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[vaahomedecor]

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[moonstruckme]

hi lovie!! Would u ever do a fic of Remus or any of the other mauraders with a gf who's super insecure about her stretch marks?

Of course! Thank you angel <3

cw: reader is insecure about stretch marks

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 540 words

Remus is in one of his rare tactile moods, and frankly, you’re just pleased to be here. 

It’s impossible to keep focused on your book with his lips moving warm and slow over the slope of your shoulder. Eventually you stop trying. As soon as your book is tented on the table beside the loveseat your boyfriend’s mouth is meandering down your body, no longer restricted by you trying to keep your hold on anything. 

You sigh, turning so you can recline against a throw pillow and Remus can gain easier access by fitting in between your legs. He kisses down the valley of your chest, dragging the collar of your shirt down until it won’t go any further and then pushing the hem up so he can continue on his course from below. His kisses don’t feel salacious, only reverent, doting. They make you melt into the cushions and ache with a fond warmth. 

Remus holds your hips in both hands as his lips slip down to your navel, deviating to one side before he gets near your bottoms. You tense when you realize the direction he’s heading, and when he gets too close you move perhaps too quickly, a hand on either side of his head to lift his face up to yours. 

“Love you.” You kiss him earnestly. 

Remus’ smile is close-lipped and one-sided. “You can’t keep me from them forever,” he says.

“Hm?” 

He kisses your cheek, then just underneath your jaw. “You never let me anywhere near your lines, lovely girl. I’ve seen them before, they’re nothing to be embarrassed of.” 

Your face heats. “Were you trying to touch them?” 

“No,” he answers placidly. “I was only trying to touch you, and they happened to be there. They’re hardly in the way, though.” 

You rub your lips together, trying and failing to contend with this. It’s one thing if your boyfriend notices your stretch marks, another entirely if he knowingly feels them with his mouth. 

At your silence, Remus lifts his head from your neck, looking at you openly. You get the feeling he knows precisely what’s going through your head and is only giving you space to sort through it yourself. 

“They don’t…freak you out?” you ask him. 

“No, sweetheart,” he says, sincerity threading through his voice like gilded fibers. “They’re just a part of your skin. Why would that freak me out?” 

Your shoulders creep up towards your shoulders as he covers the marks on your side with a hand. “I don’t know,” you admit in a soft voice. 

Remus smiles, touching his lips to yours as his fingers soothe over the stripes. “You’re lovely,” he says. “Every part of you is lovely, so it follows that they would be, too. It’s really quite simple.” 

You can’t seem to keep your mouth from curving in kind, your smiles mirrored against each other’s. 

He pecks your top lip. “Understand?” 

You hum, a sweet warmth pooling in your gut like the feeling after drinking a good cup of cocoa. You let it spread through you, heavy and pleasant. 

“Good. Thank you, sweetheart.” Remus’ mouth starts moving again, marking a path down your side. “Now, if I could continue without further interruptions…” 

[imissnanami]

Perfect Aim w/ Nanami K.

KINK!tober w/ Nana Oct. 2 m.list

MDNI | nsfw use of ct, creampie, p in v, mating press a/n: for that other anon (UwU)

Four members of Jujitsu Kaisen’s staff sat in a meeting room. While waiting for Yaga, the conversation turned raunchier. The topic at hand? Whether or not Gojo’s cursed technique would be useful in the bedroom. Gojo obviously argued yes while Geto said that it would definitely not. Shoko thought it was stupid and typed away on her phone, idly listening. 

Up ‘till this point, Nanami had managed to remain neutral, or rather out of the conversation entirely by staying quiet. And hiding behind his newspaper. Well, until the strongest wasn’t satisfied with a tie. Gojo whined for Nanami to help him.

“Nanamiii~, you agree, right? Tell Suguru that he’s wrong, ok?” Gojo looked expectantly at the blond man. Geto also stared at him, not as invested but curious to see what Nanami would say.

Letting out a sigh, Nanami realized he wouldn’t be able to stay out of it any longer. Unfortunately. Folding his newspaper and turning to Gojo, he said,

“I think it’s stupid. If your only valid point is that your infinity is possibly equal to a 50 yen condom, then I’d die on another hill.” 

Gojo let out a dramatically loud gasp while Geto laughed at him. Shoko, who had stopped typing to listen, chuckled too. Geto spoke,

“Well Satoru, our precious kohai has spoken.”

Gojo scrambled for words, looking between the two. Yelling at Geto first,

“He didn’t mean it!” And then to Nanami,

“How could you betray me like that, I thought we had something special,” while wiping away a non-existent tear. 

Once they had settled down again, Shoko asked,

“Could you eve use a cursed technique for sex? Yanno cause they’re meant to be used on curses and all.”

The two strongest looked at one another, seeming not have considered that aspect of the conversation. Gojo simply shrugged, now bored with the conversation cause he lost. Geto stroked his chin, before humming. 

“I don’t really know. I mean mine isn’t really suited to it either way.”

Turning to Nanami once again, he asked,

“Nanami, What do you think?”

Nanami pursed his lips, thinking.

He thought back to last night. Specifically the memory of you laying on your back as he held you in a mean mating press. You were pressed up against the headboard. As the two of you fucked, you had migrated higher and higher on the bed. Each of his deep and strong thrusts inched you up. Your head, cushioned by a pillow, pushed forward as you stared up at Kento. His strong arms caged you in and supported his weight. You were bent in half, your thighs pinned to your chest and your knees by his ears. Sweat dripped down his body and as you looked up into his face, his eyebrows were drawn together in pleasure. Hot puffs of air passed through his open lips as he stared back at you. His golden hair fell into his line of vision but neither of you cared. 

Leaning forwards and angling your bodies closer together, he looked down. What he saw nearly made him cum on the spot. Your lower stomach was shiny with your cum. Your fat pussy lips bulged around his thick shaft, stretching to accommodate his length. With each thrust he saw the way your clitoral hood pulled back to reveal your swollen and glossy bud. A creamy ring of white decorated his base and matted the dark blond hair above. Feeling his mouth water he focuses on your steady stream of moans. He needed to change that. You should be absolutely wrecked and falling apart on his cum covered cock. 

Closing his eyes and concentrates on how your body reacts to each of his thrusts. Pulling out, how the vacuum of your pussy is desperately trying to stop him from leaving. How your muscles grip his length, milking it, begging for velvety ropes of cum. Pushing in, how there is resistance as his thick mushroom head pushes past the tight ring of muscles. How your gummy texture massages each vein on his length. How his slit drags against your walls, and kisses your cervix with each thrust. Suddenly, as if it were instinct, he knew exactly how to angle his hips, the exact depth of thrust, and the perfect pace. A feeling paralleling the one he gets when he uses his ct makes its way down his spine. 

The first thrust pulls a loud yell from your throat. The second has your hands scrambling for purchase, drawing red lines along his arms and chest. The third has tears welling in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you sob in pleasure. Feeling your walls clench down on his length has him biting his lip till he tastes blood. Each thrust hurtled the both of you closer and closer to your orgasm. As if that weren’t enough, Nanami brought his hand down to where you were connected. Pushing down he adds to the pressure, feeling himself moving inside of you. He moans so sweetly as he fucks your brains out. The ball of his palm grinds on your clit, you legs seize as you feel white hot pleasure race up your spine. 

“Hah, hah,hah, Ken-Kentoooooo” You moan.

“Look at me” his husky voice commands. You force your eyes open. Your breaths come faster and faster , your voice pitches higher and higher as you struggle to get out;

“Gonna...gonna, I’m- I’m cuming, I’m hahhhh” you whine as your body struggles in his grip. Feeling the way your cunt greedily milks his cock has Nanami teetering on the edge. A grunted 

“Fuck-” is all you get before he too is cumming hard. His full, heavy balls pull tight and thick ropes of cum shoot into your womb. His weight comes crashing down as he moans brokenly, hips still hitting that perfect spot before he thrusts in as far as he could go, plugging you up. You’re crying from the overstimulation as he finally settles. Nanami kisses your hair, whispering praise,

“...good girl...that’s my love...you did so well...” Kissing all over your face he pulls his weight off of you and maneuvers the two of you on your sides, still tucked inside. Petting back your hair and then stroking your side he makes sure you’re content. Smiling up and him you giggle. 

His chest rumbles as he chuckles too. Having calmed down, you’re able to say,

“I’m so glad we discovered your technique can be used for this too.” 

Nanami rolls his eyes good naturally and pulls you closer, tucking your head into his chest. He kisses your head again. 

Pulling himself back from his memories, now with an uncomfortably tight pants, Nanami ponders aloud,

“Could you use a ct in the bedroom?” Before looking at Geto and Gojo.

“Who knows.”

>:)

tags | @plushygrrrl @alpha-mommy69 @roygbivvie @flooftoof

[sea-lanterns]

BE MY MUSE

synopsis: "paint me like one of your fontaine girls..."

featuring: navia, clorinde, furina, lynette

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: artist! reader, sub! afab fem reader (navia, clorinde, furina), dom! afab fem reader (lynette), voyeurism, mast.urbation, not full on smut but it is heavily implied, cunnilingus (reader giving), fing.ering, degradation (furina), praise, teasing, sensual touching, might be ooc.

art credits: blue period

NAVIA

Navia chuckles to herself as the last piece of clothing is discarded on the floor. Her slim, feminine, body perched elegantly against the satin sheets of the cushion, basking effortlessly in the dayglow of Fontaine’s sun like the Goddess she seemed to be. You swallowed your mouth dry. Taken aback with how ethereal she looked in the moment as her golden locks framed her face like a portrait hung in your gallery.

Navia purses her lips together, a curious, yet amused smirk causing a heart to form at her mouth. She chuckled, a prick of heat burning at your insides. 

“Never seen a woman naked before?” She smiles, nude body all on display with no shame whatsoever. She was the one who had asked you to paint her, after all, of course she wouldn’t be embarrassed. It was her request…

“I have.” You quickly retorted back, gripping the stem of your brush with a tighter hand. “…Just not as exquisite as you.” 

Her cheeks pinkened at your honesty, before she quickly covered it up with a smile. 

“You flatter me, Artist,” she giggles, leaning back in her seat to leave all her assets on display. “Tell me then, does my request to paint me nude, make you nervous?”

She hugs herself to squish her breasts together, a sight that has you clearing your throat and looking away nervously. “Of course not, I’ve done commissions of all bodies. Clothed, and nude.”

Navia smirks at this. 

“Then…is it normal for the Artist to get so flustered over her muse?” 

There’s an essence of mischief in her tone. It has you clutching your paintbrush with strength similar to that of a stress ball. “I am not…flustered.” You say in a gritty tone, avoiding her bright blue eyes as you start to mark out the lines of her figure. “Let’s just move on with the painting. Please, get in a position that pleases you, my lady.”

Another smirk. That didn’t seem good. 

“Like this?” Navia taunts with pleasure, lying back against her seat and leaving everything out for you to witness. You swallowed again, eyes wandering over her smooth, supple, chest. Areolas a pretty, puffy, pink color that stiffened the more she exposed them to the drafty air. 

“Ah…that’s good.” You say with a stiff mumble. “Are you alright with staying like that for an hour or so?”

“Hm, perhaps not.” Navia tuts with fake afterthought. “I think I’ll choose a different position.” 

She suddenly spreads her legs a bit wider, a gasp catching in the back of your throat as your eyes landed on the flower that sat between Navia’s legs. It was cleanly shaven —not waxed, but you could tell she had shaved before your appointment— and soft from the way she pressed against one of the folds. She flashed you a suggestive grin, before giggling at the sight of you all enamored by her pussy.

“Are you going to start painting soon?” Navia asks in a delighted tone. “Before you begin, let me just…” She suddenly dips one of her fingers into her cunt and sighs, a breathy moan leaving her lips. “There, all done…”

If you were blushing before, you were a lava cake by now. Navia could practically see the steam coming out from your face, and she chuckles before circling her clit with her thumb. “I guess a woman has never toyed with herself in front of you, hm?” She groans, slowly rubbing circles around her clit until she’s wet enough to appear glistening. “Are you embarrassed?”

You shook your head no. Clearly enamored by the sight of the Spina di arousal president masturbating in front of you. “Was this your goal the whole time? To…taunt me with your body?” 

Navia laughs at this and shakes her head no, “Of course not, mon amour.” She uses two fingers to spread her two walls apart. “I want you to touch me.”

Almost like a song, you were drawn to where she was seated, dropping your brush to the ground and forgetting about the painting entirely. Navia smiles tenderly at the way you follow her command, pushing you down until you are kneeled by her feet like a priestess worshiping her divinity. “I was thinking the portrait could be from a different point of view,” She mutters under her breath. “It’s important for the Artist to commit it to memory…”

Combing her fingers through your hair, she slowly pushes your face into her folds and gasps, head tilted back in ecstasy, while your tongue begins to taste what heaven feels like.

“Ah…”

CLORINDE

The intimidating, Champion Duelist of Fontaine was currently lying sprawled out against your couch with her muscular body out on display. Amongst the obvious parts of her body that caught your attention, her muscles were what drew you in, as the Champion Duelist had rough, toned scars lining her chest from years of dangerous battle. 

As an Artist, you were infatuated. Using the tip of your brush to stroke each line on her abs and highlight every curve of her legs. Which, mind you, we’re chiseled to perfection under the lamp side lighting of your room. 

“…Thank you for taking the time to…paint me.” Clorinde whispers under a husky breath. “Especially considering the…circumstances…”

She blushes slightly at her position. Rough, calloused body proving a beautiful muse for you to work on as you’ve had the honor of painting Clorinde’s body nude. (Courtesy of her request)

“It’s no problem, Captain Clorinde.” You say in a professional tone, trying to ignore the ache between your legs when you see her thigh flex its toned structure. “I have done this countless times. You are in the hands of an expert.” 

The Duelist smiles softly at your reassurance, deciding to sit up from the sofa.

“Miss Clorinde, I’m not done yet—”

“Could you come over for a moment?” She speaks in a low tone, catching you off guard with how smooth she was being. “Just for a moment. I want to see your hands.” 

“…My hands?” You chewed your lip for a moment before getting up from your seat and walking over to the couch. Clorinde leaning back and letting all her muscles move with precision. “Yes, your hands,” she murmurs ever so huskily, reaching over to cup your wrist. “I want to look at them…”

You felt the rough, battle-worn calluses of her fingertips wrap around your hand and pull you closer. An intimate, quiet moment falling between you two, as Clorinde bites her lip and examines the calluses of your own battles.

“Such soft hands, yet they hold their own roughness from your artwork,” the Captain murmurs, almost as if she were enamored by just the sight of you. (She was) 

“Captain Clorinde, please…” you laugh shyly. “You speak of me like I’m the art. I’m merely just the artist.” 

She growls a little at that statement and shakes her head no. “I may be your muse at the moment, but I can’t help but wish to see you nude in my place.”

In that moment, you find yourself seated on the lap of the very naked Champion Duelist, who has helped herself with teasing you under the leggings of your clothes. You can’t help but agree to every little thing she does, as she begins nibbling against your neck to leave her own works of art.

“I’d like to try a hand at painting myself,” she murmurs hotly into your ear, “Care to be my canvas, Artist?”

You can’t find it in yourself to say no. Shakily nodding your head as she begins to rub circles against your clit with her strong, calloused, fingers.

“That’s a good girl.”

FURINA

Furina chuckles amusingly at the sight of Fontaine’s world renown artist currently hiding behind her easel. The archon herself was used to people kneeling before her, but she found entertainment in the way the cute, bashful artist she hired to commission was too nervous to look her in the eye. “What’s wrong, young artist…” Furina chuckles wickedly, “Are you really that shocked at your archon’s pure beauty?”

She crosses one leg over the other, her nude figure perched confidently by a table as she takes a sip of tea like usual. The way she was acting around you made you think she was doing this on purpose.

“I…you are beautiful indeed, my archon,” you respond to her nervously. “I just didn’t expect for you to disrobe so quickly.”

Furina sneers at the way you fidget so anxiously, tipping her teacup down to the point you worried it might spill. “Aren’t you an artist?” She chuckles behind her hand, “An artist who specializes in nude paintings as well. Tell me, does the sight of your beloved archon all skimmed down to her nudity really bother you that much?” 

“No, of course not!” You quickly retort defensively. “It’s just quite a shocker to have your archon disrobe in front of you so…quickly.” 

You bite your lip and look away. “You got out of your clothes quicker than I could get out my paints…”

Furina laughs hysterically at your quiet little stammer before running a hand over the smoothness of her thighs. “Oh…you’re just too cute…” she sputters under her laughs. “I definitely made the right choice in choosing you…”

She leans back against the chair and bites one of her manicured nails. That stuck up, haughty smile prickling you with annoyance as your archon seemed to treat this as a game. “You should be grateful I even asked you to paint me at all,” she snickers before uncrossing her legs. “You have the blessing of seeing Focalors’ body in the flesh.”

Your throat tightened at the sight of her legs now spread wide for you to see just how wet she was beneath her clothes. According to what you saw, she had been dripping for a while, but hid it well due to how she crossed her legs while seated right in front of you.

“M-Miss Furina…I…” your cheeks burned and you couldn’t look away. 

“I…I…what?” She smirked mockingly at your stutter and teases you even more by pinching one of her nipples. The sight alone causes a burning ache between your legs, and you couldn’t help but stare entranced at the way she squeezed her own breast. “Go on, spit it out. If you say the right thing, I might just let you touch me yourself.”

“Pardon!?” 

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” she snaps her finger and beckons you over. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at me so hungrily? What a pervert you are, dear Artist…”

The way she wags her finger at you almost has you on your hands and knees, crawling towards her like you were being pulled on a leash. Furina is delighted at the sight, looking joyous as she gives you a proper show of spreading her pussy lips even wider. Her slick, dripping essence cascading down the milky white thighs of your archon, and looking like the perfect muse for you to commit to memory.

“I want to see just how lithe an Artist’s fingers are,” Furina tuts, degradingly tapping your nose before propping you up to become face to face with her cunt. “Impress me, then perhaps I can give you an extra tip for a job well done.”

“But Miss Furina, your painting…”

“Silence.” She pulls you up by the hair and sneers. “This is a much better use for your hands, hm?” 

LYNETTE

Lynette was definitely on the shyer side when she asked to become your muse. She had always admired your artwork, silently wishing that one day, she could take the place of one of your nude paintings, basking in an ethereal afterglow of your brushstrokes, as she wanted to be the center of your attention. (And only your attention)

You were surprised, needless to say, when the quiet magician’s assistant asked you after her show to become your muse. Even more surprised when she silently requested for it to be a nude drawing. Though you masked your surprise quite well, a small part of you was curious to see the beautiful body of the mysterious magician’s assistant, as she was very secretive with her personal life to the point not a lot of people knew about her.

