#he was off in the clouds pretty much the entirety of the time on the moon yeah

[fisherrprince]

How's Ch'ari doing rn?

well he just got over bluescreening and quietly hearing yume nikki lotus waters play every time a loporrit talked to him so somehow. despite it all. the apocalypse is more comfortable territory

[bi-writes]

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Stumbled upon your blog, and Lord!! I was wanting to request slashers reactions to s/o squirting(I've recently become oddly interested in how each of them would react)

If you're uncomfortable with the concept please ignore!! Have a great day!

Oh I love some squirting!

NSFW MDNI 18+, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (any), Brahms Heelshire, Bo Sinclair, reader gets eaten out, overstimulation, lingerie, mild bdsm

Jason Voorhees

This man had already made you cum twice before he had his dick in you

The first time, he was fingering you on his lap and the second time he had you ride his face

Now he was deep inside your spent pussy, taking whatever he wanted

One hand stroking your cheek as you moan and whine his name while the other toyed with you clit

The whole time, Jason has maintained eye contact with you

His piercing gaze as he fucked into you like it would be the last time he had you beneath him made you absolutely lose yourself

You arched your back up from the mattress screaming his name

A jet of liquid splashed against his pelvis the entire time you came

Dripping down between your bodies and onto the sheets below

While Jason had stopped fucking his throbbing cock into you, he did rub your clit through the entirety of your squirting orgasm

The only time his eyes left your face was to watch the spray of fluid erupt from your pussy

He didn't know you could do that

And now that he did, he needed to have you do it again

Bo Sinclair

It was his goal the first time he got you under him

Fucks you senseless then has you ride him until you're crying from overstimulation

The sound of your sopping cunt plapping against his pelvis is music to his ears

He'll put you in every position known to man

Could probably add a couple chapter to the Kama Sutra with how he handles you

You always come out of his room wobbly and needing to sit on a donut pillow

Bo loves using toys on you just to see your reaction

Your pretty wrists bound to his headboard, vibrator on your clit, as he slowly pumps his cock into you

He's in no rush and just wants to watch his pretty little thing come undone for him

Bo places the vibrator onto the very tip of your clit making you scream out his name and sob from the intense pleasure

His thrusting picked up a bit excited to see how you reacted to the toy

Then you felt wetter

A lovely stream of squirt erupted from your pussy and onto his pelvis

Bo bit his lip holding back a low groan

Now he had you right where he wanted you

Michael Myers

You are pretty much his fleshlight

His main goal is to use your pretty little cunt as his own personal cum dump

If you get off on that then that's a happy accident on his part

Michael will pretty much take you anywhere at anytime

Your pussy is pretty much free real estate and Michael is ready to move in

Fat cock bullying your pussy open while he pushes you into a wall

He had already came in you once today, his previous load now getting fucked further into you

You were practically boneless and only being held up by Michael's hands on your hips and cock buried deep inside you

After he had made you cum this morning, you ended up playing with yourself a little bit using the cum he left in you

Your mind felt fuzzy and pink like you were sat in a cloud of pure bliss

You couldn't even be bothered with how your own squirt sprayed out of you and onto the floor in a puddle

But Michael noticed

And he knew that once he was finished in you he was going to make you lick your mess up off the floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms had you dressed up in some lacy white lingerie

Something you'd expect to hidden underneath a wedding dress as a surprise a bride had put on for the groom on the night of their wedding

He had pulled your garter off with his teeth and practically shoved his face into your pussy after

For a while he just laid between your legs mouthing at your clothed cunt and inhaling your scent

When Brahms wanted more, he practically ripped the panties off of you and dove into your cunt like a man starved

Sloppy and loud was the best way to describe it

But he made you cum anyway

Juices trailing down his chin being lapped up by his tongue

Again he needed just another taste

Then another

And another

His strong hands kept you legs pinned to the bed so you couldn't kick him away from your drooling pussy

Your orgasm felt like a kick to your stomach as juices erupted from your body

Brahms happily lapped up everything he could

Now he had to get you to do that again

[lovebugism]

"we’re arguing when the ball drops on new year’s eve, and decide to kiss and shit i don’t think i hate you anymore"

with eddie and grumpy!r pls

ty for requesting! :D — your new years kiss ends up being the loudmouth, metalhead, wild-haired boy you can't stand (enemies to lovers, grumpy!reader, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Another year passes in a blink, and suddenly everyone around you is chanting “new year, new me” like it’s not just some overdone mantra destined to be forgotten by mid-February. 

It’s not surprising that you and Eddie are the only two not participating in the holiday theatrics. It’s also not surprising that the two of you are spending the entirety Steve’s New Years party bickering like a married couple on the couch.

You both got dragged here — you by Robin, and him by Dustin — and the two of you are acting like total grumps about it accordingly. And even though you can’t stand being in the same room as each other, you’ve been shoulder-to-shoulder in the living room all night.

You’re sitting pretty in a black dress beside him, scowling like a storm cloud while Eddie scoops a handful of pretzels in his mouth. Seemingly noticing your side-eyed glare, he starts to chew more audibly because he knows how much you hate it. The slow and rhythmic smack smack smack makes the chatter around you sound more distant as your skin begins to crawl.

Eddie smiles when you tense — wider when you glare at him.

“Sometimes I wonder why I hate you, and then you do stuff like that, and I think to myself, “oh yeah, that’s why.”

He grins with all his teeth, pretzels crumbs and all. “The feeling’s mutual, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you grumble with a roll of your eyes.

You shake your crossed leg to the music playing softly overhead and try to focus on the television in front of you. The staticky film of Times Square isn’t quite as distracting as the boy beside you — and not just because he’s purposefully trying to annoy you. 

He has no right to be this pretty, with his wild hair and black button-up and smudged eyeliner. It’s hardly fair.

“Don’t act like one, and I won’t,” he retorts, muffled through the food in his cheek.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful. It’s disgusting.”

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you the widest smile he’s ever looked at you with. The bits of chewed-up pretzel in his teeth make you grimace.

“You’re a child,” you deadpan.

Eddie laughs — a pretty little sound in a scoffed-out breath. 

He sits the half-empty bowl on the coffee table, then pushes his sleeves to his elbows. His arms are pale, lanky, and tattooed. Some of the ink is faded and messy, obviously not done by professionals. You think those intrigue you the most. You’d ask about the stories behind them if you even cared.

Eddie rests his elbows on his knees and looks at you over his shoulder. His smile is pink and made of honey — his eyes dark and made of fire. 

“You can act like you hate me all you want, but everyone here knows you’re obsessed with me,” he teases with a scrunched nose, motioning to the room with his pointer finger. 

No one’s paying either of you any mind. They’re too focused on their own conversations to care about the ones you and Eddie have had a thousand times over. You try to act as disinterested as they do. You think you’re playing the part pretty well, honestly, but Eddie’s looking at you with a twinkle in his eye like he can see right through it.

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Munson.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” he huffs and leans back again, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. 

The sudden proximity isn’t lost in you. Neither is the smell of nicotine and sandalwood radiating off of him. It stirs a velvety feeling in the pit of your stomach that you try hopelessly to shove down.

“You must be completely and utterly blind, then.”

“Uh-uh,” he hums with a shake of his wild head. “Twenty-twenty vision, baby.” He leans in close to croon the words in your ear, and your heart lurches into your throat. You shove him off with a half-hearted hand anyway. 

“Get off me!” you groan, face scrunched in a childlike annoyance. “And don’t call me baby.”

Eddie settles back beside you with a subtle pout between his brows. “If I can’t call you princess and I can’t call you baby, then what am I supposed to call you?”

“Nothing!” you shout, like being called baby hadn’t stirred something foreignly pleasant behind your ribcage. “Don’t call me anything! Don’t call me at all—”

“Guys! Come here! The ball’s about to drop!” Dustin shouts over the chatter to get everyone’s attention, a bit too loudly. He stands in front of the television along with the rest of the small crowd, ogling at the bad reception of the Times Square Ball and a flashing countdown.

“Sounds like me in middle school,” Eddie jokes, making Steve snort out a laugh when he walks in from the kitchen. You shoot the wild-haired boy a squinted look of disgust and he chuckles. “Oh, c’mon! That was funny, and you know it.”

“Ten!” the crowd begins to chorus.

“You’re an idiot,” you grumble.

“And you’re the one who’s obsessed with the idiot, so… Who’s the real weirdo?”

“Nine!”

“Still you.”

“Ooh,” Eddie lilts, plush lips softly pouted. “So you are obsessed with me?”

“Eight!”

You scoff a bitter laugh. “You love putting words in my mouth, don’t you?”

“Like I said,” the boy hums with a smug smile. “Just calling it like I see it, honey.”

“Seven!”

The dumb name shouldn’t make you melt like it does. You turn into a puddle before you can come up with another comeback. You forget how to form words and get lost in how soft his lips look, pink and delicate like a flower. God, he’s so pretty, you hate him.

“Six!” your friends continue to chant, the only sound in the expansive living room. “Five!”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, honestly,” the boy assures with an absentminded shrug, tilting his flushed cheek to his shoulder and flashing you an unkissed grin.

“Four!”

“You’re not the first girl to fall head over heels for me, and you won’t be the last.”

The corner of your lip curls into a quiet smirk. You squint at him, eyes twinkling with mischief and a sudden longing for him to eat his words. “Is that so?” you croon lowly.

“Three!”

He leans in like he’s about to tell you a secret. The nicotine-whiskey concoction on his breath brushes your cheek. Screw the alcohol in your abandoned cup — you’d sooner get drunk on him. 

“I’ll make sure to let you down easy, alright? I promise,” Eddie hums with a feigned seriousness.

“Yeah?”

“Two!”

He nods, bushy brows pinching softly together and petaled mouth gently pouting. “Yeah. I’m not in the heartbreaking business, you know? I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, princess, but you should there’s no way in hell that I’m ever gonna—”

“One!” the house chants together, louder this time as they shout, “Happy New Year!”

You blink, and suddenly everyone’s grabbing onto somebody. 

Robin and Vickie share a quiet peck you don’t miss in the corner of the room. Mike and El smack a more obvious kiss in the very center of it. A newly grown-up Dustin tries his chances with Nancy, glancing at her with a silent smile she shakes her head at — “Not a chance, kiddo,” she says with a soft pink grin. Even Max leans over to brush a kiss to Lucas’ cheek, right before scowling at him, “This doesn’t mean we’re back together, Sinclair.” 

So you feel it’s only right, that in a room of kissed mouths, you get kissed, too.

Eddie is the perfect victim. Mostly because he hasn’t stopped yapping since he sat down beside you, some hours ago now. You reach for him, splaying your hand across his warm jaw (that grows somehow hotter beneath your touch), and pressing a kiss to his blabbering mouth. 

You swallow all the half-hearted insults he spews at you because he thinks you really hate him. In Eddie’s mind, if being mean is how he gets closer to you, then when you go low, he’ll go all the way to hell. 

You don’t kiss him like you hate him, though. You kiss him like you can taste stars in his mouth. Like the rest of your whole life is sitting on his tongue.

Your mouth locks with his for a moment, kissing the breath from his lungs, only to pull away a second later.

Eddie’s totally frozen when you’re gone. The loudmouth boy — who you decided to hate if you couldn’t love — is left so suddenly speechless. He blinks at you with heavy, velvet eyes and grieves a thing he didn’t even know he could have.

A grin pulls at your freshly kissed mouth. It feels good to have the upper hand again.

“You’re never gonna what?” you tease, tilting your head like you’re innocent.

His mouth parts for an answer. Nothing comes out.

Your smile widens. “That’s what I thought. Honey.”

[hurthermore]

Hey! Just wanna say I ADORE your Bimbo series ❤️

I have an idea for the next one; The reader teases Alastor for being an old, grumpy man. She's spending too much time on social media & video games to pay attention to him. Then, he punishes her for it. Wink wink! ✋️🍑💦

»»------► 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 - 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺 (18+)

▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 (18+) ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Word Count: 𝟸𝚔

Warnings: 𝙽𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎, 𝚍𝚎���𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐?

A/N: 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳

Alastor deeply regretted buying you that damned piece of technology.

For the past few days, instead of being all over the Radio Demon like you usually were; instead of always being in his presence, talking to him, holding him, kissing him, and fucking yourself into his cock, you had, for some reason, been consistently dwindling the amount of attention you usually gave him to play on that silly little gaming console you had asked him oh so prettily for. 

As he questioned himself on why he had even purchased it for you, he knew it was because he was so easily swayed by you; that he adored you and wanted to see that pretty smile on your face; it was only a very welcomed luxury when you begged with that that pretty little voice of yours, when you placed your even prettier lips around his cock as a way of persuading him to buy things for you.

He’d buy it for you even if you didn’t do those things; but you didn’t need to know that.

Even now, as you sat in his lap, the both of you in his radio station whilst he broadcast his mass of screaming souls to the entirety of hell, you seemed to simply ignore his presence as you fiddled with the buttons of your newest piece of technology. He didn’t like how much your mental absence toward him had his chest hurting ever so slightly; but despite that, he still remained in his smiling neutral facade. 

Looking down at you, he wondered if you were torturing him on purpose by wearing that semi transparent babydoll nightwear he had bought for you recently; the same one that allowed Alastor to admire every erotic detail of your body, to the front of your core squished against your thighs, to your stomach scrunched up due to the bend of your position, and how beautifully erect your nipples were. It was quite the task for him to contain himself when you looked so ethereal; so undeniably erotic.

Alastor craved to ravish you, just as he did quite often.

If only you would cease playing that ridiculous game. 

You were a smart little darling, despite how ditzy you could be, you weren’t so stupid that you were unaware of how much the simple sight of you turned him on. You must’ve known what you were doing to him.

Alastor knew you did.

As he watched you hum away as you swayed your head along with the music from your game that Alastor was positive you could barely hear over the screams of his broadcast, he etched his sharp talons underneath the flimsy piece of clothing you wore, pressing them against the thick of your thighs before he sunk the tips ever so slightly into your squishy femurs. His upper lip snarling ever so slightly as you refused to give him even a drop of attention even as he damaged the perfect skin that encased your innards.

You wouldn’t even flinch.

With a huff, he leaned his chin into your shoulder as uncharacteristically morbid thoughts of your true feelings towards him clouded his mind, he turned off the microphone connected to his broadcast. “Tell me, do you only love me so you can get what you want?” He didn’t mean to ask it with venom drenched into his words, but he couldn’t help the way his chest constricted from the doubt that had funnelled its way into his head.

“Don’t be silly Al. I love you.” You mumbled as you continued to press the buttons on the console; still refusing to even glance at him.

Grabbing the device from your soft hands, he slammed it against the console of his radio station. “Then why do you persist in depriving me from your attention to play with such frivolous technology?”

Rolling your eyes as he snatched your game from you, you turned around in his lap to finally face him. “God, you’re such a needy, grumpy old man aren’t you?” You mocked him before pushing your chest against him; poking your index finger in his face. “You’re so pathetic it's cute.”

Were you trying to test him?

To piss him off? 

You were extremely lucky you had him wrapped around your little finger, else he would’ve shredded your perfect body into little tiny pieces for saying such things to him. Instead, he sunk his claws into your neck with a look that forced your facial structure to express worry. “I’m offended you think such things of me, my beautiful little darling; it looks as though I’ll have to show you how frighteningly vigorous I can be.” He whispered into your pretty face before conjuring a black appendage to tear your overly exposing nightwear in two.

Slamming your back into his broadcasting table, Alastor watched as you moaned out a bundle of screams as he began shoving his cock in between your exposed and glistening folds without warning; you couldn’t believe he had pulled his length out so quickly from his suit pants as you began panting. Your tight cunt struggled to allow him to enter in one push due to the lack of foreplay; but this is what you deserved, being the little mouthy brat you were.

With both of his hands on your delicate throat, Alastor put so much pressure against it that he could hear tiny gasps of moaned plea’s escape your throat that struggled to intake a proper breath as he painfully pulled his cock out of you, only to slam it back in; only this time, its entire length finally sunk into your beautifully pleasurable wettening walls, forcing a scream to rip from your constricted oesophagus. 

Conjuring more black appendages, he commanded the tentacle-like affixes to tightly wrap around your thighs, the fat around them popping out as the slimy protuberances pressurised with a harshness like no other. Drool dripping from his mouth, Alastor began to groan at the sight of you below him; your perfect face almost draining in colour, his sharp hands wrapped around your beautiful throat, your thighs squished into oblivion, and the squelching that filled the room as he fucked his fat cock into your unready cunt. 

