than asking what was wrong, Alastor only stepped aside, motioning for you to enter his room. Timid steps, one right after the other, carried you and the heavy scent of you into his domain. The rich musk of a buck clung to the air, mixing with your scent to make an intoxicating promise of what could have been if he hadn’t been a coward. 

“Why have you been avoiding everyone this month?” you asked, voice thick with tears as you turned to face him. “Why have you been avoiding me? Is-” you wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, “Is there something wrong with me?” 

“No, ma chérie, I’ve had my own reasons for secluding myself away for the month. It has nothing to do with you.” 

“Why do I feel like there is something wrong with me?” Another tear ran down your cheek. “Why do I feel like I’m going mad? Am I going mad? Is that why you- you’ve been-” 

“I should have given you warning,” Alastor said, finally braving stepping closer to you. Warm knuckles ran down your cheek, smearing the trail your tear had left on the soft skin. “This is your first year. I should not have expected you to know.” 

“Know what?” You whimpered, leaning into his touch. 

“You’re going into season.” Alastor said simply. 

“I don’t understand what that means?” Your ears flicked forward in a flair of frustration that quickly burned out as they sagged lower. 

“It means that your body is going to crave a mate, seeking breeding.” He watched as understanding washed over your face, your eyes running over his lean frame, traveling up to his antlers, still wide, heavy and thick. “Bucks in rut or close enough to it will be drawn to you, and many won’t care if you’re deep enough into your season to be willing.” 

“I don’t… You’re a buck, Alastor?” You wanted to step back, wanted to put distance between yourself and him. You couldn’t make your feet work. It felt like they had taken root in his floors as your heart flip-flopped in your chest. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I just finished my rut a few days ago. You’re safe with me.” 

“Am I?” you asked, struggling to breathe through the thick scent of buck. Realization of what you were smelling and why it made you feel flushed stole your breath. 

“I won’t let another buck come take you.” Alastor said, reaching out and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you to his side, leaned down and took a deep inhale of the scent coming off you in waves. 

“Alastor?” your voice trembled as fire slowly spread through you. Now that you knew what that fire was, you understood that seeking Alastor out was a mistake in itself. “What’s going to happen to me?” 

“I’ll stay with you,” he said, ear flicking atop his head as he led you deeper into his room. “If you’d like, that is. Or I can wait outside. You can stay in here through it. The scent of me will help keep others away.” 

You sat on the bed, soft blankets bunching under your hands as sweat ran down your back. Alastor’s scent surrounded you, rich, musky and driving you mad. There was an ache in your core that you hadn’t been able to banish with your hands alone. 

Hours ago, you had lost your battle with your dignity. You had been determined not to do something as scandalous as pleasuring yourself in Alastor’s room, let alone on his bed and yet you had, again and again, never finding relief from it. 

In the distance, an elk demon bugled, sending a wave of fear through you. You were a deer, not an elk, but how much did that matter in hell? In the living world, you knew the two animals could cross, though not commonly. Would the scent of your season draw him to you? 

“You’re alright, he won’t come for you.” Alastor said through the door, “I’ve brought you some fruit. The sugar will help keep your energy up. Are you decent?”

“Decent enough,” you answered, tugging the skirt of your nightgown lower. It had been just over a week that you were holed up in Alastor’s bedroom and your season had only just gotten worse.

Alastor stepped inside the dim room, closing the door behind him. Long legs easily carried him across the room, to where you sat sweaty on his bed. Even outside of his own rut, the season having passed him for the year; he felt a stirring of desire for you. 

This year, he could not take you the way you deserved, but he would ensure you remained unclaimed for the year. You would be his prize next year. Next year, he wouldn’t make the mistake of putting distance between you happen again. 

He would ensure your bodies were close enough for your pheromones to align your seasonal cycles. Next year, he would be at a point where he could satisfy your seasonal needs. 

“Alastor?” you asked as his eyes seemed to burn holes into your flesh.

He moved with a shake of his head, coming to sit next to you on the bed after setting the plate on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m burning up,” you whispered, face flushed from both the fever and the desire that you couldn’t rid yourself of. “It’s too much, Alastor. I can’t do this. I can’t survive this.” 

Tears ran freely down your face as you crawled over to him. Trembling fingers reached for his thigh as he looked at you. You wanted nothing more than to strip off your nightgown and spread your legs for the most powerful buck in the area. 

“Cher,” Alastor said, ear twitching as he looked down at you with regret. “I can’t, not right n-” 

There was a shift atop his head as the large heavy antler dislodged, broken free by the simple pressure of a swat from his ear. He’d been expecting it to happen any day now, knowing well what was coming when they never totally shrank back down to the small prongs after he ended his rut. 

“What?” you pulled your hand away as the antler fell between you, leaving Alastor looking decidedly lopsided. 

“It’s normal,” Alastor said, watching as you picked up the thick antler, examining it before setting it aside. “Happens every year.” 

“Will the other one fall off too?” You rose on your knees, crawling closer to the one antlered buck. 

Alastor watched you, eyes running over your face. Sweat trickled down your neck, drawing his eyes lower and lower. The nightgown you wore was loose enough that he could clearly see down, to see the way your breasts hung from your chest, moving with you as you crawled closer. 

Again, he cursed himself for the distance he had kept, knowing that he could have brought you comfort if he could only perform. 

“I’m going mad, Alastor.” You whispered, fingers reaching out for him. “I need… I need something. Nothing seems to be enough. I don’t understand.”

“Your body won’t be satisfied without the touch of another.” Alastor said simply, “You’ve got no choice but to wait it out. It’ll begin to ease in a few more days or so.” 

You swallowed thickly, shifting your weight as you rubbed your thighs together. “Can you?” 

“Excuse me?” Alastor asked, leaning away from you a fraction. 

“Can you touch me?” You asked again, tears slipping from your eyes. “You said it won’t help without another and… I trust you, Alastor.” 

“I can’t,” Alastor started, only to have your pleading cut him off.

“I want you inside of me,” you whispered, hand landing on his chest as you drew closer and closer. “It’ll help to have a buck inside me, I know it.” 

“I can’t,” Alastor said, taking your hand in his before his eyes flicked toward the discarded antler. “But lay back, perhaps we can come to a compromise.” 

You wanted him inside you and Alastor thought he had the means to simulate that feeling well enough for your season. What you needed was something physical. A shadow imitation wouldn’t trick your season into thinking you’d been taken, no matter how corporal he could make his shadows. They were not him and he was what you needed. 

“You’ll do it?” you asked, voice trembling as Alastor reached out, resting a large hand on your shoulder to guide you back. “You’ll do me?” 

“In a matter of sorts,” Alastor said, as he positioned you on your back, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He nudged your knees apart, allowing him to slot himself between them as he sat on the floor. “If you’ll let me, I can try to take care of you this season.” 

“You have been,” you whimpered, timidly allowing your legs to spread farther apart as Alastor’s large hands ran over your thighs. “I keep needing more. I’m sorry.” 

Alastor shushed you with soothing caresses up your thighs, pushing your nightgown higher and higher until he exposed your glistening sex. Fingers ran over the damp curls as he spread you wider, slick coating every part of you, smearing onto your thighs. Though he willed it, his cock remained still in his trousers. Oh well, he would just have to make do. 

“Please,” you whimpered on the bed as his fingers caressed your slit, smearing slick and coating his claws.

Your back arched, delicious pleasure running down your spine as his claw tipped finger worked into your tight opening. Muscles fluttered and clenched around him as he worked his way inside you. As he worked, he kept his eyes on your core, watching how you shifted and rocked, always seeking more.

“More.” Your sighs nearly stole away your request as he worked his finger in and out of your slick opening. “Please.”

Alastor soothed you as he whispered praise, telling you how good you were doing for him as he worked a second finger into you, then a third. Your body struggled to stretch, wanting to cling to him as he worked you open. Red eyes watched as your chest heaved, breasts rising and falling with every gasping breath. 

Your back arched as he worked his three fingers into you again and again, wet squelching sounds filling his room. Sweet pleas for more flooded Alastor’s ears as he ran his thumb over your clit.

“More,” you panted, pebbled nipples standing out against the silken fabric of your nightgown. “I need more of you.” 

Alastor shifted, grabbing the discarded antler and eyeing it. The base was heavy and long, thick enough around it rivaled his cock… well, almost. He ran his fingers over the rough surface, examining the crown he had worn for most of the year, looking for anything that would catch or rip you.

“I have an idea,” Alastor said, bringing the antler closer to your core. 

You sobbed when his fingers left you, long threads of slick reaching between his hand and your weeping cunt. Alastor used it to coat the base, lubricating it generously as he listened to your pleas to be filled and sobs over the uncomfortable emptiness. 

“Please, I need you,” you cried out, shamelessly spreading your legs wide. Your core, sopping wet and on full display, had slick running down the curve of your ass. “I’m going to go insane,” you realized. “It’s going to drive me insane if I can’t have you inside me.”

Alastor shushed you, running the cool hard surface of his antler through your puffy folds, letting the ridges drag over your clit as your hips thrust into the air. The base caught on your opening, looser now that he’d worked his fingers into you. 

The blunt end where it had spent much of the year rooted in his skull wasn’t shaped the best for penetration. Carefully, he worked the edge of the flat surface into your opening, rotating and working it inside you as you gasped. 

“Alastor?” Your voice was unsteady as the thick steam of the antler pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. 

“How’s that feel?” Alastor asked, backing the antler out of your core a few inches before slowly pushing it deeper inside.

“F-full,” you stuttered out, breath coming in rapid pants as he worked the antler deeper and deeper, rough edge dragging against your sensitive walls. “So full.” 

“Good,” Alastor purred, pushing and pushing as the antler slid deeper, tines branching out and spreading your opening wider as he watched slick run from your hole. “A part of me is inside you. Do you feel it?”

“Y-yes,” your voice trembled as he backed the antler out slowly, just to work it back into your loosening walls. “You’re inside of me, so deep.” 

“Does that feel better?” He asked, thrusting the antler into you with a little more speed and force. “Does that soothe you?” 

“Fuck,” you screwed your eyes closed, struggling to remember how to breathe as Alastor’s hard thick length into you again and again. Pleasure fogged your mind as you whimpered at each thrust. “So good.” 

“You have to answer me Cher,” Alastor warned. “I need to know if it’s helping.” 

“Yes,” your back arched as he filled you again and again. “Fuck yes. Yes.” 

Lips kissed your thigh, soft lingering touches that ended with a string as he nipped at your skin, tasting you as he fucked into you. Before his eyes, your back arched and head lulled to the side. 

“Oh, you’re beautiful like this,” Alastor whispered as he shifted, trailing stinging kisses up your thighs. 

You moaned, the sound thick and unreserved as his nipping mouth came closer and closer to your core. How he could be fucking you, be inside you while kissing your leg, you didn’t know. The fog of your season had fully blanketed your brain. No longer were you sure how or with what Alastor was fucking you, just that he was. All you knew was a part of him was inside you. 

Faster. Harder. He fucked you with the antler without hesitation, eyes scanning over your body as he did, checking for any sign of distress. Sweat shone on your skin, reflecting the soft lights in the room. Your hair was messed, framing your face. 

The sound of your cunt squelching with every hard thrust of the antler, blunt end surely bullying your cervix filled his ears. His doe was pleased, and that stroked his pride. His doe. 

Yes, you were his doe. He was making you his. 

“Close,” you gasped as he tilted the antler down, changing the angle to allow him room to wrap his lips over your clit. 

Red eyes flicked up the length of your torso, taking in the way your stomach bulged just slightly with each powerful thrust into you. He watched as he ran his tongue over the sensitive nub of nerves heading your slit. The taste of you drew a deep moan from his chest as you thrashed on the bed, body pulling tight quickly. 

He was the first to taste you since your death. There would be no others to drink from your nectar. Alastor knew well his kind did not have the drive to mate for life, but that didn’t matter to him. He was a possessive man. Once he was inside you, none would follow. 

The flat of his tongue ran over your clit before shifting to a point, swirling around it as you gasped. He repeated the movements again and again as you moaned, hips rutting into him. You were close. He could feel each fluttering twitch of the strong muscles of your core as he drove you closer and closer to your edge. 

You came with a shriek, muscles tensing and letting go in a chaotic rhythm. Under the ministrations of his tongue, he could feel the shockwaves run through your cunt. Even your clit was twitching as he sucked hard at it. 

Reaching down, you grabbed a handful of his ear, tugging as you tried to get a break from the sensations. It was pointless. He continued as he was, licking, sucking and thrusting his hard length into you. 

It was a battle. Your body wanted nothing more than to suck the antler deeper, trying to milk it of seed it couldn’t give you. Alastor mimicked the way his hips would piston as he sought his own releases during his rut. 

Fast, wild, violent thrusts deep into your cunt, again and again. He pushed you from your first orgasm into your second as his pace stuttered. There were a few last thrusts as he worked his antler as deep as possible, mimicking the way he would seat himself inside you next year to deposit his seed. 

Would it be enough to calm your season and let you find peace? It was your first season and your body didn’t know better, yet. Could biology be so easily tricked? For your sanity, he hoped so. 

Soft sobs filled his ears as your hand fell away. The heat that had been radiating from your body cooled. Shivers racked through your frame. 

“Better?” Alastor asked, wiggling the antler inside you but keeping it seated in place while he stood. 

“Much.” You had an arm thrown over your eyes, too afraid to look at the man that you shamelessly begged to fuck you.

The bed shifted as Alastor climbed up next to you, gathering you into his arms and nestling you against his chest. As he did so, he was mindful to keep your legs splayed to accommodate the tines still extending from your cunt. 

Long arms reached down, softly wiggling and thrusting the antler still lodged inside you. 

“What happened?” You asked sleepily, finally having a mind clear enough to realize it wasn’t Alastor’s cock inside you. 