You took up the commission, currently setting up your easel and waiting for Lynette to disrobe from her clothing. A comfortable silence falling between you two, before the sound of fabric hitting the floor caught your attention.

“…I’m ready.” Lynette spoke quietly, causing you to peek out from behind your canvas. 

The cat woman was currently perched atop your couch in her full, nude, glory. Chest perky from the way the cold air hit her nipples, along with the smooth, supple skin of her back arched beautiful against the satin cushions. Her ears flattened in slight embarrassment from being in such a provocative situation, yet you couldn’t take her eyes off her as she was just so breathtakingly beautiful.  

“Oh, how sweet…” you murmur with a smile, caught in awe with how stunning Lynette is. “Get in a comfortable position for me, will you? You’ll have to stay like that for an hour or two.”

Her ears flattened even more and she nodded, stiffly moving so that her body was sitting upright in a rather erect position. She looked quite firm and…not relaxed at all, placing her hands on her knees and sitting as if she were waiting for her appointment at the doctor’s office.

“…Oh dear,” you chuckled a bit at the way she was sitting. “That position is a bit too stiff for my liking. Here, let me help you.”

Setting your paint sets down, you walked over closer to where Lynette sat and saw her visibly tense up. You frowned a little at her discomfort and raised your hands in the air. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to. I’m just going to lightly guide your body to a more comfortable position.”

You smiled warmly at her and saw her ears twitch with acceptance. Slowly, she lets you guide her body down to lie on the couch, your eyes locked on hers and causing a small blush to adorn the cat woman’s pale cheeks. 

“…Thank you,” Lynette whispers, her voice soft as she gazes up at you with longing. “I am a bit…embarrassed, however.”

“There is no need to be embarrassed,” you chuckle comfortingly, patting her head like you would with a cat. “The human body is beautiful, and yours is just as exquisite as any of the other muses I’ve had the pleasure of painting.”

She blushes softly at the way you call her body beautiful, and Lynette lets out a soft little purr of pleasure under your pets. “Can you…help me relax a little?” She asks in a quieter voice, almost embarrassed with her request. “My body is too tense. I need my muscles to…relax…”

You smile softly at the way she paws at your hand and slowly drags it downwards. Your fingers lightly stroking down her neck, her chest, her stomach, before finally reaching the twitching ache of her walls beneath you.

“Here?” You ask with a certain tenderness, lightly pushing against her clit like a button.

“Yes…!” Lynette whimpers, grasping onto your back with her nails. “Right there…”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Green

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Jackson believes in a green future, which includes marijuana. You like to get high. Tonight, Joel joins you and you get to treat him like he treats you. Chapter Warnings: Smut, marijuana use, soft dom reader, sub Joel, m receiving oral, unprotected p in v, riding Joel's thick thigh, you bite Joel's stomach (because it has to be done), Joel watching himself masturbate in your mirror, Joel drinks water out of your hands. Words: 5,100 A/N: Happy 4/20! I wanted to give you another entry akin to Golden Walkway, a little peek into the future of my Elks babies. Please note, this can be absolutely read without knowing any of the story.

Playlist

Times never change instead of hiding your illicit use from your parents, now you hide it from a teenager. Joel and you always lock yourselves away in your home so you can get high... just in case Ellie needs something. Can’t be a bad influence.

You pull the box of papers and weed out of the drawer before sitting down on your couch.

“So you never really smoked much?” you ask, leaning over your coffee table preparing to build your joint.

“Mm, never really was my thing, too risky if I got caught growing up in Texas during the 'Just Say No' years. Had football eligibility to worry about ‘n then Sarah came, just never was the time for me.”

He leans back into your armchair, brown eyes intently watching your actions. You begin to crumble weed up and place it on your rolling paper. 

“Makes sense, it’s good for me when my nerves really get to me,” you begin to roll your joint, “helps kinda soften the harsh lines of reality a lot. Makes my body and my mind a little freer.”

You lick your cigarette closed and admire your handiwork, welcoming the anticipation of being with Joel while stoned. 

The match sizzles as you strike it against the box and spark your joint, rotating it in your mouth to light it up. Joel chuckles as you inhale the first hit. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask in a cloud of exhaled smoke.

“Nothin'. Maybe I should get high, s'making me hard just watching you do this.”

“Oh yeah?” you sit back against the soft couch cushions, joint dangling from your lips. 

“Yeah, maybe I should start, never was one for smoking though.”

“Mm, I can help, I can just blow the smoke into your mouth if you want to try it." Your heart begins racing at the prospect of Joel taking you up on the offer.

“Sounds good sweetheart." He pats his lap. “Now, come sit with me, have nowhere to be tomorrow.”

You stand and grab the ashtray, resting the joint between your lips. Your bare feet pad across the plush carpet of the area rug as you walk over to Joel. 

“Hi,” you smile out with a small puff of smoke. 

“You look so cute like this, little cigarette sticking out of your mouth, eyes all cloudy and happy. Love it when my girl is happy.”

You giggle at his compliment as you lift your leg up to rest on the chair, your foot tightly fitting within what little room is left on the seat between Joel’s thick thighs. His mouth rests slightly agape when he looks up at you, his usual furrowed brow a lot less creased, more relaxed.

“I am happy,” you answer as his hands begin to massage your calf. “You look a lot less grumpier than you normally look. That makes me happy.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yep,” you say before inhaling another hit. 

“Why don’t you make me happier and sit on my lap, that’d make me really happy darlin’.”

A plume of smoke blows out of your lungs as you place yourself on Joel’s lap, knees bent against his thighs and the armrests. The denim covered shape of his half hard cock rests against your cotton shorts. Your tits underneath your faded and holey t-shirt are right at Joel’s eye level. 

“S’nice,” he whispers staring forward at your chest. 

“My eyes are up here Joel,” you chuckle at your own joke, taking another hit.

“I’d tell you to knock it off, but your whole body’s shaking against me ’n your tits are bouncing in my face,” Joel grins leaning forward and kissing a breast through your shirt. 

Fuck, now that feels amazing. 

You reach the joint out to him. “Hold this.”

He takes it between his fingers, eyes concentrating on you taking your shirt off. So much for relaxed Joel. He holds up the joint, still in his hands, to your lips.

“Take a hit baby,” his voice gravels out, his cock hardening underneath, “‘n lemme have some.”

You inhale and move your mouth to his, forming a tight seal between the two of you. Joel welcomes the smoke and sucks in as you blow out. 

You grab the joint from him and take another pull as he exhales, a white cloud of smoke floating above the two of you. Your body feels so much lighter, your brain less complicated. 

“Can I have that back?” he asks. “Want to do the same you did for me.”

You hand him the joint, smiling a silent agreement.

He brings it up to his mouth, holding it between his thumb and pointer, the joint disappears between his large fingers save for the glowing orange embers that light as he takes a hit. He looks so fucking tempting, his cheeks slightly puffing out filling with smoke. Everything Joel Miller does is hot, but the way he drags on a joint, pillowy lips wrapping around the white paper, broad shoulders rising when he breathes in, this might just be the hottest you’ve ever seen him. When will you ever get tired of looking at this man?

You bring your lips to his and he exhales into your mouth. Oh, this is the best way to get high. You pull away, releasing the smoke from your lungs.

“‘Bout shot, don’t you think?” he raises the joint and looks at it.

“It’s shot."

He stubs the joint put in the ash tray. A luxurious comfortable groan leaves his lips when he looks at you, eyes heavier than usual, a little red and glazed. You’ve seen his eyes glazed over with lust numerous times, this glaze is a little lighter, a little happier. You scoot farther up his lap and move a finger up to pet the smoothness of the little heart patch in his beard. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask as Joel’s hands trace up and down your back. 

“Good, real good,” a deep exhale out of his lips answers. 

“Relaxed?” You ask, your finger moving to brush back and forth across his lips. 

“Mm.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this free before. A light smile underneath half shut eyes staring back at you, his whole face more relaxed. He looks good this way, you love when he’s happy and relaxed, you’ve never met anybody more deserving.

“Feels good,” Joel says as you rub your finger across his soft lower lip. A deep breath leaves his half parted lips, the air blowing against your finger. “Real good.”

“Good,” your hand moves to trace around his top lip, the hair of his mustache bristles against your finger. “I like making you feel good.” 

You feel the the lines around his lips rise when he smiles. “You’re so good at it baby.”

“Yeah? What do you like the most?”

“Mm, s'hard to pick. Love the way your eyes always blink as you cum for me, can always tells how good you’re feelin’ by how big your eyes get right before. Love the little gasp you always make when I start fuckin’ you. Love that you grab for my hands at any chance you get, like you need to touch me as much as you can. Love that you always need me.” The last sentence comes out the softest.

“I do need you,” you confess, “all the time.”

“I know baby,” he hugs you against his chest, “I need you too… so much.” 

“But, I do also need you for sex stuff, you know?"

Joel’s chuckle vibrates against you. “My girl’s funny, real funny.”  

“But really, what do you need tonight Joel?” You pull away from his chest and look him in the eyes. You love it when he compliments you, you love it when he calls you his girl. You love that he needs you just as much as you need him. 

“I need you to tell me what you want from me tonight.  Make me yours. Talk to me like I talk t’ya.” Joel’s eyes staring into yours as they widen with his admission. “I’m yours baby.”

A bit of trepidation lands in your brain. Joel’s always the one to depend on to chart the stars of your intimacy. He’s so good at predicting what you want, you let him navigate. The thoughts are silenced once you feel his hands move along your hips and thighs. You can tell he wants you to do this for him. You want Joel to experience what you feel after he’s done with you. You want him to believe in you like you believe in him. You sit up higher on him, feeling braver and bolder. Ready to bless him for his confession. 

“Okay. I’m going to get up, walk to the kitchen to get something to drink, and when I come back, I want you to stand in front of my mirrored wall over there. Keep your clothes on.”

You’re shocked by the confidence in your voice. Joel as well, his hands pause their movement as you speak. He stares at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise. 

You rise up off of Joel, folding your arms across your naked chest. “Understand?”

“Y-y-yes,” Joel stutters. 

“Good,” you wink and turn towards the kitchen, your confident steps leaving a bewildered Joel in your chair. You’ve never acted like this, your brain swirling with ideas of what you want to do, what you want to say, how you want to make him feel. 

You grab two glasses out of your cupboard and fill them with water. Your mouth is parched, you’re sure Joel’s is too. You walk back to your living room, your courage building with each step closer. You know you’re ready when you see Joel standing as instructed in front of your mirror. 

“Hi handsome,” you walk to stand behind him, still topless and only in your shorts, his eyes moving from looking at his own reflection to your chest. You wouldn’t expect less from him, you love how he looks at you.

“Hi,” Joel whispers. You think he’s a little nervous, a little excited, he probably feels exactly how you feel. 

“I’m going to watch you watch yourself get undressed. I want you to listen to me and follow my directions, okay?”

“Yes,” his simple answer resolutely spoken as you put the waters down and turn the lamp on besides you, the light bathing both of you in a smoldering golden hue. You want to fully be able to watch Joel do what you have planned for him.

“Good, I don’t want to hear much from you, okay? I’m the one talking.” 

You like this feeling, you especially like the serious nod Joel gives you through the mirror. 

“Take your shirt off.”

You watch Joel’s hands move to the hem of his t-shirt and lift it over his head. 

“Give it to me,” you step forward and extend a hand out. 

The soft gray fabric is still warm with Joel’s body heat as it hits your hand. You bring it to your nose and inhale his scent. “You smell so good all the time. I love the scent of you.” You take one last sniff before putting his shirt on, his smell now encompassing you.

“Wh—“ 

“Quiet,” you interrupt Joel’s protest, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you, I want to smell like you and wear your shirt while I make you feel good.” 

He looks a little annoyed, you like that. 

“Look at your chest. It’s perfect. I love how your shoulders are so wide and so strong. I love how your arms are muscular and yet they’re so soft when I rest my head against them. I love how soft your stomach has gotten meaning you’re well fed and healthy. You like the praise baby?”

Joel nods as his eyes darken hearing you call him one of the pet names he always calls you.

“Unbutton and unzip your pants, but don’t take them off.” Your pussy getting wetter at the thought of the sights that you’re about to see, all directed by you. All broadcast on your mirror. 

Joel nods, as he unbuttons his jeans, his fingers move to his zipper and pulls it down. You love that he never wears underwear when he comes over. You love how you can see the trail of hair from his belly button down to his bush. He’s the perfect amount of hairy. He’s the perfect amount of manly. He’s just fucking perfect.

“Good. You’re thirsty right?” He nods. You lean over to the table and pick up a glass of water. “Drink all of this. Want to watch your neck move as you swallow it down.” 

Joel takes the glass and brings it to his lips, his eye contact not breaking with yours through the reflection. He takes a large gulp brows wrinkling with seriousness for the task at hand, no matter how significant or insignificant it is. It’s so Joel.

“I love watching you drink. I love how small the mug looks in your hand when you drink your coffee in the morning. I love how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after downing a whole glass of water when you’re hot. I love how gently form your lips around a glass of whiskey.” You finish your praise as he empties the glass, taking it from him and placing it on the table. 

“Good. Feel better?” 

He nods.

“Take your pants off,” you think of what Joel would say in this moment. “Lemme see all of you.” 

He smirks as he starts to move his jeans down his hips, he knows you’re going to love this part. His cock springs out as it’s freed, fully erect and throbbing, you knew you’d get him good and hard with your attitude. He bends over to shuck his jeans fully off, kicking them to the side, and when he stands up, shoulders back, dick hard and ready to follow your instructions, you almost fall to your knees. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” you breathe out. His smirk still remains, he knows what he does to you. 

Your eyes roam his body, he’s so large and so thick, his body screams protector. He’s your protector. He provides for you. You love that you get to love him and make him feel this way. 

“I’m thirsty, why don’t you hand me my glass?” You love how seriously he follows your commands, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. You love how powerful it makes you feel to see Joel readily do your every request. 

Joel turns towards the table and picks up the glass, handing it to you. 

“Thank you.” 

Another nod. 

You quickly drink the water down, save for the last quarter of it. “You’re still thirsty, aren’t you?”

This time it’s not just one slow nod from Joel, it’s three quick nods. He’s thirsty.

“Then come stand here in front of me.” 

You’ve enjoyed watching him from a couple of feet back, standing far enough to be able to see all of him in the mirror. Now that he’s right in front of you though, this is how you like him the most. Right beside you. 

You empty the rest of the water into your mouth, your cheeks swelling out with the amount you’re holding. You bring your palms up to your mouth and cup them together. Joel begins to breathe heavily as he watches you spit the water into your makeshift hand bowl.

“Now, drink it up,” you order.

He moves so fast, so eager to please. Joel’s head quickly craning down as his brown eyes look up at you. Your heart begins to race as his tongue comes out of his mouth and begins to lap up the water out of your hand. “I love how you’re looking up at me, you look at me the same way when you eat me out.” 

Joel grunts as he leans further forward and starts to suck the water up from your hand, never breaking eye contact. The groove of his dimple getting deeper as his cheeks hollow and he sucks up all of the water.

Now you wear Joel’s cocky smirk just like his shirt. You get to know him like he knows you, you get to play with his body like he plays with yours.

“Very good.” You move your hands to wrap around his erection, the slickness of the water allowing you to easily stroke him. A gruff breath leaves Joel’s mouth, the air landing against your face. You only leave your hands on him for a couple pumps, just enough until he begins to arch his back. His eyes widen as you remove your hands, a small “mmf” is let out of his pursed lips.

“I know, I know, I know you want more. You’ll get it soon. You’re being real well behaved for me, aren’t you?” 

Another nod. Joel still hasn’t spoken a word, you miss his voice but you also like to watch him challenge himself to stay quiet. 

“Face the mirror again Joel.”

He likes it when you say his name, he’s told you so many times how he likes to hear your voice say his name. 

“Touch yourself for me Joel.” 

His heavy eyes slowly shut as he bites his bottom lip with a moan, he liked that… a lot. He opens his eyes and with a look of determination, he spits in his hand before moving it down and gripping his shaft as he looks at you for his next command. 

“Stroke yourself for me.” 

He begins to slowly pump himself, savoring and watching himself in the reflection. His gaze anchoring in on pleasuring himself.

You wonder when the last time he did this was.

“When’s the last time you made yourself cum?” His movements falter as he looks up at you and takes in your question. “Go ahead, you can talk, tell me.” 

“That last night you were painting f’me,” a half smile shows up on his face as he begins to stroke again. 

Now you’re the one who only nods, your words lost at his confession. “Go on,” you muster up. You need to hear more. 

“Went to bed that night, ’n all I could see was your pretty eyes lookin’ up at me, how you looked in those overalls, I felt like I could still feel your lips on mine.” His strokes getting quicker, his hand pausing as he twists his hand around his tip. “Was so hard for you, had to take care of things before I could fall asleep.” 

Your whole body shivers, his words making your pussy begin to drip out onto your shorts. The look of his face as he recalls his memories. Those words added to all of his others that prove to you again that you have Joel’s heart, mind and body. He is yours. 

“God. Th—that’s good,” you breathe out, your eyes widening when you watch him bite his lip as he squeezes his cock. He has you flustered, and he knows, his mouth grinning into the signature cocky smirk he gets whenever you get like this. As if his sense of self blooms whenever he makes your heart race. 

You can’t allow him this pleasure over you, you’re the one in control tonight. You remind yourself that this is what Joel wants. You steel yourself and stand a little taller. 

“Stop,” you bark out. 

He obeys, mouth slacking open in shock at your raised voice. His hand unwrapping from around himself. 

“Good job, I think you were getting a little too comfortable, weren’t you?” 

Joel just stares at you, seems he forgot to nod. 

“I can’t let you have the power tonight, can I? Acknowledge me Joel.”

“N—no,” an actual stutter from Joel Miller’s mouth. Not a grunt, not a short one word answer, an actual nervous stutter. 

“That’s right. Now, I think you’ve had too much fun putting on a show for me. Go sit in the middle of the couch.” 

He nods, his broad frame passes by you, he doesn’t even take the time to look at you. 

You follow behind and wait until he takes a seat. You love seeing Joel on your couch, in your bed, using one of your bowls to eat oatmeal out of. You love seeing him in your space, all comfortable and domestic, but seeing him now naked on your couch, his hard cock sitting straight up, his large hands sitting atop his strong thighs, shoulders taking up most of the backrest of his seat, sitting ready to listen to your commands.  This is how you really like to see him. He’s fucking gorgeous. 