He couldn’t handle it, especially after not having you on his red length for the past few days due to your persistent gaming. Gritting his yellowed teeth, he forced the appendages around your thighs to bend your femurs into your chest, putting you in a mating position that allowed him to pulverise his cock against your cervix. Groaning, he smashed his lips against your breathless ones as he craved for passion from you, he could feel you attempt to kiss him back; something that made his heart burst with love, but the dizziness he was inflicting on you due to his brutal pressure on your larynx and savage, deprived pace he was fucking you with had you unable to truly focus on his lips.

Alastor could feel his balls tighten; a sign he was close to spilling his lovely white cum into you, but he needed to stop. You were due for a punishment, and he had barely scratched the surface. Calming down his pace, stilling his ministrations to prevent himself from ejaculating, his grip on your throat loosened, causing you to cough up breaths of air as drops of sweat from Alastors forehead splattered against yours.

For some reason, after your breathing began to calm down, you began to chuckle; causing your boyfriend's ears to twitch with every mocking laugh. “I knew you were an old man, but come on. You can’t even last two minutes without needing to cum? Can’t even make me cum, baby?” You snickered as you gyrated your waist with his cock still inside you, testing his limits as you snaked your tongue against his adorably frustrated expression. Immediately, he slammed your head into the table with an odd amount of care before he bit the tips of his razor sharp teeth into your neck after you spoke those words; his cock began thrusting into you with a pace that he was dead set on breaking your pelvis with. 

Groaning, Alastor was beyond angry as you kept testing him to the point he hadn’t realised his body began to morph; not until you wrapped your hands around his stitched neck and let out a blood curdling scream from those pretty flushed out lips. “Oh god, Al, don’t stop!” You screeched in a pleasured pain as his cock began to grow thicker and longer inside of you. Letting go of your neck, Alastor admired your pained expression before he looked down to your stomach; he couldn’t prevent the low growl that had left his throat as he watched his growing cock force a large bulge to emerge from your lower belly.

It wasn’t until Alastor found himself standing at double your height that his body decided to halt morphing; his cock forcing your stomach to contort around it as it stretched out the gummy walls of your cunt. Panting, tears left your oculi as your boyfriend stilled his massive length inside of you. “You change your tune so quickly, my love.” His voice came out so much more distorted than usual; as if it was glitching along with every word on his tongue. 

Crying out, you let out a sharp gasp as his overly large hands wrapped around the entirety of your waist; his thumbs pressing down on the bulge his cock enforced as he tried to move, to slam his cock back into you, but he couldn’t. 

He had grown so big that your cunt became simply too tight for him to move. 

Tightening his grip around your waist, he picked you up from the table before his heavy breathes consumed your auditory senses as he began moving you along the entirety of his length, forcing a mixture of pain and pleasure to mumble and curse out from your lips; crying as Alastor used your body as a damned fleshlight. His ridiculously large cock made your stomach bloat to the point you thought he was going to tear through you every time your thighs met his pelvis bone. “That’s it: cry for the ‘needy, grumpy old man’, my lovely, desperate, little whore.” And you did; ever so prettily. Gripping onto his prolonged neck that was covered in stitches, you begged for him to kiss you; begged for him, only him.

Complying to your demands enthusiastically, Alastors back began to bend, his fucked up form covered the entirety of your sight before his drool soaked lips connected with yours rather softly; his head moving up and down every time he moved your body along his length.

Surprisingly, as Alastor retracted one of his hands from your waist, you still felt secure; not a moment did you believe you would fall. His clawed finger tips only slightly brushed against your clit before you could feel your thighs shake; primarily from the sheer atrocity that Alastor was fucking into your cunt. 

Feeling your bud throb as his monster cock invaded far more than whatever should be invaded; along with his sharp claw teasing your clit ever so slightly, your cunt began to spasm in pleasure, ripping a loud, debauched moan from your larynx. Your wet, expanded, pretty little sex began to grip onto Alastors cock tighter as you began to squirt splashes of lust induced liquid onto your lover's body; and from how harshly your core tensed around him, a sensation deep in his own nether regions snapped, filling your womb up with a stupid amount of sperm as he splattered his cum deep inside of you.

Slowly pulling you off his length, Alastor groaned as he watched the mass amount of his ejaculation cascade from your puffy and widening cunt, only to shove his fingers inside you, forcing you to cry out as he made sure the rest of his cum stayed deep inside your womb. “Don’t worry love, I believe this wraps up my example,” Alastor’s voice echoed, still slightly distorted as his body began to slowly morph back to his normal size; forcing you to become limply dumb. “I’ll clean you up now; so relax for your needy old man.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@saccharine-nectarine @daintydreams-blog @lunaramune

[starkeysprincess]

unfortunately i’m too much of a sub to be into pegging BUT what if you just wanted rafe to feel so good like he makes you feel so you try to convince him to wear a butt plug while he fucks you 🙈 he’d make you choke on his cock while he lubed the plug and gently sink it into himself but soon he’s cumming harder than he ever had before and only then letting you hold him while he came down from his high now determined to fuck you and make you cum faster than him next time 🙂‍↕️

i’m also far too much of a sub so I get it 😭 this is my first time writing something like this + pls keep in mind this is merely a thought i was sent warnings: face fucking, mention + use of butt plug, 18+ mdni

when you first brought it up to rafe, he was in disbelief, "you want me to wear what?".

you'd be pouting at him, batting your lashes as you used the nickname you knew he loved hearing, "c'mon rafey, please, wanna make you feel good".

"yeah? could make me feel good by taking my cock down that pretty throat" he snickered, hand threading through your hair, pulling your head back, the tip of his cock rubbing against your plump lips before shoving his length into your warm, wet mouth.

his hand gripped the back of your head, pushing your head further down, pulling gags from you. your hands rested on his thighs, holding on as he thrust harshly up into your mouth as your drool coated his dick, running down to his balls.

your gags filled his room, tears welling in your eyes as you struggled to breathe through your nose, "shit, you look so good chokin' on my cock...just like that" rafe groaned.

his hips snap up against your face, your nose hitting against his happy trail with every thrust. curses leave his mouth when your throat constricts around him, "fuck baby".

his free hand pushing his bangs out of his face, panting lightly as he feels his orgasm getting closer.

he couldn't help but let his mind wander, curiosity getting the best of him as he stared at the object lying near him on the edge of his bed, your words "wanna make you feel good" replaying like a broken record in his head.

rafe's hand had a mind of its own, reaching for the plug and the bottle of lube. his thumb pushing the lid of the bottle up, squirting the lube onto his palm before coating the entirety of the plug.

he lifts his hips, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he guides the plug toward his puckered hole. the lube allows him to slowly push the plug further, stretching himself and letting out a small groan.

his balls tighten at the combination of you choking on his cock and the top of the plug hitting a spot deep inside him.

“oh fuck…” rafe moans, jaw slacking, his body tingling at the sensation and his cock pulses in your mouth. his thighs trembling against your palms and his vision clouding as his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum, baby” your pussy throbbing at his little whimper and you could feel his body shaking as he his orgasm hits him hard, thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat.

his cock slips out of your mouth as he pulls you off, pulling you onto his lap, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he catches his breath, “shit, think that was the hardest I’ve ever came” he chuckles softly.

“told you it’d make you feel good” you murmur, running your hand through his hair soothingly, “guess I should listen to you more often, huh?”.

“now it’s my turn to make you feel good, gonna have you screaming and crying f’me by the time ‘m done with you”.

[immortalmrwavell]

Taking Back Youth

(Original story posted October 14th) This story has been significantly Updated!

Evan sat at the bar ordering drink after drink. He just wanted to bury his sorrow in alcohol after his now ex-boyfriend broke things off with him. It was all so sudden. He could’ve sworn they were doing well. Was he just too delusional to see the signs? Or did his ex find another guy? Whatever the reason Evan just wanted to feel better somehow… in any way.

Evan continued Roding drink after drink. Downing each one with the hopes of washing away all his problems even if just for one night. However his drinking frenzy was put on pause when another man at the bar approached him. The guy seemed to be much older than Evan. Late 50’s perhaps? Maybe early 60’s? Silver thinning hair, clean shaven save for a mustache that extended into a handlebar. He was in about average shape for a man his age being relatively lean while also sporting a small gut.

The man sat down beside Evan and ordered himself a drink. It didn’t take long for him to pick up on the older man’s intentions. Despite the clear age difference, Evan being in his late 20’s, the man started hitting on the young stud after introducing himself as Carl.

Evan didn’t usually consider himself the type to go for guys that much older for him. He didn’t consider himself to be a hookup kinda person either but right now he didn’t care. The alcohol was clouding his judgement and right now he just wanted to feel good in any way possible. Next thing he knew. Evan was drunkenly flirting back with Carl. It might’ve been the alcohol talking but In all honesty Carl was pretty good looking for his age. Evan even thought the guy could’ve been a model when he was younger. Then again it was easy to think such things about an older man who was showering Evan with compliments. Calling him the sexiest ginger hunk Carl had ever seen while also making not so subtle comments about Evan’s thick bubble ass that was spilling over the bar stool.

And so the evening dragged on and before long the pair found themselves stumbling out of that bar with Carl directing Evan to his place. As it happened Carl lived not far from the bat in a small apartment that didn’t have much more than the essentials. Evan hardly took any notice though as seconds after closing the front door, the two men began pressing their lips together with a fiery passion.

Carl wasted no time in exploring the entirety of Evan’s body. He’d already started to do so on the walk here as a copped a feel of Evan’s ass and pecs but now he was getting the full package. Running his worn older hand all across Evan’s muscular youthful physique as they began to undress. Before long Carl was dragging Evan across the apartment and towards the bedroom.

Evan was on top first. After a little bit of ass play he slid his dick inside Carl and began pounding away, allowing all his sorrows from the past couple of days to fade and be consumed by pleasure. Evan fucked Carl for a good while, jumping into all sorts of sex positions as he did. He was surprised at how well this older gentleman was managing to keep up. And before long Evan found himself finally gearing up to cum. As that familiar feeling built up inside of him he got himself ready to pull out. Only that’s when Carl begged him not to. Pleading that he wanted Evan to breed him. In his drunken state Evan found himself happy to comply. And with a few more heavy thrusts, he unloaded. Filling up Carl completely with a tidal wave of his young stud cum.

After that Evan noticed something. A strange look on Carl’s face that he couldn’t quite describe. It looked like satisfaction but at he couldn’t help get the feeling that something was a little… off. He couldn’t place it but before he had a chance to think anymore about it, Carl was flipping Evan over already!

Evan hardly had a chance to catch his breath before Carl began digging his face between Evan’s hot hairy cheeks. It was his turn to top now and Evan could tell Carl had been eager to get at his ass just by how he was grabbing and smacking it. Evan doing himself giving in though as he actively presented his hot ass to Carl, moaning as he felt the older man’s tongue invading his hole. After that Carl was like an animal. As soon as the older man was done tongue fucking the ginger hunk, he wasted no time in pressing his cock deep into Evan’s hole.

Due to his age, he wasn’t able to fuck nearly as hard as Evan did nor was Carl’s dick anywhere near as hard. But despite that Evan found the experience satisfying. Considering the man must’ve been in his early 60’s, Evan was impressed. Though they weren’t able to change positions much as Carl opted to stick to just pounding Evan from above.

Evan was beginning to wonder how long this old geezer could last. That is until, without warning, Carl moaned long and loud one last time and seconds later Evan felt a load shooting inside him. It didn’t feel like much. Just a few spurts but…

“Hey! I never said you could cum in my ass!” Evan grunted while looking back over his shoulder, clearly annoyed at the lack of warning.

Just then a large sly grin spread across Carl’s face. “I don’t need your permission. After all, it isn't your ass anymore. It’s mine.” His voice teemed with mockery. Like there was some big secret that Evan didn’t know.

Before Evan was even able to process what Carl had just said, he started to feel drowsy. Had he been drugged somehow? He began to lose all the strength in his arms and legs as he found himself falling face down on the bed. The last thing he felt before falling unconscious was Carl’s body falling on top of him, his dick still inside Evan’s hole.

———

It wasn’t until the next morning that one of the two men began to stir. It was Carl. As he blinked his eyes open, a smirk began to form on his lips as the very first thing he felt was a dick lodged up his ass as well as a flabby body resting on top of him. He pushed himself up and carefully allowed the body lying on him to fall off him to one side. The cock slipped out of his hole in the process but Carl was far more focused on his younger, more muscular arms to care.

“Yesssss…” Carl mumbled to himself. “Yes! It worked again! Hahaaaaa!” Carl grinned sadistically as he sat up and looked down at his new body. Eyes gleaming with joy as he saw a thick pair of pecs covered in ginger fur. The very same ones he’d been groping the night before. Now his. He was able to tear his gaze away for just long enough to look over beside him at his previous 61 year old body sleeping beside him. The body swapping ritual had worked.

Carl hopped out of bed with an energetic flare he hadn’t felt for years. Then sauntering across the room to get a better look at himself in the nearest mirror. No longer did he see the aging face of the old man he was before. Instead he saw Evan. The vulnerable hunk of a man he’d slept with. Naturally he couldn’t help examining his new younger body a little closer.

Despite the studly body, it was his new face that Carl was drawn to first. There was something about it that was so striking. These new eyes of his looked so intense, blending perfectly with his sharp features. That combined with his smooth and well looked after skin just screamed youthful masculinity. His face was imbued with a level of naturally rugged manliness that was enhanced by the well groomed lifestyle of a man that took pride in his appearance. Put simply, he was gorgeous.

But he couldn’t ignore the body forever. Not with how irresistible it looked and felt. It wasn’t long before Carl was stroking his hands down his chest, running them over his hairy new pecs with delight. He’d gotten plenty of chances to touch them last night but feeling them from the inside was a totally different experience. They weren’t just a hot pair of pecs anymore. They were his hot pair of pecs. And the orange pelt of fuzz that covered them and the rest of his body was just the icing on the cake which only drove him crazier with lust for his own stolen body.

Carl couldn’t stop touching himself. Rubbing his hands up, down and all over his body. Squeezing his bulky biceps, massaging his thick thighs, admiring his enormous calves. But most of all he could barely keep his hands off his ass. It was a proper bubble butt. So hefty and furry that it drove Carl mad. Just the slightest touch or movement caused it to jiggle. Sooo perfect for taking cock. Just like the one he had now.

If it weren’t for Carl’s brand new dick he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop touching his fat bubble ass. It was big. Bigger than his old one without a doubt. He couldn’t say for sure but as it grew to its full size it looked around 8 inches. Girthy fucking thing as well. He already knew it was huge after getting fucked by it last night but actually having it swing between his legs now was borderline euphoric. Having a cock this big was any guy’s dream after all. And the big bull nuts too? No wonder Evan came a load as big as he did last night.

After checking to make sure his former body was still asleep, Carl gripped his new cock and started pumping like his life depended on it. He was in love with his new dick already. His erection was stronger than it’d been in years. Sooo stiff. Sooo sensitive. He could’ve jacked it all day and all night. He just wanted to soak in the pleasure. But eventually he felt a rise coming from within as his sensitivity began to spike. He couldn’t stop himself.

Moments later Carl moaned out in his younger yet deeper voice as he launched cum all over the mirror.

———

Hours later, Evan finally began to stir. Immediately something felt wrong. His body felt lighter and strange… and he ached all over. His eyes flickered open to see an unfamiliar room. Where was he? Immediately he tried to recall the events of last night.

He’d been at the bar drinking. A lot. He was upset over his break up. And then…that old guy came up to him! Cam? Kirk?… Carl! That was it. They got to talking and they ended up going back to Carl’s place and… they fucked. But something still wasn’t right.

Evan darted his eyes down at his aching body and what he saw could only be described as unimaginable. His body. Or rather it wasn’t his. Looking down he didn’t see the muscular form he was used to seeing but rather an older, wrinklier form that was past its prime. Dwindling muscle and a small belly replaced his powerful physique. It was so mortifying that Evan wanted to scream bloody murder but his voice got caught in his throat. Nothing more than a terrified whimper escaped his lips as he cautiously touched his body, not wanting it to be real. But it was.

