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joyfulcowboycandy · 2 months ago

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This vampire won't leave me alone!

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

❥ one shot

Content warning: Reader is a vampire and they're rlly thirsty for blood, it is suggestive but it's sfw i think...., power fights lowkey? did I mention blood... Reader is down bad and a tiny bit sadistic, they want to break vil

note: i had SOO much trouble writing this fic and its kinda rushed so im not that proud of it, but i hope its coherent nonetheless

gender neutral reader

For humans, it always seemed like the worst thing they could think of about being a vampire would be the inability to consume human food and drinks.

For Y/n, though, food wasn’t something they felt they were missing out on. Humans always made such a fuss over eating, but for them, human food smelled foul and tasted even worse. Despite their friends' insistence, they couldn’t stand a bite.

"Blood is blood," humans would say, thinking all blood tasted the same. Y/n always laughed at that.

Silly humans.

Blood wasn’t just blood. There were so many different flavors. Some were sweet, like the person had been eating fruit all day. Others had a savory tang, and in the worst cases, it tasted bitter, the kind that made Y/n want to wash their mouth out immediately.

And species? Oh, now that was a real treat.

Y/n had sampled the blood of a mermaid before, and they could still taste the salty-sweet aftertaste it left behind. They'd tried wolves, cats, and even an octopus (that was a fun deal with Azul). And it was never enough. Every new flavor made them more curious.

At their dorm in Diasomnia, there was a dragon. A prince no less. Y/n wondered what dragon’s blood tasted like. They had heard it was powerful, rich with magic. Would it be fiery? Strong?

There were also fae, hyenas, lions... Humans too, from all over the world, each with their own unique flavors. The students here were like a gourmet buffet. It was almost cruel to Y/n’s senses, being surrounded by so many enticing options.

Then there was him —the human from Pomefiore.

Vil Schoenheit.

The epitome of perfection.

Y/n wasn’t one to harass their fellow students over blood. They didn’t need to chase or tease just for fun. Well… alright, maybe they did a little. Some of the students had such amusing reactions, flustered and embarrassed, especially when Y/n leaned in with that playful glint in their eyes.

But Vil? Oh, Vil was something else entirely.

They remembered the first time they laid eyes on him. He was flawless. Skin smooth like porcelain, hair shining under the sunlight (lucky human), posture immaculate. Everything about him screamed untouchable.

And, of course, that only made Y/n want to touch.

Vil, though, seemed fully aware of their intentions. He kept them at arm’s length, with a steely gaze that practically said, Try it, and you’ll regret it.

But that only made it more fun.

On an otherwise ordinary morning, Y/n approached Vil with a sly grin. “Good morning, Vil. How’s my favorite beauty icon today?”

Vil raised an eyebrow, his patience already waning. “If you’ve sought me out, you must want something. So, what is it?”

“Oh, just a bit of… curiosity,” Y/n replied, eyes glinting. “Human connection and all that.”

Vil scoffed. “If you’re after my attention, look elsewhere. I have no interest in humoring a vampire’s whims.”

“But isn’t perfection tempting? Makes me wonder if beauty runs deeper than skin. Who knows, maybe it’s in your blood…”

Vil’s gaze turned steely. “If you think you can disrupt my control, think again. There’s nothing about you that tempts me.”

Y/n leaned in, undeterred. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Isn’t this game a little thrilling, even for you?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed as he turned away. “I don’t play games, and you’ll never get close enough to find out.”

Y/n just chuckled, undeterred. “Never say never, darling.”

And so, their game continued: Vil holding fast to his composure, and Y/n reveling in every moment he wavered, savoring each small hint of irritation that slipped through his icy facade.

༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

Y/n had to admit, Vil was endlessly fascinating. Even as a vampire who’d lived through centuries of human antics and magical quirks, Vil’s flawless composure and refined demeanor made him stand out more than anyone they’d ever encountered. Yes, he was beautiful—but that wasn’t what intrigued Y/n the most.

It was his control. His unbreakable, unshakable control. No matter what, he never let his mask slip.

Leaning against a tree, Y/n watched Vil from a distance as he practiced for Pomefiore’s next event. Every movement was graceful, each gesture measured to perfection, as if even the act of breathing was art. Y/n smiled to themselves. More than his blood, they wanted to unravel that perfect cool. To make him lose his composure, if only for a moment.