“So, you had your fun with your body, I want to have my fun with your body,” you stand over him. Now your body gets to loom over his. 

You bring the collar of Joel’s shirt up to your nose, inhale deeply and moan. “Have I told you before how much I love how your smell? Sometimes I’ll be wearing one of your shirts to bed I’ll smell your scent on it and it’ll make me wet while I’m trying to go to sleep.” The sound from Joel’s mouth makes you bolder. “One night, I might just knock on your door, in only your shirt and my jacket, make you help me take care of what smelling you does to me. Would you like that?” 

Joel shudders and furiously nods.

“Ohh, had a feeling you would,” you chuckle as you remove his shirt off of you. “I’m going to do something I've been wanting to do, okay?”

A nod, a groan, and a sigh now. The more reactions you get at once, the more you know how good you’re doing. 

You pull down your shorts, and kick them aside. His fingers grip into his thighs, his forearms straining at the sight of you. He’s going through it. 

“Can you see me glisten for you baby?” You ask as you lift your foot onto the couch cushion and snake your hand down in between your legs. “See how wet I got watching you touch yourself for me?” You take a finger and run it across your folds gathering your wetness. You hold it up for Joel, his eyes glued to your finger. “Open your mouth.” 

He listens. You slide your finger into his mouth, his lips forming around it, a low moan vibrating against it. 

“Put your hands on the couch, you can’t touch me, you can only watch. Okay?” 

Joel obeys. He still sucks your finger as you straddle his thigh. His skin radiates heat against you once you place your wet pussy on it. You’ve wanted to do this since you saw his bare legs for the first time, his thighs are so muscular and yet so supple, much like the rest of his features. Joel groans as you begin to ride his thigh, rubbing yourself back and forth against his skin. 

“You like how wet my pussy feels on your thigh?” You pull your finger out of his mouth. “Answer me Joel. Want to hear your voice.”

“Yes.”

“What do you like?” 

“Your wet pussy on my th— I like your wet pussy on my thigh,” his low cadence and the pressure against your aching cunt pushing you close to your orgasm.

“I’m going to make myself cum on your thigh, okay? I’m so close.” You begin to grind your hips down on his his thigh, putting the perfect amount of friction against your clit. 

Your hands splay against Joel’s chest, feeling his breaths and his moans rumble against your palms.

“I’m gonna cum on your thigh Joel.” You grab and pull on his chest hair as your climax reaches you, cresting over and spilling onto Joel’s thigh as you grind against it. Joel’s eyes boring into you looking forlorn and tortured that he can’t touch you as you cum on him. 

You rest your head against his shoulder as you catch your breath. You need to recover quickly, you’re ready to ride him. 

Joel grumbles as you stand back up. 

“Would you look at that? Look down baby, look how wet I got your thigh.” You place your hands on his thighs, a hand resting in the puddle of your slick left on his skin. You lean forward as he looks down and nibble the bare skin of his heart patch before licking your way down his neck and chest. “Should probably clean that up, huh?” You ask as your rest your lips against the plush of his belly before gently biting it. 

He groans as you move your mouth down, bypassing his hard cock to the side. You stick your tongue out and lick a long stripe up his thigh tasting yourself as you clean his skin. His breathing turns more labored as he watches you lick yourself up.

“Mm, wonder how I’d taste licking my cum off your cock?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his crotch, his hard cock throbbing against your cheek.

His hips jut as you turn your head and kiss the shaft of him. 

“You’re going to cum fast for me, aren’t you?” You leave a kiss on his shaft higher than your last one.

“I love how hard you always cum for me,” another kiss moving your way up his hardness. 

“I love the way you fuck my mouth while you cum down my throat,” another kiss.

“I love the way my name sounds as you chant it when I make your legs shake,” another kiss right under his tip.

“I love how your cum tastes as I lick it from my lips,” another kiss on his tip, tasting the precum collected on it. 

“Fuck,” he finally utters, not being able to hold back as you lick along the trail of where you just kissed him.

“Shhhh,” you silence against the soft skin of his firmness. “I think it’s about time for me to fuck you, before you get any more ideas about talking.”

Another deep exhale from him, his nose flaring in frustration. You fucking love this. 

“Put your hands on the top of your head, and don’t you dare lower them. Don’t touch me, okay?”

Joel nods raising his hands as you plant yourself back on the couch, straddling his legs. His eyes follow your body, his brows a bit more furrowed now. 

You hover your pussy over his cock, leaving enough space between the two of you that if he really wanted, he could raise his hips and stick his cock in, but he doesn’t. He wants to do good for you. 

“Open your mouth,” you angle your head forward, your lips right in front of his. Joel’s mouth opens, his heavy breathing hitting you in the face, as you lick into his mouth.

You swirl your hips over his cock slowly lowering yourself on him, you’re so soaked for him he easily slides into you. 

A long sigh escapes the back of his throat as you begin to ride him. You pull back from his mouth and rest your hands against his chest. His hands still sit on top of his head, you glance up and see how he’s grabbing at his hair in exasperation. 

He watches as you move your hands from his chest to yours, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples. 

“Like watching me touch my tits like the way you do? Like how I pinch and pull my nipples like you?”

High pitched moans and groans of frustration leave his mouth. Joel Miller is whimpering. 

“Shhhh, shhh, I know baby. Now quiet. Want to hear my wet pussy ride you, stay quiet,” you say grabbing his jaw and pushing his mouth shut. 

You begin fucking him harder, the sound of your wet cunt bouncing on him and his whimpers the only sounds in the room. You lean forward and rest your head in the juncture between his head and shoulder. You slam yourself up and down on him, the rapidness of your movements matching the rapidness of your heart as you bring yourself close to your orgasm.

Your back straightens as you place your hands on his biceps, staring in his big brown eyes as your body snaps, your pussy clutching his cock as you cum around Joel. He bites his bottom lip fighting his orgasm for as long as he can. His biceps straining against your grasp as you feel his body begin to quake. 

“Clooooose,” he husks. You slip out of him, moving quickly on shaky legs through the aftershocks of your orgasm kneeling down in front of him. His hands are still in his hair as he looks down at you, watching you seal your mouth over him. You bob your head up and down on him as he cums down your throat. 

You swallow all of him down as he chants your name. His hands lower, resting against the hollows of your cheeks as you still keep his softening cock in your mouth.

You stare up at him, his hair left awry and twisted from his hands, eyes wide and still blown out as he blinks down at you, his chest rising and falling still catching his breath. He looks at you, like you’re the only thing in this world. You are the center of his universe. 

[ahhhwomen]

Nothing really matters.

Vampire Empire

Part 3

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Well this was depressing to write... Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You feel numb, what does it matter anymore?

Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @thinking1bee

The next time either of them sees you is in one of Natasha’s business meetings a few weeks later.

Back in Carol’s possession, you kneel in the corner of the conference room while Carol raises her voice at anyone with a slight attitude toward her idiotic ideas.

After half an hour, the constant bickering between the blond woman and Natasha’s respective staff members had become background noise.

There is a crinkling of paper as Natasha scuffles her documents around for a moment while deep in thought. The paper is smooth and high quality, her golden rings glide against the white surface, and she traces black lines of information she can recite in her sleep.

To Natasha’s surprise, you had seemed indifferent to her presence, you didn’t even glance at her once during the introduction to today’s meeting.

Following the same line back and forth, the ink smudges and blurs after the seventh round of Natasha's thumb gliding gently on top of the unimportant details.

She had to give credit where credit was due. You were poised and unbothered.

She could not say the same for herself, however.

Ever since she could smell you getting in the elevator with blondie, she kept glancing toward the door, waiting for your arrival. And now, she continuously spares a glance in your direction when she thinks someone talks too loudly or expresses themselves with broad gestures.

It doesn't take long for her to understand you a little better.

Carol changes you.

Your eyes are cast downward, and you hold your head low in a display of obedience. You are sitting on your heels with your hands just out in front of your knees. Your back is strung tight to form a perfect line and the muzzle is only for show. But whereas your posture and attitude would be considered perfection, your eyes are empty.

Natasha’s chair creaks and groans as she rocks back and forth, the leather cushion softens the knockback as her leg bounces against the flooring, unfitting of her usual characteristics, she can’t seem to keep her calm and collected demeanor.

Small tears and wrinkles form, as Natasha tightens her hands against some case report she wrote half-heartedly before bed the previous night. She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring.

You are still covered in bruises.

They are healing, and so are the once red and angry lines, they are now pinker and more muted. But it’s clear some of them were fresher, it had been close to a month since she had seen you last, yet the color of some were as fresh as a daisy.

Specifically, your face seemed to have been put through the gutter.

Though it was clear that whatever transpired that day hadn’t been repeated, she could still sense in you that Carol wasn’t very light-handed.

She tells herself it is because she pities you for having to go through the blonde’s rage, but there is also something about the two small puncture wounds on your neck that aggravates her.

Her fingers drum against the table in annoyance while she thinks it over, her nails clicking against the resin top of her newly polished conference table.

Pinching the skin between her eyebrows she sighs loudly. Enough so, that the man currently presenting stutters and has to loosen his tie before continuing with a slight tremor to his hands.

She can’t figure it out.

She huffs and readjusts her posture to show she is listening.

Never mind, the little mystery you are, she has business to attend to. With one last glance, she emerges herself back in the matter at hand and makes sure to fix Carol with a hard glare whenever something becomes too heated.

You are sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden.

The flowers bloom around you and rustle in the fresh, spring, wind. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the rosebush across the tiny plot of land. The birds sing in a tune you are not familiar with, but it’s nice. Lilies hug your legs, all colorful and fresh, there are tiny little droplets atop their pedals, it must have rained before you got out here.

That would explain the chill that settles deep in your spine.

There are dogs around, you hear them bark and growl at each other on the other side of the fence, but you don’t mind.

Because you are in the garden. With a fence between you and them.

Until one of them jumps the fence.

You have been staring at the ground with a slight tremor lacing your every move for the better part of an hour. She seems like a calm dog, but she’s big, bigger than you, and there is this presence to her that you don’t know what to do with.

She smells like the flowers around you, maybe that’s why you don’t flee. No matter how much you want to, you are frozen in your seat as the big hound stares at you.

She licks her snout and blinks slowly while you sit there. It feels like she is mocking you, almost as if daring you to move.

The wind picks up every now and then, the howling of the other dogs growing louder and more concerning, but the big dog doesn’t bat an eye. She growls deeply, but you can tell it isn’t directed at you, and then the other dog’s calm.

Maybe she is a nice dog, but it doesn’t matter.

A dog is a dog.

The fence opens with a piercing screech. Even as you close your eyes in hope, the big dog does nothing. She doesn’t run away, but she doesn’t help either.

She just watches as Master drags you away. You don’t know why you thought she would do anything else.

Master is right.

Master is always right.

No one will help.

You don’t deserve it.

When the meeting commends, Carol drags you out of the room quickly, she has other matters to settle tonight, and she can’t be bothered to stay here too long.

Your knuckles rasp against the expensive flooring of Mrs. Romanoff´s office. The tasteful tree-work makes your bones ache, and your tag jingles repeatedly as bone connects with fifty thousand dollars worth of Brazilian rosewood. The blond woman tugs at your leash impatiently.

“Carol. Wait a moment.”

Please don’t.

Master halted her movements just before she passed through the elevator´s door, effectively also halting yours.

“There is some paperwork James wants you to finish up before you leave.”

Natasha waves her hand around with a roll of her eyes, showcasing false annoyance she knows the blond will eat right up, “Something about an unsettled bank record?” The redhead squints in the blonde’s direction, displeasure hidden not so greatly on the CEO’s face.

Natasha has to work extremely hard to not showcase how disgusting she finds the woman in front of her to be.

The woman beside you tenses up. She bunches her eyebrows and sighs before nodding slowly and releasing the tight clutch on your leash.

A pointed finger comes into view as Carol shifts her body towards you and tilts her head downward to face you. “Stay here.” Her voice leaves no room for arguing, it’s a clear command, you know she only does it to showcase her power over you. You couldn’t talk back even if you wanted to, the clinic made sure of that long before you even knew Masters hard angles.

Nonetheless, you bow your head and place your rump back onto the cruel flooring, somehow it feels even stiffer than the concrete inside your familiar slammer.

There is a long and rather awkward silence before Miss Romanoff clears her throat and breaks the stillness.

“Are you in pain?” Natasha gestures towards her own face as if you need a hint to understand what she means.

Just a few months ago, Romanoff acknowledging you in the slightest would send you through a rollercoaster of fear and wonder. Now you merely play dumb and tilt your head in confusion.

Of course, it hurts.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

“You smell different.” Carol scrutinizes you from afar.

If it weren’t for the years of experience you have with this sort of thing you would give yourself away immediately by tensing up and begging for her mercy, instead, you remain impassive.

The blond woman studies you carefully, waiting for any telltale that you heard her.

It’s easier than you thought.

Maybe it’s from the emotional drainage these days have been, but you barely feel anything as Carol looks you over. No matter how much she has hurt you, her eyes hold nothing compared to the power that the Maximoff clan’s leader has in hers.

You can hear the familiar crunch of rough concrete beneath a heavy army boot.

Master moves closer, but still, you feel nothing.

It’s been three days since that day. The first night you sobbed your sorrows, your pain, your fear, everything that has been building up and suppressed throughout the years all expressed in a puddle of tears and blood.

You don’t know what the women wanted, but something about them had made ancient wounds reopen, and the floodgates that followed were inevitable.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, you find it more likely that you passed out from dehydration or exhaustion.

The other days had passed in a blur.

It’s like you have been stuck in a trance where nothing really matters anymore.

Then the smashing of keys came back, and still, you were inconsolable. You didn’t even acknowledge her when she ran her hands over your bare body. Didn’t blink as her hands took a threatening hold of your collar.

She was testing this new side of yours; you could tell it angered her that she didn’t affect you.

You ruined her little power trip of the day.

She grips the back of your neck and forces you to face her. “Look at me when I am talking to you!” Spit sprays on your face as she talks through gritted teeth.

You don’t care, you just stare at her through hooded eyes, looking but not seeing.

Her hand connected hard with your face; you could feel the vibration inside your skull. And yet, all you could think about were them.

The feeling of concrete pouring through your veins wasn’t so scary anymore.

*slap*

You wonder what would happen if she went all the way…

*slap*

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they killed you.

*slap*

“LOOK AT ME!” Carol screams into your ear, but it is fuzzy and unintelligible to you.

*slap*

“CAN’T YOU TELL I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH!?”

*slap*

“Look at me?” Her hand strokes your chin lightly, but you know her…

*slap*

*slap*

Your head bounces against the pavement.

*slap*

Your vision becomes blurry and unfocused.

She hit you a total of twenty-four more times, before finally relenting and stomping away.

From that day forward you decided to play into it, pretend like what took place with the powerful women never happened to begin with. You were sure it would anger them.

If this is what Carol does when you ruin her little high.

Maybe, they will return and finish what they started if you ruin theirs.

Natasha scratches the nape of her neck as you sit there staring into nothingness. Your brows are slightly raised, and your eyes are wide, to Natasha, it seems like you are in a completely different world.

She leans against the wall, her shoulder squishing against the glass panel, and she crosses one leg over the other. Relying solely on her right leg to hold her up, she looks down at her dress shoes.

Her question was stupid, she knew as much, but what else was she supposed to say?

She wanted to talk to you.

Nat knows she should just leave you be and return back to her office, but when you were being led out of the room earlier your eyes had connected with her, it was a mere millisecond. But in that moment Natasha had felt a chill run down her spine.

Something was definitely wrong.

However, she didn’t expect you to completely shut down after just one simple question.

You are unresponsive to any stimuli while you sit in the hallway with Natasha’s presence close by. The older redhead tries to tap her foot or grunt obnoxiously, just to get a response, but nothing.

It’s not until you can hear Carol’s heavy footsteps that you quicken up and bow your head down.

Carol nods in Natasha’s direction before she passes her and collects you. Her gruff hands slide up and down the expanses of your leash until she finds the position that will yield her the most amount of control over your movements.

If the circumstances were different, Natasha would kill Carol on the spot.

Yet, as Carol takes ahold of your leash and steers you both into the elevator, Natasha lets you go.

Convincing herself it’s for the better. Again.

[kiame-sama]

Omega Marechi (Yandere!Upper-Moons x Omega!Reader x Yandere!Muzan)

Warnings; yandere, multiple yandere, stalking, mention of violence, mention of social imbalance, my abo au (less than 1000 omegas world wide and omegas are a commodity of sorts), omega reader, abo social ladder, abo societal structure, unfair situations, instinct manipulation, kidnapping, threat of murder, blood, violence, mention of human consumption, demons, female bodied reader, female reader pronouns (let me know if y'all want a male version).