Only then did he hear the sound of another man quietly sipping on a drink. Evan whipped his head around to see an even more terrifying sight. Standing outside on the small balcony beside the bedroom was an all too familiar figure with his backside to Evan. A tall and broad looking man completely nude with ginger hair and an ass you could bounce a quarter off. It was… him. And not just a look alike either. It was actually him! His body. He’d never seen his body from this perspective but Evan was sure of it. That was him standing on the balcony!

“W-hat in the… f-fuck… what the fuck is happening??” Evan’s noticeably older sounding voice quivered with fear as he struggled to comprehend the situation.

Hearing this the copycat looked over his shoulder at Evan and chuckled. “Finally waking up I see.” Carl said in a mocking tone, smirking deviously before taking another sip of his drink.

Evan tried to move but only ended up grunting in pain as a series of aches overwhelmed him again before he was able to get up. “What’s happening!?” He shouted this time as grew more distressed. “Y-y-you look… just like me?!”

Carl let out a small sigh before tutting at Evan. “Oh you poor thing. I don’t just look like you Evan. I am you.” Carl claimed boldly, looking almost a little too proud of himself as he did. “To put it simply, I’m you and you’re me. I swapped our bodies using this ancient ritual I learned a long time ago. I won’t bore you with the specifics of it all but essentially the last component needed was for us to exchange sexual fluids. Once that was done we both fell unconscious while our souls switched places.” Carl explained as he slowly strutted back into the bedroom, cock flopping as he did.

“No… no no no this can’t be happening no…” Was all Evan could say as he looked back down at himself again, seeing the body of an old man. The very one he’d fucked last night.

“When I saw you at that bar I just knew I had to try my luck. A sexy stud like you? I couldn’t resist! But honestly I didn’t think I’d have a chance at baggin ya.” Carl admitted as he tossed his free arm out to the side and gestured down at himself. “Yet here I am settling into this young hunky body of yours.” He continued before brushing a hand through his hair and beard. “Loving the ginger as well by the way. I think it really suits me.” He flashed a toothy grin at Evan before taking another sip of that drink.

Evan wanted to jump out of bed and pounce on the body snatcher with how pissed he was but yet again he struggled to get up. No wonder really considering his body being much older and everything it’d been out through the previous night. Before he had a chance to finish getting up however, Carl downed the rest of his drink before setting the glass down and waltzing over. His hung cock smacking against his thighs as he moved. Before long he looked over the bed, shoving Evan back down onto the mattress with one hard push.

“Lay back down old man, you need some rest after last night.” Carl laughed.

Evan looked at his former face with contempt. “Give me back my fucking body.” He spat as he glared into his former eyes. His confidence didn’t last long as the uncanny feeling of seeing the face that should’ve been his staring back at him under another man’s control.

Carl bent down until his face was inches from Evan’s. His expression was blank and emotionless for a moment. That is until a cheeky grin spread across Carl’s face before pressing their lips together again. Evan was completely taken aback. His own body was kissing! It was surreal to say the least. But just as suddenly as it began, Carl pulled away from the kiss.

“No. Because this isn’t yours anymore. All of this. The muscle. The youth… The cock. This entire body. It all belongs to me.” Just saying those words along made Carl’s dick perk up again. He’d had plenty of time to recharge by now and his new cock was already raring to go again. Standing tall at attention as it grew almost unbearably hard.

Just then however, after taking a couple steps back, Carl was quick to notice Evan’s old man cock chubbing up a little. He chucked “I think you’re enjoying this more than you wanna admit.” He teased as he grasped his own erection. “Ughhhh god… this cock is hard as fuck. Being in that old body made me forget how good a young cock feels.” Carl stated as he gave his new dick a few tugs. “Don’t worry I’ll take good care of it. First thing I’m gonna do once I get to your place is jerk this monster off again. After that I’ll be sure to shove it inside plenty of hot holes for ya. And hopefully get plenty of cocks in this new juicy ass of mine too!” Carl spun around before giving his ass a smack and jiggling it cheekily in front of Evan who couldn’t bring himself to look away from the fat furry ass he once owned.

Confused, Evan asked how Carl knew where his apartment was. Carl went on to explain that he was slowly but surely gaining access to Evan’s memories. It was part of the ritual apparently. He grabbed the white briefs Evan had discarded last night and slipped them on as if they were his own, just barely containing his erection. Evan tried to get up again to stop Carl from leaving but Carl was quick to once again shove him back down. Carl then picked up Evan’s black jeans before pulling them on too, Evan no longer knowing what to do or say to his imposter. He simply watched the thief as he pulled on his white socks. In that moment a tear began to fall from Evan’s eye.

“Oh come on. You’re not really gonna try and make me feel bad are you?” Carl questioned as he pulled on his second sock. Moments after he walked back over beside the bed and leaned over to grab Evan’s much older cock. “Here. Maybe this’ll make you feel better.” Carl rolled his eyes a little before bending down and wrapping his lips around Evan’s cock. Evan knew he should be angry but… for some bizarre and insane reason he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Carl used Evan’s former mouth and tongue to pleasure his older cock in all the right ways. It was a little strange to Evan that his dick still felt slightly soft. It’s like it just wasn’t able to get nearly as hard anymore. Not like his old dick could.

As Carl bobbed his head up and down he couldn’t help but rub his own erection through his jeans. Not being able to help relishing in just how solid his new cock felt. It was like having a steel rod tucked away in his jeans. And the more he sucked, the more he rubbed the outline of his cock.

Before long, Evan found himself moaning as Carl began sucking the cum out of his 60+ year old cock. Gulping down every last drop even if there wasn’t really that much. And mere moments after, thanks to all the rubbing, Carl couldn’t help but groan to himself as well as he busted another massive nut inside his jeans.

“Fuuuck well… I did not intend for that to happen. Guess I got a little too carried away. This young body is just so horny you know? Hard to control myself. And my cock.” Carl teased while sticking his tongue out at Evan. “No time to find something else now. Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to head home like this and change once I get back to my new apartment.” Carl pulled open the waistband to his jeans and underwear only to see the insides stained with a healthy splattering of cum. “Good thing these jeans are so dark.” He smiled while snapping back the waistbands.

With that Carl slipped his feet into the very same boots Evan had been wearing before grabbing what was now his new jacket. He looked over his shoulder again at Evan one last time. Evan looked at him with a nasty stare but still tired after cumming. With that Carl gave one final backhanded thank you for the new body before turning and heading out the door. Heading towards his new life as the new Evan. And as he walked down the street he just loved how nobody he passed by knew that he’d stolen this body or that his crotch was currently covered in cum.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I'm just imagining how scary Akutagawa would be whenever he would threaten you with his ability but he wouldn't ever actually go through with it... Not fully, at the very least.

Whenever you misbehave the man just has a habit of getting Rashomon to scare you off, its long, black talons hanging right over your head as you cower in fear as he just stares down at you, his face devoid of any emotions. "You should have learned the rules by now." he'd say, his voice cold and unforgiving. You would always find yourself gulping and sweating bullets, it was impossible to look up at him let alone gather the courage to speak.

"Talk."

There was no room for weakness. Akutagawa would never allow you to be weak. He was strong, he was fully aware of that plain and true fact. Because of that fact, he knew that he needed to make you stronger, he needed to prepare you for the true horrors of this world. If you can't even defend yourself against him then how the Hell were you going to go back into the wild out there, unprepared like a little baby? He can't protect you forever.

His eyes widened at the realization as he felt his heart break a little.

...he can't protect you forever. He wants to. He really, truly wants to. He will be gone, sooner rather than later. Are you happy about that? Does it bring you satisfaction knowing that the man who so cruelly kidnapped you already had one foot planted in his grave? He laughed bitterly at the thought. He gave you a closed eyes smile but he could still sense your confusion.

Honestly, you were so easy to read, it was downright humiliating.

Akutagawa can't let anyone else read you like that. For once in his life, he wanted something to be his. Death may be the one thing which was going to tear the two of you apart but he had no intentions of making an exit from this world before leaving his mark.

"Stay still." he said as he finally opened his eyes.

"This is going to hurt."

Without missing a beat, Rashomon tore into your arm as you screamed in pain. It was sharp and sudden, the hot white pain was so intense that it clouded all of your senses. You could feel its teeth dig deeper and deeper into your flesh as fresh blood started to pool all over you, staining everything in its path. Akutagawa remained quiet once more as he let his ability carry out his bidding, all the while thinking how oddly pretty you looked like this.

Even if you were in pain, red truly was a beautiful color on you.

After what felt like a century, the pain morphed into a more numb feeling, as if the ability wanted to go easy on you. The sharp teeth did not cease until the words "PROPERTY OF AKUTAGAWA" were etched onto the entirety of your arm, droplets of blood decorating your soft skin and it was all Akutagawa's to enjoy.

Allowing himself a rare moment of softness, Akutagawa crouched down to your level, gently took your arm and planted a gentle kiss at the back of your wrist, right above the pulse point. That place was a favorite of his, feeling your beating heart brought him great joy. He needed to patch you up quickly but he once again allowed himself to be selfish just more as he decided to indulge himself in your being.

He didn't know how much time he had left. That was exactly why he needed to make every moment count.

🤍 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enomane, @ishqani, @satohruu, @bluepeanutharmony, @ficsreblogs

[themotherofhorses]

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

“Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

[hypersonic04]

Heaven In Your Eyes

Hi everyone! I think I’m finally getting back into the groove of writing, both in terms of actually writing and also feeling mentally okay to delve back into tumblr. This is pretty basic I fear, so please bare with me lol. I’m not too sure what the word count is, but it’s not super long. I’ve missed you all so much, and really hope you enjoy <3

“I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Breathy laughter tumbles down the telephone line, your knuckles white as you grip the phone in your cold fingers. Looking both left and then right, the street is bare of taxi’s. It’s 3am, you’re stood outside a nightclub alone in the middle of London, and there’s only one address you know off by heart.

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

His voice brings you out of your panic, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to get rid of the wine-instilled haze that seems to be clouding them.

“Yeah, sorry.” You inhale sharply, quickly glancing at the gaggle of girls falling out of the club doorway in loud giggles and clicking heels. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, is everything okay? You’re worrying me, where are you?” The sound of him shuffling to his feet - you picture him in those navy plaid pyjama pants you’d bought him last Christmas, weary eyes and a furrowed brow as he awaits your reply.

“Can I stay over?” You grimace as the words slip out of your mouth. Asking to stay over at your ex-boyfriend’s flat because you can’t remember the address of your hotel is quite possibly your lowest point yet. Your feet hurt in the strappy heels wound tight around your feet, the spaghetti straps of your dress offering no warmth to your bare shoulders. It’s November, for Christ sake.

“Course.” He responds after a few beats, “do you need me to come and pick you up?”

“No, it’s okay, I can Uber.” Licking your lips, you spot a cab making it’s way to the queue, holding your arm out for it. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay, let me know when you’re nearly here.”

With that, you hang up and jump in the cab. The address rolls off your tongue without a second thought, like it’s tattooed onto your brain. It makes your heart ache a little. You wonder if it’s the same for another girl somewhere out there, if in the three months you’ve been separated, Ross’ flat has become someone else’s drunken retreat. You find yourself picking around the edge of your nail as you picture the unidentified her in his bedsheets, the ones you used to tuck tightly around his mattress in the mornings because you knew he liked it, the very same bedsheets that once smelled like you.

The taxi driver coming to a halt surprises you, and when you look out of the window, sure enough, his apartment building looms next to you. You pay the driver, sliding out of the car and sending a quick text to him.

It’s all too familiar, the way you wait under the porch, leaning against the brick while you wait for him to come and open the door for you. You reminisce in a way that you’ve avoided for the entirety of your time apart, a way that you knew would leave you sobbing if you dared to delve into the memories of him.

You stand up from the wall when his figure approaches through the frosted glass, tall and looming. Opening the door, his eyes are exactly as you pictured them - dark, creasing slightly at the corners as he smiles softly at you, tired from touring.

And he is wearing the pyjama pants.

“Hi,” he smiles lopsidedly, standing to the side to let you in.

“Hi.” You say quietly, quieter than you anticipated. “Thank you so much.” You turn to face him as he shuts the door, swallowing heavily. He just looks so comfy, familiar, home.

“You know you’re always welcome.” He scratches the back of his neck as he stretches a little, and it takes every ounce of self discipline and control to not watch as his sweater rides up, fingers tingling with the thought of running them over the soft skin at his waist like you used to. His hair is longer, it makes your breath hitch, and you know he notices in the way his eyes trail down your throat, your neck flexing as you breath in.

“Yeah, well, I’m really grateful.” You nod, the silence all consuming.

You follow him up the stairs as he takes the lead, heels clicking on tiles and your hand clinging to the handrail. He lets you into the flat first, and the way your stomach drops at the sight of it takes you by surprise. It’s like you can see ghosts of yourself in every corner - tangled together on the sofa, dancing together in the kitchen, sharing a cigarette on the balcony.

The sound of the door clicking shut and locking fills the room. You sit on the edge of the sofa and undo your shoes, his gaze burning into you. He’s stood against the doorway, eyes following your every move.

“Why are you in London, anyway? Alone?” He asks, and you can hear the almost jealous tone in his voice.

“Someone’s party, some publisher, I don’t know.” You mumble, the free cocktails finally taking their toll. “And yes, alone. Go on, call me a loser, I know it’s on the tip of your tongue.”

He chuckles lightly and you roll your eyes. That laugh, the hold it’s had over you from the second you heard it all those years ago, makes you angry, in a way. How dare he have that power over you? How dare his slightest chuckle remind you of every Sunday morning spent together, every drunken walk home, every party where you’ve been the only two people in the room?

Walking over, he takes your heels from you and sets them in the hallway, before coming to sit next to you. You’re looking up at the ceiling, knees pulled to your chest as you lull your head back.

“This is nice.” He muses, taking the sparkly material of your dress between his fingertips, rubbing it against them.

“Do you think?” You smile sleepily, tilting your head to the side, his eyes trained on the material draped over your legs.

It’s silent in the flat, and it dawns on you that he probably just stayed up to wait for you.

“Why were you up at 3am? I didn’t think you’d answer.” You say quietly, watching as his eyes meet yours for a second, before flicking back to the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep these days.” He huffs, chest rising and falling heavily. You remember how he used to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, head nuzzled into your chest, impossible to wake up, in fact.

He turns to look at you for a second, gaze falling to your lips, over your cheeks, nose, meeting your eyes again. It’s been three months since you’ve been face to face, and it almost makes you laugh how you ever thought you could forget him. It feels like you were tracing the outline of his lips only yesterday, every inch of his existence at the forefront of your mind, like a textbook you’ve read every day, laid in bed staring at the ceiling.

“How was the rest of the tour?” You whisper, still facing him.

“It was good, really good.” A faint smile ghosts over his lips, eyes softening ever so slightly as he thinks of the band. “Missed home though.”

“Hm, I bet.” You nod.

“How’s work?”

“Shit.” You say with a sputtered laugh, smile widening as you look at him, shaking his head with a giggle.

“Seriously?” He looks at you with tilted brows, wincing almost.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, moving away from home. I don’t know, I just wanted a change after everything…” Your voice trails off. Silence consumes the room. You swear you can hear your heart beat against your chest, or maybe it’s his. “I guess I thought that if I moved away, if I changed every other area of my life, then maybe it would fix everything.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands.

“And it didn’t.” You glance at him as the words leave your mouth, wishing that you could get a glimpse into that brain of his. Cogs turning slowly, calculated, pondering over every word.

“When I heard you were moving, I assumed it was because you were going to be happier away from me. That’s why I didn’t do anything.” He runs a hand through his long hair, your eyes following as he does so, “Because you were leaving and I didn’t want to be the knobhead ex-boyfriend telling you to stay.”

“Who told you I was leaving?”

“George. He told me about the phone call.”

You inhale sharply, brow furrowing slightly as you remember that day vividly, sat in your London apartment surrounding by boxes, listening to George begging you to stay. For Ross, for the band, for Dirty Hit. How could you stay? How could you work for your ex-boyfriend’s record label, looking at pictures of him every day, his music playing constantly, surrounded by him? That’s no condition to move on. How can you pretend someone doesn’t exist when your to-do list at work revolves around him?

“If you’d have told me to stay, I would have.” You bite down on your bottom lip, glancing at him. It’s true. His shoulders rise and then fall as he listens to you. It goes quiet, the tension in the air turned to a sadness.