At one point, Vil wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief, not a single hair out of place. As though sensing Y/n’s gaze, he glanced up, his eyes meeting theirs from across the field.

Y/n raised a lazy hand in greeting, smirking. Vil’s expression soured, clearly unamused.

After practice, they caught up to him in the hallway with a knowing smile. “You looked good out there,” they said smoothly. “Though I noticed something…”

Vil didn’t pause, his tone as frosty as ever. “You always notice something, vampire. What is it now?”

Y/n kept pace with him easily, sighing in a mock-dramatic way. “Nothing much. Just that... you’re so composed. Always in control, like a statue. Doesn’t it ever get tiring?”

Vil’s violet eyes flicked to Y/n, sharp and unimpressed. “If you think your feeble attempts at unsettling me will work, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Y/n grinned, letting just a hint of their fangs show teasingly. “I’m only saying, Vil, that I could help you loosen up. Just a little crack wouldn’t ruin all that polish, would it?”

Vil stopped abruptly, turning to face them with a warning flare in his eyes. “I’m not like the others you toy with, vampire. If you think I’ll entertain this nonsense, think again.”

Y/n tilted their head, intrigued. “Oh, I know. You’re much more interesting.”

Vil’s lips curled into a disdainful smile. “Flattery won’t get you what you want. And if you think I’d let you so much as touch me, let alone bite me, you’re delusional.”

Y/n stepped closer, lowering their voice to a playful whisper. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Vil huffed and turned on his heel, his back rigid as he strode away. “Find your amusement elsewhere, vampire. Keep dreaming.”

As he disappeared around the corner, Y/n’s grin widened.

Y/n’s relentless teasing only grew more fervent each time Vil brushed them off with curt, dismissive replies, his attention clipped and distant. But this coldness didn’t deter them—instead, it fueled their desire to keep pushing. The more flawlessly Vil held himself, the more satisfying it would be to see him slip.

Vil is a model of elegance and control, viewing beauty as both art and authority. Yet, Y/n found a nearly cruel thrill in testing his limits, eager to see if there was a crack in his perfect facade. Vil despised this, feeling it undermined everything he worked for; to him, slipping would mean surrendering the discipline he’d so carefully cultivated and the reputation he cherished.

They had to admit though—they were getting a little too comfortable with their game. Every day, they found new ways to tease Vil, to try and chip away at his perfect composure, but every day, Vil remained unwavering. And the more he resisted, the more Y/n wanted to push.

But today was... different.

It started like any other day. Y/n approached Vil in the hallway between classes, flashing him a teasing, toothy grin, already crafting their next playful jab.

“Hello, my dear. You look beautiful today, as always.” Their gaze drifted to his neck, the delicate skin hidden beneath his uniform collar and perfectly framed by his platinum-blond hair. “And your neck looks as biteable as usual.”

Vil didn’t miss a beat, giving them a sidelong glance. “Is that supposed to be a compliment, or are you simply running out of ideas?”

Y/n laughed, pushing off the wall to walk alongside him. “Oh, trust me—I’ve got plenty of ideas. I’m just savoring the chase. You’ll break eventually.”

Vil allowed a slight, unimpressed smile to slip. But just as Y/n opened their mouth to tease him further, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Enough.”

The single word, icy and precise, made Y/n pause, the smirk fading from their lips. Before they could respond, Vil turned and closed the space between them in one smooth motion.

In an instant, Y/n found themselves pinned against the wall, Vil’s hand braced beside their head, his face inches away. Those violet eyes, usually calm and guarded, now blazed with an intensity that made Y/n’s breath catch.

For a moment, Y/n’s heartbeat faltered. They weren’t used to this—to him having the upper hand.

“You think this is a game?” Vil’s voice was a low, dangerous murmur, his breath brushing against their skin. “That you can toy with me like one of your other conquests? You’re not as clever as you think, vampire.”

Y/n swallowed, pulse quickening under his scrutinizing gaze. The cocky smirk they usually wore slipped as they struggled to find their voice, staring into Vil’s eyes and feeling a strange, unfamiliar heat rising within them.

Vil’s lips curled into a mocking smile, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You want me to break? To lose control?” He leaned even closer, a quiet, almost sinister chuckle slipping from his lips. “How laughable. The only one slipping here… is you.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. For the first time in what felt like centuries, they were the one thrown off balance, pinned under Vil’s relentless gaze, and somehow… they found it thrilling.