(It's a personal headcannon of mine that omegas are short & chubby, so very soft and squishy)

(Also, let me know if y'all want a continuation of this, I have a certain idea involving stockades I have been interested in trying out)

~~~~~~~~

Deep within the winding surfaces and ever changing interior of a fortress wreathed in darkness, demons began to gather. Though they were few in number, each demon had their own impressive strengths and abilities that set them apart from the many other members of their brood. Even with their combined presence and strength, their master stood above them in every way possible.

The king of demons, he who sired every other demon, stood watching his upper ranked generals as they gathered beneath him. Short dark hair seemed to swallow all light in the inky abyssal color, bright red eyes glinting like lit lanterns on the darkest of nights. His fair skin unblemished and so smooth it could be mistaken for the marble of a true artisan's finest work. Truly a vision of a true apex alpha with the beauty of a divine being.

The six generals that gathered were supposed to be without company and solely focused on their sire, yet one was not alone. Next to the top general of the king's army was a large rectangular box shape that was draped in heavy fabrics to conceal what may be held within. The fabrics seemed to be soaked in a heavy perfume mixed with the hint of an unusually appealing scent that taunted the senses.

"What have you brought, Kokushibou?"

The deep and commanding voice of the demon king rumbled out with a tint of curiosity in his tone. Where he expected quite a bit from his upper moons, even he had to admit that the actions of his top general were odd. It was not often that the upper moons did something that surprised him- and usually was met with a swift reprimand- but his curiosity had been peaked by the abnormal behavior.

Without saying a word, Kokushibou gripped the heavy fabric and quickly pulled it away, revealing what had been concealed. Beneath the cloth lay an iron cage- much like what an exotic beast would be transported in- with blankets lining the bottom of the cage for cushion. The cage itself wasn't very interesting when compared to what lay within.

Laying bound in the iron cage was a woman, her (h/c) locks strewn around her head and her (s/c) flesh looked incredibly plush and no doubt was soft to the touch. A delicate and fine silk kimono wrapped around her bound form, even that which held her was made of the expensive materials. Her eyes were covered in a long silk ribbon, mouth held shut by an intricate golden muzzle, her arms cuffed together with similarly intricate cuffs in front of her and lower legs cuffed together.

A woman- no matter how decorated- wasn't much to crow about, but the pungent scent that had been smothered by the perfumes was now free and quickly reached those nearby. There was a visible change in the way the other upper moons stood, their nostrils flaring and eyes fixed on the soft woman as they contemplated what she was. The scent reached Muzan last, but he knew immediately what was being presented to him, though he could scantly believe what his senses were telling him.

"No," Douma started, his multi colored eyes wide in disbelief, "that's impossible. Omegas aren't real! It must be a trick."

"Looks real to me. Smells real too. Actually," Akaza sniffed, looking curiously at the bound female, "she smells like a marechi."

A soft whimper came from within the cage, the female inside moving and seemingly trying to pull away from her binds. The muzzle secured on her kept her from speaking and muffled her sounds as she responded to the voices around her. Blindly she turned her head towards the sound of Akaza speaking, seemingly trying to understand where she was and who she was with.

"She was being transported as cargo on a train. From her scent, it was made clear to me that she is an Omega and a marechi. She has no mating marks present on her body. The humans transporting her were on their way to deliver her to slayers, a gift from a small village of fools."

Muzan silently descended from where he had been standing above the upper moons, approaching the cage curiously. The other demons watched in interest as their sire crouched, observing the bound female that had been presented to him. He had not encountered an omega, even in his long life, so seeing such a rare and unusual being in a cage was surreal. Truly, he had thought omegas were just another myth created by humans.

He reached a finger between the bars, his sharp nail gently scraping over the exposed neck of the omega. Naturally, she responded with a fearful sound at the feeling of something sharp against her neck, trying to writhe away from the sensation. The obvious fear was accompanied by an intense scent that prodded at their minds to defend the soft woman from whatever may be causing her distress.

Muzan observed the struggling of the delicacy he had been presented with, red eyes gleaming and unwavering. After a moment of simply watching the omega struggle, he reached his hands forward to grip the cage bars. With one flex, the metal groaned beneath his hands, crumpling like sand and bending out of shape. One of his hands held the cage still as he ripped the bar off of the cage, pulling out several more until he could access the omega.

The loud sound of the metal bending and crushing had clearly upset the omega who let out a muffled scream into the muzzle, body twisting and writhing to escape the frightening sound and its source. Another scream escaped her as one of Muazan's hands gripped the back of the her kimono, dragging her out of the remnants of the cage. A sharp scent made him freeze, the taunting ambrosia of marechi blood filled his nostrils as he moved to examine the omega.

Sitting on her cheek was the smallest of cuts, blood slowly beading along the line of the slice. Within the second Muzan noticed the small injury, a greedy mouth formed along his hand. The elongated tongue quickly stretching out and slowly laving over the gathered blood with an apparent groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest from the taste.

His pleasured sound only seemed to frighten the omega more, whimpering out and beginning to cry from the terror. It was understandable, she had been in the cage for an unknown time and now was listening to the sound of an unknown assailant flavor her blood. With a quick motion the blindfold was pulled away, revealing (e/c) eyes that were filled with delicate tears and horror.

Her gaze became fixed on the bright red eyes of the predator in front of her, body falling completely still. Much like the way an injured fawn would freeze upon seeing the open jaws of a bear. The body of the soft omega seemed to curl in on itself, as if she were trying to seem as small as possible all without looking away.

He lifted his free hand towards her and gripped her ornate metal muzzle despite her frightened sounds and slow shaking of her head back and forth. She cringed and closed her eyes tightly as his hand gripped the clasp of the muzzle that held it on.

For a moment, things seemed to stand still in baited anticipation of what the demon king would do next. All upper moons keenly awaited their sire's next move as it would determine the fate of the omega they all were interested in. Wanting to get their hands on her if he allowed her to live, or wanting a piece of her if he chose to consume her.

A soft click of metal could be heard in the profound silence as the clasp of the muzzle was disconnected.

~~0~~

You warily watched the frightening man remove the muzzle you wore, seeing how hungrily he looked at you the entire time. He seemed to be contemplating you, much like many others would when first coming into contact with you. The man- or monster, would be more accurate- suddenly grinned, hand gripping your neck and slowly lifting you up.

Even with how you struggled, the man seemed to have no problem holding you until he was fully standing. His expression became more fierce as the veins in his face became more pronounced, tongue slowly dragging over his lips. After a moment he lowered you so your feet were on the ground, no longer holding you off the ground but still holding you in place.

"You are a truly unfortunate human. Luckily for you, I intend to keep you for the time being. You staying alive or not will be determined by your actions."

~~~~~~~~

You had been taken to a large ornate bed that no doubt belonged to the demonic alpha that broke your chains but left your cuffs. From the way he stared at you, you felt like you were being appraised much in the way one would appraise a meal. A yelp escaping your lips as you were thrown down on the soft surface.

In seconds you felt the silk that held your clothing together rip open, the ornate kimono falling open. Your body was completely left exposed to the intense gaze of the man, you had been dressed for meeting several new mates who were top members of the demon slayers. Instead it seemed the demons found you and decided to keep you for the time being.

Part of you was terrified to fight back as you didn't wish to anger the demon that took you to bed. Based off of his scent, you knew you were dealing with an alpha of great strength and willpower. The alpha himself seeming to be above other alphas that you had caught the scents of whenever one would pass through your village. He was clearly the one others answered to as they had gotten out of his way rather quickly when he decided to drag you to his chambers.

You tried to keep your thighs pressed together to give yourself some kind of protection, but the demon was quick to pry them open. His gaze was intense and you felt your body warm in response to how he stared at your exposed figure. A whimper from you seemed to break the trance he was in as his eyes flicked up to look at you for several seconds.

"And still, you are afraid. Tell me, Omega, did the humans you lived amongst even give you a name, or have you always been Omega?"

"My name," you struggled to keep the fear out of your voice as you answered the alpha demon, "it's (Y/n), (L/n)(Y/n)."

"(Y/n)? I am Kibutsuji Muzan, king of demons. You have gained my attention, (Y/n), quite dangerous indeed. I expect you to be an obedient omega, understand?"

"Ye-yes, I understand, Alpha."

"Good."

You whined softly as one of his hands came up to palm your soft chest as if appraising it like fruit. His bright red eyes gleaming in interest as he observed you trying to sit still for him and let him continue what he wanted. Clearly you were a high tier omega as you were so obedient and did exactly what the alpha told you to do.

The village you grew up in must have trained you to be a good omega, taking the word of an alpha as law. In any case, he was quite pleased to have such a treasure in his grasp. He vaguely considered keeping the omega for himself, but he knew the way the upper moons stared, even Akaza showed clear interest.

An omega would certainly be a unique reward and incentive to push the upper moons further. Beyond just that, using the unique human omega sent could throw off the slayers in such a way there would be no one left to stand against the demon king.

[artbyblastweave]

ask game; Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl aka Antares

I've always thought that Victoria's first appearance is quite the bit of deft needle-threading.

The thing about Interlude 2 is that Vicky is our first example of one of this setting's established heroes actively fighting crime- not just swooping in to vulture up the accomplishments of an up-and-comer- and a therefore a major goal of the sequence is to ensure that the audience comes away structurally unnerved by what counts as business as usual for the heroes, set the stage for the hurricane of ass-covering to come. So we have a sequence where she lords her power over a baseline criminal who has no realistic chance to fight back or get away, where she cripples and nearly kills him in a display of excessive force, where she uses her connections to other capes to duck out on the consequences of her excess once she realizes that she's crossed certain moral and optical Rubicons. All of this is gross, all of this speaks to an alarmingly cavalier attitude amongst even the most ostensibly accountable heroes. And from a protagonistic perspective, all of this serves to soften the blow of Taylor's actions at the bank in act three, because we're predisposed to see Vicky as an arrogant, overprivileged loose cannon who'd actually have a significantly higher body count than all of the Undersiders put together if not for the cushion afforded to her by her status as a superhero. A golden child up against the already put-upon underdog.

But. She also does all of that to a Neo-Nazi, who was fresh off committing a hate crime. I mean, if this was violence against a purse-snatcher, a drug-dealer- It would be very, very easy to block this sequence in a way that would set her up as a villain and nothing else for the rest of the work. In The Boys, for example, Homelander debuts by incinerating one bank robber's hand and throwing another a thousand feet into the air to land hard on a parked car, and the dissonance between that casual brutality and his chumminess with the onlookers is the thematic backbone for... basically the entire show, because he was in such total control of the situation that the only reason to do it that way is that he fundamentally doesn't care. In Super Crooks, it's made abundantly clear that the superheroes trying to arrest the titular supervillains are significantly more destructive to the city than the villains are, because their institutional backing removes any incentive to do anything but pursue the flashiest arrests possible for the sake of ratings. But Glory Girl? She's a sixteen year old putting her money where her mouth is on the unconsidered-dilettante suburban-left-ish tumblrite rallying cry of punching a Nazi. She's living out a near-boilerplate superheroic fantasy of righteous violence against an uncomplicatedly righteous target- likely a fantasy entertained at least once by the median cape fan, if we're being honest- and then, in the aftermath, blood on her hands and on the pavement, staring down the full weight of the prospect of actually having killed a person in an unconsidered spate of rage, is very much a panicked teenager about it, scrambling for a way to walk it back.

Which, independent of the specifics of whether this particular asshole had it coming, is the problematic element of this that generalizes- that superheroism in this world is a system that puts the social license to use concrete-shattering power in the hands of a kid with the judgement and attitude of someone scheming up ways to dodge curfew. She's done this before, she's gonna keep doing this, she's gonna keep being two-faced about it with her public-facing golden-girl image. But she wasn't wrong to be angry. And the fact that this is the kind of thing she gets angry about is hard to separate from later beats where she tries to do right by people, hard to separate from her willingness to put herself on the line against Endbringers and the Slaughterhouse 9. It's a bad situation, a horrible system that's guaranteed to incentivize bad behavior, they shouldn't be assigning any of this shit to a 17-year-old. But later on, when things go south for her, the seeds are planted so that she can retain audience sympathy in a way that she likely wouldn't be able to if this story was a banal hatswap, with unfairly maligned "villains" who do no real wrong against supervillains who happen to call themselves superheroes.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Defrosted

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: After a grueling day, you return home, weary and stressed. But behind closed doors, the icy, calculating Mycroft Holmes melts for you alone, showing a rare tenderness.

Word Count: 1291 words

A/N: This is a mixture of requests from @anonymousmarvelfan, @howaboutlunch, @savvy-devine666, @but-hey-could-be-satan. It’s been sitting in my WIP file for a while, so I hope the final version is what you were hoping for.

The London air bit sharply through the autumn night as you pushed the door open, peeling off your damp coat with a sigh that held the weight of the day’s troubles. Exhaustion clung to you like a heavy cloak, your thoughts dulled by the long hours of tense meetings and endless paperwork. A familiar chill hung in the air, reminding you of the looming winter and the comfort of the warmth inside your home.

And then there was Mycroft.

You found him in the sitting room, seated in his usual armchair by the fire, a thick book in his hands and his brow knitted in concentration. The firelight danced over his angular features, casting shadows that softened the harsh lines of his face. He glanced up at the sound of your entrance, his expression still the practiced neutrality he wore like armor, yet there was a flicker of something warmer in his gaze.

"My dear," he greeted, voice smooth and unperturbed. “You’re home late.”

The corners of your lips lifted into a weary smile as you approached him, sinking into the sofa opposite his chair. “Yes, well, not everyone can be as fortunate as the British government’s top strategist. Some of us still have to suffer through rush-hour traffic and unreasonable supervisors.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. "Indeed. I suppose not everyone can delegate quite so effectively." He closed his book with a quiet thud, setting it aside on the mahogany side table. “You look exhausted.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, your body sagging against the cushions. “That’s one way to put it. It’s just been… one of those days.”

He rose to his feet with the kind of languid grace that spoke of countless years perfecting even the smallest of movements, as if the very act of standing could be an art form. His gaze swept over you, and in the quiet moments that followed, the transformation began—the slow thawing of the ice around him.

"Wait here," he instructed softly, before disappearing down the hallway.

When he returned, he was carrying a pair of fluffy slippers, the ones you kept tucked away at the back of the closet. He knelt before you, an unexpected gesture that pulled you from your fatigue-induced haze, and with the same careful precision he applied to everything else in life, he slipped them onto your feet. His fingers brushed against your skin, and you could swear you felt the faintest spark of warmth where they touched.

"Come," he said, standing again and extending a hand towards you. "Dinner is nearly ready."

You allowed him to lead you into the dining room, where the rich aroma of a simmering meal filled the air, the scent of garlic, rosemary, and roasted vegetables weaving together in an enticing blend. On the table sat two place settings, a bottle of your favorite wine, and a dish covered to keep the heat trapped inside. It was a sight that instantly made the day’s stress seem like a distant memory.

"You cooked?" you asked, incredulous as you took in the scene.

"I’m fully capable of following basic culinary instructions," he replied dryly, though there was a trace of amusement in his eyes. "Now sit, and allow me the rare pleasure of serving you."

The meal was simple but delicious—a roasted chicken, golden potatoes, and seasoned vegetables, paired perfectly with the deep, velvety wine. Mycroft poured your glass first, as he always did, with the kind of etiquette that had become second nature to him.

As you ate, the tension slowly ebbed from your muscles, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through you, not just from the meal or the fire, but from the quiet intimacy of sharing this moment. Mycroft, usually terse and preoccupied, allowed himself to relax, his features softening as he listened to your accounts of the day. He commented occasionally, offering wry observations that made you laugh and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of office politics.

When you had finished, he was already ahead of you, standing to clear the dishes before you could insist on doing it yourself. "None of that, now," he chided. "You are under strict orders to relax."

As he moved about the kitchen, he carried himself with the same air of precision, each step purposeful, each motion refined. You observed him as he worked, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. It wasn’t often that you were graced with this side of Mycroft Holmes—the attentive partner who pampered and doted, albeit in his own way. It was a side that the rest of the world would never see. To them, he was the British government, a man of intellect and authority wrapped in a cold, imposing exterior. But to you, he was something more—someone who had learned to defrost in the presence of love.

When he returned, his sleeves rolled up and his usual sternness tempered by the gentleness in his gaze, he reached for your hand. "Come," he said, his voice softening. "There’s something else I’d like to show you."

He led you to the bathroom, where a bath had already been drawn, the surface of the water shimmering with fragrant oils and surrounded by the glow of a dozen flickering candles. The warmth of the room wrapped around you like a blanket, chasing away the last remnants of the chill that had clung to you all day.

Mycroft’s hands moved to remove your clothing with a practiced ease that spoke of the years you had shared together. “You’ve earned this,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Now, enjoy it."

Once you were immersed in the bath, the heat soaking into your tired muscles, he did not leave as you expected. Instead, he took a seat on the nearby stool, his long fingers deftly massaging your temples, trailing down the back of your neck, tracing a line of warmth along your spine. It was a kind of care you knew he would never show to anyone else, a private language spoken only in the sanctuary of your shared life.

For a man so famously detached, his touch held a surprising amount of tenderness. It was as though the very act of tending to you brought him some unspoken peace, a quiet satisfaction that no position or title could grant him.

"Mycroft," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. For everything."

His hand stilled, and for a moment, you wondered if you had broken some unspoken rule by being so candid. But then he leaned forward, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. "You’re welcome, my dear," he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Though, as you well know, I do not do these things out of some obligation. I do them because…" He trailed off, and there was a pause before he continued. "Because love, real love, is seeing all the flaws, the scars, the weariness—and choosing to stay. Something I know you do each and every day.”

You gazed up at him, and in his pale eyes, you saw the quiet promise of a man who had found his heart’s refuge in you. It wasn’t a grand declaration or an ostentatious display of affection—it was something far more enduring. It was the gentle unraveling of the formidable man before you, a defrosting that came not with time, but with trust.

As the water cooled and the candles burned low, you knew that no matter how many long days or bitter nights lay ahead, there would always be this—this shared sanctuary where the warmth of Mycroft’s quiet love would be enough to melt away the chill of the world outside.

[eggluverz]

— STARRY NIGHT BAKERY

PAIRING. baker!dan heng x gn!reader

GENRE. bakery au!!!, modern au, fluff

CW. jealousy (a bit from dh)

WC. 3,901

SUMMARY. in which the cute baker down the street catches your eye and you decide to become a regular to keep seeing him.

NOTE. ahh this is prob my fav thing i’ve written on this blog so far AHSDKFK dan heng…as a baker…wearing apron…and rolled up sleeves showing his nice arms…kneading dough…I’M MELTING :> pls enjoy i hope u love baker dh as much as me mwhahaha

A light breeze blew across your face as you walked down the concrete pavement of the city. Small shops lined the streets as you went for your morning walk to get some fresh air before your busy day started. 

You were headed to a chain coffee shop, figuring you couldn’t go wrong with a latte to kickstart your morning. However, as you walked along the humming streets, you smelled a pleasant aroma of sweets and strawberries coming from an opened bakery door. 

The bakery had a artistic yet classic look to it. The doors were full glass with golden handles and golden trimmings. The words “Starry Night Bakery” were draped on the top of the building in a bold, cursive font. Elegant, but not overly embellished as to where it was difficult to read.

The inside was brightly lit, but the walls and countertop were where the name of the bakery really showed itself. You were immediately drawn to it, walking in before you could fully comprehend what you were doing. 

“Good morning,” you greeted as you spotted someone placing pastries behind the glass display case. 

He paused what he was doing to look over at you. “Good morning. Welcome to Starry Night Bakery.”

You watched as he finished placing the freshly baked muffins on the display racks. He had a name tag with the words “Dan Heng” written in the same font as the one used in front of the building. 

As he headed over to the cash register, you took note of the way his sleeves were folded over to reveal his forearms. They were slim, yet muscular enough that you noticed some veins showing through. His white button up was covered by a dark blue apron, wind and stars painted on the front canvas. 

“You haven’t been here before, correct?” he said, unable to recognize your face. 

You shook your head. “That’s right, this is my first time.”

“Let me know if you need any help on deciding what to get,” he offered, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. “My name’s Dan Heng, by the way.”

“Y/N!” you said cheerily. You looked over at the display case and examined all the pastries. They all seemed so good you didn’t know which to choose. “What do you recommend?”

“The strawberry croissant is our most popular item—and it happens to be my favorite as well.”