“I’ve missed you.” He says through a strained voice.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You smile softly, sadly almost.

His dark eyes twinkle in the dim light of the floor lamp. They’re chocolate, they’re pools of honey, they’re heavenly. Sticky and sweet and enticing, and you just know you shouldn’t have them, shouldn’t let yourself fall into them.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” He asks abruptly.

There’s a shift in the air, his eyes fixed on your lips as your tongue swipes at them, still sweet from the sugar of the mojitos you’d drank earlier. You wonder what his taste like as you stare at them, perfectly met, gravelly stubble begging to be met with your soft fingertips. You know what they taste like, and that’s the problem.

“No, have you?”

He shakes his head.

“God, we’re boring, aren’t we? No sex in three months. We’re in our prime, Ross.” You laugh loudly at yourself, his eyes crinkling as he does the same. He always loved the way you found yourself funnier than anyone else in the room, obnoxious giggles escaping your pretty lips as he watches them curve into a wide, toothy smile.

“You’re right, it’s tragic.” He huffs.

You glance at him, features soft, hazy under your gaze. He’s propped himself up with his hand, elbow leaning on the back on the sofa, looming over you ever so slightly. You watch as he brings his fingertips lower, lower, brushing a curl from your collarbone, twisting the end of it between his fingers, gentle, quiet, slow. You smile at him softly as he does so. Moving from your hair to the strap of your dress, your skin feels cold, goosebumps over every inch of you. He notices, dark eyes glancing at yours for a second.

“Ross…” you whisper.

He looks at you intently, a sense of worry in his eyes, almost. He wonders if he’s overstepped, if he’s misread the sighs.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs slightly.

“No, I…” you shake your head at him lightly, “I don’t want you to feel like this is why I’m here. I didn’t come here to have sex with you, Ross. I came here because you’re all I could think of.”

He rubs at his chin, watching as your turn to face him properly.

“No matter where I am, London, Manchester, even the other side of the world, all I can think about is what would have happened if I’d not have left, if we’d have worked things out.” Tears prick at your eyes, maybe the alcohol, maybe the way he softens as you speak, as you place a hand on his knee. “I’m an idiot, and I run away when things get difficult, and this was the first time in my life I realised I’d fucked up massively.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He tucks some hair behind your ear.

“No, I am. I should have stuck it out, talked to you.”

He places his hand over yours on his knee.

“Stay, y/n.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, sighing deeply.

“You said that if I’d have asked you to stay, you would have. I’m asking you now. Stay.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in yours. His other hand is on the back of your head, pulling you to hun until your lips are slotted together. Your hands find either side of his head, leaning into him even more, feeling his fingertips brush the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“I’m never leaving you again.” You mumble between kisses, feeling him nod as your lips meet.

[pictureinme]

kinktober day viii. VIRGINITY - eli sunday

word count: ~1k tags: breast play, creampie masterlist | ao3

“Oh, look at that…”

Eli smiles with faux innocence as he gazes upon your sleeping form, donned in a thin nightgown for the hot summer nights. He had been late coming home, he could tell you tried your best to stay up for him– you weren’t even under the sheets, much less using a pillow. Curled up like a puppy, he thought.

The two of you had been married for only a week now, but churchly duties come first before any such… husbandly ones. Eli was saving that very duty for you tonight but of course, there was always a barrage of holy questions when he’d rather do anything else.

He rids himself of his shoes and unbuttons his shirt before kneeling next to your resting face, “Let me see your beautiful eyes, (Y/N).”

You stir, only waking as he squeezes your arm slightly. Eli grins as you squint sleepily at him and your smile grows, “Good morning…”

“Not quite, my love,” he gets up onto the bed, hovering over you. “I just wanted to see my pretty wife.”

Eli traces your cheek with a cold finger, and you shiver as you almost fully wake up, “I wanted to stay up for you, I wanted… tonight to be the night.”

His eyes widen, but his expression quickly turns to one of pure warmth, “I… have to admit, that was my true intention for waking you.”

You grin and pull him down by the collar to kiss him sweetly. He laughs into the embrace, but his hands begin to wander to caress your arms– rather roughly. It isn’t unwelcome in the slightest, you felt just as eager to ‘consummate your holy matrimony–’ that was Eli’s way of skirting around the subject, using the more flowery language to describe it. You would prefer ‘making love’ or, when in the proper mood, ‘fuck,’ but he’d have none of that as a man of God.

“I need you,” his hot breath tickles your ear as he makes his way to kiss gently at your neck, “Desperately, my love. May I?”

“Please, Eli.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice as he unceremoniously crawls off of you to rid himself of the rest of his clothing– he needs to be one with you, no manmade barriers would come between your embrace. You follow quickly, only needing to pull your white nightgown over your head and toss it onto the floor.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen your bare self, but this time, Eli practically jumped you once he saw your breasts, “Beautiful, so beautiful.”

You look down at his hardness grinding against you as he explores your body, and mewl at the idea of it being inside of you, “Please… get on with it, I can’t wait.”

“Just let me do this first, love.”

Eli leans down to lick at your breasts, nipping ever so lightly on their curves. You mewl at the time he takes with each of them, memorizing every aspect of them, lest he forget. His other hand kneads the other as he bites gently around your nipple– it feels amazing. Eli’s length continues to rock against your thigh, and you try your best to maneuver it closer to your own arousal.

His tongue flits over your hardened nipples one last time before he moves up to kiss your lips again, “Are you… ready?”

You nod rather quickly, the promise of pleasure after all these years of pining clouding whatever shame you could have possibly felt at this moment. The nervousness inside of you dulls when you see Eli smile as he kneels before your entrance– you feel loved and desired. You could see his hands shaking slightly when he positioned himself in front of you, the tip of his length so close, yet so far.

“I’m ready, Eli.”

He nods, trying to rid himself of any fears he may be holding onto. He pushes inside you, the wetness of your arousal only doing so much to lessen the stretch. You watch as his entirety fits inside of you– it is hypnotic as much as it is painful. A moan erupts from your throat as he’s sheathed to the hilt, Eli’s breathing ragged as ever.

“You’re so…” His eyes are shut tightly, “Warm, and tight, my love.”

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel more of him. He begins to move slowly, in and out, little moans escaping his throat with even the most minor of movements. You spread your legs even further, wrapping them around his body– that’s when Eli’s eyes finally open to gaze upon the woman he married. His thrusts increase in pace as you meet his gaze, your blown-out bedroom eyes meeting his practically crazed ones.

“Oh, God,” Eli cries out as you clench down, “I don’t, oh– I don’t know if I’ll last.”

A part of you didn’t want him to. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

Your gentle voice elicits a pathetic moan to crack out from his throat, and his head lolls back as he chases his promised pleasure. You move your hand down to rub at your unattended clit, wanting to see him fall apart– all because of you. Who could resist such a delectable power play?

Eli stutters in his movements, his expression looking almost pained– he was close, and you wanted him inside.

“Come on, come inside of me, love…”

His eyes shut yet again as he lets out a rather high-pitched moan as he releases inside of you– the warmth of it only encouraging you to get off quicker. You feel your peak approaching as you watch his chest, glistening with sweat, rise and fall rapidly. Eli watches with nothing but love in his eyes as you whimper into your orgasm.

[wexhappyxfew]

quiet reprieve

(a/n): for the annie x brady mota girlies, featuring annie bradshaw, john brady and a cameo from ken lemmons, and the women of Silver Bullets. enjoy!!

"It was pretty much a crap-shoot the second we got across the channel," Lieutenant Montez said, popping the cigarette off her lip and glancing towards Annie - clenched jaw, slightly blank stare forward, white-knuckled grip on her peak cap in her hands, her knee going a mile a minute.

It had been basically a complete, utter, mess from the second the plane was prepping to drop the bombs; Achterberg yelling over comms about some flak coming in at 3:00, Rybinski hollering from the ball turret about a faulty piece of the gun that needed checking, just as a spray of bullets penetrated from just below, with Carlisle yelling over all the noise her coordinates. It had felt like chaos. And it had been. Annie remembered her glancing towards Lieutenant Montez at one point and seeing her cold-stone stare somewhere lost in the flurry of clouds and graying smoke in front of them as a few chutes went out to their right.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, any chutes from Son of a Gun?" Annie looked up from her daze and found the entirety of Silver Bullets, along with the interrogator staring at her. Sitting up a bit, shifting a bit uncomfortably, she cleared her throat and nodded.

"Yes, sir." she said, "All 10. We all counted. Confirmed it with Stagliano." Annie looked towards Stagliano who pulled the cigarette off her lips with a nod.

"All 10, sir," Stagliano said, the few scraps along her face from the rocking of the fort scattered on her cheek, "I wouldn't say Flying Colors was as lucky. Only 2 chutes." The interrogator seemed to let out a quiet sigh and made a few notes.

Gazing at the group of women was an even sadder affair than she was sure she could possibly handle; the drawn out looks on their faces, the exhaustion, the level of tiredness that lingered in their eyes, or the way they just seemed relieved to be on the ground.

Annie slowly looked over at the other tables - their crews dispersed about, members giving both distinct and scattered descriptions of whatever the hell had just happened. Through her exhausting eye search, she found her eyes caught on another pair of eyes that were intently caught on her own.

Captain Brady - the one that had hopped a ride with her and Major Egan as she had been shown the officers' club. He looked slightly different without the peak cap on, and his face looked more worn than it had a day or two ago, his hair sweaty and stuck a bit along his forehead, the stress-lines strewn against his forehead and cheeks. He almost was looking right through her it felt, like there was this being behind her, waiting to take her away, but she could tell that he could sense her there.

"I couldn't see much beneath me, sir," Rybinski said, her voice dry and monotone - much more dampened and sodden than she had ever been in the short time Annie had known her, "it was pretty much gray smoke from over the channel to dropping the bombs. German fighter came pretty damn close though, sir. Little too close for comfort."

"Flying Colors definitely was only 2 chutes, though," Ratcliff said, leaning forward against the table and lacing together her slightly soot-covered fingers from the metallic of the ammunition, a sigh escaping her lips as she cleared her throat, "can't say much else though, it went down in a ball of flame."

An awkward cough seemed to follow her words. Annie had seen Flying Colors go down in a rather quick matter. An engulfed ball of flame. Plummeting to the Earth.

A flying grave.

"Their chutes caught fire," Harlowe offered, "sir, the two men who jumped." Annie noticed Harlowe leaning back and shutting her eyes. What they saw, what they heard. It lived in them, it grew and fed off their fear, off the memories, of all of it. Annie watched as the interrogator crossed off Flying Colors with a quick flick of his pencil.

"How were flying conditions, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" the interrogator asked, "Ideal?" Annie looked up from her spot, meeting the interrogator's eyes, and slowly clenched her jaw a bit.

"Just fine." Annie said, "Flown in worse." The interrogator marked it down on the mandatory box for weather conditions, before placing down his pencil; the table grew relatively quiet, a few coughs, finger tapping and shifting of people in their gear.

"You're all dismissed," the interrogator said and Annie looked up from her white-knuckled grip on her peak cap, "get yourselves some food and rest." A few other tables were slowly moving about, getting their things and heading to the mess hall, clearing tables, folding maps and taking last minute sips of coffee previously handed out, all the sorts.

Annie shook the interrogator's hand, gave an attempt of a smile in his direction and then turned and headed outside, placing her peak cap on top of her head.

Stepping into the bright, rather warm sunlight was a world of difference from the inside of the interrogation room - the breeze was sweet, the sun bright and for a second, she almost had forgotten she'd been in the air not too long ago, one of the engines smoking, yelling over comms, bodies and planes falling from the sky in a smoldering array of death, the whizz of enemy fighters just outside of the fortress. It was unnerving.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw." Annie turned and found Captain Brady coming towards her, running a hand through his hair before adjusting the peak cap on his head and stopping just in front of her. Annie met his gaze and offered a quick salute and he nodded her off.

"What can I do for you, sir?" He watched her for a moment, his eyes seeming to hold onto hers as if looking away would suddenly shift the axis of the Earth.

"Was gonna go check on the fort," Brady said, nodding over to the tarmac where the ground crews were making quick work of some of the damage done, "lost a few engines while we were up there and want to make sure things are shaping up. Wondering if you wanted to come with. You look like you could use a step away from all this for a moment." Annie looked up at him and swallowed before nodding.

"Yes, sir," she said. He offered a bit of a smile - the corner of his lip turned up and for the moment, that was enough, especially after the hell of the day. The two started walking side by side, their uniforms still looking in a rather sorry state, but their gear was mostly removed and the breeze was beginning to wick the sweat from her forehead from the most part. It was quite beautiful when you forgot there was a war on, especially here at Thorpe Abbotts. The sky, the breeze, the green grass, the people all about.

"How'd it go up there for you all?" Brady asked her as they continued their leisurely walk forward, "And before you say anything, I must admit, that was the most relaxed I'd seen Lieutenant Montez coming back from a mission, even when today was a total shit-show." Annie looked up at him and noticed the slight quirk of his lips and smiled a bit and nodded.

"It went alright, sir," she said, "we lost a few engines, too, smoking, the whole-nine-yards. But, she did great up there. I'm lucky that she's my copilot."

"That you are." he said quietly, before glancing her way, clearing his throat, "I've been meaning to ask, what got you here?" She glanced at him and a slightly nervous laugh left his lips.

"A plane, sir." she said, the slight hint of a smile back onto her lips as she watched his gaze. The laugh that was playing at the edge of his lips slipped out and he looked to her again.

"I mean, what were you doing before you were here. What made you think - yeah, B-17s?" he asked and she chuckled quietly and crossed her arms and nodded.

"Originally, I was a translator, sir - German, French, some Russian….or well, it was a fair attempt at Russian, sir, can't say it ever went smoothly, but I was trying to just do that. Translating." she said with a nod and then glanced at him, "I was stationed at Fort Des Moines, and one of the women I was close with, got me a gig working on some of the planes - we had some B-17s there at some point. Started doing supply runs, started getting real comfortable. Eventually did so much with B-17s, that I got my license and then was training with a group in Texas. Then, I got the call." Brady watched her.

"And now," she said, smiling briefly, "I'm here, sir."

"I know the women are glad you're here," he said with a nod, "after everything with Birdie, I think you were what they needed." Annie watched him for a moment and nodded, her throat tight at the thought - the mental image yet again infiltrating her brain.

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it." she said and Brady offered her a smile.

"It's the truth," he said, "you fit in well." Annie found herself unable to hide the grin and she nodded.

"And I know Major Egan is a big fan of yours," he said, a sideways look her way and she let out a laugh and shook her head.

"That's quite a stretch, sir," she said, "I think he didn't like the fact that I referenced him to be Cinderella at times." Brady laughed - had he always laughed like that? Because it was quite a nice sound.

"Well," Brady said, stopping and turning towards her, a small smile on his face, eyes soft in her own gaze, "I think it's kinda funny to see his feathers ruffled knowing you won't take any of his shit." Annie shrugged and stuffed her hands into her pockets and smiled.

"Ruffling feathers seems to be a party trick of mine, sir." she said, nodding at him, "I seem to bring it out when warranted."

"And with Major Egan, I can promise you, it's warranted." Brady said. Annie let out a small laugh and shook her head. She glanced over at Silver Bullets stood beautifully in the bright sunshine, noticing Lemmons and Wink there working away at one of the engines.

"Want to join me, sir?" she said nodding over to Silver Bullets, "Before heading to your fort?" Brady smirked a bit - smirked, yes that's right - and nodded.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," he said, his voice lower than what it had been and she smiled slightly, before turning and moving towards the B-17 that she felt like she were slowly becoming both protective and maternal over.

"Hey, Lemmons," Annie called as she approached, Brady somewhere behind her - she could feel his eyes on her back, she just could at this point. Lemmons turned on the ladder in front of engine 3 and offered a wave, before saying something to Wink, and climbing down.

"Hey, Lieutenant," he said, reaching forward to shake her hand, before noticing Brady, "Captain."

"How's she looking?" Brady asked him, as Annie gazed up towards the cockpit of Silver Bullets, once filled with smoke and now still and silent.

"If only those engines hadn't gone," Annie said quietly and Lemmons smiled slightly.