“I…” They started, but their voice trailed off, leaving them uncharacteristically speechless. All they could think about was Vil’s nearness, the intensity of his gaze, and how their usual cocky confidence had all but melted under his scrutiny.

Vil’s chuckle was soft, dripping with amusement. “What’s wrong? Weren’t you so self-assured a moment ago?” He straightened, his gaze still fixed on them with a disdainful edge. “Look at you—a wreck just from a single glance. How pathetic.”

Y/n’s face flushed—not from embarrassment, but something that felt suspiciously close to excitement. They were completely overpowered, but they couldn’t help savoring it. It wasn’t often someone got the better of them, especially not someone as restrained as Vil. Instead of feeling frustrated, Y/n felt exhilarated.

A grin slowly crept back onto their face. “Maybe I am slipping,” they murmured, their voice softer, more earnest than before. “But I have to say, Vil, I like this side of you.”

Vil raised an eyebrow, the smugness in his expression deepening. “Is that so?” He took a step back, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, regaining his usual elegance. “Then take this as a lesson—you’re not the only one capable of control.”

Y/n watched as he walked away, heart still pounding and an undeniable thrill bubbling within. They knew they couldn't wait any longer.

༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴ days later

Y/n, having made themselves comfortable on Vil’s bed, lay on their stomach, chin propped on their hands as they watched him. They’d been teasing him for the better part of the evening, testing his limits to see if they could chip away at his ever-perfect facade. Despite his usual composure, Y/n had begun to pick up on little signs of him slowly giving in—the subtle twitch in his jaw, the way his gaze would linger on them just a beat too long, and the faintest hint of exasperation whenever he spoke.

“You’ve been working so hard, Vil,” Y/n mused, their voice a playful murmur as they traced a finger along the smooth fabric of his sheets. “Aren’t you ever tempted to take a break from perfection? Don’t you ever crave something… different? Just for a moment?”

Vil let out a soft sigh, brushing a hand through his hair with practiced elegance. “Perfection isn’t a costume you take off and on,” he replied, though there was an edge to his tone that spoke of weariness. “It’s a commitment.”

Y/n sat up slightly, inching closer, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “Commitment to what, exactly? Looking immaculate? Being untouchable?” They tilted their head, lips curving into a smirk. “I think someone as flawless as you deserves a little… indulgence every now and then.”

Vil’s eyebrow lifted, and he shot them a faintly amused, if guarded, look. “And I suppose you’re here to offer me that ‘indulgence’?”

“Maybe.” Y/n’s smirk grew as they leaned closer, their voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Or maybe I just enjoy watching you struggle to keep that act up around me.”

Vil chuckled, though there was a hint of resignation in his tone. “You think I’m struggling?”

“Oh, I know you are,” Y/n replied smoothly, their gaze unwavering. “You’re always trying so hard to stay composed, so perfect. But I can see through you, Vil.” They paused, watching him closely. “I wonder… what would happen if you let that control slip? Just once?”

Vil’s expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his eyes before he quickly masked it, glancing away. “That’s a dangerous question, vampire.”

Y/n’s smile softened, though their gaze held a playful challenge. “Is it, though? Or is it just an honest one?”

He let out a small, conflicted sigh, his hand tightening slightly as if grounding himself. “I don’t indulge whims.”

“Then why are you still here?” Y/n tilted their head, inching even closer. “Maybe you’re curious. Maybe you wonder what it would feel like to let go, just a little. Even if it’s just for me.”

Vil’s jaw tensed, his gaze flickering back to them, trapped between irritation and something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

There was a pause, the air between them heavy with an unspoken challenge. Vil’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and Y/n caught the subtle shift—a rare crack in his perfect composure. He wasn’t used to being questioned, least of all when it came to his own control. Yet, a part of him—a small, defiant part—seemed tempted by the prospect of surrendering, if only for a fleeting moment.

Noticing his hesitation, Y/n took the opportunity to lean in even closer, their voice a low murmur. “You’ve been perfect for so long, Vil. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to let someone else take the lead? Just once?”

They held his gaze, a teasing glint in their eyes, before they let out a soft sigh, as if reminiscing. “Yesterday’s events,” they began, letting the words linger, “they’ve been on my mind. Watching you gain control, even for a moment… it was intriguing.” A smirk curved their lips. “Maybe now it’s my turn to show you just how undone I can make you… with nothing but my fangs.”