“First season,” he shrugged as he softly twitched the hard shaft inside you again. “Looks like your body isn’t sure how it works yet, and accepted my antler as a substitute.” 

“You…” 

“Fucked you with my antler,” Alastor said simply, “Yes.” 

“You’re still fucking me with it,” you realized as Alastor lazily pushed it back inside you, refusing to let it slip from your twitching opening. Each shift he made in the antler’s position, each twitch and thrust, had you gasping and arching your back. 

Alastor watched every reaction, taking in the way your pebbled nipples stood out against the silky nightgown. One strap hung off your shoulder, so close to exposing one of your breasts. 

“I am,” he smiled widely. “I’m replicating how a buck would stay seated within you after. It’ll keep you from seeking to be mated again.” 

“Thank you, Alastor,” you whispered, head turned into his neck. You were nothing to Alastor, and you had to keep reminding yourself that as you resisted the urge to lean forward, bringing your lips to his neck. “For helping me.” 

“Next year, I’ll be able to better help you,” Alastor promised. 

“What do you mean?” Your eyes grew heavy as you listened to the steady beat of Alastor’s heart, only twitching wider every time he softly moved the antler buried in your cunt. 

“Next year it’ll be my cock you ride your season out on. I’ll be prepared next year.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[channieshaven]

Sensitive

genre: smut

pairing: sub!han jisung x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: roommates to lovers, tickling, nipple play, nothing extreme honestly just reader messing with jisung

~~~

You were in your room working at your desk, focused on finishing up some papers for work when you heard the padding of feet walking into the room. You heard the sound of none other than Jisung plopping down, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’m so bored.” He dragged out the end of the word for dramatic effect.

“You poor thing. I’ll be done here in just a little bit so you won’t have to suffer much longer.” You said playfully with a small smile on your face, continuing to type at your keyboard.

Jisung sighs again, “But I want you to hang out with me now.” You can tell a pout is clearly on his face just by the way he sounds.

You swivel around in your chair, looking over to him on the bed, feeling mischievous, “Yeah? You want my attention that bad, huh?”

The chair rolls back slightly as you practically jump from it, pouncing onto the bed and straddling his lap. “Any and all attention, right?” You smile, beginning to run your fingers over his sides, tickling him playfully. He immediately begins laughing and squirming at the sensation, trying to bat your hands away.

“S-stop it!” He pleads, giggling as he says it. You can’t help but grin at him, finding enjoyment in seeing him so flustered and out of control. He just looks too cute with that smile and those flushed cheeks. He squirms uncontrollably, trying to escape your ministrations. Attempting again to push your hands away, but this time you catch them, pinning them above his head as the fingers on your other hand continue to dance along his stomach and sides.

“Please, it’s t-too much!” He begs yet again, and it’s then that you notice little tears forming in his eyes from how hard he’s laughing.

“But you love it so much. Why else would you be laughing?” Voice dripping with saccharine. You know he can’t help the way he’s reacting but it doesn’t make you want to tease him any less.

“I’m serious! You have to- have to stop now!” His protests don’t slow your roll though as you continue messing with him. At least until you hear it. The whiniest, most pathetic moan, and the feeling of shuddering beneath you.

At first you’re sure you’re just imagining things, but that thought is dead and gone when you see his lips parted, face scrunched and no longer laughing. Your movements halt completely at the discovery. “Jisung… are you- did you just?” Hardly able to form the right question, fearing embarrassing him or maybe even yourself.

He lets out a whine, trying to turn his blushing face away from you, not even bothering to struggle with getting his wrists free from the grip you still (forgetfully) have on them. As much as everything in your mind is telling you to move from him, to give him space after this little accident, it only serves to stir up some feelings you may or may not have already been harboring.

A smile creeps onto your face, leaning closer to him, “You came in your pants just from me tickling you? I have to say, I feel honored.”

He slowly turns his face to meet your gaze. “W-what?”

You chuckle darkly in response, “That’s so cute. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” If somehow possible, his cheeks blush an even darker color and you can feel him stiffen against your thigh.

Looking down between both of your bodies you take note of him hardening, something that must’ve gone unnoticed by you earlier. “Do you like that, Jisung?” You tease and his cock twitches in response. A breathy laugh passes through your lips, “You do.”

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I- I’m so sorry. I-“ He babbles on nervously before being cut off by you softly pressing a finger to his pretty lips.

“Hey, I told you I’m honored, yeah?” Your hands trail down his shirt, reaching the bottom and playing with the hem. “I think you should let me see how sensitive you really are. How’s that sound?” You propose.

He can hardly process everything going on and god, he’s just so desperate for your attention and touch he’d probably say yes to anything right about now. His head nods faster than he can think, gaze never leaving you as you smirk and lift his shirt up.

Pulling his shirt up, you bring the hem of it in front of his mouth. “Hold onto this for me?” You ask, receiving no less than an excited, much too quick nod from Jisung. Once he has the cloth between his teeth you begin feeling his body. Fingers tracing over his abs. “You’re so beautiful, Jisung. I can’t believe this is the first I’m seeing of it.”

He whimpers in response, his preoccupied mouth not allowing him to get much out. Not that he’d likely be able to anyways when his head is as hazy as it currently is.

You lean forward, head lowering over his chest as you look up at him before licking a stripe over his nipple. To say he’s sensitive is an understatement, his back arching at the small motion. Your tongue continues to lick over it, dropping the hold on his wrists and bringing your hand up to the other nipple to graze over it lightly, nails barely running over it.

He’s breathing so hard, practically panting as the sweetest whimpers fall from him. His fists are balled up tightly as he keeps them placed above his head. “You’re being so good for me, Sungie.” You purr before switching sides, mirroring your actions so your tongue gives equal attention to him. His cock twitches as you keep up your work. “Are you close, Jisung?” You ask, looking up to find him lost in the pleasure of it all with his head having fallen back against the bed, writhing beneath you. He manages to let out a weak “Mhm.”

It takes everything in you to not rock against his cock, desperate to feel the way it glides against your now soaked folds. You remind yourself this is a little test to see how sensitive it is, to see if he can come without friction, and it doesn’t take long to get your answers to that test as with just a few more licks and touches you feel him spasming, hips bucking up to reach nothing in return.

“I knew you could do it. That’s it, baby. Keep going, I’ve got you.” You speak against the shell of his ear now, soothing him through his second orgasm. By this point he’s absolutely wrecked his sweatpants and you can feel it even through your additional layer of clothing. You move off of his body, giving him some space to breathe after everything, but it doesn’t stop you from leaning down to lick over the wet spot of cum at the front of his sweats.

He looks down breathlessly, letting out a low, “Fuuuck.” You crawl up next to him, placing a hand softly on his arm.

“You feel okay?” You ask softly, a contrast to your previous demeanor just minutes prior.

“That was… that was unreal. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Like, seriously.” He responds. “I definitely didn’t expect any of that when I walked in here.” He laughs.

“Yeah, me neither. I don’t know what came over me. Im sorry if that was too much.” You tell him.

“No, no, no. Not at all I just… I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He admits.

There’s a sparkle in your eyes when he says this, his response somehow being better than you could’ve ever expected. “Really? I mean, yes. Of course. I would love that.” You ramble, clearly excited at the prospect. “I’m not done playing with you anyways.” You playfully state, and Jisung knows he’s in for a fun night.

[b00tyliciousbabe]

da vinci

pairing: dacre montgomery x male reader

summary: just the actor fawning over the abundance in your cultural capital.

request: @gayaristocrat YOU ARE THE VISUSLS BBY! thanks sm for your patience, plus the anon who also requested a while back, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing.

notes: happy pride! after FINALLY handing in my art coursework, this is my projection onto the character of the reader. never will i ever pick up another paintbrush - well…also officially finished my exams now so i am a slut for y’all’s requests! flood my inbox (but more importantly my hole) xx

song rec: naomi sharon - definition of love

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

dating dacre was nothing short of a dream. he always made you feel so at ease. he loved how creative you were - the perfect match to his inner theatre kid. taking him to fashion exhibitions + poetry slams, and the actor inviting you to theatre shows, seeing the world through each others’ eyes made the time together even more precious. you first met at a ballet show. he had been dragged to see it by a few of his castmates, but was more so enjoying the bts view of you with the dancers. you were backstage fitting all the dancers and making sure they were all comfortable in what you styled. he managed to peek behind the curtain and saw your beautiful, so focused on draping the fabric of the lead’s skirt.

fuck, you were fine.

but he didn’t think much of it, just some cute guy, with beautiful eyes, who probably had a boyfriend. he took his seat and watched it with his friends. one of them was engaged to one of the dancers and so took dacre to the dressing rooms after the show. after introducing the two of you, y’all were practically drooling over each other. barely a word was said between you, but your hearts’ communicated greater feelings than mere speech ever could. they say love at first sight is something for the big screen, but your initial encounter rivalled the biggest stories of romance any writer could ever craft.

from that night, you practically were together, with the tabloids plastering the two of you holding hands, yachting in capri. the pop culture side of twitter was OBSESSED with your relationship to the actor and was in constant awe with how perfect you guys were for each other.

y/nsupremacy: you guys make my heart smile

user111: they’d make such cute babies

dacrefanclub6: sexiest couple on the internet

there was even a time where he had to do a nude scene in an upcoming blockbuster and the whole world saw how much your man was packing. in his press tour, the panel of interviewers didn’t shy away from your bf’s HUGE deal, some even made inappropriate comments.

‘god bless bottoms like y/n, he be taking that shit better than a pornstar’

‘poor y/n, how does that thing even fit?’

‘checks out…big booty bitches y/n deserves to be fucked by hung men.’

dacre was afraid that you would feel uncomfortable with the constant media comments on your thickness, but he had nothing to fear. you embraced it, you were said to have the best bod in fashion. as much as he tried to keep his life with you private, he lowkey wanted to let the world know that how much of a good boy you were for him.

dacre: ‘in all fairness i ain’t had any complaints from him so…’

dacre: ‘but…our neighbours definitely hate us.’ he remarks with a devilish grin.

everyone was rooting for your relationship, and what better way to show this than him enlisting the joint troops of your fandoms to surprise you whilst you were working in paris. he had gotten some time away from filming and decided to come and visit your atelier in paris. sprawled out on your desk, with needles and materials adorning the creative canvas of the room, he saw you hard at work. with the same vein poking through your forehead as the first time he laid eyes on your angelic physique, he could’ve fallen in love all over again.

‘hey babe’ he came up to you with flowers. ‘you look ravishing tonight’ rolling his r’s with a tenacity that made you smile. his tone always made you feel so safe.

‘i ain’t even dressed yet,’ you protest, dusting off the loose threads and sequins from your sweats. ‘you’re beautiful in whatever you wear,’ coming closer and gripping underneath your butt, ‘even prettier with less on.’ dacre quips as his lips tickle your ear.

‘dacre stop,’ you laugh out. ‘that giggle of yours is so infectious.’ he crashes his lips into you, the flowers dropping haphazardly onto the desk as he pushed his tongue deeper.

he was wearing the blazer you had designed for his birthday last year, paired with a pendant necklace with the first initial of your name on it. he looked so sexy. ‘can’t seem to keep my hands off off of you.’ he breathed, nudging his jacket off.

‘nuh uh, we have dinner reservations.’ nudging him away.

‘fuck. why’d you gotta be so damn sexy?’ he sounded aggravated but you pecked him again, ‘don’t worry, i am all yours tonight.’

taking you to the balcony of a quaint, parisian bistro, the chill of the capital’s air made the two of you even more enamoured, your hearts burning passionately. whilst eating, you got some sauce on the corner of your lips, as he pushes it back into your mouth. ‘gotta get you used to the feeling of a foreign object in your mouth before tonight, don’t i?’ dacre always loved being dirty in public and you made sure to satiate his exhibitionist kink.

after many glasses of wine, you made your way to the louvre. with your many contacts you managed to snag an after hours tour - solo. you were much more of a lightweight than your boyfriend (the man could drink like a pirate and be even more chipper than before) and you couldn’t walk in a straight line for more than a few metres. he let you go so he could see your figure and admire it from afar, but as soon as he saw you stumble, dacre’s hand on your waist guided you to safety and sobriety.

y’all ran throughout the museum, finally landing and kissing in front of the mona lisa. it was such a picturesque moment. the taxi ride back to the hotel was such a fever dream, y’all were all over each other, your chauffeur knew well to close the barrier and give you two some alone time.

‘have i ever told you how beautiful you are?’ he says slurring his speech.

‘tell me again…’ you implored.

‘the most beautiful boy in the world.’ he reassured, pulling you in as the city of paris lit up, illuminating your eyes.

you called him an ‘eager beaver’ as dacre stumbled the two of you into the hotel you were staying at. he grunts between kisses,‘you know you love me.’ serving you with another peck. he stripped your clothes as you followed suit with his own, leaving a chasm of fabric in the corner of the room.

only your shared jewellery was left to remove. you fell back seductively onto the mattress. as dacre crawled on top of you with a dark lust growing in his eyes, you pulled him by the pendant around his neck.

the muscular man laid atop of you, placing each hand on the bed at dip of your waist, using his palms as a fulcrum to steady himself. you glanced down to see the light reflecting off his abs as they danced on the curves of your body.

‘you’re so beautiful.’ he whispered, kissing your cheek and cupping your face.

he lifted himself from your figure, grabbing your thighs and placing your feet at either side of his head.

kissing your legs softly ‘so fucking soft.’ he moaned into your skin. his dick was throbbingly red, precum glazing his cock as he slowly thigh fucked you. he folded his arms around your plush knees, and kept that pace, your fingers grazing his cock head each time it escaped the warm walls of your inner thighs. to your annoyance, he kept this up for what felt like forever. halting, you felt his rock length graze your hole.