“I’ll go with that then!” You looked at the menu to see if they also had a latte similar to the one you were originally going to start your day with. “And can I also have a caramel latte with oat milk, please?”

Dan Heng nodded, pressing some buttons on the cash register. “Coming right up.” 

You tapped your card and made sure to include a hefty tip before making your way over to one of the tables to wait for your order. The chairs were soft and cushioned; it seemed like a nice place to sit and enjoy your small meal instead of eating it on the go. Life seemed to favor those who moved fast and hustled non-stop. Sitting and eating at this bakery would be a great way to encourage yourself to be more mindful of that. Plus, it didn’t hurt that the handsome baker was in here to keep you company.

Instead of calling out your order to pick up at the counter like you assumed, Dan Heng placed a steaming mug and a perfectly plated strawberry croissant on the table in front of you.

“I have your caramel, oat milk latte and strawberry croissant here,” he said, placing some napkins next to the plate. “Please let me know if you want any sugar or creamer for your latte.”

“I will, thank you so much!”

You expected him to walk back behind the counter, but he stood there, looking at you expectantly. You looked back at him, eyes wide, but figured he probably wanted to see your reaction to his favorite pastry. 

“Mmm,” you said, picking up the cream-filled croissant, “it smells so good.”

You took a generous bite of the pastry and instantly felt a burst of strawberry and cream in your mouth. The croissant itself was warm and flaky, the perfect vessel for the sweetness of the light filling. You instantly wanted another bite as soon as you swallowed the first.

A sigh of happiness escaped your lips as you smiled between bites. “Somehow, it tastes even better than it smells.”

Dan Heng nodded, his eyes lighting up with pride. “I’m glad you enjoyed. I’ll be in the kitchen, but if you need anything, you can ring the bell at the front counter.”

“Will do! Thank you for recommending this to me.”

“No worries.”

He left you alone at your table to enjoy your snack. A latte seemed to be the perfect companion for this strawberry cream croissant, so you took a long-awaited sip. It was strong and sweet, but you still wanted more sweetness. You were going to ask Dan Heng if you could add a bit of creamer to your cup.

Taking another bite of the croissant, you gathered your latte in your hands and stood up to walk to the counter.

The first sight you saw was Dan Heng in the kitchen—it was an open concept with glass windows that let the customers look into the preparation and baking areas. He had a small streak of flour on his cheek as he worked on kneading the dough with his hands. The image of Dan Heng folding and working the dough grew larger as you walked closer to the counter. You noticed the smaller details, such as another flour streak on the tip of his hair, and the tightening of the muscles on his arms as he kneaded the dough. 

You especially noticed his strong forearms being put to use and you got lost in your admiration for his craft. So focused on the sight of Dan Heng, you didn’t notice what was right in front of you. 

“Oh, no!” you gasped, feeling your full cup tip over as you crashed onto the countertop and lurched forward. You were able to stop yourself from faceplanting, but it was too late to save the latte from being spilt. 

At the sound of your cry, Dan Heng looked around in concern, placing his dough in a bowl and hiding it away in a drawer. He spotted you with an ashamed look on your face and headed over immediately.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” His concerned gaze switched between your embarrassed face and the unmissable spill on the counter. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said in a hurry, reaching for some napkins nearby and attempting to clean up your mess. “I stood up to ask for creamer and I wasn’t looking at where I was going and I walked right into the counter…” 

He placed his hand over yours to stop your futile attempts at cleaning the big spill up. He pulled out a rag that was strategically hung behind the cash register and wiped the latte up.

“Accidents happen, don’t worry about it,” said Dan Heng, trying to console you. You watched guiltily as he finished wiping the countertop down. “This is surprisingly not the first time this has happened, so don’t look so down.”

That wasn’t susprising. If anyone else were to lay their eyes on such an alluring sight, you reckoned they most likely crashed while staring too.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “I’m really sorry about the mess, but thank you for being so kind.”

He waved it off. 

As the morning went on, more customers came into the bakery to grab breakfast before work. You waved to Dan Heng as you gathered your belongings and got ready to continue on with your day and he waved back with a small smile. 

Despite the small mishap, you knew you had fallen in love with this place and would go back again soon. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Over the weeks, you found yourself frequenting Starry Night Bakery whenever you were free. Before work, after work, sometimes even on the weekend when you found yourself craving their strawberry croissants. 

You ended up getting to know the bakers more—mainly Dan Heng but you also met March 7th and Caelus. You learned that Dan Heng was a big reader who enjoyed anything from fiction romance to nonfiction philosophy and everything in between. He loved history but he was open to entertaining conspiracy theories to explore other perspectives. And, he made the best strawberry croissants. 

Today, you entered the bakery in the late morning on a weekend. 

“Hi, Y/N!” March 7th greeted you as soon as you walked in the doors. 

“Good morning!” you chirped, heading over to the counter. March 7th was currently behind the register while Dan Heng was behind the glass walls of the kitchen. He looked up at the noise and when you made eye contact, he waved at you with a smile. You waved back happily. 

She noticed the two of your exchanging glances and grinned. “Dan Heng! Switch places with me; I want to make the pastries. You can take Y/N’s order.”

Dan Heng’s cheeks tinged pink as he wiped his hands off on a clean towel. When he walked over to the cash register, March 7th gave him a big wink. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay actually!” you said to the both of them before they could finish switching roles. “I’m not ordering yet. I’m waiting for someone to join me first!” 

You had been raving about this bakery to your friends since you first had a bite of their pastries, and Gepard wanted to taste it for himself. The two of you happened to both be free this weekend, so you invited him to get some croissants with you. 

Dan Heng nodded. “Okay, when you’re ready just let us know.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, but instead of finding a table for you and Gepard, you loitered around Dan Heng. “Have you read anything interesting recently?”

His countenance brightened at your interest. “Yes, I recently picked something up on Nikolas Tesla and his fascination with pyramids and energy. Modern scholars seem to agree those theories are more pseudoscience than anything else, but it’s interesting to understand his train of thought.”

“Oh! I’ve heard a conspiracy theory like that before. Something about how the Pyramids could have been energy generators…” 

As Dan Heng was about to reply, the front door chimed opened. You turned and saw a tall, blonde-haired man walk in. 

“Gepard!” you exclaimed, signaling him over. 

His eyes scanned the interior of the bakery before they landed on you. “Y/N! This place looks really nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” 

You bounced over to him, leading him to your favorite booth. It was against a wall covered in an interpretation of the infamous Starry Night painting. You always looked at the decor in awe, wondering how they managed to keep the ambiance so bright despite the night sky theme. 

“Stay here, I’ll order us the food! My treat,” you said with a grin.

Gepard immediately shook his head. “I should be the one treating you.”

You gave him a stern look of refusal. “I invited you here, so I’ll pay.” 

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at your determination. “Okay. Next time, I’ll invite you somewhere then.” 

“That would be acceptable,” you teased. “Now, wait here.” 

As you headed over to the cash register where Dan Heng stood—not too far from your booth—you noticed the slight frown on his face. 

“Hi again! I’m ready to order now,” you said cheerfully. 

“Okay. Ready.”

Your smile faltered. “Um— Right, I’ll have two strawberry croissants, a chocolate chip muffin, and a blueberry muffin, please!”

Gepard loved blueberry muffins, after all. And as much as the bakery’s strawberry croissants were the best on the menu, their muffins were more than delightful as well. 

Dan Heng nodded, noticeably averting eye contact the moment your gaze met his. You quirked your head to the side, confused and slightly concerned. “It’ll be ready soon.”

“Alright, thank you,” you said softly. You hesitated, shuffling from side-to-side. “Are you feeling okay?” 

His eyes widened slightly, a brief look of guilt crossing his face. “Yes, I just got a little tired there, I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. “Oh! I get that. It must be a difficult job moving around so much.” 

Feeling a little awkward, you started to headed back to Gepard, but not before you heard March 7th loudly whisper a, “What are you doing?!” to Dan Heng. 

You hoped you weren’t the reason Dan Heng felt upset or tired, but you figured it’d be best to let him process and cool off on his own. Besides, you had Gepard here to catch up with. 

The two of you chatted and laughed as you told stories about work and friends. He told you about a blind date his sister set him up on that went miserably, you mentioned some new hobbies you’ve been trying to get into. The strawberry croissants were just as amazing as always and Gepard enjoyed them as well. 

But throughout your meal, you couldn’t help but notice Dan Heng’s gaze occasionally on you. And apparently, so did Gepard. 

“Are you guys together?” Gepard murmured under his breath. “He keeps looking this way.”

You shook your head. “Together? No, we’re not.” 

He grinned, leaning in closer to your ear. “He’s looking pretty jealous for someone who’s not dating you.” 

Immediately, you turned to look at the front counter, only to make accidental eye contact with Dan Heng. His eyes widened and heat rose up to your cheeks. You almost gave yourself whiplash as you averted your gaze to the man in front of you. 

He stifled a laugh at the crazed expression on your face. “Why did you look right at him?” 

“What was I supposed to do after you said that?! I wanted to see for myself,” you said helplessly, hiding behind your hands. “He’s going to think I’m weird now, great.”

“He wouldn’t have even noticed if he weren’t looking at you in the first place,” reasoned Gepard. He took the last bite of his blueberry muffin and offered you some advice. “You can take this with a grain of salt since I haven’t seen the two of you interact regularly, but he definitely seems interested. And if my gut is correct, so are you.” 

You didn’t even bother denying it. How could you when the first day you saw Dan Heng you spilled an entire cup of coffee on the counter because you were busy gawking at his arms? Now that, you did not tell Gepard. Even you had some shame. 

“Well, if you do decide to do anything, just know I’m rooting for you!”

You laughed through your embarrassment, still grateful for his support. “I’ve been wanting to… But we’ll see.”

Gepard patted your head affectionately and you grinned as you swatted his hands away. You appreciated your friend for giving you a boost of confidence. Maybe this was just the push you needed to express your interest to Dan Heng. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

The sky was blue and bright as you walked the city streets this morning to head over to your usual spot. The weather was warm out despite the day just starting and you basked in the bright sunlight. 

Today was a good day. And it was going to get even better. Because you were going to talk to Dan Heng about feelings. Your feelings, his feelings, all the things you were afraid to say. 

You realized that sounded a bit too dramatic. It wasn’t as if you were confessing your love or asking him to be your husband— You simply wanted to express that you started liking him and wanted to explore the potential of dating. There was nothing to fear!

At least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you opened the door to Starry Night Bakery. You took a deep breath, trying to act normal. After all, you were here first and foremost to get some breakfast and enjoy the bakers’ company. You should focus on enjoying your morning and talking to your bakery friends, then things with Dan Heng would come naturally to you. You hoped. 

When the door chimed open, you spotted both Dan Heng and March 7th at the front counter. March 7th was placing the pastries in the display case while Dan Heng restocked the napkins. 

“Hi, Y/N!” March 7th greeted, looking up when she heard you enter. “How’s your morning been?”

You brightened up the moment you saw her. “Great! It’s so nice out? How was your guys’ morning so far?”

“Also good! We tried a new combination of flavors for our cream croissants. You should try one! On the house.” 

You beamed, excited at the prospect of being the first to taste one of their new creations. You were certain it’d taste amazing. “I’d love that!” After a pause, you focused your attention on Dan Heng, looking at him expectantly. “And how are you?”

“I’ve been good,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You weren’t sure why he seemed sad, but you knew you wanted to see him feel better. A moment of silence passed by before you asked a question you knew he normally loved answering. “Did you learn anything interest recently?” 

He nodded. “Yes, but I already told March 7th.”

You pursed your lips, your stomach dropping. “Oh. Okay.” 

March 7th looked between the two of you, shaking her head as she slowly escaped to the kitchen area, leaving you and Dan Heng alone. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, trying to find ways to fill the awkward silence you were not yet accustomed to with Dan Heng.

“Have you ever wondered what a cloud would feel like?” was the first thing you thought to blurt out. The clouds were big and fluffy during your walk earlier, so it was only natural that was the first place your mind went to.

He cracked a smile—a tiny, but real one this time—at that. “Unfortunately, they wouldn’t feel as soft as they appear. Clouds are vaporized water, after all. I believe it would feel like a steam of sorts. But if you were to touch one high enough, you’d likely feel ice droplets.”

You listened to him eagerly. You were sad the answer wasn’t “as fluffy as cotton candy!” but you were happy Dan Heng was talking to you normally.

“This is one of my favorite things about you,” you stated as if you were talking about the weather. “You never want to stop learning and growing and it shows on even small topics such as clouds. I could listen to you for hours, I think.”

If he was startled by your candor, he didn’t show it, instead examining you thoughtfully. “I enjoy listening to you as well.”

You grinned happily. “Then we always need to keep talking and listening to each other, okay?”

Dan Heng gave a hum of acknowledgement.

Feeling as if your friendship was back to normal, you felt more comfortable talking to him about whatever came to mind.

“By the way, Gepard said he loved the strawberry croissant yesterday! He said we’ll definitely eat here again!”

You expected Dan Heng to feel happy after hearing the compliment about his bakery, but instead, his countenance visibly fell. “Oh.”

You blinked. It seemed he didn’t like hearing about Gepard. Either he didn’t like Gepard—which was impossible, really—or he didn’t like that it was you mentioning him. You decided to carefully test your hypothesis by continuing to talk about him.

“He said he would love to try a mango version, actually!”

“I don’t think mango suits our pastries.”

You eyed the fruit tart with mango cubes on top. “Right…” A moment of silence passed between the two of you as you wondered what exactly was going on. You kept pushing. “Gerard liked the blueberry muffin.”

“We’ve been thinking of discontinuing that.” 

You laughed in shock, not fully believing your ears. “Dan Heng! You are not actually considering taking the classic blueberry muffin off the menu.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Dan Heng,” you called again, voice singsongy. There was a look of mischief on your face. This wasn’t how you anticipated bringing this up, but it seemed like an opportunity had presented itself. “Are you jealous?”

You heard a squeal from the kitchen, but when you looked in the direction of the noise, the only thing you saw was a flash of pink hair ducking away from view. You turned back to Dan Heng. He looked lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed as lips slightly downturned.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He paused. “I don’t know if I’m jealous of Gepard. But my chest feels tight, my body feels tense, and I feel upset at the thought of you and him together. If that is jealousy…then, yes.”

“Definitely sounds like jealousy to me!” cried March 7th, still hiding away in the other room.

Dan Heng’s face tinged pink and you started laughing at her antics. 

“Dan Heng,” you said with a bright grin. “You don’t have to be jealous. Gepard is just a friend. And he can’t make the delicious strawberry croissants like you can. Trust me, I think you’re like…ultimate boyfriend material.”

You were only half-teasing, but you still meant every word you said.

He smiled and a look of relief washed over him. “You guys just seemed very happy together. I thought it was a date. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it! I’m just glad to have this cleared up.”

It felt like your body was buzzing in excitement. Not only did you clear up any potential awkwardness with Dan Heng, but you found out that he was jealous of Gepard. Now, it seemed like the next conclusion to reach was that he was jealous of Gepard because he was interested in you. 

“So… Ultimate boyfriend material,” Dan Heng repeated your earlier words. “What exactly does that entail?”

You thought about it for a second. “In general, it’s someone dependable and trustworthy. For me in particular,” you said, eyeing him hopefully, “it’s all that plus a history and philosophy nerd. Plus, someone who can bake the best strawberry croissants. Maybe someone like you?”

He chuckled, taken aback by your straightforward response. You looked up at him, slowly batting your lashes. Crinkles formed on the side of his eyes as his smile widened. The mood was light and happy, and you felt like nothing in the world could bring you down.

“Care to find out if your assessment is correct?” he asked, extending a hand out for you to place yours in.

“I’d love to!” You nodded, feeling the warmth of his fingers on the palm of your hand. His thumb slowly ran across your knuckles and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Do you want to go on a date, Dan Heng?”

You held your breath as you waited for his response. He started off as a nice baker in a shop you ran into one random morning, then he became your friend, and now he was on the cusp of being something more. The story was sweeter than the cream in your strawberry croissant.

“With you?” said Dan Heng, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Always.”

[coltishcaterpillar]

Unmasked / Platonic!Father Alastor x Teen!Daughter Reader

Chapter I: Introduction

Summary:

Two days after the Extermination, a bored Emily reads through private records of Heavenly residents and sinners alike.

During her mindless scrolling, she comes across a vintage diary smelling of old paper, from the late 20s-early 30s. It details the life of the teenage adopted daughter of the Radio Demon; up until her death at aged 16 on January 11th, 1934.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Racism

April 4th, 1932

Have you ever seen a top hat, what one really looks like on a person?

Neither have I, until today. At the end of Merritt Street, there’s a small accessories store that sells jewellery and clothing alike.

I used to frequent there, but I’ve never been a fashionable girl. I’m a larger fan of browsing; just admiring the beauty of art from afar, rather than acquiring it.

I never realized how much I missed the little establishment until I saw my favourite businessperson; Anne Brewster. A short, tout woman she was. Her skin had a grey tinge to it, a pointy nose that popped out her features; bright brown eyes and hair as white as pearls, short and thin as straw.

I greeted her with my usual demeanour. Quiet and curt, a straight wave and a superficial smile. The woman has a tendency to chatter; most of the time I don’t have time to interject, so I just listen.

I went in the shop with Elbert Graves; a fellow classmate of mine in mathematics. He’s not my ideal source of company, I’ll admit. I get along much better with other girls, but this helpless boy is always on my tail, and I can’t bare to tell him to get lost.

We came across a jet-black top hat with a golden ribbon wrapped around its rim. It was on display, but there was no glass so we assumed we could sample it. Elbert looked utterly ridiculous in it; far too flashy, and way too gigantic for his pea-sized head.

I managed a small laugh, as that’s the reaction he would’ve wanted from me. Ever the jokester…

I took a seat on the cushioned chair in front of the store’s entrance. Whilst Elbert was fooling around with other gadgets, Anne took to speaking with me.

She spoke a great deal about her grandchildren, and then inquired me about Papa.

Pa doesn’t usually wander about these places, but he knows Anne from university; they attended the same one in Shreveport, in September of 1908. Pa wanted to become a broadcaster post-secondary (to which he achieved) and Anne wanted to edit the local newspaper part-time; she was getting old, but didn’t want to stop working. She didn’t end up pursuing it, however, she dropped out her third year to take care of Rachel (her eldest grandchild who was 5 at the time.) Then, she inherited this business when Mr. Brewster, her father, died. He owned the shop.

She asked about his job was working out for him. Pa never speaks about work when he arrives home; usually he’s more interested in my daily activities. I don’t listen to Pa’s radio channel anyways, because the subjects he covers doesn’t appeal to me.