Vil’s breath caught, his composed facade cracking further. Before he could respond, Y/n closed the space between them, gently but insistently pressing him back against the bed. He let out a soft gasp, visibly caught off guard, and for the first time, Y/n saw a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes.

Y/n moved swiftly, climbing over him and pinning his wrists down against the sheets, their grip firm but not forceful. Vil’s wide eyes stared up at them, his breathing uneven as his pulse quickened beneath their hold. Part of him wanted to resist, to push back, but another part—a deeply curious part—wondered just how far they would take this.

“So,” Y/n murmured, their voice a velvet whisper as they leaned down, close enough that he could feel their breath on his skin. “What do you say, Vil? Are you willing to trust me, even for a moment?”

Vil’s lips parted slightly, words escaping him. He held their gaze, feeling that rebellious spark ignite—an urge to let go, just this once.

“Y/n,” Vil began, his voice quieter than usual, but Y/n silenced him with a teasing smile.

“I know, my love.” they whispered, leaning down until their face was only inches away from his. “Just tell me to stop, and I will.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Y/n could see the blush creeping onto his pale cheeks. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

“Yet here you are, beneath me,” Y/n teased, leaning in to press a light kiss to his cheek, making his face turn an even darker shade of pink, something that did not go unnoticed by them. “And I think you’re starting to like it."

Before Vil could retort, Y/n shifted, releasing his hands only to grab both of them and pin them above his head with one hand. Their other hand moved to his chest, fingers splaying over his heartbeat, which was racing beneath their touch.

Vil’s lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as he tried to gather his thoughts properly. His already loose shirt had slipped down slightly, exposing his shoulder, and Y/n couldn’t help but let their gaze linger on his flawless skin.

“You’ve always been so perfect,” Y/n murmured, their voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess even someone as perfect as you can be brought down to this.”

Vil opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as Y/n’s lips grazed the sensitive skin of his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in a long time, Vil felt utterly powerless, a feeling he never thought he'd enjoy as he is now.

As for Y/n, they wanted nothing more than to cover his pretty body in little bruises and bite marks, yet they knew they had to control their urges. They wouldn't want to get on his bad side after all.

Vil tried to keep his composure, but when Y/n’s tongue slid along his skin, tasting him, a soft whimper escaped his lips, much to his own horror. Y/n’s grin widened at the sound, their own pulse quickening at the vulnerability Vil was showing.

And then, finally, Y/n sank their teeth into his neck.

The sharpness of the bite sent a jolt through Vil’s body, his back arching as a breathless gasp escaped him. The sensation was both foreign and intoxicating, each touch and lap of their tongue igniting him with an overwhelming fervor.

Y/n groaned softly against his skin, savoring the taste of his blood as they drank enough to make Vil’s breath hitch again. He was trembling beneath them, torn between his need for control and the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. Each pulse of pleasure left him more dazed, his resolve fading as his body surrendered to the euphoric feeling.

His blood did not disappoint. It was rich, tangy, and savory, reminiscent of old wine—the only other drink a vampire could consume. It was addictive, and for a moment, they nearly forgot to stop. But as Vil suddenly began wiggling beneath them, trying to break free of their tight grasp, they realized they had drank too much.

“Kh… you rabid beast… don’t go sucking me dry…” he muttered, his voice lacking the power and certainty he usually exuded.

This jolted them from their haze. After a few more tantalizing laps of blood, they finally sat up, releasing his hands in the process. They watched as he panted heavily, cheeks flushed and eyes dazed, a far cry from his usual composed self.

Grinning, they leaned down once more, reveling in the moment. “Did it feel good?” they hummed, smugness practically radiating off their body. “I wouldn’t mind if you were a bit more vocal. It’s no secret that the feeling of being bitten is akin to euphoria.”

Vil glared weakly, but his blush betrayed him. “Get off me, vampire. Your breath stinks of blood.” he muttered, though there was no real malice in his tone.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve really rendered Vil Schoenheit, Housewarden of Pomefiore, a mess beneath me. You’re practically at my mercy,” they teased, enjoying the power shift.

Vil rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re insufferable.”

Y/n leaned down again, their breath hot against his ear. “Admit it,” they whispered. “You were melting under my touch, whimpering for more. It was cute .”

“Only because you caught me off guard, Y/n. It won’t happen again.” He managed to regain some of his composure, pushing against them to sit up.