‘dacre, put it in already!’ you said with overstimulated passion, earning a snicker from your boyfriend.

knowing that you were beginning to grow impatient, he caresses the flesh of your abdomen. ‘look who’s eager now?’ he smirked.

shut up,’ stroking his happy trail with an endearment. you looked up at him and bit your lip. ‘I need you, please.’ his mouth agape at you ‘of course baby.’

he laced his fingers into yours. rocking slowly into you. his huge dick stretching you out slowly as the the dimly lit room made his ash blue eyes appear dark with lust.

‘fuck, have i missed this pussy’ rhetorically muttering. dacre began whispering sweet nothings into your ear:

‘you’re doing so well.’

‘taking it like my good little boy aren’t you?’

he made you so hot. lifting himself onto his toes, he angled himself directly into you, placing his entire weight on you. fucking down into your hole, your boyfriend was hitting nerves that had been neglected in his absence.

your sphincter began tightening around him, dacre knew what this meant - your release would soon follow. he started kissing your neck, and circled your left nipple with his thumb, goading your orgasm out of you as he started drilling a bit faster. dacre chased his own high begging you to finish with him whilst slurring his words.

‘take it, baby it’s all yours. UGHHHHH’ he busted strongly inside you. his big balls slapped at your butt one last time, reassuring both of you that he had seeded you deeply. you came all over his chest, as he chuckled.

‘love it when you paint me, that’s that sexy shit i like.’ he praised giving you an eskimo kiss to calm you from my high.

‘y/n,’ he whispered, big spooning you.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ you sounded concerned, cradling his hand.

‘nothing love, i just,’ he paused hesitantly.

you turned back to face him. ‘what is it? you know you can tell me anything.’

‘I just need you to know how much i missed you,’

‘oh dacre, you already did an amazing job showing me.’ You joke ‘I feel so…enlightened right now.’

he lets out a sad deep chuckle, turning to him and stroking his cheek ‘I missed you too.’

he gripped your waist, taking your words as a source of comfort. pushing his tongue down your throat.

‘ready for round two,’ you say, massaging his dick with your palm, getting him ready.

‘always.’ he affirms, spanking your ass and turning you over. the first round was very much for your pleasure and to let you know that he had truly craved your body.

but seeing your coke bottle body all splayed out for him? it was here that dacre’s beast was awoken.

‘ass up for me baby.’ he said guiding you to a more comfortable position. he massaged your thick cheeks and started eating you out. his large hands looked abysmally small in comparison to how juicy your ass was.

‘I ain’t gonna show you any mercy this time, you know the safe word, but i don’t think we’ll be needing it.’ he muttered, kissing down your spine before impaling you.

‘shitttt dacre, slow down.’

‘shut the fuck up and take that shit like the pretty, little cockwhore you are.’ dacre degraded, knowing how much you loved his dom/aggressive nature almost as much as his softer side.

dacre began going ham on your poor hole. he stood up as he began pulling you into him from the edge of the bed. with one hand crossed against your cheek and the other in his hair, he had to compose himself - else he come to quickly.

he fucked into you at a painfully quick pace, but it felt so good having him take control. dacre slutted you out almost unconscious for a bit and you were brought back to earth as he hit your second hole.

‘fuck baby,’ ‘I will never get tired of that ass.’ he said watching your thickness bounce against his abs. you started becoming more active, pushing back onto him for a heightened pleasure.

‘shake it for daddy, theeeere ya go, that’s MY shit baby. FUUUUUUUCK.’

‘oh god, your dick is so good, dacre.’ you moan out , which is enough to send him over the edge.

he came as your ass halted at his base. tightenibg around him he started breathing falteringly. ‘baby d-don’t do that, shiiiiit.’ he started leaking like a faucet. trying to thrust inside with some rhythm (to no avail), he collapsed on top of you.

‘I love you so much.’ you say breathlessly.

‘the feeling is so mutual babe.’ he kissed into your skin.

‘y/n, you’re so fucking wet,’ he spoke under his breath. still inside that filled pussy of yours, his cum and your slick provided a juicy lubricant. as he pulled out, the cum oozing out of your wrecked hole pooled into his pubes and on the duvet cover. the two of you were completely oblivious to the mess, and cuddled in the filth you’d created - a filth you were looking forward to adding to in the morning.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

[urinarythreatinfection]

Alright since you want requests, how about good ol Sanji figuring out that he likes a guy? Lmao.

Poor Sangni. You know for all the shit people (me too) give him, he kinda turned out really good compared to all the things he went through. Also I ❤️ comments on my fics.

Confusion in My Love

Sanji x male reader. fluff. tw for for internalized homophobia. Contains a medium fishman island spoiler. 1375 words.

It’s known that Sanji has an innate preference towards women, and an innate hate towards men. It’s a fact of life the same way the sky is blue, or it was until you. He acts differently around you, a man. Not how he treats Luffy or Zoro, no, there’s something else. Something that makes him weak towards you, something that makes it so when you make a mistake he doesn’t feel like getting angry or mocking you. Something that’s making him feel different.

“Sanji!” His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice while giving Nami and Robin their beverages. “Can I get one too?” You ask with a smile. Everyone expects him to say no, right about now he’d be too “busy” fawning over the women, after all. Schedule full. However…

“Alright.” …he agrees. Like it was instinct, before he could even realize what he was agreeing to. It causes everyone to go silent except for Luffy, who hadn’t realized what was weird until Usopp whispered it in his ear. Sanji knows it’s weird too, but he’d already said yes to you, and he just can’t bring himself to change his mind. So he retreats instead. To the kitchen, his oasis, to make your drink. Once he’s inside he crouches down and puts his head in his hands. “Why did I say that!?” He yells at himself. This stupid something has only been getting worse. Not being as angry at you to not wanting to get angry at you to complimenting you. Now he’s even making a midday beverage for you like he would with a lady! “Why am I doing this!?” He stands up and starts to make the drink, keeping himself busy will surely help him stop thinking about it, but it fails. It’s only when he’s poured the finished product inside the glass that he spots his reflection, his face with flushed cheeks. He touches them as his heart beats faster, is he sick? That has to be it there’s now way, right? Nonono he loves women he’s a woman lover, men are disgusting creatures that he would never develop romantic love for! However the more he thinks about it the more everything he feared and denied is coming together, making his repressed emotions crash down on him.

“Hey, Sanji?” You walk into the kitchen and find him with his elbows on the counter, head in his hands. “Damn if you really didn’t want to make me the drink you don’t have to force yoursel-” You notice tears dripping on the marble “-are you crying!?” When he spots you they flow from his eyes harder.

“hic..unng…” He puts his face back into his hands, sobbing as his emotions overwhelm him, stronger from all the years of internalized homophobia from misinformation. If he’s gay does that mean he has to crossdress all the time now? He likes his suit though… now he just made himself cry more. He feels like a stupid little kid again. You go up to him, confused but rubbing his back as he lets everything out and tries to imagine all the things he’s going to end up doing now that he’s gay. Cooking with long nails, fighting with dresses, having to do makeup every morning, saying kya…

“Sanji what’s up with you, man? Did having to make a free drink for a guy make you this heartbroken?” Crazy conclusion but he’s almost died from a nosebleed so it isn’t that out of the question.

“I’m gay…” He sniffles. “What do I do?”

“Huh??” You look at him with a confused expression. “You’re crying because you’re gay? Sanji it’s not something to be ashamed of, Luffy isn’t going to kick you off the ship. I’m not even sure he knows or even cares what that means.”

“Maybe, but how am I going to cook with long nails?” He looks at his hands in despair. “And is he going to accept me if I wear dresses and makeup?”

“Do you… want to wear dresses and makeup?” The blonde wipes his eyes when you question him.

“..maybe.” Sanji mumbles then quickly yells after. “I don’t know!”

“I feel like you have a misconception on what being gay is. I don’t know what you’re thinking but you don’t have to do anything to be gay besides being attracted to the same sex.”

“But the ladies…” He still wants to like women, he doesn’t know what that means.

“Sanji there are other options besides gay or straight, you can like both men and women, and you don’t have to do whatever you’re thinking if you don’t want to. You’d be a beautiful crossdresser or non-crossdresser. In fact, you don’t even need to be a crossdresser to wear makeup. I don’t- I- How did you even come to this conclusion.”

“In Kambakka.” He states, that makes sense.

“Oh.” You scratch the back of your neck. “Well I don't think them being gay is the reason they’re that way. Did they not tell you this?” He shakes his head. “Yeah well I guess they wouldn’t have expected for you to be this-” ‘ignorant’ “-uh.. mal-informed. Anyway I mean what I say. You’re still you and you get to be you. How did you end up figuring out you liked men anyway?

“Ugh…” He feels stupid now, getting emotional over nothing as he wipes his eyes. “It’s because I like y-” Sanji stops, immediately sobering up once he realizes his mistake. “yyyyoung men my age.”

“Oh? Did you see someone you liked at the last island?” You’re starting to get curious and his face goes red again as he sputters, blue eyes swimming around for an escape when he remembers the drink he made you. He grabs it and quickly gives it to you.

“Here! I finished it not too long ago, drink it while it’s still fresh.” You grab onto it, accepting he doesn’t want to talk. This must be a vulnerable moment for him.

“Well, okay. Just know whatever you end up being, I still care about you, kay?” You smile at him and he heats up more, his feelings stronger now that he realizes what they are.

“Me too, I.. care about you—too.” He’s struggling, jolting when you rub his back.

“We care about each other then, and thanks for the drink.” You walk out of the kitchen with a wink. Once you’re gone Sanji slowly sinks to his knees, sighing. His hand goes to his chest, feeling his beating heart.

“This…feels so weird..!” He rests his back on a shelf door, pupils into hearts as he gets dizzy. “Love love love..” That repeats in his head. He loves you, adores you, filled with nice feelings the moment you look his way. “I love him."

There’s a lot to think about now that he’s realized this but if this light, pleasant feeling he’s getting is because he loves you.. maybe a crush on a guy isn’t so bad.

_____________________

Bonus past memory from Kamabakka:

“GAHH GET AWAY FROM ME! I’M NOT GAY!!” Sanji screams while running from the Okamas. He’d been running the whole day now and eventually manages to lose them, that's what he thinks anyway. They’re actually just hiding to let him rest.

“He keeps calling us gay, we’re Okamas.” One of them says, an idea popping up. “You… don’t think he thinks all queer people are like us, right?”

…

…

“No way~” They all brush it off as another speaks up. “I mean it’s pretty obvious what the difference is, he’s gone traveling he’s must’ve met another queer person.”

“Right right.”

“I’m never going to be like them, I like women. I’m not an Okama.” They hear him say as he catches his breath, making them pause.

“Ah…” They nervously look at eachother

“Well.. he’s going to be here for two years. He should figure it out eventually, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll try and help him too! He’s precious after all.”

Unknown to them, he hadn’t figured it out. In fact, he was so terrified of them that even when they did try giving him pointers he kept blocking it out. But it’s alright, there’s no way he’d do something like think it’s mandatory for gay people to crossdress… probably.

[starkenobi]

Friday Night | Natasha Romanoff x reader

masterlist — read on ao3

Summary: On a terrible friday night, reader meets her hero Natasha Romanoff, the Avenger Black Widow.

Warnings: mutant!reader; harassment; strangers to possibly lovers; fluff; drabble.

Being a woman was hard. Being a mutant woman was even harder. That’s it. She woke up every day with that thought and went to bed feeling the weight on her shoulders. You see, society has never been fair to the female sex. Born of man’s rib? A value less than a cow? Born to just serve and give everything the man wants? Slaves even before being conceived in the womb of some other poor woman. Serving only to be wives and to procreate the children. 

If you dare do anything out of line? Burn the witch. Taboos and all the negativity of the world being forced into anything related to women and the feminine. It is ironic to think that there is a country where a cow has more security and rights than a woman. And in the end, it’s always the woman’s fault. Anything. From ancient times to the present. They just found different ways to burn witches. But when it came to mutant women… Things could be even worse if that were possible. 

Humans could be a complete piece of shit in their ignorance, but men were able to overcome all the bad expectations. Her brother once told that when she was born, their mother cried when the doctor said the baby was a girl. “My poor baby”, it was the phrase most used by her mother. And she couldn’t blame her mother for feeling that way. At least she was lucky to have an older brother to protect her when her parents couldn’t. 

However, she was an adult now, and she needed to protect herself on her own. Living in a big and different city resulted in long self-defense training and sometimes hiding that she was mutant with hybrid feline characteristics by wearing hats and loose clothing. Was she completely happy? Hell no. 

At least she was working in one of the best-mixed companies, having friends and acquaintances who liked her for who she was. No taboos. No weird moments. No embarrassing questions. Perhaps because she worked in the advertising and marketing field, but deep inside she knew that it was something beyond the item of being open-minded to work. They were good people, indeed.

That's why she felt safe enough to go out with them without fear, she didn’t hide with hats or loose clothes. Even though having two more mutants in the group, she was the only female one, still, she could feel completely comfortable amid the smiles and laughter of the other 8 humans. It was the closest she had to the sense of belonging, almost home.

“Daydreaming again as I notice,” a sweet singsong voice sounded behind her shoulder, pulling her out of her little monologue and making her turn to face Sunmi - the art director and her best friend there.“but it’s time to go!”

“Already?” frowning, she glanced at her wristwatch and sighed in dismay as she realized that it was past 7 pm.

Sunmi quipped a brief ‘yep’ at the same time that was hurrying her to put things in the bag. “I was finishing my part of that project, and I knew you’d be here too.” The two of them walked to the elevator, sighing in relief as they rushed into it. “Besides, the guys are already there waiting for us."

Using the reflection of the mirror covering one of the elevator’s walls, Y/N ran her fingers through her hair strands to leave them for a more casual look. The strands contrasting with the pair of white, furry feline ears on top of her head. It was no sin to consider herself beautiful, and she was proud to be who she was. And giving a small smile towards Sunmi through the mirror, Y/N spun on her heels to go out in the night in search of some fun.