"Well, I can promise you both she'll fix up just nicely," he said, "Wink's almost done with 3 and we'll be moving to 4 and then doing some refinishing, repainting - I'm rewiring something on Lieutenant Montez's side, that alright, ma'am."

"Of course." Annie said with a smile, "Whatever gets her in the air again." Lemmons smiled and readjusted his gaze to Brady.

"What's got you so concerned about Silver Bullets, sir?" Lemmons asked, "Your fort seems pretty much unscathed besides the engine so." Brady offered a slightly hesitant smile and glanced at a rather expectant Annie before looking back at Lemmons.

"Just wanted to make sure our replacement pilot has been getting what she needs, done," Brady said, "looks great, Lemmons." Annie caught Lemmons' eyes who raised a brow in her direction before turning away. Something shifted in her gut and she looked towards Brady, the sprinkle of red on his cheeks not just from the fact it was a little warmer than normal outside and she held back the grin.

"Well, sir, I can promise Silver Bullets is in good working condition, with an intelligent pilot to match," Lemmons said, looking up towards the berth of the wingspan, "I wouldn't worry too much. She flies like a beaut." Brady let out another one of his nervous sprinkles of laughter and nodded.

"I appreciate it, Lemmons."

"Don't you worry, sir," Annie said, looking up towards Brady, "Germans won't have a pot to piss in when she's back up and running again." Brady chuckled and then glanced at Lemmons.

"Your fort's coming along, by the way, sir," Lemmons said, "she's just over there, feel free to get a look at her and let me know if you need something else done. Otherwise, I'll finish up here, do your engines and move on."

"Alright, thank you," Brady said and then glanced at Annie at his side, "give me a few minutes, I'll be back." She nodded at him and watched as he took off around the side of Silver Bullets and disappeared. Lemmons glanced at her and chuckled.

"What's got him laughing so much?" Lemmons said and Annie glanced at him.

"What?" Lemmons came towards her, wiping his hands on a grease towel, smirk on his face.

"Captain Brady - giggling like a school girl, 'bout what? Never see him like that, usually got a sour look on his face." Lemmons said and Annie shrugged, crossing her arms.

"I don't know, probably trying to forget about the cluster fuck of a mission," Annie said honestly and Lemmons chuckled, throwing the towel over his shoulder and nodding.

"Right," he said, "that or the look on your face, ma'am. Either way, he's grinning like one of them Cheshire cats. Especially when he's around you." Annie watched as Lemmons smirked and then turned and walked away. Annie was positively sure her face was the color of the most ripened tomato you'd ever seen.

[604to647]

Hat Trick - Part 2 (The Playoffs)

3.4K / Safest with You AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din eats you out while you watch a playoffs game. That’s it.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please) F!oral, fingering, nearing overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), m!masterbation, established relationship. Inadvertent hockey double entendres, possibly.

A/N: Vancouver won last night so I thought I should post this while they’re up 😂 Inspired by @beskarandblasters’s I Want It, I got It and @swiftispunk’s ask(s) from @arainbowsiren - thank y’all and your respective mens for their service 🫡🫡🤗. You can if you want, of course 😊 but no need to read Part 1, as it’s not a direct continuation. Anyways, go Canucks go! 🏒🏒

If dread is defined as “painful agitation in the presence or anticipation of danger,” then for the entirety of your relationship, Din has never dreaded seeing you.  Not when either of you has had one of those bad day at work where you just need to vent for hours afterwards, or when Jimmy had accidentally used a sweater you left in Din’s office to towel off after a sparring session, or even that time Din took Al to the dog park by himself and didn’t realize the other dog moms were flirting with him until one of them shoved her number into his hand.  Nope, it didn’t matter what nonsense was going on while you were apart, the moment he looks upon his pretty bird’s face, Din’s day automatically takes a turn for the better.

But these past few weeks, Din feels like it’s possible he’s being tested in this regard.  Still not dread… maybe some mild foreboding?  That sounds bad, he thinks.  He’s worried is what he is.

Your hockey team is in the playoffs, and at first you were thrilled.  But your excitement has quickly given way to a much more volatile emotional cocktail of anticipation, nervousness and agitation.  If anything, you’re the one who’s been in a state of dread.

The first round was okay.  Your team won the series 4-1; it was a little nerve-wracking after Game 2, but the team rallied and after some nail-biting overtime games, they prevailed.  At your encouragement, he had hosted the series at his place since neither of you were able to get any tickets for the home games.  You had readily cooked up a storm in the kitchen to work out your pregame nerves, and your friends and the Mandos came over to reaped the culinary benefits of your stress. 

Your friends already knew this about you, of course, but Din is learning that playoffs you is very different from regular season you.  Regular season you loves hockey.  Playoffs you loves winning.

You’re the personification of nail-biting anxiety during every game; eyes glued to the screen, barely eating or drinking except during commercials or intermissions.  Every missed shot on goal results in shouting and arms raised in frustration.  Ever unanswered check on your players, vexation and name calling.  Power plays or offensive drives that can't be capitalized on have you covering your face in defeat.

His pretty bird stresses.

It’s not all bitterness and disappointment, thankfully.  Your face when your team scores lights up entire the room.  Every save your goalie makes has you cheering in elation, high fiving everyone in sight with enthusiasm.  When your team wins, your cute butt won’t stop wiggling with victory dance moves.

But the good cannot come without the bad.  Penalties called against your team trigger a spitting of expletives Din didn’t think were possible from your sweet mouth.  Holes in your defense that the other team exploits have you calling for someone’s head (the coach? The team captain?  Din’s??!)

Every game is a rollercoaster of emotions.

Oh.  And if your team loses… it’s like a dark cloud materializes over your head.  Your mood is already gloomy when the final buzzer sounds, improving only to pouty and restless by the time you start nearing the next game.

Din doesn’t like to see you so stressed (over a game, he might add, if he didn’t seriously fear the repercussions of saying that out loud to you).

Round 2 has been… interesting.  No, that's too forgiving.  It’s been… a nightmare.  You team is down 1-3 in the series and tonight is Game 5.  The make-or-break game that will either eliminate your team from the playoffs, or let them live to fight another game where they can attempt to claw their way to a decider seventh game.  After winning the series opener, the team’s three consecutive losses have left you nearly despondent - your mood getting progressively worse with every loss.  It’s not that you were mean or snappish – you were still kind and helpful, and all sweetness with Din and his friends.  But you smile a lot less and your playfulness is missing; you tell less jokes and your laughter, if any, is shorter and less vibrant than it is normally.  This past week, there’s been an ever present tension in your body that doesn’t seem to melt away no matter how much affection Din shows you, and you’re constantly furrowing your brow at things you read on your phone. 

When you start to make the grocery list for what you need to prepare the spread for Game 5, you call out to Din, “Baby, is Mayfeld going to come over for the game?  If he is, I’ll have to get parsley for the garlic knots.”

“Oh… pretty bird, I think most of the guys are going to go to a sports bar for Game 5,” Din says with a bit a trepidation.  He doesn’t say that he was the one who had made the suggestion that they do so, thinking it was unnecessary pressure for you to host a viewing party.  When Woves and Mayfeld had complained, Din reminded them about how they had both spilled beer all over the carpet during a goal celebration during the last game.  He had found you at 2 a.m. taking out your frustration over the loss with a brush, scrubbing the carpet vigorously on your hands and knees until he had managed to coax you back to bed for what was ultimately a night of restless tossing and turning.

“Did you want to go too?” you ask, wide-eyed.

“Nah, let’s just relax and watch here, baby,” Din’s smile is easy going, “I’ll order in, okay?  No need to make food.  It can just be a relaxing time.”  He hopes he isn’t emphasizing the word relax too much.

You look at him for a beat and nod, before going back to the grocery list.  Din exhales a little breath of relief. 

Game 5 is not going well.

Your team is leading in shots on goal, but just can’t seem convert shots to goals.  Din thinks it’s almost worse watching your body tense up in excitement, just to deflate in disappointment, over and over.  The opposing team doesn’t seem to have the same problem – scoring two goals in quick succession during the first ten minutes of the game that have you flopping back onto the coach, heels of your palms pressed to your eyes as you groan in pain. 

At the first intermission, your team is trailing 0-3 and Din hides (?) in the kitchen while you call Rory and Katie, and the three of you bemoan and rant about the last period over speakerphone.  You pace the same route throughout the apartment so many times, Din wouldn’t be surprised if you actually wore a path. 

He reemerges from the kitchen just as the second period is about to start and sees that you’re already perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on your knees, hands holding your own face as you stare at the television intently.

The puck drops just as Din places a plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, and you look at him with a calm expression and soft, sweet smile that he doesn’t think he’s seen for weeks, “Thank you, bab- WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?”

And like that, it’s gone – replaced by an expression of disbelief as you point agitatedly at the screen.  Din turns to see your team captain skating towards the penalty box, and looks back to see you shaking with fury and muttering, “Hooking my ass...  Barely tapped him…”

“That’s it,” says Din firmly.

“Hmm?” you’re not even looking at him, too busy throwing dagger eyes at the ref on screen who’s announcing the penalty details, getting ready to boo when he’s done.

“Stand up please, pretty bird,” commands Din, not really asking as he slips his paw like hands under your arms and hauls you up gently before you even process his request.  Your eyes narrow as you register something happening, but your attention is still on the game.

It’s not until Din yanks down your leggings and kneels to start pulling your feet through the legs that you snap your head down, “Din!! What are you doing?”

Left in just your pink lace trimmed panties and your “I just hope both teams have fun” sweatshirt, you look at Din with a confused expression. He rises and towers over you purposefully, crowding you back against the couch so that you’re forced to sit down with a bounce when it hits the back of your legs.

“I don’t like seeing you so stressed, sweetheart.  So, I’m going to help you relax, and you’re going to remember that this game is supposed to be fun.”

You screw up your face, unimpressed, “I know it’s supposed to be fun!  I’m having tons of fun.  Look at me, I’m- OH!!”

Din’s had enough.  It wasn’t supposed to be a negotiation anyways.  With one hand, he presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back into the couch, and with the other he spreads open your legs and lowers himself to press a firm kiss right on your clit.

“Din!!”

“Relax, baby,” he mouths against the fabric of your underwear, dipping his head and nuzzling your bud with his strong nose.  He spread your legs wider and holds them open as he starts his slow torture.

The other team’s powerplay starts and you try to keep your eyes on the game.  Normally you would be yelling at the screen for your team to clear it, but right now all you can think about is how Din’s slowly tracing over your folds with the tips of his nose and tongue.

As the powerplay clock starts to wind down, your favourite right winger intercepts a pass and tears down the ice on a breakaway.  Chased by his own teammates and the opposing team, he sets up, shoots and scores!!  Usually a short-handed goal would have you jumping up and down, cheering, but Din’s holding you down and at the exact same moment he gives your mound an open mouth kiss, tonguing your clit with a deliberate flick that has you grabbing onto his hair instead, “Yesssssssss!”

Din pays the goal no mind nor anything else that’s happening in the game, he just continues mapping and teasing your cunt through your underwear with his mouth, tongue and nose until the fabric is soaked through.

You go back to watching the game, half listening to the commentators and half following the players on the ice, all the while whimpering and softly moaning as Din works you up until you’re leaking down your ass, about to make a mess of the couch beneath.  Slowly, slowly, as Din continues to massage and prod at your dripping hole, you start to melt, stress and tension lifting from your body, replaced with a warm, buzzing pleasure emanating from your core.

The period’s half over, and you haven’t yelled at the screen once. 

“Feels so good, daddy,” you whine, when Din’s tongue presses your panties into your seam, forcing the fabric pulled tight and wet to stay tucked between your folds, finally revealing part of your pretty cunt to his gleaming eye.

“Fuck.  Pussy’s so pretty, baby.  So wet for me,” Din growls, and the vibration of his tenor works it way in, riding that same buzzing wave that’s coursing through your body, straight to your throat where it escapes as a tight wail.

“Oh Daddy!”

“Keep watching the game, pretty bird.  And remember… relax,” Din’s last word muffled as he dives face first into your pussy, open mouth kissing your slit - licking every crest and wave he has access to with a low, burning sensuality that’s driving you insane. 

“More, please – Din, I need more.  Ngggh!”

About to pull the damp gusset of your panties to the side and really starting devouring you, Din pauses with a wicked idea.  He pinches the fabric between his fingers and gives it a little tug so that the hem of your panties glides over your clit – the unexpected friction has you yelping in surprise, “Oh, fuck!”

Chuckling, Din tugs the fabric over your swollen bud a few more times and drinks in your heady moans before finally pulling it all the way aside to display your glistening cunt.

“Eyes on the game, baby.”  You look down to see Din’s face buried between your legs, but his eyes are locked onto yours, dark and blown – you nod and flick you eyes back to the screen.  Three more minutes left in the second period.

“Good girl,” Din rumbles against your slick coated seam; he licks a hot stripe from your tight hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, then back down, pushing and swirling his tongue through your arousal.  He hums as he repeats this pattern over and over as you start to pant above him.

“Close baby?”  You look away from the face-off on screen to nod at Din, he’s been eating you out for nearly the entire period of play, building you up from nothing and now you can feel yourself approaching the edge of euphoria, ready to teeter over.

“Daddy will take care of you, pretty girl.  Just relax and watch the game, kay?”

When he sees your hazy eyes flick back up to the tv, he presses in deep, opening his mouth to consume as much of your pussy as he can, tongue dancing through your folds before it burrows into your clenching hole.  His nose nudges your slippery clit as he tongue fucks you with vigor.

Above him, you’re faintly cheering on your team.

“Oh yes!  Press them!  Press them hard!”

“Nice pass!  Fuck, such a good pass!”

“Shoot it, shoot it, shoot it – yessssss!”

You come just as the team’s star rookie scores a top shelf goal, crying out So good, so good, so good as your orgasm washes over you in never-ending waves.  Apparently, you had a lot of pent up stress you needed to release.

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against the back of the couch and listen to the announcements celebrating the goal, coming down from your high as Din continues to press butterfly kisses to your pussy.  Only when you hear the buzzer signalling the end of the period do you open your eyes and smile down at Din, “Thank you, daddy.”

Making a movement to get up so you can dispense a little love of your own to Din, you’re bewildered when Din holds you down with a forearm across your stomach and shakes his head, mouth still latched to your heat. 

“Din.”

Shake, shake.

The movement of Din’s head restarts a warmth in your belly.  Your laugh is featherlight, “Din, I have to get up!  At least let me get up to buy the 50-50 tickets.”

Without releasing you, Din feels behind him blindly with his free hand until he finds your phone on the coffee table and places it in your waiting hands; he then reaches into his back pocket and takes out his wallet which he also hands over before mumbling against your slit, “Buy your tickets, baby.”

“Din, you don’t have to!  I have my ow- ah!”

Having given your clit a playful snip, Din soothes it with a soft kiss, “It’s for charity, sweetheart.”

Dreamily, you sigh in agreement, “For charity.”

Din licks you lazily through the second intermission, cleaning up your spend and using his tongue to spread the fresh slick trickling from your cunt up to and around your swollen clit.  He rests his head against your thigh and chuckles as he watches you take over ten minutes to purchase your charity raffle tickets; you used to only be able to buy 50-50 tickets if you were in attendance at the game, but the team’s charitable foundation had recently started selling them online during the game as well – and it’s taking all your concentration to navigate the site without being distracted by Din’s slow teasing.

You have to enter Din’s credit card number five times before you get it right and you think you accidentally buy twice the number of tickets you mean to.

By the time the third period starts, you’ve lost your underwear; eyes glossing over while you resume watching the game, you’re spread bare for Din as he adds his fingers to his efforts, all in the name of ‘relaxation’.  When your team can’t capitalize on their first power play of the period, he inserts one curling finger, and you concede that the missed goal opportunity isn’t the end of the world.  When your goalie has to make four heart-stopping saves in a row as the other team piles on, Din adds a second, and you passively sing encouraging praise at the TV while dissolving into the couch.  When your coach deploys his special teams, your heart rate speeds up, but not because your offensive line is absolutely dominating in the attacking zone, but because Din squeezes in a third finger, stretching your fitted walls to their limit.

“So fucking tight for me,” Din hisses, looking absolutely hypnotized as he watches his thick fingers disappear into your cunt.  The vulgar wet slaps and squelches your pussy is making nearly drowning out the commentary from the game; you moan and writhe against Din’s hand, begging him for more, “Daddy, so fucking good!  Love your fingers, please… need your mouth, dadddyyyyyyy….”