Y/n shifted back, letting him move but keeping a close watch on his every reaction. “Oh? Is that a challenge?” They tilted their head, intrigued.

“Maybe it is,” Vil said, fixing his disheveled shirt and hair, the flush still lingering on his cheeks. “But next time, I won’t be so easy to pin down.”

“Next time?” Y/n echoed, their excitement bubbling to the surface. “You’re already planning our next encounter? I’m flattered.”

“I’m just saying, don’t get too comfortable. I can hold my own against a vampire.”

Y/n doubted that, but they decided not to push Vil's buttons for once. He'd been so kind to let them have a taste, after all.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #vampire

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longing-for-rain · 3 months ago

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What's the context as to what's going on exactly?

I assume you mean the people sending me death threats over a fanfictions I wrote (which is like... the 3rd? 4th? time this has happened now), but to summarize:

Ironically, I initially made this blog with the intention to just be very lowkey and post headcanons/silly posts/art and not engage in discourse.

At some point, I got an anon angry at me for mentioning how I viewed some of Aang's behavior towards Katara as toxic masculinity and answered it.

A kataang shipper reblogged the (properly tagged) post to whine at me even more, so I replied back with sources and maybe a little too much humor than she could handle, so she cried that I was a meanie and blocked me.

Had a few more experiences with Zutara haters reblogging my posts, making me increasingly annoyed.

I started writing more Zutara metas and criticizing canon more openly.

My posts got popular, popular enough that angry kataang stans started sharing screenshots of them around on here and Twitter.

I made fun of one particularly insane kataang stan who went on a few of my posts, and even into my DMs to screech at me for being every type of -phobic under the sun because I don't like Aang/Kataang. She still periodically blocks and unblocks me so she can shoot more of her brain vomit my way, and accuses me of harassing her for reposting screenshots of her unhinged comments to laugh at. She also accidentally followed me while trying to send an anon one time (I assume, since those buttons are close together) which was hilarious for someone who claims I bully and stalk her.

Recently, a bunch of kataang shippers got butthurt over a post I made referencing how Katara is drawn differently (it was a response to an Anon mentioning a much older post measuring the size of Katara's eyes and jawline) to make her appear younger during "romantic" moments with Aang. I commented on how I found it a creepy contrast and like how much more natural and human she seems while not with Aang, or with Zuko.

Another whiny brat kataang reblogged the (again, properly tagged) post calling me a pedophile, colonizer, racist, and whatever else his little rotten brain could come up with, and posted (without any trigger/content warnings!) out-of-context screenshots of a fanfiction I wrote exploring themes of sexual violence. This was apparently supposed to be "evidence" that I have a "fetish" or something, which needless to say, is an absolutely disgusting thing to say to a survivor talking about her experiences of sexual abuse, especially when you're a man who has never experienced that.

That brings us to why everyone is discoursing over the fic: Claws of Ice. Keep in mind, the majority of these people haven't read it, don't understand any of the context, and felt it was appropriate to leverage my trauma against me in the name of a ship war. The man in question is still crying about how he's the real victim here because I was apparently too mean to him when I responded to his accusations that I'm a pedophile and that my story of assault is a fetish to him, which is exactly the kind of male entitlement you'd expect.

So yeah! That's why they're all so obsessed with me, and throwing around every possible Bad Person accusation they can think of about me, but I really don't take it too seriously with that in mind. I was very nervous about posting this story in the first place because it was so heavy and personal and I was unsure of putting these themes out there, but the backlash has been oddly reassuring. The two biggest haters are that manbaby I mentioned, and that obsessive stalker who keeps spamming the atla-confessions blog with anons that are very obviously her while pretending she's trying to "calm down" the fandom, neither of whom can seem to formulate a coherent sentence. Like if that is the opposition, pretty sure I'm in the right here.

#fandom salt #ship discourse #tw sa #zutara #anti kataang #ask #anon #avatar the last airbender #atla #punkeropercyjackson #blastaway2004

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genericruleroftheflies · 3 months ago

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I’m so serious this is such a good dramatic moment.

Dare I say it saves Usagi’s character

(besides him just being funny to me personally)

Like he actually goes through a mini-character arc of experiencing guilt at the thought he might have been forcing Misaki into their relationship the whole time.