Maybe, just maybe, things could be a little nicer. A great friday night with her friends, a time to relax and have fun. But of course not, not when she was in the equation. And that’s why, after two hours at the bar for humans and mutants, she was in an unbearable situation. Her enthusiasm had evaporated, she felt completely trapped. 

For a moment, she thought of asking for help from her two friends who were also mutant, but they had both said goodbye and gone home early. To make matters worse, she left her bag with her phone and the pepper spray on the table where the rest of the group were still having fun. 

She just went to the bathroom, didn’t realize that something so extreme could happen, but now she cursed under her breath for being so naive. With each new punch at the door of the ladies’ bathroom, she trembled even more into the last cabin, squeezing herself against the wall. Her fluffy white ears clung to the top of her head, practically hiding through her now messy hair. She could barely breathe, her chest heavy as her heart was pounding.

She was scared.

The door then opened in a heavy thud, the music of the bar that before was muffled now took care of the environment and incapacitating her of being able to hear the footsteps of the two men in the midst of fear. Hot tears streamed down her cold cheeks, her tail wrapped around her waist in an attempt to try to control her body shaking. 

If they were so persistent in getting her, it would be a fact that everything would fall apart in her life that night. At that moment, she wished she had not been born a mutant. Or rather, not being born a woman. When the cabin door before hers opened with force, she let out a faint cry of horror. 

And then everything seemed to go faster, the cabin door breaking as a pair of hands came toward her. She screamed with all the air she had, feeling her throat ache from the force she was using. Unable to distinguish what the two men were saying, she felt herself being pulled and then thrown against the bathroom floor, a whimper of pain escaped her trembling lips as she shrunk even further down the floor and closed her eyes tightly.

“What the hell is going on here?“

A booming voice exclaimed, making her open her eyes again just in time to see an angry redhead woman staring at the two men who were attacking her. Once again, everything happened too fast for her frightened eyes. In a moment, the two men decided to attack the lady, but then they both fell unconscious on the ground. The redhead woman stepped over the other two to go where she still was on the floor.

“Are you okay?” she murmured worriedly, crouching down beside her and searching her eyes, not sure she could speak, she just nodded and the other woman sighed in relief. “Great, good thing I decided it was toilet time and I heard you scream.“ Slowly, she grabbed her by the elbows and helped her to rise from the floor, “My name’s Natasha, by the way.”

“Y/N.'' After clearing her throat, she whispered, her eyes focused on her feet.

Natasha smiled as she let go of one of her elbows so she could help her out of the bathroom, “I know now is the last moment you want to hear this but,” walking down the hall of the restrooms and finally arriving at the bar, Natasha helped Y/N to sit down and with a quick hand motion asked for a water - which Y/N didn’t think twice to accept. “You are a very beautiful person.”

Beautiful person. She stopped drinking the water and looked up to meet Natasha’s green eyes. She called her a person, not a mutant or a feline hybrid. A simple word but that made her heart flip.

“Thank you,” she murmured, closing her eyes briefly so she could take a deep breath and try to control both the breathing and the rest of her body.

“Whenever you need it,” Natasha quickly responded, but then cringed as she processed her own words, “this wasn’t exactly a flirt unless you accepted it as one, but it was just a way of-,”

She giggled, finishing the water and finally relaxing to the point where her white ears re-emerged quietly through her messy hair. “It’s alright.”

With the positive response, Natasha grabbed one of the napkins on the bar counter and quickly picked up the bartender’s pen, writing roughly before holding out the paper in Y/N's direction. “This is my number. Call me if you need a hero, eat pizza or grab a beer.”

“Oh, you have three part-time jobs, miss Black Widow?“ Arching an eyebrow, Y/N chuckled at the sight of Natasha's smile turning into a confused expression.

“You got me here,“ She laughed, pointing her forefinger toward Y/N and then retorting “bad kitten.”

Ok, maybe things could really be a little nicer after all.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii! How’s ur day?^_^

My request is, what if the reader is nervous to confess to Stanford, and Mabel helps them?

If ur able to do this thank you, and I love ur fanfics!

I decide to be a little mean here, whether it’ll be a misunderstanding on your part for Ford’s reaction or not, I’ll leave it up to fate. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 right here

Mabel could tell immediately that you liked Ford but didn’t have the confidence to say anything to him in the slightest, and it disheartened the poor girl to see a potential romance that’ll never happen due to your fears of rejection.

So she decided that you needed the power of Mabel to gain the confidence to confess to Ford about how you truly felt because she knew deep down in her heart that Ford felt the same, he was just as awkward about as you were about his feelings.

(She may or may not have sneaked a peak inside his hours on his entry on you and felt as though she was reading a poem with how passionate he seemed to be about you, so much so it was enough to make her shed a tear)

‘But what if he meant all of that in a platonic way?’ You asked Mabel when she told you about the journal entry that she shouldn’t have read.

Mabel pouts and puts her bawled fists on her sides. ‘Is this the insecurities talking? You are amazing, fantastic, wonderful and a delight to have in someone’s life and Grunkle Ford would a stupid stupid head if he didn’t see the greatness you posses! Which he does and you should not let fear stand in the way of love!’ She exclaims as she dramatically posed, she really was Stanley’s grandniece that was for certain and undisputed.

‘Still, what would I even say to him?’ You asked as you sat down on the edge of your bed, holding your face in your hands. ‘I can’t just go up to him and say I like him, it’s too forward-‘

‘And totally not romantic nor memorable to tell your future descendants at all.’ Mabel adds which only made you flustered at the aspect that Mabel believed in your and Ford’s relationship that much, but Mabel always loved to look ahead to the future in an optimistic light, while taking great pride in having fun in the present with the people she cared about while she could before it was too late.

‘What if he finds me unbearable?’

‘Stop it with the what ifs!’ Mabel exclaimed as she walked over to you with a determined look in her eye, she had about enough of you looking down on yourself, and then using it as a scapegoat as to avoid confessing your burning feelings for her Grunkle Ford. ‘Ford likes you, I see it in his eyes when he looked at you, he looks at you as though you hung the stars in the sky! You take his breath away effortlessly and I see the way his cheeks get all pink when you compliment his turtleneck! What else could you probable want to be affirmed that he actually likes you!’

‘What’s going on in here, I could hear Mabel shouting from down the stairs, is everything okay?’ Ford asked when he opened the door to see you sat on the edge of your bed and Mabel looking as though her face couldn’t get any redder.

‘Yes every-‘ Mabel give you a pointed look and mouthed the words: tell him or I will.

You sighed and Ford only seems to grow more confused and worried about what he had walked in on by pure curiosity. ‘Y/n?’ He asked softly this time. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I have something to tell you-‘ Mabel squeals ‘-alone.’ You finished all the while giving Mabel a pointed look as she pouted like a kicked puppy, she wanted to have a front row seat to the confession but she guessed outside the door would have to do for now as she shut the door behind her, leaving you and Ford alone like you wanted.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ford sat next to you, his beautiful eyes full of worry and concern as they flickered across your face as though he could see the things that were worrying you as though it was written across your forehead.

‘It’s nothing bad I promise it’s just that I…Ive been made aware of something that I fear might ruin our friendship.’ You said as you found yourself wanting to back away from actually confessing and leave it at that, but Mabel might as well have locked you both in the room for all you were aware until you actually did tell Ford that he tormented your heart in the best way possible.

‘I’m sure it won’t, there’s nothing that you could-‘

‘I really like you Ford, romantically.’ You blurted out as a silence befell the both of you that you swore you could hear a pin drop somewhere as you awaited the worst.

Ford looked at you for a prolonged period of time as though he was stuck in place and it only made your fears worsen when he had yet to say anything.

‘Ford? Say something please.’ You pleaded but what you weren’t expecting was for Ford to silently stand up and leave the room, closing the door behind him and soon enough you could hear your heart break as you heard him walk down the stairs, probably to go back to his lab for the rest of the day.

‘What happened.’ Mable asked as she walked back into the bedroom to see your broken state as you looked at her with a weak smile.

‘I lost him.’ You tell her before burrowing your head into your hands and for once Mabel didn’t know how to fix this…

[penkura]

I'm back with more traffy brainrot.

So I LOVE avatar the last airbender. I was thinking.

What'd happen if law met someone like toph?

Reader is blind. But can see through her feet, the thing is, she's strong on any land but HATES getting on ships because the only thing she sees is the ships interior not the outside which is the ocean, she fears with a little push she MIGHT fall over. Also, when they first met, reader may or may not play the "I'm sorry I'm blind" card and steal a hefty amount from the crew and running away faster than any of them combined lol.

I just imagine reader being innocent until she isn't lmao

I loooove Avatar omg, I still need to sit with my dad and finish the live action Netflix series, but the original series has a special place in my heart. I really liked this prompt, I hope I did it justice for you!!

“I’m sorry, I’m blind.”

Law should’ve realized right away that it would be an excuse the moment he met you. He feels a little stupid now, having you strapped to a chair in front of him and his crew, the very people who tried to be helpful but that you stole from. Shachi questions if you actually are blind, waving his hand in front of your face though you don’t make any movements that you can see his hand moving. Penguin rolls his eyes and tells him to stop, as Law simply sighs over the situation.

You thought it was okay, you thought you’d get away with everything you’d grabbed, you didn’t know what the half of it was. You just snatched whatever seemed valuable and booked it, not caring that there was a feeling of guilt as you ran off that stupid submarine and back onto dry land, at least then you could see everything. You hated that you could only see the inside of that submarine, you didn’t even really want to be there but had flirted enough with one of the crewmembers (poor Hakugan) to get on board, knowing they must have some treasure after hearing they were a pirate crew, especially hearing it was Trafalgar Law’s crew. Even you kept up with the rumors and gossip, you knew he had a decent bounty on him, even at just twenty-one years old.

Your only mistake was staying aboard too late and grabbing his sword as something to sell, of course he’d notice that.

You thought you were fast but somehow he caught up to you, it must be a Devil Fruit you realize quickly. No one on this island could keep up with you even with your visual impairment, Law having powers is the only thing that makes sense.

“Captain, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hakugan,” Law sighs again while his friend hangs his head with a small nod, “If she hadn’t grabbed Kikoku, we wouldn’t have known she’d stolen anything really.”

You tilted your head with your brow furrowed, confused on what he must mean. You had grabbed a ton of things, hadn’t you?

“Yeah,” Penguin laughs, shaking his head, “Grabbing all those medical supplies was a stupid move.”

“Guess it’s not that obvious that our ship has such a big medical ward, huh?”

You feel like an idiot now, embarrassment flooding over you as you listen to them list off what you’d grabbed, apart from Kikoku. Bandages, cough medicine, various medicinal drugs. You though ‘surgeon of death’ was just a moniker, not that Law really is a doctor.

You really wish you would wake up from this nightmare in your bed, you’d completely ignore the people talking about a pirate crew docking at your home island and go about your day. Part of you thinks you should have done that anyway, even when Law dismisses the rest of his crew to speak to you alone.

He's quiet for a bit, just as you are, until he crouches in front of you and sets a hand on your shoulder.

“You wanna explain?”

“…I really am blind.”

“I know that, I don’t doubt your disability,” he’s not like Shachi, questioning your reality or anything, he’s just wondering what your plan was, “I’m talking about stealing from us. If you had known it was mainly medical supplies—”

“I wouldn’t have touched any of it. I wouldn’t have bothered…”

“…so why did you?”

“…you would too to keep your home.”

Ah that’s it, you’re trying to stay in your house. It must be rent or taxes, he’s not sure, but the way you hang your head makes Law start to think.

“No one wants to hire the blind orphan. I’m not worth—”

“I think Ikkaku would be glad to have a roommate. We’ll go get your stuff in the morning and—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

The way you lift and tilt your head, blinking while Law smiles to himself just a bit.

Kind of cute actually.

“You’ll come with us, as payment for trying to steal our supplies and my sword. In the morning, you’ll take us to where you live, we’ll pay what you owe, gather your stuff, and you’ll come with us.”

“Why would you…?”

Law pats your shoulder lightly, you’re not sure why but it gets to you so much you start to cry. He doesn’t even give you a reason, letting you get your feelings out, as you start to nod.

“O-Okay…okay…thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

You’ll have to apologize to that Hakugan guy later for leading him on like that, but it seems you’ll have plenty of time for that.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: The Ice Cream Fiasco

Summary: Wifey's first pregnancy cravings hit, and Joel has to troubleshoot options. (takes place early on first pregnancy)

Warnings: Fluff, crazy emotions flying, swearing, and vulgar sexual language at the end.

- - - -

Ya’ll might think that Joel had always been the perfect husband, suited to adapt to your any and all needs like he was born with it the moment you were pregnant.

I’m here to tell you, he wasn’t always that on top of it. In fact, the man had quite a bit of failures at first.

There’s also a reason why Clive’s Creamery is the go-to destination for all your desserts. In fact, its the same reason the Dairy Queen right next door is excommunicated in the Miller Household…

He remembered when the first cravings started. You had wanted a blizzard. Cookie dough. Chocolate ice cream. LARGE.

Easy Peasy.

He gets just that, plus a small chocolate ice cream dipped in hard shell for himself. 

Well, you didn’t know he was going to get himself something. Something that, quite frankly, as soon as you saw him holding it for himself as you greedily accepted the jumbo cup of blizzard, you suddenly wanted more.

He is about to take a bite of his ice cream when you loudly shout, “Ah ah!”

He almost drops the damn thing. “What’s wrong?”

“Can—can I have some…whatever you don’t finish?” You ask politely. You were still holding yourself accountable from any outburst that might want to…burst out.

Though, you doubted you'd reach that point ever.

He nods. That’s reasonable. He can just… eat the shell, and you could have the filling part!

When he hands you his saliva-melting ice cream, licked and bitten clean of the hard shell, you face sours.