I just told her he was thriving; because in a way, he was. Pa was rarely in a sour mood. Of course, he gets moody when I do something out of line from time to time, but his attitude is always uplifting.

Elbert excused himself to the restroom at the back of the desk; that’s when she started talking about adolescent things. Boys…..

“Elbert is a such a handsome boy, don’t you agree?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“His chin is too long, and his head is too small for his broad shoulders. Not to mention his personality isn’t to my tastes. He’s far too extroverted and cheeky.”

“Oh, come now, my lovely. Surely, we can’t all be picky! What ever will you do when you grow into a young woman? Who will be around to take care of you?”

“Pa will, no doubt.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Your father will be far too senile to care for you when you’re in your prime! You need a strong man!”

“Too senile?! Surely, you jest. Pa may be lanky, but he’s very capable. He was only twenty-five when he adopted me, he’ll only be middle-aged by the time I’m an adult.”

“You say Elbert is cheeky, but I see a lot more cockiness coming from you than I ever have with him.”

“Only an outside observer can properly assess my personality. Perhaps you just see my persona differently than I.”

“Is that so?”

The bell hanging from the door rang; in came a man, dressed in a business suit, a large briefcase held in his right hand. He had been more wrinkly than I had last seen him: Anne’s partner, Mr. Devereaux.

He has a very thick Yorkshire accent; Anne and him met while she was on vacation in London; Mr. Devereaux was studying photography. When they first met in late 1864, they weren’t sure whether or not they could ever be together. Anne is a very brown woman, you see. Very. Mr. Devereaux is about as white as a sheet. People often look down on….colourful couples…? More harshly. They aren’t allowed to be married, so they had to improvise.

Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner, but Anne is actually good friends with my Grandma. Pa is half-Creole, you see, and my Grandma’s roots come from there. So, the Brewsters are actually well-acquainted with my family.

Mr. Devereaux sat his briefcase beside the door, across from where I was seated. He flashed me a toothless smile; quite literally, since they all rotted out of his mouth due to age.

I gave him a curious look back.

“Back from business, old man?” I tease.

He chuckled; giving me an affectionate pat on the head.

“Oh, well, look at you! Already at it with the nosy interrogation, I see! I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” He smiled.

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t answer the question….

He turned his attention to Anne quite quickly. Leaning over the desk, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“The trip went smoothly,” He told Anne, “Janice sent you a letter. It should be in the mail soon, my darling.”

Janice was their daughter.

“Lovely.”

He turned his entire body so it faced me, with an inquisitive look on his face. He then turned and whispered to Anne,

“Al is out late again?”

“I don’t know, my sweet. I’ve seen her out and about all day with Elbert, he must be. It’s nearly nine.”

“I thought his radio shows were done by four?”

“Perhaps the schedule’s changed, dearest. Let’s not be nosy, it’s not our business.”

I let out a deep breath through my nose, standing up. Pa likes to hang around a few stores after work, so I tried my best not to let their observations get to me. Perhaps he was already home!

Anne leaned over from behind Mr. Devereaux.

“Could you go check on Elbert, hun? He’s been in the restroom for quite a while.”

I sigh. Without a response, I head toward the back desk, into the small hallway that had the restrooms.

I knocked on the door, firmly.

“El?” I addressed him by nickname.

“Mhm?” His hun echoed off the door.

I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing in there these past fifteen minutes? It was eight-forty when you went in, it’s five to nine already!”

Within seconds, he came out of the door, an awkward smile plastered on his face. A blush dusted his cheeks as well; I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he have the runs?

“Finished?” I asked him without judgment.

“Yes.” He said, curt.

I lead him back to the entrance of the store, passing Anne a smile. I turn my gaze back to Elbert.

“I’m going to be leaving now. I hadn’t realize how late it was. Will you be alright on your own?” I asked, a tint of concern in my voice.

“Of course. See you later?” His tone was hopeful.

Without a pause, I said, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

I said my goodbyes to Anne and Mr. Devereaux, and sent my regards to Janice.

When I exited the store, it wasn’t as dark and drab as I thought it would be; I still heard birds chirping, and I could see my way almost perfectly. Just another perk of springtime, I suppose.

When I arrived home, Pa was indeed on the couch, his legs crossed, with a newspaper in hand; black coffee was situated on the side table.

“Home at long last, my dear!” He put his newspaper down; and I ran over, kissing him on the cheek.

“Sorry, Papa. How long did you have to wait?”

“Oh, not long at all!” He chuckled heartily.

I turn over to the rounded wooden table in the dining room; a large cloth bag sat on it; my eyes lit up in curiosity.

“Now, now,” Pa waved his finger, “I know that dangerous gaze. Don’t go peeking around my things, dear.”

I put on a thinned-lipped smile, leaning on the armrest.

“What, do you have something to hide, Papa~?” I leaned in, teasingly.

It was meant to be a joke. A rhetorical question. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice his fist clench up, if only for a moment. His body language was saying something different than what his mouth was.

“Is it really too much to ask to keep yourself out of my business?” He bit his lower lip.

When Pa took that tone with me, I knew it was time to pipe down. I decided to change the subject, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Elbert and I took a stroll around the avenue.” I said, tracing along the armrest.

I could FEEL Pa’s eye roll without even looking.

“Out with that wretched boy again, are we?” He took a casual tone as he sipped his coffee, but I knew the mere thought of Elbert irked him.

Pa has never interacted much with my friends, so I thought El would be another drop in the ocean. I think his hatred of him has something to do with that one time he came over here.

Everything was alright until dinner time.

The few hours earlier, Grandma treated us with a generous amount of Jambalaya. She always makes the best, after all.

Elbert made an….observation? While we were eating and it made Pa freeze.

“This is some slave food! Who made it, a peasant?”

All I remember was Pa’s grip tightening so much on the fork. I leaned over to where he was sitting and rubbed his arm a little.

I disliked the comment too. That was my Grandma he was speaking about….

After El left, I noticed Pa staring at the wooden spoon on the shelf. I know that blasted piece of cutlery all too well….

Pa is good at discipline. Even when my other friends came over, he’d always make an effort to chastise them if they didn’t say please or thank you.

Long story short, I think Pa wanted to beat El. That’s probably why he was showing such immaculate restraint at the table. I can’t imagine another person disciplining somebody else’s child would go…smoothly, anyway.

He had valid reason to hate him, I suppose. I’m not fond of Elbert either, but…how do you find it in your heart to say no? I suppose I’ve never really had a backbone, but…it seems that he’s really fond of me.

“How was work?” I asked with a smile.

“It held all of its classic theatrics! You should find it in your soul to listen to my shows, my dear.” He beamed.

I was deep in thought.

“Don’t I hear enough of your voice already?”

Pa chuckled his little chuckle that always made my chest warm.

“You can never have too much of your father!”

Time went on as usual; a few moments later I decided to pack up for bed; Pa went upstairs to get his radio ready to listen to. He always does before he sleeps.

I took that as an opportunity to ponder; I turned my gaze back to the bag on the table. Pa notoriously hunts, but it was far too late for food, so it made me wonder.

I slid toward it with my socks against the hardwood. I breathed in deeply; perhaps there was a certain scent? All I could smell was the dusty fabric; nothing more.

With a sigh, I decided to leave it for now. Maybe it’s….best that I don’t.

Y/N

——————

Emily blinked once. She recognized the background; that this child of one of the hotel staff in Hell.

Taking the historical piece of literature to St. Peter, she inquired,

“St. Peter, hi! I was just wondering if there is a girl here in Heaven named Y/N L/N?”

St. Peter smiled in delight, getting out his holy book, scanning through all the people with your name; going roughly by last name. His face fell as they came to an end.

“Unfortunately not, Em! It’s…strange, considering the circumstances. Sixteen is very young for a person to end up in Hell…but she isn’t in Heaven.”

Emily frowned, eyeing the diary in her hands. Perhaps she’d find the answer in there….

[vaahomedecor]

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[reddesires]

Unfortified [Caesar x Human!Reader]

Caesar x Human!Reader

Rating: Implied NSFW.

Fandom: Planet Of The Apes

A/N: I needed me some vulnerable Caesar, I feel we don't get enough of that. I headcanon that he's in desperate need of soft loving and a safe place to be vulnerable 👏❤️

The flickering of the fire light caresses over the strong features of Caesar, you admire the swoops that line the tender skin under his golden flecked eyes, his strong brow carrying the stresses of his overbooked day overlooking the colony.

The tension in his broad shoulders telling you all you needed to know, he was silent as he looked into the fire with a look of contemplation, the pelts under him cushioning his leaning figure.

You could feel the heat of desire climbing from the depths of your stomach as you gazed over the length of his body, his strength alone would be enough to take away your breath, break all the delicate bones in your body, his jaw holding overwhelming power that could tear right into you with ease, he's dangerous and a force to be reckoned with and you admired the set look in his stare.

He has showed you just how strong he is, he's easily lifted you and plopped you into the nest and pinned you down without breaking a sweat, no matter how you struggle or kick your under his mercy and you loved every second of it but it pique that instinctive fear, the instinctive fear of being prey under a predator.

The memory of how his canines glinted under the atmospheric lighting and you imagine him biting down into the tender skin of your neck as he held your hands above your head forcing you to submit to his sheer power.

You snap out of your expanding daydream, lightly fanning yourself in attempt of collecting your self control before looking over at Caesar who's now laid back into the nest with his arm thrown over his eyes, clearly stressed from the overshadowing responsibility that towers over him everyday.

You frown, your eyesbrows clashing into each other in worry, your heart hurting at his defeated figure. You slowly crawl into the nest, soothing your hands up his side.

"Caesar, my love?" The coo in your voice and your presence pacifying the rigidness in his body as he reaches his free hand to you still covering his eyes, the twitching of his mouth a sign that he's struggling with the crumbling walls encasing his emotions.

"Oh Caesar.. please talk to me.. You know you could talk to me." He quietly sighs before tossing his arm off his eyes, softly gazing into yours, the look almost resembling a lost child, you are so used to seeing Caesar so self assured and sturdy that this look alone almost halts your breathing.

You have watched the way Caesar carries himself amongst the colony and the image alone sends a gentle shiver throughout your body, this expression of vulnerability sticks into your heart like pins and needles and you know you would cover him with your own body if it meant he'd be protected from the brunt of force from the world if you did.

"I question the stability of the colony.. how long until there's more danger? Recent sightings on outskirts" the baritone clings onto his vocal cords with potency, his tone quiet and vulnerable, he's exposing his fears to you and you can't help the water of your eyes as you sooth his beard in between your fingers.

"I worry for you..for your safety." He softly grabs your wrists in his warm hands, his thumbs mollifying the skin on your inner wrists, you smile gingerly as you lean forward pressing your forehead into his, he purrs pulling you into him, his arms wrapping protectively around your waist.

"I know you, Caesar. You are the greatest protector there is, I trust you." He inclines forward immediately, kissing you almost desperately, your hands gripping the sides of his face, kissing him back with just as much as vigor.

He'll worry himself to the ledge if you let him, but you'll talk him down as many times as you have to if it means he'll climb back down into this nest with you.

[mochilatae]

Cherry (Jungkook x Reader)

Word Count: 6.86k

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/n (Reader)

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Semi-public/public play, hand jobs, orgasms (his), kissing sucking, biting/nibbling, sexy/dirty talk, flirting, early relationship jitters, gentle teasing/scolding, coaxing/seduction, lightly pushy Jungkook, alcohol consumption.

Genre: PwP, Friends to Lovers/Roommates to Lovers

AUs: Roommate BTS/Roommate Jungkook

Summary: You've had a rough day and you decide to stop at a bar on the way home to unwind. Your roommate meets you there and a bad day turns better from there when he gives you an unexpected first.

Author’s Note: It's been a long time since I wrote about Jungkook, let alone Roommate Jungkook. I missed him so I decided to drum up a little action.

Please ignore any typos and just enjoy.

Thank you for reading. If you liked it and feel like leaving a comment, I'd love to hear! Reblogging is always appreciated but not required.

Tag List: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes

You settled into the booth, sinking into the plush cushion. There was no disputing: it was much nicer to be inside, away from the light rain falling steadily outside. The day hadn’t started that way, but city weather was misleading like that.

10 hours ago your optimism was much higher, especially seeing the golden beauty of the morning sun from the bathroom window. Everything about the day seemed MUCH more promising earlier. From there it proved a slow plod towards disappointment as the cloud cover increased hour by hour.

You should learn to be more practical, the reminder coming as you stared into the depths of your drink, elbows braced on the table. As you chased a cherry bobbing on the surface of the drink with the tip of the straw tucked between your lips your mood dipped.

In spite of the day, you DID have something to look forward to–something that came with the opening of the bar door. Footsteps crossed the threshold and shook off droplets of rain. Hair shook next, followed by shoulders as the voices around you lulled into a brief silence.

There were probably enough people looking at whomever came through the door, but you didn’t. That was the last thing you felt like doing. Your head stayed down just enough, focusing on the reddish hued depths of the glass contents. 

The bell over the door chimed faintly when it shut behind the newcomer. Finally you looked up, taking in the figure there. 

And his eyes found you right away. The smile came with a flash of teeth. Damp bangs splayed over a blemish free forehead until a backwards flick cleared it all. It was such a quick action but still looked effortless.

Graceful as hell. Familiar, too. Deep down you knew–you expected this. There was something to be said about pretending you didn't, though...

As the man closed the distance, coming your way with a purposeful stride, you straightened in the booth seat with shoulders pressed into the seat back in unconscious preparation.  

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this..” You finally said, even IF your belly was riddled with butterflies. Every one aflutter from the laser focused stare of your roommate. 

That word couldn’t contain what he was to you. What he’d become. It was the tip of the iceberg. He’s more than just a body paying the other half of the rent. Very much not like you pictured for yourself even a year ago.

Certainly not when you’d signed that signature line at the end of the too-many paged contract. 

Instead of feeling anxiety knitted with dreadful tension seeing Jungkook, you felt warm. Relaxed. Weak and wobbly deep inside. A welcome change you still hadn’t quite gotten used to. 

“I can’t believe how good you look.” Jungkook’s grin widened as he stood at the table. His shape did a great job of blocking your view of everything, and all he did was be himself–broad and handsome. If not a little…cocky still. 

You’d forgotten how much better Jungkook looked wet. It probably surpassed his visuals dry and donning a fitted pair of jeans. Or like now, in tailored slacks—the newest edition to his wardrobe thanks to a new job in a local office downtown. 

Jungkook hadn’t trended towards dressing business casual (or beyond) before, but that’s what a well paying job could do to a stubborn mind. The other side effect was more personal in nature:  you, struggling even more to keep eyes off him.

He didn’t complain so much anymore. Apparently messing with your focus and monopolizing your attention proved a fair trade for the agony this new forced fashion for 40 hours of his week. 

Jungkook stared down at you, his grin uneven. You couldn’t suss out why he stood there so long. Back to the excitement of telling yourself you'd never be the type to 'pretend' stuff--like stranger meetups.

And yet...

Eventually the silence piled on, bringing your gaze up until you met those beautiful, dark eyes. Black as night at the center, in this modest lighting, but with a sparkle just visible. Jungkook widened his shoulders and shot you a wink. 

“Of all the bars in all the city–” He grinned. 

You pulled the glass closer, taking another mouthful and almost gagging from the overwhelming alcohol taste dominating everything. The ‘Nightly Special’ section of the menu had been hard to really read, not that you’d sat down with patience or focus. You saw the word cherry. A flavor you liked and it would do but now came the debt: the slow crawl of realization that this was why you’d scaled back drinking to a rare-if-ever type of thing. 

Wearing a scowl, you smacked your lips. Jungkook titled his head, brow arched.

“...What’s the poison?”  

“A bellini.” You coughed into the back of your hand. “Don’t start. I needed it.” 

Not a moment later you motioned to your right side, shifting enough, assuming Jungkook would have plenty of space. He didn’t bother shedding the long overcoat as he took the offer and settled in. Then slid even closer until your sides touched. You surmised that was exactly what he’d wanted based on his unabashed hum of pleasure. 

“Seriously.” Jungkook started anew, voice lower and huskier. Hot breath tickled along your jaw as he nosed below that nearer ear. It was a most sensitive spot and one of his favorites since he found out what it did to you. 

Points for his earnestness, even buried underneath a blatant desire. Jungkook didn’t hide his feelings. Especially now that you both agreed to pursue a serious relationship. 

Gulping, you kept eyes trained on the Exit sign over the door and the red X, now faintly blinking.

“..Y/n.. No bullshit. You DO look good.” He murmured more softly. Silky heat grazed your lobe. His feigned pleading of this case had to be strictly for enjoyment. Anyone here would believe him from the jump. There wasn’t a shred of denial in you either. Your changed dynamic meant no more denial.  

A moment later goosebumps rose and ran down your neck in a straight shot, heading for that nipple.  

“Good.” You mimicked. Could you sound weaker? Your voice shivered like tree limbs battered by hurricane force wind. Jungkook had to have caught it. This was the kind of thing he lived to achieve.

If it wasn’t facing the entire place, you would be more than happy to free the whine stuck tight in your throat.

The next swallow of liquor went down easier, sending more fumes through your nostrils and right to your brain. This kind of thing happening was a risk, but you also knew it would help you relax. 

Jungkook aligned against your side like a second skin helped just as much, if not more. 

His touch always felt ‘right’. No one could replicate the way this man meshed with you. It wasn’t like you’d wanted anyone else to try, having become monogamous with Jungkook within the last few months. 

No longer just roommates, you’d officially traded status up to lovers. Boyfriend and girlfriend. This relationship thing was nice actually owning the label. You hadn’t appreciated how much effort had gone into suppressing the acceptance or enjoyment.

“Yeah?” You stole a quick glimpse sideways to find Jungkook A LOT closer, and even cuter with his wrinkled nose. He nodded. 

“100 percent.” His lids fell, stare unabashedly dreamy. 

As you gave in and leaned into his side, Jungkook slid his nearer arm along the back of the booth,then draped it over your shoulders. When he pulled you close, you took a deep breath and had the bonus of another pleasing hint of his clean, fresh scent. Rain kissed, above all else.

“This whole...pretend to be strangers meeting at the bar... It's new to me. Want something to drink?” You asked, the bell over the door ringing when it opened, then closed again. You would be ashamed to admit you had no idea how much time slipped by tucked under Jungkook’s muscular arm. 

It was like he’d moved a muscle either, more than happy to keep you close. For his effort, Jungkook was also acting a little too comfortable and touchy for strangers--unless he was just willing to be that bold if you hadn't known each other. He wasn't a very good actor...