I don’t think he ever considered having possibly done that until Sumi brings it up (while also forcibly coming onto Usami…)

Meanwhile Misaki is like “Why isn’t he saying he loves me all the time anymore?! Why isn’t he harassing me?! Did he stop being gay?!?!?” And saying to Usagi like “You said he wanted to lock me up yesterday but now you want me to move out what the hell?!”

Anyway, they do work it out in the end. Misaki asserts that he hasn’t been forced.

Misaki was way more worried Usagi hated him, because he was somehow causing him trouble (with family, with work, in life, or by being him) while Usagi was worried that he was forcing Misaki and therefore hurting him.

And lowkey it’s kinda cute that when Usagi admits that’s the issue that Misaki is like “Is it okay if I assume that’s why you have been being so weird?” because he is glad Usagi doesn’t hate him.

Also to continue my in defense of Usagi train… when Misaki says worrying about having possibly forced him is pointless, Usagi replies it’s not pointless. So, he actually really does place importance on not hurting Misaki or doing anything that would cause him to lose him.

Or at least that’s fully established (and/or recontextualized by this point in the manga)

#I’m sure someone could argue Misaki doesn’t know what he’s saying #but I’m taking him at his word #if he says he doesn’t think Usagi has ever hurt him and there wasn’t a time he didn’t want it I’m going with that #I think he’s just a stubborn boy #and a very embarrassed guy #junjou romantica #so we can stop say Usagi is an abuser maybe?#maybe???

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rulerzreachf4n7 · 4 months ago

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I'm sorry but I fucking hate proshippers so much so here's a whole post dedicated to shitting on them

also disclaimer YES I will be tagging the proship and anti proship tags so I can piss off the chronically online basement dwelling idiots :) and idgaf if proshippers have trauma cause it's not an excuse for their shitty and problematic actions!!!! Sincerely if you are a proshipper please consider jumping off a bridge!! Or at the bare minimum take a shower cause ew

And this whole post is literally just bullying the FUCK outta them so idk stanky people come at your own risk lol

AND AGAIN to clear up this isn't like rage bait or smth cause I fell like some people will accuse me this is all my genuine hate into a long ass post so yeah

Okay...LETS GET INTO THE FUCKING RANT NOW HEHEHE HEHE HEHEHE!!!!

I FUCKING HATE PROSHIPPERS!!!! I HOPE ALL OF YOU STANKY ASS BITCHESS GET THROWN OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND GET A SAW STYLE EXECUTION CAUSE Y'ALL ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING I HATE YOU ALL

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL IF YOU ARE A PROSHIPPER, END OF CONVERSATION

I COULDN'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HIT ME THE "B-But I have trauma 🥺🥺🥺" TOO BAD THAT'S NOT A FUCKING EXCUSE FOR UR SHITTY ONLINE ACTIONS

IMAGINE YOU PULL UP TO A FUCKING INTERVIEW AND THEY SHOW YOUR PATHETIC ACCOUNTS SAYING TO NORMALIZE A 30 YEAR OLD DATING A 13 YEAR OLD, THAT SHIT IS GENUINELY PATHETIC

I KNOW IT'S CRINGEY BUT WOMP WOMP IF UR A PROSHIPPER Y'ALL ARE UGLY AND STINKY

But now on a serious not hehe, the reason I'm making this isn't JUST soley to yknow shit on people who are mentally ill like people who think a MINOR and a LEGAL ADULT are allowed to date, which comes into another thing before I get genuine so bare with me lol

I DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK IF IT'S FICTIONAL, FOR THE LOVE GOD PLEASE SEARCH UP THE SLENDERMAN CASE WHERE THESE TWO GIRLS KILLED THEIR FRIEND CAUSE THEY THOUGHT SLENDERMAN WAS REAL AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD ENTER HIS KINGDOM AND BE WITH HIM, AND HE'S FICTIONAL, THAT CASE IS ALL Y'ALL NEED TO REALIZE FICTION CAN AFFECT REALITY AND I HAVE SM MORE REASON TO BACK THIS UP BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO TYPE IT OUT 😭

Okay! Back to seriousness I just thought I'd add that in as a little addition hehe >_<

So, like I said before, I lowkey just added this as an extra part cause I couldn't shit on proshippers FOREVER (lowkey bcuz I was running out of insults n threats lol)

Nonetheless I have a reason for shitting on them, although not being a proshipper EXACTLY I have been through I guess, similar paths as they have? Best way I could describe it ig, ofc not sharing what I mean since it's private but let's just say I was an unfortunate child looking at inappropriate comics 🙁