“What the fuck Joel. Why would I want this?”

“What do you mean…you said you would finish it?” 

You stomp your foot down almost like a tantrum ridden child. “I WANTED THE HARD SHELL. WHY WOULD I WANT THIS.”

“I didn’t know! You didnt say—!”

“DO I HAVE TO, MILLER?” You roared, getting on your heels with threatening eyes, diminishing him. “DO I HAVE TO BE EXPLICIT ABOUT SOMETHING SO OBVIOUS?”

He’s half scrunched to fear, never having seen you so ferocious over some measly ice cream, when suddenly the loud gurgling from your stomach cuts the air.

You look down briefly at your tummy. Your hand clasps it gently before you're quickly wobbling off to the bathroom. 

He stands there, a bit confused, but now he knows for next time. Joel just finishes off the rest of his cone, chucking the honey coated wrapper when—

“DID YOU JUST FINISH IT?????????” You bellow, returning from the hallway.

“Y-you--said you didn't want it now!”

“JOEL. MOTHERFUCKING. MILLER.”

But before you start another shout, your face quickly softens, down turning into a trembling mess as you let out a devastating wail. “I—j-j-just—wa—wanted!—hiccup—it!” You cry. 

And holy hell, you cried. He’d never seen you cry so hard, let alone for a half eaten ice cream cone.

You fell to your knees and gripped his forearm, tears splashing down your cheeks as you huffed.

This might be... a lot more difficult of a pregnancy than he originally thought.

-

Ok so Joel learned very quickly — bring the wife next time.

His next trial came very soon in the face of the next evening.

As he rolls up to the drive-thru window, you announce quickly “CHOCOLATE. DIPPED IN HARD SHELL. WITH—“

But the young worker quickly interrupts “We’re out of chocolate.”

He didn’t know why, but something chilly just ran right through Joel’s soul right there.

You blinked at the clerk. “Excuse me?”

“Um—we don’t have chocolate. We’re out—“

You lean over Joel. “What. Do. You. Mean. You’re. Out?”

“Um—we’re… just… out—“

“Say it again.”

Visibly shaking now, the kid says softly, “there’s… no more… choc—“

Like a dog off her leash, you lunge over Joel’s lap, your palm crashing down on his crotch, causing him to slam his head on the roof. You pay no mind, ready to tear the poor kid to shreds.

“WHAT KIND OF ICE CREAM PLACE DOESN’T HAVE CHOCOLATE??? YOU GOT VANILLA RIGHT? RIGHT????”

“Y-yes—?” The kid said frighteningly, looking around for help.

“YOU GOT SOME CHOCOLATE SAUCE?”

“Y—“

“THEN WHAT’S thE PROBLEM HUH? WHERE’S THE CHOCOLATE? HUH YOU GOT VANILLA? AND CHOCO--WHAT'S SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND? WHY ARE YOU EVEN OPEN—“

Joel finally regains his composure, his arm protectively holding you back as you lament, eyes crazy and teeth foaming like a rabid raccoon.

“I’msorryimsorryimsorryimsorry—“ he repeats to the kid, just as he puts the car in drive and leaves the line.

You settle back down in your seat grumpily.

Joel stares forward, frightened by the beast next to him. 

“Okay. Where are you taking me next for some ice cream?” You ask innocently, as if you weren’t about to be charged with assaulting some teen for no chocolate ice cream.

Joel hesitantly glared back at you.

What kind of demon baby was brewing inside you?

-

So now we’re back to making sure you DON’T participate in your own snack runs. Joel gives you a menu ahead of time so you can mark off the items you want like a sushi checklist. Then he calls you right before he orders to make sure it’s still what you want.

But Dairy Queen was on day 3 of no chocolate ice cream.

He finds you furiously typing on his desktop keyboard when he gets home, slams the print button, and tears off the sheet.

“Mail this,” you seethe, scribbling down the address on a note sheet.

Joel takes on look at the first line and knew immediately he’s putting this in the shredder:

DEAR MOTHERFUCKER.

It was a letter addressed to the Dairy Queen corporate head office, specifically, the CEO’s desk.

He scanned briefly: lots of “you motherfuckers” this and “chocolate is a birthright” that. Even a sentence that read “I will personally pop my baby out in your lap and eat your innards alive if you do not provide the chocolateS to the local church [the address of the Dairy Queen next store]”

The “signature” line was your signature alright, with a hefty spit you had personally left.

He looks up at you, only to see you’re beaming with pride. 

“It’s good right? That’ll get their attention. No more of this ‘no chocolate’ nonsense.”

Joel didn’t have the heart to tell you that it wasn’t the chocolate that was missing. He had stopped by this afternoon and asked if there was an update, only to find the machine that mixed it was down and missing a spare part. Said it would be another week before it would be up and working though.

He had to find an alternative and fast. Preferably before you find out he never mailed that letter, and definitely before you storming into the building with a torch and gasoline.

“I don’t even LIKE Dairy Queen!” You shouted in the middle of the house, folding your arms with a pout. “I DON’T EVEN LIKE —"

“Who are you talking to?” Joel asks, bringing you your lemonade. 

“The Dairy Gods.” You drop your voice to a whisper, “Maybe they’ll think if I’m not on to them, they’ll bring it back.”

You were officially going insane.

So Joel started asking around. Something that only had good reputation, welcoming to kids and adults, extended hours… None of his friends had any idea. Even Tommy, so immune to your wrath, asked simply "What about that dairy queen next to your--"

"Don't even say it."

He needed some inside scoop (sigh) from some hardcore locals...

He slides a crisp $5 bill to the one 7 year old boy down the block. “What you got?” Joel asks, looking around as if they’re making a criminal deal.

“I know a place…” he brags, checking the authenticity of the bill.

“Ain’t got all day kid. Where?”

“It’s called Clive’s…Clive’s Creamery.”

Joel hadn’t heard of it. “S’good?”

“The BEST.”

“How about chocolate? They got that?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You wanna make the drive out there and find out?”

Joel grits his teeth and ponies up another $5.

The kid flicks it satisfyingly. “Chocolate is their speciality. I recommend the milkshakes…I’m sure there’s one for ya lady.”

Joel rubs his curly head with a stern look. “Alright. Get on ya bike. And don’t be coming’ over to my house in 9 months askin’ if my newborn can play with ya. You’re too old.”

“Likewise, silver!” The kid shouted, poking his tongue out before peddling away on his bike.

Joel scoffed, but then took a moment to feel his beard and stubble…wondering if those stray grays were getting less stray…

-

Gentleman Joel helped you into the passenger seat.

“Where we goin’? You ask, cooke crumbs cascading from your open mouth and all over the car seat.

He settles in and turns on the car.

He smirks. “Somewhere new. Its gonna be a surprise, baby—“

You grip his hair and yank him down to your nose. “Don’t pull this shit Miller, tell me where ya takin’ me,” you growl.

“ICE CREAM.  ITS ICE CREAM!” He shouts, and you quickly let go.

“Ooh yay!” You clap your hands together and face forward, excited once again.

It’s a 12 minute drive, not nearly as long as he thought. He’s taking a big risk, bringing you here without testing the goods first.

God, those $10 bucks he lost to that kid better have been worth it…

He parks along the side of the street. The shop is small on the outside, almost unnoticeable amongst the rows of boutiques and thrift stores.

He opens the door for you, and is instantly greeted by a heavenly, sweet, but tolerable gust of chocolate scented air.

Your jaw drops: “THE MOTHERSHIP!”

The place looked like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory.  Rows of handmade bite sized sweets and candy encrusted chocolate bars, with walls adorned with endless tubes of M&M’s, truffles, and caramel bites. The main eye catcher was the handmade ice cream section right in the middle with its rumbling state of the art soft serve machine and benders running a hundred miles a minute whipping up a decadent array of all sorts of flavors.

Joel should have paid that kid $50.

He loses you for just a moment ,but you’re already repeating your order while looking at the board at the cashier. “Yes the—Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy milkshake please. Can you add extra rainbow sprinkles?”

That sounds like death in a cup, Joel thinks.

She rings it up. “That’s $11.98.”

Your feet immediately shuffle to Joel.

It takes him a second to clear his ear out. “12 bucks for a milkshake??” He says a little too loudly. 

You stare at him with incessant, almost deadly eyes.

“I mean yeah. Here—“ he hands the cash.

They whip it up in no time. You’re too giddy standing at the receiving window, foots stammering back and forth like a little marcher as you’re handed an absolute chocolate monstrosity in a tall glass.

You tear the straw wrapper with your teeth, puck it in, and take that first sip.

This better have been worth it…

He waits for your reaction.

At first, nothing, but then a shiver runs through your entire body, not quite like a cold one but like an orgasm resetting your brain.

“Joel.”

“Yeah? How is it?”

“Let’s go home.”

“Why? What’s wrong.”

“Take me home now.”

Ah shit, it wasn’t good? What now? Why—“

“I want you to fuck me in the ass while I drink this—“

He covers your lips with his burly hand. “Alright just—lets use quiet voice—“

But you mumble through, with no care: “I want your big fat meaty cock absolutely devastating my pussy and rearranging my guts while I drink this, and then I’ll give you the sloppiest hand job known to man—“

He’s pushing you out the door as quickly as possible.

Guess even when it’s a good experience, he still shouldn’t be bringing you out in public.

You slurp your creamy shake all the way home. At one point, you offer him some, and he gladly dips his head so his tongue can capture the straw. He’s dying to know what all the fuss is about, especially since you’re rubbing on hand on your crotch while the other holds the shake.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t even have a second to start sucking before you pull it out of his mouth. “Don’t drink it all!” You scold, sucking it back down for yourself. 

Anyway, you two end up having some of the best sex of your life. 

And Joel learns $12 for a milkshake is a fantastic deal.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[1d1195]

Most VII

Read Most here | ~5.8k words

From me: Last part! (for now) I hope you like it. Thank you for sticking with it--I don't think it was very popular after all the additional parts, so I appreciate all of you for letting me finish it.

Warnings: angst but fluff. Probably need so suspend your belief a bit more (especially if you don't believe in soulmates)

Summary: She's safe. He's safe. There's nothing left to do but talk.

Harry didn’t let go of her when they put her in the ambulance. He held onto her hand the entire time. Nor when they put an oxygen mask on her beautiful face. He didn’t let go of her for one second when they arrived at the hospital.

Honestly, she couldn’t complain. She was tired. Exhausted, really. Her only other thought outside of her own traumatization of the day was that poor Harry had to be just as drained (or more) after being awake for over thirty-six hours—maybe even longer. But his hand squeezed hers while they looked her over. She held another oxygen mask over her mouth and inhaled deeply, repeatedly while Harry sat beside her on the little exam bed. It felt like she was breathing in the freshest air in the middle of the forest. But a huge part of her believed the same result would have been achieved if she hid her face in Harry’s shirt the way she wanted to and breathed in the same manner she was breathing with an oxygen mask.

“Are you feeling, okay?” The doctors asked her so many times while they ran tests and Harry seemed to hold his breath each time, like it would suddenly change.

“I’m really scared,” she admitted finally looking away from Harry’s worried eyes. “I’m so worried something’s wrong and I’m not going to notice,” her voice cracked. Harry squeezed her hand and watched her anxiously. Somehow, his smile was encouraging. But she wasn’t sure he fully believed it.

“You’re okay, baby,” he whispered quietly. But she saw it in his eyes. If he could swap places with her right then, he would have. After everything she put him through, he would still save her and take all the pain.

“I know,” the doctor looked her over sympathetically. “But I promise, I thoroughly checked everything. Your heart is strong. The oxygen is helping for sure. But to be sure, we want to keep you overnight for observation just to make sure... perhaps your boyfriend can grab you some of your belongings—”

“That’s okay,” she could see Harry was surprised to hear her say it and not himself. “I don’t want him to leave me.”

Harry thought his heart was going to break again. The word boyfriend didn’t deter her. It felt like part of his life snapped back into place. He thought the magnetic field had realigned the day he saw her in traffic, but it felt like the tilt of the earth finally righted itself to the correct position. This was it. Everything was back to normal.

At least as far as his heart was concerned.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Right,” the doctor smiled. Like she already knew of their love story by just looking at them. “Well... make yourselves comfortable, then.”

There was very little Harry could do about her fear. So if it was the only thing he could do, Harry was going to ensure she was comfortable.

*

He made her laugh like he used to. Part of him worried it wasn’t good for her achy, smoky lungs, but it didn’t matter. He loved to chat with her. Harry’s fingers never released hers. But to be fair, hers didn’t let go of his either. Not even though she was certain they were a bit cramped, and her mind worried that Harry was uncomfortable situated in the chair beside the bed. Their only reprieve was using the restroom. But then it was right back to interlocked fingers and the warmth of their palms slipping alongside one another.

He loved her so painfully much. He hoped it was enough.

The hours crept by. The fire, the waiting for an ambulance, their time in the ER, the admittance to a room, it all ticked by slowly and anxiously for the pair of them. But despite how it played out, she got her time after Harry’s shift to talk with him the way he wanted—the way she wanted. They talked for so long, the sun set across the room turning Harry’s skin into this beautiful golden shade that made him look utterly gorgeous. Like a painting in the finest museums in the world. But his eyes stayed on her the entire duration of the sunset.

Once the sun was down and the only light they had was from the bathroom, (because the fluorescents were so harsh and headache inducing for the two of them long term) Harry started to yawn and seemed to continue yawning for minutes on end.

That was when she finally remembered time existed. Time ceased to have meaning while she was with Harry. That time was spent putting their lives back together piece by piece; filling in gaps they didn’t know they were missing but belonged to the parts of each other they had shared with one another ages ago—before they even started dating. When fate decided they were soulmates and they didn’t have a choice in the matter.

By that time, the clock read just past nine when she noticed his yawns were becoming more frequent. She had been pulling the oxygen mask off and on for hours. Seeing his droopy eyes made her ache for something she hadn’t had in years. He was always beautiful and perfect, but something about sleepy, vulnerable Harry made her feel like she could protect him the way he always protected her.

“C’mere,” she wiggled backwards on the small twin hospital bed. She turned on her side to create more space for him. “I think I smell all smoky,” she warned.

Normally, Harry thought he would protest. She needed the rest. She was the one that inhaled all that smoke and Harry hogging her bed with his tall frame wasn’t needed. But his body ached to be closer to her. Closer than the space between her on the bed and him keeping vigil in the chair pulled close allowed. “Think I do too,” he shrugged. They both smelled like smoke. But Harry was certain if he could get close enough, she would smell like herself too; floral, warm, and just her. Like home.