“I’m good.” He replied.

A dimly lit pair of bodies passed, heading for the dance floor at the far end of the room. There, on the modest stage, a live band was finishing their setup. You weren’t a big fan of live music, but you knew who was..

..And he was sitting right next to you. 

“Is it open mic night?” Jungkook watched the bodies pass, then spoke, words riddled with interest. If it involved a chance to sing or show off in public, he was down. VERY not how you were, but not a deal breaker. 

You admired how it seemed Jungkook lacked a single particle of self consciousness in his whole body. He seemed to love putting on a show, especially if you were watching. Now that you understood better, it was a treat to see him showboating. Especially with purer motivations: less jealousy and revenge, more desire and pride driving him to draw your eyes.   

It was hard to believe you ever found it unappealing. Those moments seemed like a lifetime ago. And almost…embarrassing if you tracked through them again. Now was much more comfortable and pleasing, so you tried to keep yourself here. 

Jungkook loved attention and you loved when he sang. You’d call that a win-win normally, but tonight you weren’t quite in that place. There was a distant tension in your limbs and chest. The type you just wanted gone sooner rather than later.

“Looks like it. Not sure how I missed that. It’s going to get noisy soon. We should go..” You replied. 

It was only getting later. With Jungkook to walk you home, skirting the rain outside for the few blocks between here and the apartment didn’t seem so daunting. After all, wasn’t that one of the reasons you’d texted him to meet you here?  

Jungkook sighed. “Too bad. Haven’t gotten to sing for you in a while.” Disappointment bent Jungkook’s lips into an adorable pout. You didn’t need to look. 

A huff punctuated his disappointment. You couldn’t begrudge him the joy of performing. He was born for it. For now he tempered things with a brief smile. 

“Stop..” In spite of his tame reaction you gently prodded his side with one elbow, earning his grunt. 

He squeezed your shoulders more firmly. “YOU stop. You know I’m ticklish there.” 

“Are you?” You feigned surprise then squirmed when a few fingers wormed towards your armpit with an easy shift of his wrapped arm. You barely twisted out of reach. 

“Alright..” You whined. He was just too determined and you weren’t that good tonight. Jungkook, ever relentless and you ever underestimating–a winning combination. 

Seconds later he tugged you towards one end of the booth, inching his way out. On the move, he glanced towards the dancefloor. The figures you’d seen walk by were melting together as the first strains of a suave beat started, the guitar joining with a few plucked notes that became a full bodied song. One you hadn’t heard before, but it had your hips shifting faintly. 

“Wanna?” Jungkook threw a grin back, along with his head, eyeing you. He was a good dancer. Comfortable in his body AND knew how to control every muscle. To move every bit of himself for maximum effect. The stakes were high: falling into that trap meant you’d overstay and burn through your remaining energy. 

“A man of few words.” You teased. “Wanna….what?” 

“Dance.” Jungkook’s eyes rolled as he answered wearily.   

“My feet hurt.” The first of many excuses, by rote. 

Except tonight the idea of swaying with this tight body pressed close, in the balmy dark wasn’t such an off putting suggestion. You already noted that pleasant fullness between the hips that said the ache wasn’t from a long day on your feet, or racing back and forth across the office.

It was more the gnawing hunger for Jungkook. Freeing all your true feelings by agreeing to be together officially made your visceral reactions more potent. And more frequent without the usual hurdles or walls to surpass. Every single twinge of need could flow freely. 

A hint of warmth was already blooming in your folds. Jungkook’s eyes left yours and openly perused south, like he could see the thermal differences across your body. Like you were telling on yourself in ways you couldn’t begin to perceive.  

“I’m sure they do, but dance with me.” This time his smile was warmer. One palm rested in the small of your back, waiting for the word, to give that subtle pressure. To move you –and things– forward, to his desired destination: that shadowed dancefloor. 

“Jungkook–”

“Just one song. I won’t sing, either.” THAT was a big give on his part. You snorted and Jungkook’s stare narrowed. “That’s a big deal. The kind that doesn’t come along very often, Y/n. Let's spin around for a song. One song.” 

To pull the shimmering, doe eyed look from his arsenal was unfair. Rotten as hell and sneaky. Instead of maliciousness and deceit, you saw a flash of playfulness in those tawny depths, and further down, a roiling tension building. 

Exactly like it was inside you. You grunted and twisted against his hold. 

Once Jungkook was out of the booth and upright, he extended a hand again, palm up and waiting. Any reminding will or concern sank into the abyss seeing him towering over you like this. And wearing such a purposefully handsome grin. You knew he reserved that for particularly challenging situations requiring careful negotiation. 

“I won’t even take off my coat.”

That added another level of enticement. No coat off meant he’d be a bit too warm and unlikely to want to work up a good sweat here. It was a pretty good guarantee he’d stick to his word and you’d be out the door after. 

Your hand slid into his and Jungkook pulled you to your feet. He didn’t check as he backed towards the dancefloor and the music. Jungkook didn’t need to. Luck and grace were on his side. 

He was a smooth bastard who never seemed to check where he might be headed–like he always knew. Almost like he was that magical and ‘good’. Every move, clandestine and serendipitous. Born blessed and knowing exactly the hand he was dealt with his latent charm.

“No dirty dancing.” You warned, cheeks rushing with warmth. You fell against his front as he chuckled but it faded into the music overlapping as you stopped at the edge of the dance floor. One arm slid around the small of your back, pulling your hips snug against his own. The thick material of his overcoat was just roughened enough it tickled your suddenly overly sensitive flesh, but you didn’t mind.

You never minded with Jungkook.  

He managed a dimpled grin as he replied “I promise.”

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

You couldn't keep your eyes off Jungkook as you both waited at the curb. He looked so good, blissfully unaware with his stare focused on the toes of his dress shoes. Like everything else exposed to the rain, they carried a shine in the street light. 

It could be worse, you conceded silently. At least the heaviest rain had passed, leaving a fairly light mist.

The world looked almost plastic, the way the water left a glossy layer over everything that wasn’t moving. Even the streets were slick, black coated in reflected wetness that drew every hint of light and turned it into a pearlescence. 

It was beautiful, but a chill was building. Enough to rue leaving your coat at work and falling into the illusion of the bar’s warmth. You were paying for it now. 

Jungkook glanced over at you, tucking his phone into his coat pocket. When he scoffed, it left his lips in a curling puff of hot air. 

“What?” 

“What are you looking at?” 

Jungkook looked down again. You did too, noticing the shiny circle of light reflected on the tips of both dress shoes. 

“These aren’t too bad looking. …Hurt like hell after 8 plus hours walking around in these things, but they LOOKED good today.” 

“Yeah.” You agreed. “Hopefully the rain won’t ruin them.” 

“Not like I’m going through puddles.” He sounded disappointed, again. There was such a pureness about it that you couldn’t help a grin. When you snorted, he snorted. 

When you stepped closer, Jungkook looked over. His arm moved and he opened that side of the coat, like a big fabric wing. Offering warmth and pure darkness. But most of all–the promise of comfort. Escape from that increasing chill as the build of moisture on your naked skin only heightened awareness.

You ducked into the available space offered with a mumbled ‘Thanks’. His arm came down and he kept you there. Inside his coat it was Jungkook scented heaven: comfortable temperature with pure Jungkook scent bathing the entire space. 

Neither of you spoke as you stood, mutually staring out to the street and vague shapes of cars, end to end, on the opposite side of the road. It was impressive that the only empty space was right in front of the bar doors, in the pickup and drop off zone.

Finally you broke the silence.

“How long did you say the Lyft would take?” 

Jungkook took that as an excuse to do what he’d just done a second ago: take his phone out and check it. The app was still open on his screen. You couldn’t tell much from his quick peek before he pocketed the phone again. 

“15 minutes.” 

“Why so long..” You sighed. “It’s not getting warmer.” 

“You want my coat? I’m good without it. The dancing warmed me up.” Whether or not he was being nice and lying to alleviate any concern you might have for his comfort in favor of your own, you couldn’t be sure.

It was a quick debate in your mind, then you replied “No..I couldn’t.” 

“You just said you were cold–” Jungkook began, confused. 

“Not exactly. I just said it wasn’t getting any warmer.” 

“Right. Big difference.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled. A car drove by, the tires splashing through a few errant puddles in the road. Water hissed as it jetted away from the rubber rolling through, then the sound faded as the car disappeared into the distance. 

“It just feels like that’s a little longer than normal.” You continued. 

“It’s approaching peak hours, Y/n.” 

You’d forgotten. This time of the week and night it WAS busier for Uber and Lyfts around town. Cabs fared no better, at least at this end of the city. Upon this revelation, you slumped against Jungkook again. 

You dare not risk going back into that bar to keep warm. The band was really getting into it and you saw how much Jungkook was enjoying dancing with you. He wasn’t going to be able to control himself if he heard and saw the crowd that had started to filter in when you both slipped away from the dancefloor.

Onto the next concern. “What do we do until they get here, then?” 

You only figured out why you weren’t getting an answer when you looked at Jungkook to find his stare on you. Surprisingly heavy and telling–he was…hungry looking. Your brows rose. 

“Koo..” You began, adding a poke with one finger into the center of his chest, where it was indecently firm. He didn’t move an inch, except to turn into your prodding, head tilting down. Eyes fixing on your more intently. 

“Hmm?” His other arm swung away from his body and he wrapped the other half of his coat around you, enfolding you in the two wide ‘wings’ of his coat’s inner lining. It was even warmer. The sensation was like a warm bath, except for the thrum of a heartbeat in that muscled chest pressing your own. 

“What are you doing? You didn’t answer me.” 

“I know.” He was silent again and you waited. Finally he continued. “I have an idea of what we could do. Plenty of time..” 

Your brows didn’t lower just yet. You stared into Jungkook’s heated gaze, curious and mostly emotionally blank. At this point it was only pure curiosity driving you. 

Jungkook’s stare shifted to the side and you followed it. He seemed to be looking towards the darkness between the building and an adjacent one next to it with only a narrow alley between the two brick structures. 

“The..alley?” You ventured, earning a nod from him. You laughed this time, hearing how it rang out into the night, unbothered if anyone was around to hear it. You hadn’t seen or heard anyone for quite a while, until the car that drove by minutes before. “You're…kidding, right?” 

Jungkook was back to staring in your eyes. Unsmiling, his lips still plump and inviting, especially parting a little to reply. 

“Yes. It’s private.” 

“It’s outside, in public.”

“It’s dark. No one will see.” 

“What—I..”

You took another look at the darkness between the two tall shapes, then blinked and tried to pull back. Jungkook’s arms stayed wrapped. His hands clasped each other, level with the middle of your back. He brought you close again. 

“Plenty of time. And it’s dark. Come on. We’ll be quick.” Jungkook’s voice was low. Almost conspiratorial, each syllable rolling off his lips with wisps of steam. To think he was almost burning up, from the inside out, for you?

That was going to end you. Both of you might not make it to the apartment if this kept up.  

“Quick?” You whined. While confusion gripped your mind, your body was a different story. It knew the pressure of his fingertips feeling along your skin. Cradling your hips, then bringing you along as he backed away from the curb. You staggered to keep up with each retreating step. 

He stopped at the entrance of the alley mouth. Once again Jungkook moved like he was ever sure, never sparing a single glance back to check. Like he’d done heading for the dancefloor. 

It seemed far-fetched, but you wondered if Jungkook had done some kind of recon, in all the times you both walked by here, while you talked and he listened. Or appeared to. He hadn’t spoken and that meant he had more than enough time to notice things like this alley. It did something to you deep inside to imagine him thinking about this for that long, waiting for this moment, then finally executing it. 

The thin blouse fabric did nothing to combat the chill when Jungkook turned you, then walked your back right into the brick wall. He followed, chest pressing and touched his forehead to yours. 

His palms pressed the wall as he let the coat hang, keeping a cocoon of warmth around your body. Underneath the ache, you were grateful, if not a little surprised. Jungkook’s belly rolled into you and your thighs slacked wider, feeling menacingly weak. 

“Kiss me, Y/n.” Even though he asked you, he made the move, joining with your lips to create the perfect seal. His tongue slipped past your lips, writhing a little as your hips did the same. 

He returned your moan with his own, sending heat over your cheeks with his exhale. Jungkook’s head cocked the other way and he kissed you again, hips grinding a little harder. That firmness over your mound wasn’t apartment keys. 

On every level you knew that shape–most especially at your center, the apex of both thighs, where the most heat and the most pulsation was building. You needed what it promised and swore you’d die when Jungkook spiraled himself slower and harder. Although your eyes rolled, you managed to keep them open, barely watching the other building’s exterior wall across the way. 

You were trapped but loving it with sensation washing over you. All nerves craved Jungkook. Soaked up his touch. His scent. His sounds. But you found yourself listening for footsteps or tires slicing through the waterlogged potholes out in the street.

The fear of being caught was a good deterrent normally, but tonight the danger clamped you so tight there wasn’t room for sensibility or much thought. 

When this kiss broke, your head went back, touching the wall. The scored brick surface scraped along your scalp but you were almost numb to it as he worked down your neck, to the top blouse button.

A single twist of his fingers popped it open and he kissed exposed skin.

Two more buttons came free and kisses spilled down further. He wasn’t neat about it, leaving wet shapes on the skin he found, inch by inch.

Jungkook returned to the front of your neck and you could feel the way he smiled as he spoke to the long line running from the base to just below your chin. Uncharacteristically quiet.

For someone who didn’t care about public stuff as a standard, it was delightfully curious how he was suddenly so interested in vocal discretion. But you knew: this was part of his game—the mental trickery that he employed now and then.

Another thing he’d discovered that you enjoyed far more than you probably should.  

Wiggling, your palms braced his chest. Jungkook continued to work on your neck, adding a nibble, tugging skin and kissing after it slipped free. Delight stabbed right into your pussy each time. You loved that Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Koo..” A shudder rattled your entire body. 

Jungkook’s head stayed low as he kissed the shape of a breast through the top. Although it wasn’t skin contact, your nipple responded the same, tightening at the suggestion and memory of wet suction. Just a little ghosted pressure sent tight heat through your folds. 

“Hmm?” His kisses came back up the other side of your neck and stopped under your jaw. Damp strands of his hair stuck against your skin, the lingering scent of his shampoo rising to your senses. 

“What is it, baby? Don’t like it?” When he wanted to, Jungkook could tease even better with words than fingers or lips.

“You know I do..” You grunted. “You’re…serious about this?” 

Jungkook nodded. Several of his fingers curled against the dark brick bracing your back. Unlike you, his face showed no sign that he minded the cold or discomfort of brick.

Red bits crumbled under his dragging nails, tumbling down the wall when one hand clenched to a decent sized fist.

“Touch me, Y/n. Just for a little bit. Let’s have some fun… Keep warm.” His nose slipped by your cheek again as he hummed

You whined, but your hand moved on its own, slipping down from his chest. Fingers brushed the button at his waist. When they tugged, Jungkook’s hips chased, rutting into you. The button popped open easily enough. You shoved that hand down into the hot darkness, palm shamelessly full of Jungkook’s girthy, hard cock. 

Jungkook’s head lolled backwards and the fingers on his other hand trembled, then splayed flatter. It was like he was trying to hold onto the wall AND sanity for dear life. That thrilled you enough to loosen a mewl.

“Like this?” You gasped, burying your face against his neck. The tight lines of muscle shifted as he nodded but otherwise stayed as still as he could. Occasionally his pelvis ticked into your touch.

Another growl exploded after a moment, when the base of your palm brushed against the underside of his tip. 

“Y/n..” He hissed. Hot breath wafted across your scalp as Jungkook tucked nose and lips onto the dampened chaos there.

“Fuck..feels so good.. Please.” The building earnesty at the end of his statement made you weak. 

You groped. It wasn’t long, standing there against the wall, that the tide turned inside you. Chill melted away and a roaring heat took over, passing over every inch of your skin.

Your fingers circled the thick center of that cock that belonged to you–as far as you were concerned. 

And Jungkook seemed to share that sentiment, kissing your part with a low moan. More hip rolls pushed him firmer into the cradle of your palm. The you from hours ago would never believe your future self if you’d try to warn that you’d be here. Doing this. In the alley outside a favorite local spot. 

Soon it was slippery as the precum seeping from Jungkook’s tip slid along your wrist with each stroke. He pushed particularly hard every few pumps. Everything was frictionless and gooey, and you didn’t want to stop, but your mouth watered at the desire to pull your palm out and give a long lick to taste. 

You found your own belly tight and your thighs shook as you finally gave in and moaned in response. Jungkook’s profile turned and he moved down, letting his mouth rest at the shell of your ear. 

Still, his hips undulated against you. Every nudge had your pussy aching more and more.

“God I want you..” 

Your blood boiled. Whatever was building inside was about to spill over. Either from your lips or your pussy–it was a neck and neck race. Words were bottle necked behind your clamped lips and slick the same when you hitched a knee and brought that calf around the back of Jungkook’s thigh. 

His chest rumbled with a laugh. It creaked at the end, with another low growl. He drew your earlobe between his lips and nibbled, then sucked. Your eyes went heavy. You clamped around nothing, dying at how empty you felt, even if your hand was overflowing with pulsing, silky flesh.

Even the sound of laughter somewhere beyond the mouth of the alley didn’t register much now. It was just you, panting into the balmy blackness of Jungkook’s coat lining. Sucking in his scent, mouthfuls at a time, and whining every time he fucked your tightening grip. 

The way his cock slid through your grasp, you knew it’d sound so wet if you were back at the apartment, with him splayed on the bed, tongues twisting along each other and moans rising in the dimly lit space. 

You could almost recall the faint creak of the bed–no doubt it’d happen with every body roll. Jungkook’s fantastic ass leaving the bed as he fucked up into your hand. Or maybe your mouth, head kicked back and arms splayed wide, fisting pillows or sheets, bare chested, nipples glossy from your lips. 

Your own tingling between his fingers as he tugged. Groaned. Begged for a breast over his mouth so he could eat you alive. 

But the reality brought you back as a car sped by, tires hissing as they rolled through puddles just across the way. You didn’t look up, unphased. 

“Y/n..” Jungkook gasped, then drew in a breath, holding it. His chest puffed against yours. Your head came up. 

“Hmm?” You could barely open your eyes, mound burning with an unholy ache. You swore the tip of your finger was on that large vein running straight up the underside of his cock. And it was full of blood, keeping that organ primed for whatever else it might need to fuck.

“I’m close, baby..” He grinned, the shine from the nearby street lights flashing across his teeth. 