The onslaught on the ice and against your pussy continue without reprieve; Din nibbles your puffy clit between his teeth before pulling it in between his lips and sucking.  He builds and builds as the team presses and presses, no relief for your poor aching pussy or the opposing team’s goalie.  You think you might float away if Din wasn’t still holding you down, your body tingling right through to the finger tips that you have buried in Din’s hair – you pull him closer, grinding against his mouth seeking, more, more, more. 

“Soak me, pretty girl,” you feel rather than hear, Din’s command echoing deep to that spot inside you only he can reach and the vibration sets you off.  You come, a fresh wave of arousal hits Din’s chin as you chant out his name until you’re hoarse.  Trailing off with a whimper, somewhere through your thick fog of pleasure, you hear the buzzer of the second goal your favourite right winger scores tonight.

The game’s all tied up and you’re spent.

Glassy eyed and fully blissed out, you beckon Din to come kiss you with a weak smile and curl of the fingers on the hand you’ve released from his hair. 

Din’s taking out his cock from his sweatpants and lubing it up with your cum, but he doesn’t rise, “Give me one more, pretty bird.  Let’s make it a hat trick.”

You whine in protest, “Can’t, Din.  It’s too much.”

He fists his hard length and presses the barest of chaste kisses to your still pulsing clit, “Be a good girl for me.  One more, baby.”

There’s nothing, not even winning this game, that you want more than to please him so you give him a brave little nod – even though his feathery touch made you jump.

His thumb brushes gently over your slippery bundle - light pets at first, mindful that you’re nearing overstimulation.  In contrast, his other hand pumps his cock with increasing pressure and speed – already throbbing and painfully hard just from eating you out for the last 40 minutes.  Seeing how turned-on Din is just from pleasuring you has another wave of want coursing through your veins; pushing up your sweatshirt above your braless breasts, you start to play with your tits - pinching and rolling your nipples between your fingers as you throw you head back and moan, low and throaty.

The raunchy sight sends Din into overdrive.  He starts to draw gentle but consistent figure eights over your clit then bends down again to inhale the smell of your honey before pressing a series of sweet tender kisses to your still leaking hole.  All the while, choking his dick and keeping his eyes on you as you touch your perfect tits.  He stays the course with his mouth and thumb, letting you decide how much you can take when you start to buck your hips lightly.

Your third orgasm approaches faster than you anticipate, body already halfway there after that last brain numbing high.  Din reads the tensing of your stomach and your quickening breaths, “Give it to me, baby girl.  Give it to me and I’ll come all over this pretty pussy.”  With Din’s dirty promise ringing in your ear, you come with a shuddering arch of your back and a soundless scream.  Just as you’re completing your hat trick, in an arena across town your right winger is completing his.

But your eyes aren’t for him, they’re for the man who’s now milking his impressive cock, splattering rope after rope of white, glossy cum over the lips of your overwrought cunt.  You giggle as Din runs the tip of his cock through your folds, pushing in as much of his spend as he can before he heaves a heavy, satiated sigh.

Looking at you with a smirk, he chuckles, “How you feeling, pretty bird?  Relaxed?”

You laugh a genuine, musical laugh before pulling his face to yours, kissing yourself on his lips – so euphoric and peaceful from Din’s magical touch.  After a quick cleanup, you rest cozily in Din’s arms, kissing sweetly as the two of you watch your team successfully defend their lead for the final minutes of the game.  Final winning score for your team, 4-3.

Resting your sleepy head on Din’s shoulder, you confess, “I didn’t realize I was being such a stress ball about the playoffs, Din.  I’m sorry.”

Kissing your temple, Din gives you a reassuring squeeze, “No need to apologize, pretty bird.  It’s okay if you get stressed.  Just know I’m always here to help, okay?  I love you.”

You lift your head to nod and mouth the same words back to him, nearly getting lost in the dreamy eyes of the man you can’t quite believe loves you the way he does.  In a little voice you cheer, “We won, yay!”

“Yay!” chuckles Din.

Suddenly, a look of epiphany washes over your face as you pan to the screen where the winning score is displayed in bold font beneath the post game show hosts.  You turn to look at Din, then slowly again to the TV and back.  Sitting up straight, all business-like, you grin, “Seriously, Din - I’m going to need you to do this again.  Every game until we win the cup.”

“Done.”

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“I feel bad, now.” That most certainly was not what Dick was expecting, brows furrowed and blinking. “What for?” “I tried to stab you… Or well, wanted to.”

Chapter 10 < > Chapter 12

Masterlist

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

You were scared, to say the least. The higher you went, the colder you got, specially with your clothes half-soaked due to the rain, your fingers freezing from leaving them inside a cloud as if it were a lake for too long.

Superman —Clark, he said you could call him Clark— was carrying you in his arms, granting you the freedom to extend your arm as much as you wanted without the risk of falling (that didn’t stop the need to tightly grasp his cape with your other hand). Your teeth were clacking, your body trembling, and even though Clark had asked you if you wanted to go back to the warmth of the manor, you declined, not regretting your decision for a second once the sun started to set.

Angelic was the only word you could describe the sight in front of you. Ethereal too, maybe. You now understand why heaven was always pictured to be above the clouds.

With nothing to hinder your gaze, you could see in its entirety how the golden rays shone above you, lighting up the dark, thick clouds, doing its best to traverse through the thick fog to reach the city. The light engulfed the two of you, covering you in a golden blanket that warmed your body.

Never in your life could you imagine the world could look so beautiful, never thought how hideous humanity’s existence erased the preciousness’ of nature with disgusting smog, never ending buildings, and garish billboards.

Once Clark had decided your cold clothes were too much for your body, he flew back down to the manor. Out in the garden, three figures patiently waited for your return, an open umbrella left to dry, discarded next to a bench, the rain gone for the moment.

Right after your feet landed on the grass, Alfred draped the comfiest, warmest blanket over your shoulders, quietly thanking the ever-prepared butler.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Tim said in lieu of a greeting —A Tim who should still be sleeping.

“Yeah.” Was the only thing you could say, with a beaming smile, not still out of your stupor. You felt like those two characters on that old tv show you used to watch, too stunned to speak after riding an impressive roller coaster, with the difference that you’d been higher than any human being could without the need of a plane.

“Thank you for the favor, Uncle Clark.”

“My pleasure, Dick. It was nice to meet you, Jane, but I must go home now. And don’t worry, we’ll get you home soon.”

You smiled despite the pang in your chest, thanking him once again for the extraordinary experience. You were feeling less and less hopeful every time someone reminded you of your situation, sensing they were trying to convince themselves they could do it, rather than admit the truth.

“Where’s Jason?” You asked once inside, taking off your shoes as to not dirty up the polished floors with mud.

“He went back to his place.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment with an extremely fake sneeze. “I better go take a shower before dinner, lest I catch a cold.”

Dropping the blanket on your bed, you left your damp clothes on the hamper, a hiss escaping you when the hot stream of water hit your skin, reddening your back, not getting under the running water again until the temperature was to your liking.

Why were you disappointed every time Jason left the manor? Yes, you were aware of the ‘small’ crush you had on his character, on the portrayal people had of him, but not on him per se. He wasn’t the sweet, romantic, hopelessly in love person people made him ought to be in their stories, the short time you’d spend around him revealing, in fact, he was somewhat of an asshole, someone who was stuck in an immature mentality who dealt with their issues angrily and violently.

And wasn’t that what’d happened to him?

Cutting off the water flow, you changed into, finally, your own sleep wear, the lavender detergent Alfred uses invading your nose. You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror, attempting to get rid of all the knots that would form no matter how many hair products you used, when a knock on your door was heard, raising your voice to invite whoever was on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Jane, can I come in?”

The student in you was battling so hard to not automatically imitate all your old English teachers with ‘it’s ‘may’ I’, but you weren’t sure if Dick was familiar with that experience, so you replied with a simple “Yeah, sure.”

He sat down at the end of the bed, a small, white box in his hands. “So, did you like flying?”

“Absolutely.” You replied with a big smile, looking at him through the mirror. You’d given up on untangling your hair, content with getting most of them, and were now putting it in a ponytail. “I simply… I don’t think there’s words to put it, I felt as if I’d become an angel, bested with a sight not many were privy to. Thank you so much for making it possible.”

“I still remember the first time Uncle Clark too me flying, I’d been Robin for a year already, I believe, but I’d only met him a handful of times, Bruce wasn’t with the League yet, so there wasn’t much reason for them to meet.” There was a fond smile on his face, remembering his childhood, a chuckle from something he remembered. “Bruce tried so hard to hide it, but he was horrified, putting his arms around me as soon as we got back, as if to try and stop me from going flying again. I swear if he knew Clark had let me stand on his palms and do pirouettes, he would have a heart attack.”

“What was it like? To be a child vigilante.”

“It was the best thing that could’ve happen to eleven-year-old me. There was nothing better than to be soaring in the sky, helping those who couldn’t defend themselves, feeling the cold wind all around me, the adrenaline pumping through my veins with every goon we fought.” With every word, his tone got more and more enthusiastic, gesticulating every sentence. “And… I’ve never said this to anyone, but the fame almost got to me for a second, with all my classmates babbling about me, about how awesome it was to be Batman’s partner, to work with him and the Justice League. I wanted to be recognized, you know? To tell them right there and then it was me who was going out weekend’s nights fighting the Rogues.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I wanted to, but I knew nothing good could come out of that; the city would take me away from my family, and Bruce would be heavily judged and sentenced. Everyone loves child vigilantes until they know who is under the mask. Praising one day, pointing with their fingers the next one.”

“Why do I feel another ‘but’ is coming?” You were facing him now, leaning against the dresser with your arms crossed.

“But…” He said, elongating the ‘u’, his melancholic energy turning into a guilty one, painful memories resurfacing. “As much as I loved it, and have so many great memories, with all my siblings… Well, I know understand why Bruce was so adamant about me going out in the beginning. Especially after Jason… I rarely spent time in the manor when he was Robin, only coming to pick him up to hang up maybe once or twice a month. I always wanted a little brother, and to have him taken away so suddenly like that… I didn’t want to get close to Tim, fearing the same would happen, but I think I hurt him more by being cold towards a kid that didn’t deserve it… Sometimes I wonder if my stubbornness and desire for revenge for my parents was the point of no return to the unfortunate events that led to all the sorrow we’ve suffered.”

“You can’t blame yourself for something you had no control over, Dick. The only one here at fault is the Joker.” You moved from the dresser, sitting down next to him on the bed. He winced at hearing that name, telling yourself you would never mention it again in the future in front the Wayne’s.

Dick nodded, sniffling and inattentively rotating the box in his hand. “Well, I—” He chuckled. “I didn’t come here to damper the night. This is for you.” He handed you the box, the seal already cut. “Alfred mentioned he wanted to buy you a phone but didn’t have time to do so with… And I assumed you wouldn’t want to go back to the mall —or the city— any time soon. I already saved all our numbers, so that you can keep in touch with Steph and Dami once they go back to school next week. I know being cooped in here all day must be so boring, so I hope it can help make the days go faster.

The phone was the most recent model, a couple of apps pre-installed, eight contacts saved on your phone, your eyes lingering on Jason’s name.

“I feel bad, now.”

That most certainly was not what Dick was expecting, brows furrowed and blinking.

“What for?”

“I tried to stab you… Or well, wanted to.”

He opened his mouth, whatever he wanted to say dying before the words could leave his lips. “Now, why would you do that?”

“I was scared!” You stood up, walking to your nightstand and pulling out the forgotten scalpel, handing it to Dick. “It was when I still thought you were a bunch of kidnappers… If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to stab you anymore.”

“Gee, that’s a relief.” Dick’s shoulders shook with mirth. “Thanks for thrusting us and giving this back.”

“Yeah, now I know your family is crazy, but for a whole different reason.” Silence befell you, Dick nodding at the accurate description of his siblings. You felt different now that you didn’t have the scalpel anymore. You felt light, free, the heavy burden of distress lifting of your shoulders. By handing it, you were giving away your only way to defend yourself, and thus, you were finally letting go any doubts you could have about them. “Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you… Can you really take me back home?”

“We’re working on it, Jane.”

You hummed, noticing he’d changed his always optimistic response to a very vague one.

———

Both you and Cass had spent most of the next morning goofing off with the phone’s camera filters, using the goofiest one’s you could find. That was until you had to hide from a furious Damian, searching for you to delete the photo you took of him with bunny ears and nose.

“That’s not fair!” You half whispered, half shouted from behind a couch. “I can’t climb that high!”

Cass smiled widely from over the rafters in the ceiling, hiding herself in the shadows when the hurrying steps were getting closer and closer. You tried to blend in yourself with the couch, calming your breathy giggles.

“Cain! Jane!” Damian hollered. “I will behead you if you do not delete that picture at this instant!”

Your muffled titter turned into full on cackling when Damian jumped from over the couch, doing his best to grab your phone, which you were holding on to for dear life. For being ten, the kid was strong.

“I surrender!” You screamed; your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. “I surrender!”

“Delete that photo, now.” Damian glowered, and you did, pulling out your phone and tilting the screen slightly for him to see you open the gallery and deleting the picture. “Tt. This better not happen again.”

Only until he left did Cass jumped from the rafters.

“Traitor.” You crossed your arms, playfully sticking out your tongue to her, to which she simply hugged you.

———

Your life had turned an eternal summer vacation. You had no responsibilities to fulfill, no school, no job, no chores, you would simply wake up and exist, sometimes helping out Alfred in the garden.

Contrary to all beliefs, it wasn’t the blessing most thought it would be, neither Cass nor Tim could spend time with you anymore, a grisly trafficking case appearing in the city a couple nights ago. Since Cass was completely committed to the mission, she was down on the cave most of the time, starting her patrol earlier than usual.

During the mornings, Tim was forced to go to W.E as the CEO now that Bruce was ‘unavailable’ with a ‘family matter’, and working down on the cave as well when he was home.

As much as you thought you’d broken down Damian’s cold demeanor, he’d reverted to his usual spoiled brat attitude, doubling it up now that school started the next day, deciding that if he was forced to be miserable, he was going to make everyone miserable.

Dick was out of planet on an emergency with the Justice League, stepping into Bruce’s place. And you hadn’t seen much of Steph since the day of the attack, she’d only visited the manor once on a bat related incident, but also preoccupied with high school.

There were not many people who could make the clock move forward, and so, you were forced —really— to one and your last resort, the black, taunting text conversation the thing you’d been contemplating more than anything this past two days, the ‘online’ status rarely lighting up throughout the day (no, you were not stalking him, you were simply getting informed), the white and gray predetermined icon annoying (was that because he didn’t have a photo, or he simply didn’t have you saved on his phone?).

What could you say? ‘Hi’ was too bland, ‘Hey, this is Jane’ was too-business like for your liking. A selfie? Nah, too narcissistic.

But it gave you an idea, searching your gallery for one of the thousand photos you’d taken with Cass, the both of you with digital bat stickers all over your face. In a brave, but truly stupid moment of courage, you hit send, hastily locking your phone and tossing it onto your bed, the device getting lost in your mess of blankets and pillows.

Fuck, what had you done? Your heart was racing a thousand beats per minute, feeling it bump into your chest, chiding yourself for being so stupid, what if he didn’t reply? Would it be worse if he left you on read, or to find out you were such an irksome he wouldn’t even open your messages? But if he replied? What would he say? React with an emoji? How could you continue the conversation after that? What if the asked you to delete his number? Did you still have time to delete the text? But he would still have the notification and— ding.

The chime stopped your spiraling thoughts. Should you open it? Wait? Destroy your phone? Pretend you meant to send it to Cass? Come on now, whatever he sent can’t be that bad.

              | I have a cute sister.

The message read. Well, it certainly wasn’t the end of the world.

              | And your sister has a cute friend;)

You sent back, feeling bold at receiving a positive reply.

| I don’t think I’ve met her. I only know two of them and one is annoying… The other one is a blonde obsessed with the color purple.

Despite being called annoying, there was a smile on your face.

              | I’ve met the first one, she’s quite lovely and funny.

              | Really? Maybe I should take her out on a date.

              | Maybe you should.

There truly was something wrong with Gotham’s water if you were so boldly flirting with him, flirting with an effing crime lord, all those chemicals spilled onto it changing your very DNA.