Carefully, Harry slid onto the bed with her. Their legs touched. Thigh to thigh, knee to knee, foot to foot. He placed a hand on her hip pulling her lower half toward him and leaving a space between their torsos so he could look at her perfect, beautiful face.

They fit like puzzle pieces on her small mattress. The reasoning for her hospital visit wasn’t something he would want in a thousand years, but it was almost how he imagined sleeping on her bed in her dorm. Replacing a piece of something he missed out on.

She rested one hand on his ribs, right over his T-shirt. He thought he had died—the feel of her hand on his body was warm and overwhelming. For several moments, they just stared at each other. Like Harry was worried she would disappear again. “The doctor called me your boyfriend,” he whispered eventually.

She nodded. Her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry... I...” she swallowed. “I didn’t know what to say.”

It was starting to get quiet; hospital visiting hours were long over. There was no more chatter coming from other rooms. There was only the sound of beeping machines, the nurses, doctors, and others bustling outside her door. Their gentle breaths mixing together between them.

“Kitten,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are y’going t’leave me again?” His voice was low, and he hated asking the question because he thought it would upset her. Though it pained him, he needed to know. It was a risk he had to take; making her feel bad. Even if it hurt both of them.

She shook her head immediately. She drew in a deep breath and dropped her forehead forward to his chest and released the air in her lungs. “I won’t live, Harry.”

His lips quirked up into a sympathetic smile. “Think y’would, kitten,” he remarked sadly. “Y’did before.”

She shook her head again. “That wasn’t living, baby,” she murmured.

He closed his eyes and brought her hand to his mouth. “I love you so much. When y’say baby, s’like m’home. I haven’t been home kitten, not without you. Feels like I’ve been nowhere.”

“I thought nowhere was home,” she whispered, a smile in her voice.

When he opened his eyes, she was watching him. She reached for the oxygen mask again, not wanting to interrupt their moment of quiet longing, but immediately he helped her with it. He cupped her cheek around the mask and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “Why would y’listen t’her?”

She dropped her gaze. She was ashamed of herself. Listening to someone who was supposed to be her friend instead of just asking Harry what he was feeling. “I don’t know... She made sense at the time. Sometimes I think she still does... I mean don’t you want more, Harry? What if there is more out there for you than what I can offer? I couldn’t have imagined you up if I tried... but you? You always deserved more than—”

“No,” he shook his head refusing to let her short herself any longer of all the beauty she possessed, all the love, and kindness that she exuded. His hand held her cheek and he skimmed his thumb along cheekbone. “There’s no more, kitten. You’re the most. You, m’love, you are the only thing that exists for me. I’m so sorry y’were alone and felt like y’weren’t enough. You have always been more than enough. The most I could ever need. I’ve… I’ve never been so lost; I can’t imagine how y’felt.”

She turned her face toward his hand, lifted the mask so she could kiss his palm. “Why did you wait for me?” She whispered.

“Because you’re m’soulmate, kitten.”

“But... you don’t believe in those,” she whispered repeating her same statement from last night. It wasn’t something she ever dwelled on. She understood why he didn’t believe in them. Even if it was silly. But maybe it was the little bit of water that dripped into her head and watered the seed that Lauren had planted in her head a few years ago. It wasn’t his fault. Realistically, plenty of people didn’t believe in soulmates.

He shook his head, shrugged. But his eyes didn’t move from hers. “I believe you’re mine, baby.”

Her lower lip wobbled, and tears filled her vision. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry Harry,” her voice broke on every syllable. “I thought if I told you... you would convince me to stay. Then I thought staying would just make you resent me because you never got a chance to... this way... I don’t know... it’s like I’m here now, yeah? And I know now—but I should have known then, right? God Harry, this is so fucked. I fucked up so bad and—” now her monitor displayed an increased heartrate, and her breath was shallow—like she was starting to hyperventilate. So much so that Harry put the mask back over her mouth and shushed her soothingly. He stroked the remainder of her face gently with the back of his hand while her eyes wildly flitted over his face.

“You’re here now,” he told her after the heart monitor read a normal level. “And I’m never letting you get away. Never ever again.” Sighing, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his chest once more. He kissed the top of her hair and just enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms. The way he dreamed of feeling her. “Gemma actually told me that—”

A spike in her monitor. “Oh my God, she’s going to hate me forever,” she cried, voice breaking. “I should have stayed away,” she moaned. He pulled the oxygen mask away and kissed her softly. It felt so normal. As everything he had felt since he started seeing her these last couple weeks. Touching her, seeing her, hearing her, all of it felt like no time had passed.

When he pulled away, his lips missing the way hers felt against his, her heart rate was steady again. Her cheeks flushed and Harry thought she tasted like smoke, but she still tasted like her too. “Baby, she does not hate you. No one hates you. I’ll make sure of it,” he assured her. “I wish y’told me, but s’not your fault.”

“You’re way too forgiving,” she grumbled.

“God, for you?” He chuckled and kissed the bridge of her nose. “I was going t’tell you that Gem won’t hate you. She said she knew y’were coming back.”

“How could she have possibly known that?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “She said she felt it. She jus’ knew.” There was a prolonged moment of silence while she thought that over. While Harry continued to touch her face as if it was the only thing he was born to do.

“Wish she clued me in,” she grumbled.

He laughed quietly again.

*

When the clock read midnight, it was even quieter in the hospital room. The gentle beeping of machines started to sound like a lullaby. They had stopped talking a long time ago, but they didn’t fall asleep. It felt like making up for lost time. Harry was analyzing her face. Her pores were filled with smoke and Harry inspected the bits of glass that managed to cut her palms from her crawling to safety. He kissed her softly across her pretty face. Like a reminder to himself that she was real and tangible. His lips made a home against her temple. A spot he loved to leave his mouth pressed against—like it was home while her lips were busy.

She was weaning off the oxygen, letting a little under an hour pass in between her use of it. “Hi,” she whispered softly.

He smiled. “Hi,” he dragged his nose along her hairline and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. She fiddled with the fabric of his shirt, right near his collar.

“What did you do while I was gone?” Her voice was quiet. Fading with sleepiness. Harry may have even blinked his eyes closed for a short nap a couple hours prior, but he was content to just stare at her. Ensure that she wasn’t going to leave again.

He trailed his fingers along the side of her face, through the bit of hair that rested against her head along the pillow. He smiled. Smiled more than he thought was possible because at the time he thought his hobby was so dumb. Felt like he was going to die most days without her because she was fresh air and his little ways of keeping himself entertained were hardly a replacement for how she would have fit into his life so effortlessly.

Now... now it seemed like the most important thing he had ever done, and it wasn’t that he had to tell her about it because she asked, he needed to tell her. “I... I got... really into carpentry.”

She snorted; a laugh followed immediately. Arguably the most beautiful sound Harry knew. “Shut up.”

“No... like...” he started to laugh with her. “Like... really into it. Made Mum a bit crazy at times, I think,” he tilted his head back. “Made tables, chairs... I fixed door frames and did trim...”

“Stop, I can’t breathe,” she laughed. The kind of laughter she felt with Addie that night they became best friends. Back when she thought she would never laugh again. “Why?” She covered her face with her hand to stifle her giggles. But Harry made her laugh like it was nothing. As if he made her laugh every day that he wasn’t around her.

He shook his head. “I don’t know...” her laugh was infectious. It made him happy to hear it and he had no choice but to laugh just as hard. “I really don’t. I feel like I should be sad telling y’about it. But I loved it. So, so much.”

“What was your favorite thing to make?”

“Chairs.”

“I think this might be worse than the smoke inhalation,” she laughed again, becoming breathless but Harry didn’t mind this kind of breathlessness. Plus, they still had her oxygen mask. Harry thought it might have been, in the very smallest of ways, good that she left if it made her laugh like this.

Eventually, her laughter died down. There was another bout of quiet for a few moments longer. Then finally Harry asked. “What did y’do?”

Harry was watching her, wiping the tears that came from her heavy laughter from the corners of her eyes. He kissed her forehead again. “I knitted.”

“What?”

“I knitted.”

“Knitted what?”

“Oh my God, Harry. Everything.” It was his turn to laugh, thinking of her surrounded with yarn, covered with yarn. Her bed and desk covered with needles, sweaters, hats, mittens.

“Y’jus’ turned into a little old grandma?” He snorted.

“Yeah, I guess,” she giggled. The clock read two in the morning. She tried to calculate it in her head, but Harry had to have been awake for nearly forty-eight hours at that point. He grabbed the oxygen mask and placed it over her mouth. They were quiet while she took in the pure air. Harry pushed her hair behind her head and trailed his fingers over her cheek.

“Do y’feel okay?” He asked.

She nodded. He put it aside again after a few moments and he kissed her forehead. “What did you miss most about me?” She whispered.

The feeling of longing overtook his body. It was so hard to imagine he had been without her for so long. When they fit together like they did on the little bed, when they sounded like happiness when they laughed together. It wasn’t just missing her. It was agony without her. Like she had taken his heart with her. “Everything, kitten,” he shook his head. “I missed everything ‘bout you.”

She sighed, looked at his chest, outlined the cross below his shirt. It was still covered in smoke and soot from carrying her out. “No, but...” she smiled softly. “Like materially—what did you miss?”

The air felt lighter and maybe she already knew he missed everything about her. The reprieve of seriousness felt a little better. There would be ample time to hash out details regarding how serious it was. How she was to never believe another person about his love for her that wasn’t him (or someone completely vetted like Louis or Sarah). “Oh,” he paused. “Those cheesy potatoes y’make for parties.”

Her laugh made him feel like he could do impossible things. It easily could have been the thing he missed most. “I’ll make them as soon as I get my hands on a kitchen.”

“Oh, baby, you are going t’make me cry,” he squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. “Did y’miss anything ‘bout me?” He asked.

“Harry,” she sighed, nosed at his chest. “Wasn’t just anything. It was everything.”

It felt like his heart was smiling. He tilted her head up and gazed into her eyes. “I meant materially,” he smirked taking her own joke.

Without hesitation, she answered. “I haven’t had my back properly cracked in three years.”

“God, I fucking love you,” he whispered.

She giggled. “I love you too,” she responded. She grabbed his cheeks, kissed his lips long enough to make him think his heart might stop, and then dropped her head back to his chest.

An undeterminable amount of time passed again. There was no more chatting or kissing. It was just nearly pathetic staring; gazing at one another waiting for the other to disappear like a mirage they didn’t know they were seeing. But her eyes drooped lower and Harry yawned. The clock read shortly after two thirty. “We should sleep.”

He shook his head, worry set deep in his eyes that she wished she could rip out and throw away. “M’afraid s’a dream.”

She frowned. “I really hope it’s not.”

He smiled, comforted by the fact the feeling was mutual. “If this is a dream,” he started. “Can y’do me a favor?” He asked. She nodded, waited. “Can y’come home t’me?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately then tucked herself further into his embrace. “As soon as I wake up,” she promised.

He smiled, kissed the top of her head again and gently rubbed a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, kitten?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“God Harry, I love you so much.”

Then, because there was truly nothing else that they could say of the last forty-eight hours, they fell asleep.

*

They woke up to the door slamming open against the hospital wall. Harry squeezed her protectively and her heart clenched at the motion. The clock read eleven AM exactly.

Which meant it was officially visiting hours and the first people in the room were Addie and Carter. “Move,” Addie physically pulled Harry off the bed. “You’ve had her long enough now,” she winked at her as she took his spot and kissed her forehead. Harry snorted and then laughed because Harry could never believe such a thing. He could have had her all those three years, every single day, and he would never have enough time with her. “You’re an idiot,” Addie whispered loudly so everyone could hear her say it.

Carter ignored Addie, leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Hey Gorgeous,” he smiled giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You didn’t need to do all this to get us to visit.”

She was groggy with sleep and anxiety. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Harry called us,” Addie wiped the soot from beneath her eyes because it was still caked into her pores. At the same time, the room filled with their remaining friends. There were balloons and flowers, a massive teddy bear.

“Aw, you didn’t bring coffee?” She frowned then winked in fake disappointment.

“Oh,” Harry cleared his throat. “We can’t go to the coffee shop on Main anymore.”

She frowned immediately. This one was not fake. “How come?”

Sarah made eye contact with Harry and had a whole conversation with him just using her eyes. “I knew it,” she mumbled.

Harry scuffed his foot along the floor ignoring Sarah’s quip. “The owners of the coffee shop own the apartment building. S’a whole scandal,” he explained. Which was in part truth. He took a phone call in the early morning from the fire chief while she was fast asleep against his chest. The building was condemned and everything inside it was lost. “Insurance fraud,” he explained simply.

“Jesus,” Niall blinked rubbing a hand over his face. “Bet you’re glad y’storage unit was delayed, now, huh princess?” He smiled sympathetically.

“Oh my God, your notebooks,” Addie whispered realizing how right Niall was.

The heart monitor betrayed her with a small spike and alarm. She swallowed nervously, blushed as everyone looked at her. “Burnt toast, I guess.”

“Grim, babe,” Louis snorted making everyone laugh.

“No, it’s a theory,” she rolled her eyes. “If you burn your toast, it means you have to make new toast. Saves you from a car accident or from being in a place you’re not supposed to be at a specific time. Or you’re the fifth person in line that morning and you get a free coffee.”

“Burnt toast,” he repeated. “Well, I have saved my own life a lot of times then,” he chuckled.

“I think the three toasters you’ve killed would disagree,” Eleanor smiled.

“Are you feeling okay?” Carter asked.

She bit her lip. “I think so... I’m pretty sure I’m going to be allowed to leave soon...but I really need a shower. I wish I had some clothes to—”

“Way ahead of you,” Sarah grabbed the duffle bag Mitch had on his shoulder. He gave her a wink. “Harry thought you might want to be rid of smoky clothes and hair.”

She thought it would be too much to say Harry was her hero in front of their friends. So she would tell him later. Repeatedly.