You nodded, then raised your chin. “Kiss me..” Your turn to demand. Wasn’t Jungkook always telling you he liked it when you were a little greedy and demanding? He wasn’t shy in telling you how he felt you could do that kind of thing a little more. 

The plump, sweet lines of Jungkook’s mouth connected to yours as he dropped his head down again, aligning his face perfectly to yours. As you kissed again, even deeper than before, your hand sped up, squeezing him tighter. Almost strangling his shaft. He whimpered and gave a few hard pumps. Suddenly he was shaking. 

He broke the kiss quickly. The energy was right there at the crest, filling him to the brim–even the ends of his bangs shivering. 

You loved that his eyes were screwed shut so tight. Whatever height he was at, the fall was going to be glorious. You recognized it from all those times he’d been inside you, ready to blow. 

Jungkook’s tongue lashed across his lips, then they fell open wider. His throat flexed as it forced out another whine–higher pitched. Desperate. 

“Don’t stop..” You hadn’t planned to, laying the side of your face against his chest. Inside the galloping thud of his heart was so big. So alive. Like a wild stallion racing across the plain.

One thing about him: that wild, untamed way about this man was something you hoped he held onto forever. Even if you’d domesticated him just enough to keep him by your side. 

Jungkook’s hips jerked a handful of times. Your name slipped from his lips in a confused sigh, then warmth wetness spurted along your forearm and ran down. Along your palm and fingers. Down along his shaft.

By the time it was over, there was no denying: there’d be an amazing, undeniable wet spot at the front of his pants. 

And so be it–he’d done it enough times to YOU. Basically he was owed this, if you looked at it the right way. 

Jungkook’s tight body relaxed against you, pinning your hand between his groin and yours. For a moment it didn’t really matter. 

When a few droplets splashed onto the top of your head, bringing a stark coldness, your eyes fluttered open. You shrugged a little against Jungkook and finally his head came back up. He was staring into your eyes, but you could see he was long gone for the moment.

“You’re a bad girl..” A lopsided, fucked out grin painted his face. 

Your brows lowered and you scoffed. If you’d been stronger you’d have pushed him back a little and swatted that chest. Wake him from his dopey state for that little dig. Instead you snorted, head tilting carefully to the side. It was enough effort to ignore the roughness of the brick wall rumpling your hair.

You arched a brow.

“You like bad girls. At least that’s what I heard..” 

Jungkook tucked a kiss just under the apple of your cheek, then he leaned away enough to push his hand down and lay it over yours. Fingers laced with each coated digit as if he didn’t care at all. That was hot in a whole different way–enough to remind you how unsatiated you still felt. 

He brought your hand back out and barely glanced before letting it fall, then he backed up a few steps, into a slice of headlight sweeping across the alley mouth as another car passed by. He also didn’t seem to care about that.

With a flippant toss of his bangs, Jungkook grinned again. 

That couldn’t just be the rain shining all over his face and neck. There wasn’t anyone in the world who looked so good roughed up by a quickie–nevermind the nagging specifics of what KIND of quickie it could be. 

Jungkook tugged the zipper back up in a quick motion, then redid the button. 

You leaned upright, stepping away from the wall too. Just by the way your hair fell, you knew it was a good mess, but kept yourself from feeling and ‘fixing’. Instead you watch Jungkook. And he looked you in the eyes now, tugging his coat back evenly over both shoulders and smoothing the lapels.

“Our ride should be here..” To be so casual–if it wasn’t for the cheshire smile you’d have kicked his shin. Or grabbed a half brick laying nearby and lobbed it hard for the space between his perfect brows.

But there wasn’t shame from having done this with him. Instead, when Jungkook pulled you close, it was another rush of arousal. Unquenched desire. Gnawing pain that centered right between your thighs. 

Jungkook’s open palm slid across your mound and a pleased thrum bubbled up. 

“You’re so warm, Y/n. I like how daring you are. Is that my influence or have you just been sitting on this and saving it for when we agreed to get serious?” 

“Koo–” You began, groping for his wrist. You held so hard he stopped completely for a moment. Even though he glowered down here in the alley, you knew it wasn’t anger or annoyance. It was the same arousal you felt. No doubt in your mind. 

“Y/n.” He parroted your scolding tone, wearing the hottest smirk you’d ever seen from him. And that was saying A LOT. He’d managed MANY hot smirks in the time you’d known him.

Your grip pulsed and your eyes softened.  “What about me?” You tugged faintly, lower lip jutting a little. 

“Mmmnn… I’ll take care of you when we get home. I promise. That you did this…Y/n I can’t tell you what it does to me.” 

“I can. It’s all over my wrist and hand.” You chuckled, nodding down at your tacky palm, then tucking it along your side.

Jungkook snickered. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m done. A couple minutes until the Lyft gets here. Won’t be a long drive home. That’s enough time to get my second wind.” 

“You know we COULD walk and save the money. Someone told me it’s peak hours.” 

“Right, but then we’d lose the time off our feet. Time that I have plans on occupying.” 

“In the Lyft?”

His scandalousness knew no bounds. But you also knew he had limits.

Jungkook shrugged, behind a cheeky smirk. “Not what we did here.”

“Thank god..” You sighed, eyes rolling. “I was starting to worry..” 

After looking you over, then himself, Jungkook turned. Using your grip on him, he pulled you along to the alley mouth and paused to lean out. He glanced left then right, and you did the same from over one shoulder. It felt like the safest place–just in case.

It was insane to worry that you’d come out to an audience and applause. Or even giggling questions and a cop with a ticket book, ready to give you a public indecency ticket. All the same, relief had you a little light headed.

Common sense and anxiety were back as expected, along with the creeping cold. Now the sweat on your skin was working against you–with the help of the still dropping evening temperature.

“Maybe a little heavy petting…” Jungkook finished his thought. Your bug eyed star met his back as he stepped out completely. You followed, keeping up decently.

You hadn’t actually had sex but it was impressive how he made your legs feel like rubber. That didn’t bode well for what your condition would be back at the apartment, in a few hours. Or tomorrow morning. 

“Jungkook.. You can’t do that kind of thing in a Lyft.” 

“Why not?” He eyed you over one shoulder as you stopped at the curb, not quite where you’d both waited before. This time his skin was faintly steaming and it was downright magical. Along with his rakish smile, Jungkook made the moment feel like a fever sex dream that was about to get VERY good. 

“I can’t believe—” You started to wind up until Jungkook brought your hand to his mouth and his lips pressed one knuckle. 

“I wasn’t being serious, Y/n. I know better. But you’re in trouble when we get through that door.” 

“Am I?” 

“Mmmmnnn.” He kissed your middle knuckle firmer, then popped off and circled it with his tongue. You gulped and cursed softly. His stare hadn’t wavered the whole time he’d done those actions, with the very same intensity as if he was on top of you, pushing you towards an explosive high while you rapidly lost control of every limb. 

You let your swoon turn into a list right into his side. Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your middle. He finally turned his focus towards the far end of the street, from where you’d expect the Lyft to be arriving. In the distance a car turned onto the road and headlights slowly made their way closer. A chime emanated from Jungkook’s coat pocket, but he didn’t move. Instead he smiled. 

“There..We’re in business now. Start the clock, Y/n.” He said, as you stepped in front of him when the car coasted to a stop right in front of where you stood. Jungkook leaned around you and opened the door for you to climb in. 

He followed quickly after and settled in, shutting the door. No sooner had he done that, then his palm found your thigh and rested on top. He was watching the driver and offered a muted smile, then a nod. The guy traded a few words, then turned back. 

Jungkook’s eyes were fixed ahead, watching the driver. His palm climbed your thigh just a little. Something told you it wouldn’t be stopping there. You grabbed his wrist again, but not to stop him. Just like he’d done, you held on for the ride. 

No matter where you went with him, the call of the bedroom would eventually come. Funny how it always sounded like Jungkook. 

He spoke quietly, lips curling with a smile. Even so there was no way you didn’t hear it. You FELT it, with every syllable clawing at your center. Between sweat and remnant rain drops, you’d never be dry.

“Let’s go.”  

[earlysunshines]

if it’s not too much can i ask for sana appreciating reader’s tattoos hehe i love reading ur wooorks

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; smut, cursing

synopsis: sana loves the ink on your skin, she also loves her lips on your skin.

wc: 1.6k

a/n: fuck i need her.

-

“do you have any more tattoos?” sana asks, curious after seeing your revealed arms.

the sun was setting, its golden light seeping through the blinds to illuminate the darkened room, even landing on sana's brown eyes and emphasizing their color. the two of you lay on the couch together watching some show, sana's head on your shoulder while your arm is wrapped around her—but sana couldn’t really focus after seeing a new territory of revealed skin. her eyes were practically glued to your arm, she missed half of the episode of whatever tv show you were watching.

your arms are covered in ink—not those ugly, stereotypical tattoo sleeves, but various patterns and designs that are both cute and captivating. sana traces along the star-like chain that starts at the bump in your wrist, then rolls her finger down the edge of your outer hand, and to your middle knuckle where the tattoo ended.

“yeah, i have a lot.” you respond, watching the way her finger slowly rolls along your skin. her touch is hot on your cold skin, it’s enticing—makes your breath falter.

her look fixes on the cyberpunk type tattoos, and the varying designs make you even more attractive. sana leans into you more; it's obvious what her intentions are, it's clear as day.

the soft touch from her fingers forms lump in your throat, and you shift in your seat a little at the feeling. it's so intimate that it makes you shrink under her gaze.

"you should show me the other ones you have, y/n." she says, her voice low and inviting. "i bet they're beautiful."

"sana..."

your jaw tenses at her words. sana had already known where your other tattoos happened to be, and you knew what she wanted. you turn to her and she's gazing at you with such a tempting gaze, it's pulling you in and you pinch at your thigh to compose yourself. 

sana's fingers are already at the bottom of your tank top, playing with the edge and practically rolling it up herself, a small line of your skin is revealed. you bite your lips at her antics.

a soft kiss is placed on sana's lips, it's light and feathery—which only makes sana crave more, she's so desperate to see more of you, so needy and seductive. she craves you, she needs to see you weak.

sana reaches with her other hand to lift your tank top even more. she rolls the cloth up slowly so she can savor every new area that's revealed to her, eyeing the groove of the prominent muscles on your lower torso and pulling the cloth up to reveal the upper area that's covered with your white bra. 

there's a vine-like tattoo on your upper ab, it's beautiful and sana runs a finger along the ink, making you hold your breath. she trails her touch up to the butterfly tattoo that sits in the middle of your chest, the warmth of her fingertips makes your hips move gently. when her fingers land on the ink under your collarbone, just on the upper right of your chest, you almost lose it right then and there—a small whimper escapes your lips.

"you're so beautiful baby," she murmurs, savoring all of you while you look at her with desperation. "so pretty for me, just look at you."

fuck.

she moves you over, pushing you against the dark gray cushion so that you're lying on the couch rather than sitting upright, but before she does so she makes sure to unclip your bra, leaving you topless. sana bites her lip at the sight. 

as soon as you're down on the couch, she crawls up your body, placing her hands on either side of you and looking at you with dilated pupils that seem to drill into your own eyes. she hovers over you and smiles; it makes your whole body feel hot, and there's a hungry ache in between your legs. 

sana brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, smiling at her beautiful girl—all hers. your hand moves over to cup her cheek, sliding down to her neck and just barely squeezing it after her knee presses against your core. you bite down on sana's lip and she groans into your lips with pleasure.

her lips trail down your jaw down to the crook of your neck, leaving you breathless and your legs squeezing the thigh between them a little from the sensation of sana's touch.

sana removes her lips from your neck, it makes you whimper in disappointment, missing the feeling of her wet, warm kisses and the way her teeth had sunk into your skin. sana's eyes shoot down to your breasts, taking in the sight of the delectable meal before her. she presses a soft kiss to the tattoo in the middle of your chest, then latches her lips onto one of your hardened buds; you let out a sigh of pure pleasure—the feeling of sana's mouth on your tits drives your mind to go blank, and god it's everything you needed.

sana takes her time worshipping your body. she fondles with the breast that her mouth hasn't been busy with, making sure to stimulate you so she can hear the sounds you make. it's so fucking impure, it drives sana insane when you'd mutter out her name, or when a groan would get caught up in your throat. 

she cannot get enough of you.

sana travels down your core, making sure to nip and leave marks around and on the ink that occupies the upper area of your abs. her breath was hot on your skin and the way her tongue swirled around your sweet spots drove you crazy; it was evident from the way you bit your lip, trying to conceal the obscene sounds that rolled off your tongue.

"sana, please." you voice in such a desperate tone that leaves sana's core throbbing a bit. "touch me, baby, please."

she meets your gaze again, smiling at your hooded eyes and parted lips. she pulls away and looks at the faint—there are red marks that inhabit your upper body, and she's sure they'll turn a deeper color by the end of the night.

sana shifts down so that she sits just below your waist, her hands work at the button of your jeans, then the zipper, and she's sliding your pants off in no time, revealing the wet fabric that lies underneath.

"baby," she hums in a hoarse voice, "you're so wet for me." she smiles at you seductively while looking at you with those puppy eyes, but you aren't fooled by her looks, you know she'll have you undone and screaming from her touch soon. it arouses you even more.

sana presses her thumb against the damp cloth, right on your clit—it makes you twitch and sana giggles at your reaction amusingly.

"sana," you start, "need you, need your fingers. please." 

"be patient," she responds. "wanna look at my beautiful baby." and her response makes your pulse leap, the touch of her fingers tracing along your inked skin and down your abs makes it worse.

you gulp as sana slides your underwear off, a small whimper unknowingly escapes your lips and you don't even care anymore because all you want is sana.

she runs a finger along your folds—the sound is wet and fuck, your whole body feels hot. her free hand traces along the small inked spots on your thighs, igniting a spark on your skin.

sana finally gives into your desires, aiding to your needs. she sticks a finger into you and pumps in and out slowly, a sequence of moans leaving your mouth every time she pumps back in.

sana sticks in another finger so that two digits are in you, pumping in and out at a constant pace which allows a string of curses to leave your mouth, and the way her fingers curl against the anterior wall has you gripping at the cushions and throwing your head back. sana's more than satisfied with your reactions.

"fuck, i'm close," you say, though your voice seems to fade at the end of your words—you're surprised you even managed to form a coherent sentence with the way your head is spinning.

"come on baby," sana encourages, "cum for me."

the throbbing gets worse and you're about the reach your high, the overwhelming sensation in your core builds up and what really gets you is when sana puts more pressure on your clit, then plunges her fingers deeper into you.

"sana, baby oh, fuck-"

you moan so loudly and another explicit curse is practically shouted as your legs tremble. you finish from her touch and your body jerks a little, twitching and squirming in its place as sana watches you, proud of herself.

the panting gets better, your breathing returns to a normal pace and you collapse onto the couch as sana removes her fingers and tastes some of your climax. she smiles proudly at you.

sana crawls back up to kiss you, making sure it's sweet and you can savor the remnants of yourself on her lips. you both groan into the wet, sloppy kiss.

when sana pulls away, she catches your dilated pupils under the hooded, lust-filled gaze. your hair is messed up and a bead of sweat is noticeable on your face.

sana giggles and places a hand on your flushed cheeks, rubbing her thumb and looking at you hungrily.

"i wanna taste more of you," sana smirks. "be good for me?"

you hum in agreement, though it comes off as more of a desperate, low whimper.

sana's lips trail down the familiar landscape again, already nipping at your collarbone and her lips already have your chest marked as their next destination.

you know you're in for a ride. 

[skywalker1dream]

hello! may i request a Jensen button x reader fic that is like soft dark i guess? he and readers relationship has a dom/sub dynamic and he comes back home one day to find she's not feeling well and with him home she slips into sub mode because she feels safe??

bonas points if it's because shes nearing her period and he plays with her tits to revive the pain.

Title: In His Care

Jenson button x fem!reader

Note: sooo I hope you like it I didn't had much time to write anything big bc of my work but hope this is what you had in mind or close to it and again hope you like itt ❤️

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The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. You were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, the usual comfort it provided doing little to ease the discomfort brewing within you. The telltale signs of your approaching period were making themselves known—an ache in your lower abdomen, the dull throb in your back, and a distinct tenderness in your breasts.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, trying to find some relief. But it was futile. The usual remedies weren’t helping, and you could feel the frustration building up inside you. What you really needed was Jensen. There was something about his presence that made everything easier to bear. His strong, steady hands, his soothing voice, the way he took control, allowing you to let go completely.

The sound of the front door opening and closing caught your attention, and your heart fluttered despite the discomfort. He was home. You didn’t need to say a word; he could sense it the moment he saw you, the way your body was tense, your breathing shallow. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his expression softening as he knelt down in front of you.

“Hello, love,” Jensen murmured, his hand cupping your cheek as he looked into your eyes, reading every emotion that flickered across your face. “You’re not feeling well, are you?”

You shook your head, unable to find your voice, but Jensen understood. He always did. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before lifting you effortlessly into his arms. The shift in position caused a wince to escape your lips, and he immediately adjusted, holding you closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Let’s get you more comfortable,” he whispered, carrying you into the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed with the utmost care, like you were the most precious thing in the world. And to him, you were.

You felt the mattress dip as Jensen settled beside you, his presence already starting to ease the tension in your body. He pulled the covers over you, tucking you in securely before slipping in next to you. His hand found yours beneath the blankets, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice low and calm, but with an edge of authority that made you relax even more.

“Just you,” you whispered, turning into him, your head resting on his chest. “It hurts…”

Jensen’s hand moved to your back, tracing gentle lines along your spine. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But mostly… my breasts. They’re so tender.”

He nodded, understanding exactly what you were asking for without you needing to say it. His hand moved slowly up your body, taking his time, not wanting to rush. When he reached your chest, he was careful, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts over your shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. His touch was firm but gentle, and you sighed in relief as his warm hands cupped your aching breasts.

“Does this help?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yes…” you breathed out, closing your eyes as you let the sensation wash over you. “It helps.”

Jensen’s hands moved in slow, deliberate circles, massaging away the pain, his touch soothing yet electrifying. You could feel the tension melting away, replaced by a deep sense of calm and safety. He was here, and everything would be okay.

As his hands continued their gentle ministrations, you found yourself slipping deeper into that familiar, comforting space. You were safe in his care, and there was no need to hold on to the stress, the discomfort, the pain. Jensen had you, and you trusted him completely.

You felt his lips against your forehead again, soft and reassuring. “Just relax, love. I’ve got you.”

And with those words, you finally let go, sinking into the warmth of his embrace, knowing that with Jensen, you were always safe, always cared for, no matter what.