[seriouslysnape]

The Noise and the Silence

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader

Tags: Angst. Depression. Grief. 

A/N: Okay soooo I typically don’t do this, and I try not to...but this is a one-shot from my Hannibal Lecter blog (I am INSANE, I know) that I have remastered for this blog. Here is the original work. It’s quite literally the same thing...but I thought that this idea would fit so well for Severus. Please do not roast me.

Word Count: 2.9k

“I just....I just don’t know what to do.”

The pounding in your ears hadn’t stopped for weeks. The constant, repeated thud of your heartbeat playing in your head had been relentless. It was a loud drum, and if you sat unoccupied for too long, you would catch yourself beginning to count each thump. Oddly enough, there was another sound that seemed to be in competition with the steady booming of every rush of blood to your head. 

It was the loudest of sounds, and a noise that you did not welcome with open arms. It was a silence so loud that it was close to painful. The ring of utter nothingness was beating away at your mind space to the point of near insanity. It seemed that had been your world for the last several weeks. It was either boisterous chatter, or complete emptiness.

To be honest, you weren’t quite sure which one you preferred. 

Today was a silence day. The moment that your eyes had opened from your night of restless sleep, you knew what kind of day it was going to be. The silence days were different from the loud days. The silence days were slower, and they were much hazier than the loud ones. Silence days meant you were functioning on autopilot.

Everything that you did was purely muscle memory and basic functions that your brain had signaled every day of your entire life. There were no out of the ordinary or special tasks to switch up your day-to-day life. Silence days meant existing, but just barely.

The few words that you spoke on these kinds of days were hardly even comprehensible to your own self. The little conversations that you were able to have with others was forgotten and lost just as quickly as it was had. It disappeared into the fog that clouded your consciousness. It was drowned by the sea of anguish that flooded your veins.

The loud days were different. Your awareness level was a tad higher, your conscious just a bit clearer. There was some variety in these kinds of days. This meant getting up early and spending the entirety of the day running errands and completing a list of missions to check off your to do list. Many of these tasks were pretty meaningless. Just filler activities to kill time and take up space.

Loud days meant pushing yourself as far as your physical energy would allow. The “go go go” attitude kept you on your feet without rest. As long as you were busy and occupied, then it was a loud day. It usually ended with you crashing at the end of the day with hardly feeling accomplished in any way.

Your world had become so quiet, yet so roaring. Your life was categorized as feeling nothing and feeling everything all at the same time -- and it was a lottery system as to which one you were going to get. 

This wasn’t you.

This was the furthest that you had ever strayed from yourself. You were so distant. You were a shell of yourself.

The person that stood before your loved ones was merely an imposter. A stranger had infiltrated your body and was maneuvering it like a worn out puppet. They had all reached out to you, offering their love and services to assist you in whatever you needed. Some of them had been shocked when you pushed them away, while others were unsurprised. 

You didn’t want the help. You refused it, in fact. So, there wasn’t much else they could do outside of leaving their offer on the table free for you to take. 

Severus was the only one that you had welcomed to stay, but even then the invitation was hardly obvious. It was hard to see the light in front of you when every bit of your had succumbed to darkness. His efforts had been persistent. Again and again he held his arms out to you, and each time you had turned him down.

There was a battle between the noise and the silence, and you were caught in the middle of this tug-of-war. You had been drained of emotional and mental energy long ago. At this point, the opposing sides were fighting over a ghost of a human. Severus had watched you crumble and fall apart in the last several weeks. There was very little spirit and soul to be sought after at this point. At the end of the day, the winner would really have a whole bunch of nothing. 

That was what Severus was most afraid of. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he was worried. He was terrified that you were close to having nothing left to cling onto. He feared that you would have nothing to build yourself back up with. Once you were completely chipped away, there was no coming back -- and that would be the end.

It didn’t help that Severus was a chronic worrier, and anyone who knew him personally knew that he had a tendency to be anxious…particularly when it came to the person he cared about the most. 

But other times, he was pretty cool and collected, which made sense that he had all kinds of things that needed to be kept under wraps. 

But this was a different kind of situation. You were a part of his life that was disconnected from the more secretive parts. You were the light that shined over the darkness, so in a way, he felt like he had a right to be concerned. He knew that you needed time and space. He had given you as much of it as he possibly could’ve without seeming as if he wasn’t there for you. 

In the beginning, he had been there for every initial breakdown, meltdown, and sob fest that you erupted into. Looking back on it, that had been the easy part. He had comforted you as a lover, and guided you through the emotional storm as a man who empathized with you. He stayed up many sleepless nights with you when you couldn’t settle down enough to fall asleep. He soothed every sense of panic and anxiety with ease. 

He had not once taken the curt words and the lack of any kind of affection personally. The distraction of your heart was clear to him, and he knew that your reluctance to offer him any kind of attention was not intentional. 

He wanted to do nothing more than support you through this process. He was there for you at every step of the initial impact, and after a while, he thought that you were getting better. 

He observed you carefully, never once letting himself get too comfortable. The intense emotions ceased, and you began to somewhat return to a day-to-day routine. Suddenly, you weren’t reacting or talking about it at all. Your demeanor had completely shut off from the life that you had around you. It was as if your brain had stopped processing the incident completely. 

And that was when he knew that you were actually getting worse.

He partially blamed himself for your deteriorating state. He had dealt with this sort of mental fragility before. He knew the signs, and he could identify them from personal experience. 

He found himself wondering if there was something that he could’ve done differently. Was there something that he could’ve said that he didn’t already? Had he not utilized enough of his attentiveness and patience? All kinds of questions had crossed his mind, and none of them had been answered.

He knew that dwelling on what he could’ve done then would only get in the way of what he could do now. He had to do something now, or else he feared he’d lose you completely.

****

It was a bitterly cold February night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been an abnormally frosty winter, which was alarming considering that the winters were already very wintery. Despite the frigid temperature, it hadn’t deterred you from taking yourself to the dock of the boathouse by the lake to sit in the open air.

The school had been your safe zone for all these weeks that had gone by, but now it was beginning to feel more like a nest of misery that you had created for yourself. 

The boards were cold underneath you from where you sat. In all honesty, you had hardly even noticed it. A little chill wasn’t going to rattle you enough to matter. 

Your attention was focused on the inky black canvas painted above you. It was dotted and speckled with glittery stars from one end of the horizon to the other…and the water in front of your painted a picture to match. It was the clearest night that you could imagine. There wasn’t a single flaw or imperfection to taint the night sky that you were so infatuated with. In any other time or circumstance, you’d find joy in this scene in front of you. 

But not now. 

You weren’t sure what you were looking for in that sky above you that seemed to be rolling over you. There weren’t any answers to your questions bouncing around up there. In reality though, you really only had one real question. Over the course of your life, you felt as if you had never gotten a good answer to the age-old question of “why?”. It’s the simplest, yet most complex question in the universe of human language. It seemed rare that anyone ever had a satisfying answer for it. 

You hadn’t gotten any real answers or resolutions yet, and tonight was proving to be no different. Just another silence day had come to a fateful end. Nothing had changed. Everything was the exact same.

You exhaled a long breath -- the kind that sank your shoulders to their lowest physical point. The rush of air that escaped from the depths of your lungs was transformed into a white condensed cloud that dispersed into the environment just as fast as it had formed. Sometimes you wished that would happen to you. Exist for a moment, and then vanish into nothing. Nothing lost, and nothing earned.

Your head lowered behind your knees that were bunched against your chest. Just your eyes and the top of your head were visible from the bundle of a shell that you had made for yourself. Your lashes fluttered each time you blinked, and every time that your vision returned upon reopening your eyes, you were met with the same starry sky.

There was a brief commotion from the behind you. The footsteps of a person approached from behind, and they were familiar to your ears that were now cut with sound again. You knew those heavy, slow footfalls anywhere.

An immediate rush of warmth and security flooded your senses when a blanket was wrapped around you securely, covering any exposed skin on your body from the harsh wintery cold around you.

“Darling, it’s freezing tonight,” Severus remarked. “I would hate for you to fall ill.” 

An extra layer of warmth was added when Severus joined you in sitting at the end of the dock. His body heat was much more than yours as his radiated to you through the thickness of the blanket. It was greatly appreciated, because you hadn’t realized how cold you had actually become. 

“I’m okay.” You returned without offering any more of a ticket to a real conversation.

Severus didn’t mind the quiet. In many scenarios, he preferred it. His introverted nature thrived off of it. Silence allowed time for self-reading and understanding, which he was all for. 

However, he didn’t like this silence. This silence wasn’t the good kind. 

His legs were folded under one another rather than planted on the boards. His lanky legs would be too crammed if they were bunched up at his own chest. His hands were clasped together in the open space of his lap, his forearms resting on his thighs as he scanned over the view in front of him.

The landscaping of Hogwarts always looked so depressing during the winter months. But in its own way, it was beautiful. It was typically blanketed with snow and ice, little flurries and snowflakes fluttering from the gray skies. 

His vision didn’t remain on the landscape long, however. His sight eventually diverted to you, which was what he was more interested in.

He saw the way the stars twinkling above reflected off of the glassy sheen over your eyes. Those very same stars above were the ones that he often described as being trapped behind your eyes with the way that they stunned him when he looked into them. It hurt his heart to know that it had been far too long since he had seen those dancing stars in your eyes. He missed that.

He missed you. He wanted you back.

“I know that reminding you of this isn’t necessary…but darling, wishing on a star won’t change what happened.” Severus’ words cut through the still beats that had passed and disappeared into the past. 

His voice wasn’t cruel or unsympathetic. Just the opposite actually. He knew where you were right now, and what you were feeling. 

“I know.” You answered, the hurt dripping off of your words.

The desperation for relief to be delivered to your heart was unlike anything you had ever experienced in your life. It was a pressure in your chest that damn near made it impossible to focus or feel anything else. It was so beyond uncomfortable. It was inescapable no matter what you did to try to get away from it. It had seeped through you and over you to the point where you weren’t even sure who you were anymore. 

How were you supposed to live like that?

“No one in your life, including myself, expects anything from you right now,” He went on once he got the sense that you were warming up to talking. “No one expects you to be okay. It’s a plain statement, but it’s all right if you’re not okay.”

He knew that you weren’t okay. Everybody knew. Severus never wanted to tell you (or anyone for that matter) what you should feel. He knew that you needed to figure it out for yourself. 

Because that’s where real, fruitful healing came from. 

“I feel so confused....amongst other things.” You confessed.

“Understandable. You’re navigating a rather bewildering path.” He encouraged you to keep talking.

He wanted you to get better. He wanted to see you thrive and be the happiest that you could ever be. This was the first time in the weeks that had passed that you sounded like you wanted that too.

“I just....I just don’t know what to do.” You answered with full transparency, a crack sneaking into your sentence as you turned to look at him.

Tears had formed and come forth in your eyes. It hurt him to see it, but in a way it was a relief because he knew that you were feeling something.

“You don’t have to know. It’s more than okay to take each day minute by minute,” He shifted closer, taking a bit of an initiative to wrap his arm around you and pull you into him. “But this? When you keep it to yourself, it only makes it worse and pulls you down with it.”

He was right. You knew it. You weren’t going to get better by not dealing with it at all. Moving on without attempting to patch the wound would only come back to haunt you later. You wanted to do this right. You needed to do this right. 

“I feel too far gone. I don’t know if I can ever feel okay again.” You admitted, double lines of tears streaming your face as they left a stinging chill on your cheeks.

“You can. You absolutely can,” He encouraged, even a little bit desperately. “I know you can.”

That statement brought a sound out of you that Severus had been longing for so dearly. As weak as it was, hearing you laugh brought a firework of joy exploding into his chest.

“You have far too much faith in me.” You joked, and he returned a smile. 

“I have to disagree. I have just the right amount,” He said. “I’m here for you. Just say the word and consider it done.”

“I want to be here for you in whatever way you wish. Just say the word and consider it done.” He said.

Your first request actually surprised him a bit. He had expected you to play shy and turn down his offer or even ask for more advice. Instead, you asked for something much sweeter and much needed.

“Kiss me?” 

And kiss you he did. It was the most uplifting, comforting kiss that he’d ever given you. It spoke a thousand words and pumped him full of more hope with each passing second. You were going to be okay. You’d be happy once again and you’d be stronger than you ever were. He’d be back to throwing flour on you when he cooked meals and chasing after you around his house dripping wet and naked after you stole his towel from the bathroom counter.

Life was going to return to the way it was. He was going to be able to love the  woman that he loved so dearly even harder now. You were going to come back to him. He had all the patience in the world waiting for that. 

Because you were worth everything.

[pforpedro]

PIECE OF ME

Joel Miller x Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff if you squint, Talks of past relations (sprinkle of smut), Reader being a stubborn hoe, MINORS DNI.

SUMMARY: Stakes hold high as Joel discovers a secret you’ve been harbouring, and has to fight between the void of fantasy and reality. What he wants, and what you need.

AN: overall just wanted to write some angst with Joel being a softy lmaooooo. requests are open!

The wind whistled sour in your ear as your feet trudged out ahead of you. The sheer splinter of the wind cut deep, adding only more grief to the sickening pain in your stomach. You’d been walking along the abandoned bridge deep into the city for what felt like hours when in reality had only been a few spared minutes. Joel, Tess and Ellie paced up ahead while you hung back trying to catch your breath.

The road ahead was long, deepened with broken cracks that painted the pavement and dotted smashed up vehicles that added to the essence. If you were blinded to the fact that there were infected crawling around unknown miles away, you might have even called it peaceful. That was until you felt it.

It was coming, you could feel it burning. The pain in your chest, the raw taste in your mouth, the sensation of pure hell ripping havoc in your stomach. You paced to your left, shielding yourself behind an abandoned car, windows smashed in allowing you to grip the frame as you heaved over, coughing up your last meal and watching as it splattered across the concrete. That was the third time this week.

“Fucking hell,” you grunted, wiping the corners of your mouth with your coat sleeve, spitting to the side to rid the horrid taste lingering at the backs of your teeth.

“You alright?” Joel’s voice rung loud in your ears as you stood back straight, head tilting to the side.

“Fine,” you nodded, stepping out from behind the vehicle and readjusting your backpack over your shoulder. You passed Joel with an expressionless face. The air between you still wasn’t sitting right.

Two weeks ago you made a mistake. A fleeting moment in your lapse of judgement that should never have happened. But there was no turning back now, and you couldn’t whole heartedly say you regretted the entirety of it. Two weeks ago today you stumbled into the lap of a man who’d taken you under his wing, much to his dismay, and spent a night with him between the sheets. That man just had to be Joel, and now you felt as though everything had changed.

“We can’t do this again.”

“But it was good wasn’t it? Did you not enjoy it?”

“Yes, Joel, I did, but this can’t happen again, you do realise that? Right?”

He never truly gave you a straight forward answer, and in truth it was you who was holding the grudge. You felt guilty, ashamed of what had happened right under the noses of your fellow group. Admittedly, yes, it was amazing, but you feared now in this moment you were drowning in the consequences.

“How much further?” Ellie groaned, arms swinging loosely by her side.

“Not far, we can crash in the old pent house suit for the night. It’s pretty much untouched,” Tess looked back to the fourteen year old brunette, pausing in her tracks as she looked past you. Cocking her head she gestured her arm to the sun slowly dissipating behind the clouds, “we should pick up the pace. Do not wanna be out here in the dark.”

“I think she’s talking to you old man,” Ellie chirped, turning and walking backwards, smirking devilishly as she locked eyes with Joel stalking behind the three of you.

“Funny,” he shook his head, scanning the area around him, hun held tightly in his grasp.

—

Another twenty minute walk that felt like a lifetime and you’d breached the penthouse suit, climbing twelve flights of stairs with anything but ease. Three more to go before you reached the top.

Ellie and Tess had paced off ahead, Joel still tagging behind a few floors down making sure to block the stairway just in case of an emergency. You took the moment alone to rest for a moment, planting your palms against your knees and leaning forward. Your breathing was shallow, head pounding with a growing migraine. You tried to calm your racing heartbeat, only adding to the sickening sensation bubbling in your stomach. The fatigue was still holding out strong and didn’t seem to show signs of fucking off anytime soon.

The sound of footsteps growing louder made your ears prick, signalling it was time to keep moving. Just three more floors and then you could rest.