*

“What are you going to do?” Addie asked as she signed the discharge papers. Her hair was air drying; her skin was less smoky. She watched the black water swirl into the drain during her much-needed shower and with it rid herself of the traumatic day

“I don’t know,” she sighed, laying the pen flat on the clipboard. Addie was seated beside her, not an inch of space between them. “Any chance you and Carter wouldn’t mind your old roommate?” She asked with a smile.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” Addie rolled her eyes. “You’re not seriously going to move back with us after all this?” She asked.

“Addie,” she whispered hoping no one heard her. It seemed they hadn’t as the rest of the group was gathering all the items they had lugged in only a couple hours prior. Harry was getting off the phone near the window. Carter was reentering the room with Mitch; carrying two trays of coffee and bags of food filled the room with the most enticing smells of breakfast sandwiches and espresso. “I don’t really know what else to—”

“Harry!” Addie smiled delightedly hopping off the bed and hurrying to Harry’s side. He was off the phone and in the middle of a conversation with Niall.

“Addison!” She shouted, voice breaching hysterical immediately. She hopped off the bed and yanked her back away from Harry as quickly as she could. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

“Ow!” Addie pulled her arm from her. “Harry, I hate to put you on the spot like this—”

“Addie, I swear to God!”

“—but I am rather enjoying walking around the apartment naked with my boyfriend and would love to continue such. Is there anyway—”

“Addison,” Carter chuckled, prying her fingertips from Addie’s arm. “She’s going to stop breathing if you—”

“—you have room in your house for a roommate?”

She slapped a hand over her eyes and felt embarrassment curl through her. “Your girlfriend is a pain in the ass,” she whispered to Carter.

“I know, it’s the best,” he winked even though she couldn’t see it.

“Oh... um... I jus’ got off the moving company t’move your storage pod t’my place,” Harry sounded a little uncomfortable. Awkward. “It’ll be a couple days, but they’ll do it,” she peeked from between her fingers at his face. It was slightly flushed, embarrassed. “If that’s too much though... Niall was jus’ saying y’could have his one-bedroom ‘til y’figure out—”

“She’ll stay with you!” Addie chirped excitedly.

Harry chuckled. “Addie,” he smiled appreciatively. “I want her t’be comfortable.”

She shoved her toward him with so much force Harry had to hold her to keep her from falling unsteadily. “I can’t imagine a place—no, an entire universe—where she would be more comfortable,” Addie assured him.

“That’s a lot to spring on someone, Addie,” she snapped, glaring at her; her face half covered from where she had buried it into Harry’s fresh T-shirt brought along with new belongings for her as well.

“I don’t mind, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head encouragingly. “Was going t’suggest it as we walked out.”

*

They all gathered in front of the hospital. Planning their next stop. “I uh...” she shook her head. “I gotta make a lot of phone calls.”

“Can we meet up for dinner?” Carter suggested.

Everyone nodded, full of smiles and excitement. “Do you guys need help back to your hotel?” Louis asked.

“You guys got a hotel? You should have stayed with us!” Sarah frowned.

As the plans were discussed, Addie gave her a huge hug, kissed the side of her head then pulled away and looked at her. She was tired, probably still filled with a bit of smoke, but Addie thought she looked more like the picture still on her fridge than she had the entire time she’d known her.

“I’m so proud of you for jumping,” Addie bloomed with pride which made her cheeks flush pink.

“Shut. Up,” Eleanor laughed.

“Of course you read that,” Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Oh man,” Niall groaned. “What was it? Three months?”

“That’s generous. Maybe one month,” Mitch was scrolling on his phone. “Last message I have about it is a month and a half ago,” he held it up for proof.

“It was extremely well written,” Harry grumbled bitterly.

“What was well written?” Carter asked winking at her. Addie for once was silent. Watching her carefully for her reaction which was currently stoically still.

“Harry, who has never picked up a magazine a day in his life,” Eleanor explained to Carter. “Was at the doctor’s office. Losing his mind as he always was and decided to leaf through one of the magazines on the coffee table in the waiting room.”

“He then proceeded to read us the article no less than twenty times in a row and explain everything he thought about it. How it reminded him of you. How he wanted to jump so badly and reset everything in his life,” Niall completed.

She turned to look at Harry; head tilted curiously. A pucker between her eyebrows as she examined him like she was seeing him for the first time.

“It sounded like you,” his cheeks turned pink. “M’sorry, kitten; it was jus’... so good. Sounded like something you would ramble about and then scribble down during a rainstorm. It reminded me so much of you... s’like I had something t’hold onto.”

Carter snickered watching the panic on her face ensue.

“Well, Harry. I’ll tell you why it reminded you so much of her. But you already figured it out.”

She looked at her feet, face burning with embarrassment that another six people knew some of her most inner thoughts. Her anonymity for something that broke her to write because she missed Harry wasn’t a full secret anymore.

The group remained quiet. Silent except for cars rolling through the parking lot as everyone processed what Addie said.

“You’re joking,” Eleanor whispered finally. “You... you wrote that?”

“She did,” Carter smiled. “In our English class. Addie insisted she publish it.”

“You used a pen name?” Niall asked. She nodded silently, embarrassed that they had read arguably one of her most personal ideas. “Wow,” he whispered. “What are the chances?”

“I told all of you,” Harry wrapped his arm around her tighter. Probably tighter than someone with worry about their lungs needed to be held, but he kissed the top of her hair once more. “I knew it was you,” he whispered in her ear.

“It’s framed in his house,” Louis said. “That is insane.”

“Soulmate stuff, I guess,” she shrugged, cheeks still tinted red. But the only person who heard was Harry. Which was really how she meant it to be anyway.

*A few days later*

“Jesus Christ,” she snapped and dropped the end of the couch to the storage pod floor again. Harry ran to her side and pulled her hand from her mouth to examine her injured index finger.

“I thought y’were kidding,” he smirked. “Some magnet y’got in there,” he pressed his lips against her digit and then her forehead.

She shook her head. “It’s ridiculous!” she frowned.

“I got it, love. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy anyway,” Mitch reminded her and put a hand on her shoulder as he gently nudged the pair of them out of the way. Niall winked at her as he lifted the other end while Harry examined the small puncture wound as seriously as if she had split her aorta right in front of him.

Quietly, they were alone while their friends moved all her stuff into Harry’s little house. Sarah and Eleanor distracted Mrs. Peterson while the boys moved the heavy stuff. And Harry just looked at her finger. “Are you sure about this?” She whispered.

“Please don’t make me beg,” he murmured. “I will,” he nodded. “I’ll beg and scream and fight if y’want me to,” he squeezed her hand and dropped it between them and smiled at her. “But I don’t want to.”

She smiled back, squeezed his hand, and stepped closer to him. He wrapped his arm around the top of her shoulders. Gently, she shook her head, dropped her head against the front of his shoulder. “No... I don’t want that. I’m just... it’s a lot. I’ve only been in town three weeks,” she reminded him.

“But baby,” he sighed, kissed her temple. The way he spoke made her sleepy. The way he held her made her feel so safe—like she could fall asleep standing right next to him.

It would take a bit of work. Reassurance that she was enough. Part of him felt guilty that he hadn’t clued her in on that fact long before. It seemed like it was known. The two of them fit so completely together he never thought he would need to remind her that she was enough. More than enough. More than he could ever dream of or want.

But he would do it. They were together. He would reassure her every day. He would try his hand at poetry if he needed to do it. If it meant that she would stay and not worry.

Harry met her gaze, held it for so long part of her really wondered if she had fallen asleep. “You’re home.”

And she saw it all. Always had. She saw their friends hosting or coming to cookouts with little ones that would expand their little friend circle. She saw Harry carrying her to bed because she refused to fall asleep in the bedroom without him while his shift wasn’t over. She saw the books and pens and notebooks that he would buy for her even though she was certain she wouldn’t fill them all (even if she did).  She saw the little ones that had Harry’s green eyes and his perfect curls. She hoped they’d get his dimples and his kindness. The world deserved more Harry. There would be too many wooden chairs that Harry would make, and she would help stain, for them to put in their yard. There was everything in her little vision. All centered around the most perfect person she knew. The person she was lucky to call her soulmate. Even after all that time.

If it all was a dream like Harry had suggested in the hospital, then it was worth it, because the moment she woke up she would run back to him. She would beg and scream and fight if she needed to.

Because this was everything. It was more than she could ever want.

“Do you mean, I’m home? Like I’m at home or I am home. Like home is me?” She asked.

“You already know the answer t’that, my love.”

It was the most she would ever need.

--

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[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 23: In Focus

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: more opportunities...

Welcome to the chapter 23 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader’s POV

The past few days had been… intense, to say the least. But somehow, through all the tension and heavy conversations, Paige and I had found our way back to each other. Things still weren’t perfect—life rarely was—but for the first time in what felt like weeks, we weren’t dancing around unspoken feelings or fears.

We decided to go on a date that night, something simple and lowkey, just the two of us. No basketball, no cameras, no looming WNBA talk—just Paige and me.

When she picked me up from my apartment, she was wearing her favorite UConn hoodie, her hair pulled back into a loose bun. “You ready?” she asked, flashing me that smile that always made my heart skip.

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my bag and locking the door behind me.

Paige had planned for us to grab food at a small diner just outside of town. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was perfect. We slid into a booth near the back, away from prying eyes, and ordered burgers and milkshakes.

As we ate, I noticed how relaxed Paige seemed. She laughed more, teased me about my poor attempt at organizing fries into “photo-worthy” stacks, and even let me take a candid picture of her with whipped cream on her nose.

“This is going on my wall,” I joked, showing her the photo.

“Oh, great. Just what I need—my worst moment immortalized forever,” she teased, but her grin told me she didn’t mind.

“Your worst moment? Paige, please. You’ve had far worse,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Name one,” she challenged, leaning back with her arms crossed.

“When you tripped during warm-ups last week and tried to play it off like it didn’t happen.”

Her mouth fell open. “You saw that?”

“Paige, everyone saw that.”

She groaned, covering her face with her hands, but she was laughing, and that made my chest feel warm.

The next morning, I woke up to an email from the athletics department of a rival school—Jade’s school. They were asking if I’d be interested in covering their game against Lsu.

I hesitated. On one hand, it was an amazing opportunity to expand my portfolio, but on the other… it felt a little weird. I texted Jade to ask her opinion.

Jade: Do it! I wanna see you at the game. Plus, get that bag.

Her encouragement gave me the final push I needed. I replied to the athletics department, agreeing to cover the game—under one condition.

I’ll cover the game if you’re willing to pay my rate.

To my surprise, they agreed.

By the time game day rolled around, I was running on adrenaline. I finished my classes early, packed my camera gear, and made my way to the airport to catch the UConn team before their flight to USC.

When I arrived, the team was already gathering in the terminal. I spotted a few of the girls chatting near the boarding gate, but it was Paige who saw me first. Her face lit up when our eyes met, and before I knew it, she was walking toward me, her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice warm and familiar.

“Hi,” I replied, feeling my heart race as she pulled me into a hug.

We lingered there for a moment longer than we probably should have. The team was right there, after all, and we weren’t exactly public yet. But in that moment, it was hard to care about anything else.

When we pulled back, our faces were inches apart. For a split second, it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

“Paige,” I whispered, glancing around nervously.

She sighed, stepping back reluctantly. “Right. Not public.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the thought of being caught.

“I’ll see you after the game, back home” she said, her voice low and teasing.

“Good luck,” I replied, watching as she turned to rejoin her teammates.

As the team started boarding, I pulled out my camera, snapping a few candid shots of the players as they walked onto the plane. Paige noticed, of course. She grinned and held her hood out to cover her face, her eyes peeking over the edge as if to tease me.

“Really?” I mouthed, lowering the camera.

She just shrugged, her smile never fading.

Later that night, as I reviewed the photos I’d taken, I couldn’t help but smile at the ones of Paige. She was beautiful, even in her goofiest moments, and I felt lucky to capture her in a way most people didn’t get to see.

When my phone buzzed with a text from her, I wasn’t surprised.

Paige: Did you get any good ones?

Me: Maybe.

Paige: Let me see.

Me: Only if you promise not to make fun of me.

Paige: No promises, ma.

I laughed, shaking my head. Despite everything we’d been through, we were still us—teasing, laughing, and figuring things out as we went. And for now, that was enough.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @sevyscoven , @authentic-girl03 , @starlighttsv .... (more to be added)

[mythicmanuscripts]

ok listen I’m gonna need more sensitive sub!jace. Like right now. Immediately. I am just in awe I love this concept so much. can you maybe discuss how the first time having actual sex would go? I feel like maybe it’s something Jace would try to warn you about again before you have sex?

I am so glad we are gaining more members of the sensitive!jace agenda!!!

NSFW sub!jace under the cut :))

So for any lads who missed my last Jace post: I wrote about Jace cumming from grinding against your thigh before the wedding. He cums in his clothes and then almost instantly he’s so sensitive and overwhelmed because the fabric touching his cock is too much. You have to help him walk to the bed and gently take his pants off for him while he whines and shakes. He’s too sensitive to even clean himself yet. When you return from putting his clothes away he’s crying, getting hit hard by the endorphin drop he always experiences after he cums. You climb into bed with him, holding him tight until he drifts off to sleep and then sneak back into your own room so no one finds out.

After that incident, I think Jace would start to avoid you actually? Cause yeah you helped him, but he thinks that’s just because you’re a good person. He’s convinced that if he does come face to face with you, you’ll call off the wedding or call him pathetic or demand he tells his mother to marry him to another.

And he doesn’t want that!! He really really doesn’t. Cause as much as he was overwhelmed and sensitive, it still felt so good in the moment and honestly, he really loved having you take care of him? Once you pulled him into your arms, he stopped feeling so shaky and scared and he fell asleep so easily.

He would love to have that again, to have that every night in fact but he’s so certain you’re disgusted with him now.

So in all honesty he’s a little shocked when you actually arrive to the wedding and play your part and kiss him when it’s over. You keep a hold of his hand the entire evening, because you fear if you let go then he’ll disappear again. You had wanted to give him enough space to come back to you on his own time, but he’s ran out of time now, you’re married now.

The two of you retire to your new shared living quarters early, and poor side is flustered and nervous from the moment the door closes behind you two.

You ask him what happened, ask him if you somehow made him uncomfortable and he immediately assures you that you didn’t. You ask why he hasn’t spoken to you after that night then, and that’s when he says that he thought you wouldn’t want to be with him anymore.

When you tell him that you loved every second of it, including caring for him. You say that you’re his wife now, and it’s your job to keep those parts of him protected and safe. You would be honoured to have that privilege.

Which… poor Jace doesn’t even know what to say to that so he just kisses you and clings to you because the knowledge that his wife actually wants that side of him is too much for him. Brain off, no more Jace, only pretty wife.

Things get heated, because of course they do and pretty soon Jace pulls away and warns you. He’s panting hard and blushing even harder and stumbling over his words as he tries to explain that he always get that’s sensitive after he finishes and he always feels that sadness afterwards and that he thinks it might be even worse than normal for his first time actually having sex.

In that moment you promise yourself that you will always protect him. This soft, sweet side of him must be kept safe always.

Because Jace is well, Jace, he of course wants to please you. He wants you to feel good too!! Of course he does.

But he has no idea how because honestly he doubts he’ll manage to last long enough for that and he certainly can’t give you anything after he cums.

You tentatively suggest oral sex and Jace’s eyes just light up. Instantly he’s so so on board. A way to make you feel good with no risk of him cumming too soon and ruining the ensure mood? Incredible.

You have to direct him of course.

At first you say you can lay on the bed and Jace can lay on his tummy been your legs, but then Jace blushes even harder and looks away and eventually mumbles, “The… the linen against me might be too much…”

Which… yeah it’s official you’d die for him.

You end up sitting on the comfortable armchair that faces the bed while Jace kneels in front of you. He follows your every instruction and honestly he has the time of his life. This is genuinely better than actually cumming for him. He’s utterly obsessed. He can hear you moan and say his name and tell him how well he’s doing and he’s truly on cloud 9. He would like to never leave the space between your thighs ever again. He’s just gonna camp out here from now on.

The poor thing actually whines and protests when you pull him away. He’s already given you two orgasms but he’s not done!!! He wants more!! Jace would never be greedy about his own pleasure, but this? He’s an absolute glutton about this.

You have to pull him by his hair and tell him that you’re getting too sensitive. He understands of course and would never disobey you, but he does make it very clear that he wishes to do more.

Then the actual sex happens. Jace is, of course, rock hard when you remove his clothes. He’s been hard ever since you suggested he eat you out but honestly he hadn’t even noticed, he was too absorbed in making you feel good.

Trying to work out the right position takes a moment, because as much as you would love to ride the fuck out of him, you’re uncertain if it’s the best because you’d be sitting directly on his cock after he cums and that might be too much for in.

So you suggest missionary, because Jace can easily pull out whenever. When you explain this line of thought, Jace kinda just lets out a broken sob and kisses you again. He can’t believe how lucky he is.

And god, watching his face when he enters you? You’ll never be the same again.

His face scrunches up for a moment and then slackens as he tries to take some steady breaths. He sheaths himself fully in you, and then kinda just stays there for a moment and tries not to immediately lose it.

You direct his head towards you and kiss him softly until he’s ready to move.

And he’s so slow with it? Honestly you don’t even try to get him to speed up because the view you’re getting is insane. Pretty soon he’s shaking and crying and mumbling that he’s close.

You haven’t cum yet, but you didn’t expect to. He made you cum twice earlier, and now all you really want is to see him fall apart. He whines and shakes his head when he hears this, because he doesn’t like the idea of you not cumming again but at the same time the poor thing can barely hold himself together.

In the end, you pull his head down, kiss his neck and then whisper that he can eat his own cum out of you once he’s done.

And well, he’s done. Absolutely no way he could fight it after hearing that. He gasps out a sound that is similar to your name and buries himself fully on you. You can feel the little bucks of his hips as he empties himself and then just prompt collapses.

You kiss his cheeks, telling him he was perfect and then telling him to quickly pull out before he gets too sensitive. Of course he’s already too sensitive, but he manages to quickly pull out and collapse next to you. He slowly rolls onto his back and pants, looking at you with nothing but love and adoration as tries to calm down again.

You brush his hair off his forehead, his entire body is covered in a slight sheen of sweat and his thighs are still shaking a little. You end up sitting up against the headboard and gently pulling him into your lap. His head rests on your lap and he just breathes for a little bit, pressing kisses to your tummy every now and then and eventually lifting his hand up to show you that he wants you to hold it.

When he’s clearly starting to recover a little more, you start talking.

“That feel good?” You ask him, your voice light and loving. Of course you already know the answer, but you just want to give him some sweet loving teasing as he slowly comes back.

He hums in response and presses more kisses to your tummy.

You see tears start to form in his eyes and you quickly wipe them away as they fall, telling him that you couldn’t be happier with how he performed. He was absolutely perfect for you.

He actually manages to feel a lot better a lot quicker which he really didn’t expect. But he supposes it makes sense, he’s not on his own as his endorphins drop, he’s practically being petted.

You just about think he’s fallen asleep when he opens his eyes again and gives you a lazy smile.

“Can I do it now?” He asks, smiling.

“Do what?” You ask.

“You said I could go down on you again. Can I do it now? Please?” You chuckle, because you honestly didn’t expect him to even remember that.

“Please?” He whines again, pouting when you don’t respond immediately. What you realise then is that while Jace will get all sad and weepy and uncomfortable when left on his own after he cums, when you’re there to help him he kinda just turns into a softer, needier version of himself?

And well, there’s certainly no need to deny him.

[piftamere]

satoru ending (wc : 1.6k ; cw : hospital room, brief description of the crash, mentions of death)

in your hospital bed, you feel small, you look small too. you're paler than usual, dark circles surround your tired eyes. you broke your left arm and now a cast envelops it.

“never scare me like that again” and a couple “i love you”s can be read on the white bandages, written by yuuji and kugisaki. flowers, ballons and a teddy bear decorate your room.

the doctor came by earlier, you're going to be okay. you should be out of the hospital in a few days. the police came too but megumi told them to come back tomorrow. you’re thankful he did.

megumi, yuuji and kugi look exhausted but they're smiling, you don’t have the heart to ask them to leave so you can rest. their presence is comforting, you’ll sleep later.

your ribs hurt when you breathe and even worse when you laugh, but you still reward yuuji’s poor attempts at lightening the mood with a chuckle. you can tell he needs it, you all need it.

when you recognized the driver as satoru’s former assistant, your heart missed a beat. you asked her to stop the car, but she started ranting to you, accusing you of ruining her life, of using people then discarding them.

you were so scared, you really thought you were going to die in that car. she kept speeding while not focusing on the road. going on and on about how you were a terrible person. and when she swerved off the road to avoid another car, you saw your life flash before your eyes. you saw the faces of everyone you would never get to see again. satoru’s face.

you’ll never forget the fear you felt when the car flipped over.

your thoughts are interrupted by frantic knocks on the bedroom door, megumi invites them in.

satoru walks in, he looks like a shell of himself, his hair is messy, his eyes are red.

“we’ll leave you two alone.” megumi says to you, his hand on your shoulder, before gesturing for everyone else to leave the room.

he sits down in the chair next to your bed, panic still evident in his eyes. “how are you feeling?”

“better now that you’re here.” you give him a soft smile, taking his hand in yours. you see him visibly relax.

“are you in pain?”

“a little, but i’m okay don’t worry.”

“i’ll always worry about you.”

“i know.” you say with a small smile.

“i was so scared.” the words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. he’s staring down at your joined hands. “it’s my fault it happened. i never thought she’d take it this far, i’m so sorry.”

even if it hurts to speak, you need to say this. for him.

“how could you have guessed that your ex-assistant was insane to the point of stalking me for months and pretend to be my uber to confront me, or kill me i don’t really know what was her plan… that she would lose control of the car and that we’d have an accident. even a psychic couldn’t predict that satoru.”

hearing it out loud, it sounds ridiculous. satoru chuckles halfheartedly, wiping off a stray tear, but he stays silent.

“do you know why i was in that car?” you say barely above a whisper, squeezing his fingers to get his attention. he turns his head to look at you, you can clearly see the tears in his eyes now. he shakes his head.

“because you had an interview?”

“it’s funny because i was doing the interview, answering the same old questions and i started talking about my love for music, how it’s my passion and the only thing i want to do in life, how i feel like it’s what i was born to do you know?” he nods along, “but while i was rambling on and on, something felt wrong, it was different from all the other times i’d given that same speech. because all i could think about was you. that’s how i feel about you too. i love you, and i’m tired of pretending i don’t.”

his eyes widen, bottom lip quivering as he starts full on crying, tears streaming down his face and you panic, trying to wipe them away.

“i didn’t want to make you cry! i’m sorry satoru! i take it ba-” before you can finish your sentence, he places his hand on your mouth.

“don’t even think about taking it back.” he sniffles, melting into your touch, your hand still on his cheek. “i’m just a little emotional today, i’m fine. i love you too, more than you can even imagine.” he takes his hand off your mouth.

you exhale deeply, relieved to see he stopped crying. “okay, good…”

he takes both of your hands in his, looking into your eyes as he speaks. “i know it’s probably not what you want, given how much you love what you do and how hard you worked for all of this, but i need to say it. if this was the one thing that makes you want to quit, i get it. because a part of me wants to convince you to quit too. i don’t think i could stand losing you, these past few hours have felt like a living hell, and i would give up on everything if it meant keeping you safe, next to me. so just say the word, now or in 5 months, and i’ll leave it all behind, for you. If you’ll let me, of couse.” he looks down where your hands are joined, his voice trembling slightly. “but if you choose to keep going, i swear to protect you, i won’t let anything like this happen ever again.”

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. “i’ll think about it,” you say softly. “i’m probably going to take a break but i don’t want to quit. i’m not saying i’ll never change my mind, but i love what i do too much.” you give him a reassuring smile. “and how likely is it that i’d get stalked twice, right?” you chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

he shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips but worry still clear on his face.

“i’ve never seen you so serious ‘toru. come on, smile.” you say with a pout, poking his cheek where his dimple usually is. his smile grows a bit but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. still, it’s good enough for now. your voice hoarse, you say warmly, “oh there it is.”

you scoot over to the side of the bed, tapping on the covers to invite him to join you.

“come. you can’t say no, i almost died today.”

“i wouldn't dream of saying no.”

he climbs on, careful not to touch your cast, he wraps his arms around you, gently, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

in his embrace, the tension that has been gripping your body since the accident begins to ease. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calms you down. you finally feel safe, for the first time since the crash. the hospital room and the pain fade away, and all that remains is the warmth of his body against yours.

you close yours eyes, his fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm.

“can i tell you a story?” his voice is soft, gentle.

you nod, “sure.”

“do you remember when we met?”

“yeah,” you say, a chuckle escaping despite the pain. “i thought you were an asshole.”

he coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly. “well, i was… but…”

“but?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“but,” he continues, “the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be someone important to me. you had this fire in your eyes, this determination. even though you were giving me the cold shoulder, i couldn’t help but be drawn to you.”

you tilt your head, gazing up at him. “really? i always thought you just enjoyed getting under my skin.”

he laughs warmly, the sound a comforting wave against your back. “maybe a little. but that was just my way of trying to get close to you. i remember watching you from across the room that first night, thinking, ‘i have to get to know her.’ there was something about you, something that called me.”

the memory of that night comes back to you. “you were so cocky, acting like you owned the place.”

he chuckles a bit sheepishly, a whine escaping his lips, “i’m sorryyyy, i was trying to impress you and it backfired. i really didn’t want to make a fool of myself…”

“and yet you did.” you tease lightly.

“and look where that got me.” he grins, tightening his hold on you.

there’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again, “so… am i your boyfriend now?”

you hum, “hm if you’d do me the honor yes.”

“and you’re my girlfriend?” he whispers into your neck, you can feel him smile against your skin.

“that’s usually how it works yes.” you mumble as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

fun facts :

satoru's the one who changed his contact name to "my pest"

they moved in together a few months after the accident

satoru's already thinking about proposing after one year together and yn has to keep reminding him that they don't have to rush it

megumi and yn still see each other often despite not living together anymore, and they keep working together too

author's note

ignore if some things dont make sense :3

satoru got his happy ending, megumi and maki are next dw !! 😗😗

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part thirty-eight - the end

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

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