They passed with ease, managing to reach the top floor without issue. The penthouse suit was as said, practically untouched.

“Figure they don’t come up this far,” Tess mumbled as she assessed the windows and doorways, “we should be alright here for the night.”

Your heart began to settle as you gazed around the room. It almost seemed… normal. There were no strings of overgrown vines crawling up the walls, and the beds seemed as though they’d never been slept in. Aside from the dust on the countertops and chairs, from where you were standing it was as though the apocalypse never happened.

“I call dibs on the master bedroom!” Ellie sang as she darted down the hallway, leaping onto the mattress.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Joel’s voice rang out behind you, “the adults get the master bedroom.”

“No need, there’s two,” Tess smiled as she appeared out into the hallway, “guess we’re bunking up for the night.”

“I call dibs on Y/N then, you two stink,” Ellie raised her brows as she trudged out into the living room to stand beside you, arms folded.

“Alright, but don’t start unpacking anything thing, we’re moving out at first light.”

—

“You don’t snore do you? Because I used to have to share a whole room of people who snored,” Ellie glanced over to you as she kicked off her shoes.

“Not that I know of,” you giggled softly, removing your backpack and slinging it onto the arm chair seated in the corner, “just kick me in the night if I start snoring.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she smiled softly as she crawled into bed. “I’ve never slept in a bed this big before.”

“Sometimes I forget you were born post apocalypse,” you sighed as you jumped into bed beside her. You and Ellie had become almost like sisters over the last few months together, finding comforting in one another’s presence.

“Did you ever stay in a place like this? Like… before everything happened?”

“… Once,” you nodded, resting up on your arm and looking down at her tucked beneath the quilt, “it was a long time ago. I don’t really remember much, I was just a kid.”

“How old?” She asked, curiosity swirling in her eyes. You’d grown to notice the fascination Ellie had with the world she would never know, the world that came before the desolation of the planet you once knew.

“4, maybe 5. It was just before the apocalypse started,” you tilted your head to the side softly, “I’ll tell you all about it one day,” you smiled, carting a finger through her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

“Can’t you tell me now?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you scrunched your nose, “you need sleep, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, make the most of the bed,” you pat the quilt gently before rolling onto your side and planting your feet on the floor. You paused for a moment, listening to Ellie shuffle in the sheets as you calculated your breathing. It was coming along again, trudging along like a train filled with nothing but pain and misery.

You ran your hand over your face, pinching the brow of your nose as you leaned forward. The sun had disappeared completely behind the hills leaving you in darkness as you stood from the bed, holding your hands out to help you find your way back to the living room where moonlight shone through the great windows, casting a light on your skin.

From where you were standing by the window you could see the city below, drenched in the fine white lighting. There seemed as though there was nothing, yet so much at the same time. Everything you once knew, now gone. Destroyed. Mother Nature claiming back what was rightfully hers in the most destructive way possible.

“Ouch, fuck…” you gasped softly, hand covering your stomach, spare hand covering your mouth as you heaved. You swallowed harshly, clamping your eyes shut as you managed to recover, standing back up straight.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with you at some point?”

“Jesus, Joel!” You whispered harshly, swatting his shoulder with your hand as he came to stand beside you, arms folded, “you almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Tell me now, I want a yes or no answer,” his tone was sharp, almost angry as he looked at you with a tense brow, “… Are you pregnant?”

You swallowed, nose flaring as you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t look at him, this wasn’t a case of a simple yes or no answer.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, lifting your hand to hold your shoulder.

Joel sighed beside you, running a hand through his hair then slowly down his face. There was nothing but silence between you for a while, you didn’t know what to say, where to start. If you were pregnant, which you were starting to believe the odds, what did you do? There weren’t exactly any hospitals you could go to, any abortion clinics.

“Joel, I think-“

“You’ve had morning sickness the last three days, you’ve been struggling to keep up with the rest of us, you’re paler than usual, your breathing is shallow, last week you were burning up and not even hours later your teeth where chatterin’ from the cold when we’re practically in the middle of summer out here. Either you’re pregnant or…”

“I’m not infected,” you turned to face him, “you can check me if you really need to,” you opened your arms wide, offering yourself to him. Your eyes cast over one another for a moment, shifting as you stood in the silence. If you took anything from this conversation it was the liberty of knowing that he noticed you more than you ever realised he had.

“How do you know… What makes you think all of those things make me… Make me…”

“I did have a daughter once, you know. I’ve been through this before.”

Those facts where anything but comforting. Your mind couldn’t help but flood back to how this all started. How exposed you had allowed yourself to be with him.

“Joel let’s face facts,” you sighed, dropping your arms down to your side after he refrained from moving from his spot, “what exactly am I supposed to do if I admit to myself that I’m pregnant? There’s barely enough food to feed the four of us,” you gestured back to the bedrooms where Tess and Ellie where sleeping, tears beginning to brim your lower lash line, “a-and can you really imagine a baby in this world? Do you know how… How unfair it would be? Joel i- I-“

“Hey, hey, whoa,” he dropped his arms from his tight stance to wrap you in his embrace, “stop crying’, you’re alright.”

“I’m really fucking scared, Joel,” you snivelled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You stood there for a moment, rocking slowly in the quiet. Beneath all the hard demeanour, you knew Joel had a soft centre. Somewhere deep inside there was a place in his heart for each and every one of you, Tess and Ellie. He would just never admit it. He sighed softly against your forehead, pressing a soft kiss into your hairline.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it happened regardless. Joel couldn’t lie and say he regretted what happened that night. Everything had moved so quickly, he’d become lost in the taste of your lips and before he could stop he was feeling you all over, giving his all to you in the safety of his bedroom, knowing his sheets would never be the same now they been graced by your skin.

“Listen to me,” he spoke softly, pushing you back a little so he could look at you, “… what do you want?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, wiping your nose gently.

“Well… are you keepin’ it?”

“Do you see any abortion clinics around here, Joel? I don’t have a choice,” your face scrunched tightly, breaths jagged from the reality of your situation, “I’m such a fucking idiot!” You spat as you tore his hands away from you, turning your back to him.

“Hey,” he called out for you as you turned, hand grasping your wrist to pull you back into his touch.

“What?” You practically whimpered, writhing in the midst of your self loathing.

He sighed, clenching his jaw tightly as he thought of the right words to say. “Listen, you’re my responsibility now. What happened was not just your fault, alright? It was mine too. I have to be held partly responsible, for you and the baby.”

“Joel-“ you shook your head, but he cut you off before you could argue.

“I’ve done it before, Y/N, I can do it again. I… I’m willing to do this again, for you. Because… Because I love you.” His brown doe eyes once scrunched and hidden beneath the power of his brow became soft and whole, looking to you with love. It was true, he loved you, and he hoped you felt the same. The night you spent together wasn’t a one off, the passion he forwarded when he kissed you… when he fucked you in the shadows of the night, it was real. There was nothing half assed about it.

“I love you too Joel but…” you swallowed tightly, “Joel I can’t ask you to do that.”

“I want to, Y/N. I promise I’ll take care of you, I’ll take care of us.”

“No, Joel, no-“ you shook your head, tears burning against your lids as you closed your eyes in dismay. You loved him, you couldn’t lie. Everything changed after that night. By time the morning came he’d already had you wrapped around his little finger.

“Please, Y/N, just give me a chance-“

“Joel!” You warned, tone sharp and harsh, “Joel, we cannot bring a baby into this world, don’t you get that? What happens when- when it’s born? What do you do with a screaming baby that’s practically ringing the fucking dinner bell?” You trailed your arms around as you spoke hastily, “how do you plan on protecting us then, huh? You’re just one man, Joel. I… I can’t put that kind of pressure on you. I’ll hold the group back, I’ll be walking around with a god damn target on my back.”

“I won’t let that happen to you, Y/N, I promise I’ll protect you,” his hands reached out to touch you but you pushed them away, clasping your hands against his cheeks.

“Listen to me, Joel. This cannot happen, okay? I am not putting you and the rest of the group in danger.”

“Then what are you gonna do?” He asked, wrapping his hands around your wrists, “how… how are you gonna get rid of it?” His tone croaked a little as he spoke, beginning to imagine the thoughts that could be running through your mind right now.

“Well… I don’t know,” you sighed, releasing your hands from his face, “it’s not exactly a whole lot different from being bitten by one of those things.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” he tensed, brow tightening, “don’t you fucking dare-“

“What other choice do I have, Joel?!”

“You’re not killing yourself over a god damn accident!”

“Then give me another option, go on!”

“I don’t have any other options but I don’t damn well there is an easier way out of this then putting a fucking bullet through your skull-“

“What the fuck is going on in here?!”

Your heads turned in unison towards the hallway where Tess was standing, rubbing her eyes gently. Panic set into your chest, head turning to Joel, then back to Tess.

“Sorry,” you apologised, battering your hands down against your sides, “we were just…”

“Sounded like you were trying to raise hell,” Tess groaned, “look I don’t care what kind of lovers quarrel you’re having-“

“Whoa!”

“What? No way!” You both grimaced.

“- regardless,” she continued, butting through your fatal attempts to cover yourselves, “do it somewhere else, please? Some of us are trying to sleep.” She eyed you both daringly before she turned her back, retracing her steps down the hallway and departed back to the bedroom, the gentle slam of the door signalling you were once again alone.

You stood there for a moment, fingers pinching your brow in embarrassment. Sighing softly, Joel turned to you, “you should get some sleep, we can talk about this again in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, knowing full well this conversation may never reach the finish line, “night,” you mumbled softly and watched as Joel turned his shoulder, making his way down towards the hallway before disappearing out of sight.

Once again alone, you turned back to the window, eyes scanning the ground below. You didn’t recognise this part of the city, but it didn’t take much to imagine what it must have been like before hell broke loose. Joel had told you stories about the days before the apocalypse, adding in pieces to your puzzle from jagged memories pieced together in the back of your mind. You were six when it all began, the visions you had of the world before where scarce. And whatever it all was back then, a platonic version of euphoria compared to what you were living now, it remained no place to raise a child.

—

The days came and left, sun gracing the days and moon haunting the nights, still no word from Joel. The night you last spoke seemed ancient in the present day as you rest your head against your backpack. So much had happened, your mind was beginning to swell with fear.

Once four, now three. The days where turning sour.

Albeit shielded by the cover of the trees above, you still felt so exposed. You’d ventured far out enough of the city to finally see some of the lush greenery you had been craving ever since being locked down in the QZ, but now all you wanted was a bed. A mattress at the very least. Sleeping on the forest floor was beginning to take a toll on your spine at the very least.

“Can we start a fire?” Ellie asked as she sat cross legged opposite you.

“Now why am I gonna tell you no?“ Joel replied, venom in his tone.

“Because infected will see it?”

“… Fungus ain’t that smart,” he sighed, metal spoon stirring a pot of canned beans over a heater he’d managed to harbour from a store just before leaving the city.

“People?” Ellie asked, eyes focused on the man sitting before her. His lack of answer gave her all the answer she needed.

You’d been laying by the camp centre for longer than you could remember. Your mind was anywhere but in front of you.

“Please Joel,” you begged, legs arching upwards to wrap around his waist. He was hot, sweat trickling down his spine as he rolled his hips deep, hand kneading deep into the mattress, grounding him from the grip you had around his cock.

“Jesus,” he cursed, nose dipping into the crook of your neck as he fucked you mercilessly, showing no sign of letting up, biting the flesh of your shoulder to keep his moans at bay. It had been so long since he’d felt this, the lush velvety softness of your insides, the heat, the mewling of your arousal dripping down his length, he couldn’t help but lose himself inside you.

The scent of the food in the air made your stomach turn, still pent up with the morning sickness. You weren’t sure it was right lasting this long, you were beginning to think this was something much bigger than a pregnancy. You sat up slowly, planting your hands on the forest floor to help you stand.

“Where you goin’?” Joel asked, tilting his head over his shoulder.

“To pee,” you sighed, batting your hands together to rid the mud and leaves off your skin. You moved with haste, wrist covering your nose as you travelled past the trees and out of sight.

“Stay here,” Joel grunted as he stood, ordering Ellie to stay by the makeshift camp sight.

There it was again, that ache, the burn that crawled up the nape of your neck as you lunged forward, chest tightening as your stomach clenched. Tears stung your lower lash line as you heaved, nails digging into the tree bark you used as support. Your ears rang, blood rushing to your head as you choked, lips quivering. The feeling of sickness couldn’t make the cut this time, your knees buckled in protest, fingertips turning cold, vision blurry.

“Y/N?” Joel’s voice called out from behind you, twigs snapping lightly in his path.

“M’ fine, Joel!” You spat, wiping your mouth lightly, hand clasping the tree tightly as your stomach churned. There it came again, splitting your dignity down the middle as you lunged forward, palm slipping from the comfort of the tree bark.

“Jesus,” Joel cursed, wrapping his arm around your stomach, spare hand collecting your hair into his palm and holding you steady as you heaved, coughing and spluttering under his touch, “steady, steady,” he lulled you softly, “let it all out.”

Silence filled the air as you swallowed, eyelids batting together slowly as you rest your hands against his arm around your waist, holding you steady on your feet.

“Was it the food?” He asked as he loosened his grip, resting your back against the tree as you recovered, panting carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded, swiping your tongue over your teeth, “I told you I was fine.”

“You don’t fuckin’ look fine,” he pressed, folding his arms against his chest.

You scoffed, wiping your brow with the back of your hand, “I’ll be fine, then,” you swallowed, “ain’t no point having a pity party about it.”

“Would you quit tryna’ do this all by yourself?” Joel sneered, “I ain’t standin’ by and watching this destroy you.”

“It’s a baby, Joel, not a bomb,” you shook your head with a light chuckle at his melodramatic attitude. He stared at you for a moment, jaw tense, arms falling down by his side. You tilted your head to the side, mumbling a gentle ‘fuck it’ as you moved your jacket to the side, lifting your shirt enough to reveal the small bump in your stomach.

Joel’s gaze softened slowly as he glanced down, brow loosening for its tight stare. It was something he wasn’t expecting, he knew the odds, he knew the reality, the fate of your mistake, but seeing that bump made it all so blissfully real.

“How far along are you?” He asked softly, taking a step forward.

“Growing fast, ain’t she?” You bit the inside of your lip as you pulled your shirt back down to cover your stomach.

“… How… How is that possible?” He quizzed, alluring to the fact that you shouldn’t be showing so early.

“My mother was an early shower. Figured it runs in the family,” you sighed, glancing down to look at your feet, “I’m running out of time.”

“What are you talking’ about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you looked upwards, a tense glare shooting daggers in Joel’s direction. You didn’t mean to be so harsh, but you were scared. Terrified, even.

“Y/N, we talked about this-“

“What, five, six weeks ago? Yeah that was a great conversation,” you spat, rolling your back away from the tree and stepping forward, “I already told you Joel… This can’t happe-“ your words were cut short at the sudden heat of a hand around your waist, pulling you close. His lips were soft as he kissed you and you melted like butter on a hot summers day. You were angry, infuriated at the idea that Joel still believed this was possible, but the peace in your chest that blossomed as he kissed you made your mind run blank.

His hand pressed to your cheek softly as you departed, foreheads resting together.

“They have doctors where we’re heading. If you really wanna do this, there’s people who can help,” he mumbled softly, thumb gently massaging your hip as you stood together in the silence of the woods, “I’ll be there. Every step of the way.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering closed as you pondered on the thought, serenity filling your chest at the idea that he was finally on board. You didn’t have to fight this anymore, he understood.

“I’m not doing this out of spite, you know? You understand why we cant do this?”

“I know, I know,” he nodded, “I just… I just wanted so badly to give you a piece of me,” he swallowed tightly, throat bobbing as he spoke, “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard.”

“Don’t apologise, Joel, I think it’s sweet,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and embracing him in a hug, “maybe in another world the timing was right for us… Just… Not this time. I’m sorry I can’t give that to you.”

“Hey I understand I’m just cargo but I still have feelings!” Ellie’s voice called out from the woods surrounding you, making you chuckle softly.

“Just think, our kid could end up like her.”

“Don’t put that thought in my head,” he smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. You knew from that small gesture that there was definitely a soft spot somewhere inside for you, whether deep down, or writhing on the surface.

‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’

We’ll see about that, Joel Miller.

—

Thank you so much for reading! Requests are open :)