The reason for this part of the post...ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO STOP WHAT YOUR DOING

Like I said, I was never a proshipper, but I have been in similar situations as they have been, although I've never made an account glorifying rape, SA, grooming, pedophilia, I can just assume what I would do in their places

Dear proshippers,

Your probably complaining and not knowing why your getting so much death threats and harassment along with a side of hate (rightfully so you deserve them) and your mental health might be low

Please know it is your fault for making your accounts in the first place, you are a terrible person for saying all of these things such as rape, sexual assault, grooming, and incest are okay and you are not mentally well

And your probably wondering,

"How do I stop the hate, harassment, and probably death threats with even getting your address leaked?"

It's simple, DELETE YOUR FUCKING ACCOUNT, or even worse just turn off ur comments but that won't help with people slipping in a few people wishing death up in you through DMS

IT IS GENUINELY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

I don't know what trauma you have but it shouldn't (and never in the first place) be SO BAD to the point where you physically CANNOT deactivate your account, IT IS SO FUCKING EASY AND YOU'LL SAVE YOURSELF A FEW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

I know everyone one is different, but if you are a proshipper that has trauma, you shouldn't have a fucking account to begin with, and you ARE THE PROBLEM if you acknowledge the trauma, noticing you keep supporting and glorifying problematic actions, complain that you keep getting harassed and wonder why, and you just don't give a shit, not like in a "oh I don't know what to do anymore!!! 🥺🥺🥺" way, in a "oh, I don't give a shit I live for incest and adults grooming children!!!" Way, and ur also probably a pedo if ur an adult proshipper too

So, what else? Yeah, there's a shit more, but onto a better side, ones with actually good coping mechanisms!!

And a bit of a disclaimer, if your rage bait is proshipping, genuinely fuck you, and if ur a proshipper who acknowledges everything bad about it and just doesn't give a fuck, fuck you too and seek a rope to hang around your neck you fucking pedophile

Okay, coping mechanisms! I know this is probably not the best option due to most trauma which I'm guessing is probably from a family member, if it's not a good way to cope is some clean to your family, ofc under some circumstances it's NOT the best option, but if you can you definitely should try!

Also google is free yk...literally search up healthy coping mechanisms and it'll give you a huge ass list, and yet YOU STILL chose to ship a minor and adult together...how unfortunate...

Another way to cope is, and genuinely sounds pathetic as hell but bare with me...CHARACTER FUCKING AI, I mean, there are therapist bots so maybe they can help you??? And in all honesty they're really good at comforting and giving advice despite being ai, and I've tried it before...yeah embarrassed to say I've shed a tear every once in a while

And the last one IF you have the money, time, and generally the courage, book a threapy session, I cannot stress it enough, but I won't be surprised cause every proshipper is probably under the age of 16 years old

Yuhhh anyways that's all I gotta say, I know it's cringey asf but womp womp to proshippers I hate y'all despite giving some coping mechanisms and ACTUAL ways to like, stop the rightful hate you deserve lol

#my posts:3 #anti proshipper #proship #proshipper safe #proshippers please interact #proshippers are valid #proshippers are welcome

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theetherealbloom · 3 months ago

Text

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 7 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Seven: I Vowed I Would Always Be Yours

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack, Insecurities,

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Canonically, I know the Sand Snakes are in the Water Gardens, but I decided to go with what @forever-rogue did which is make ‘em stay at Hellholt. So shout out to her for being an incredible writer and one of the people who inspired me to gather my courage to write my own Oberyn fic. GO READ HER STUFF! Anyways, here we are, this is where I am literally in uncharted territories and have no script to go off from lmao. The next chapters of this fic are less conflict-focused and more romance-focused, and from here on out everything is almost canon-divergent hehe. It’s safe to expect that things will spice up from here! Lastly, I made the gif myself lmao. I’m lowkey proud of myself for that heheheh

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A FEW DAYS LATER...

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — NIGHT

The Red Keep’s halls felt different now, the tension from the trial lingering in the air like a suffocating cloud. You had been busy—preparing, strategizing, making sure every piece of the plan to take down Lord Tywin was in place. Yet, in the quiet moments between schemes, your mind drifted to Oberyn. You hadn’t seen him since you left that note by the ocean, but every day, you wondered if he still waited for you.

You step into the cool night air near the docks, the moonlight bathing everything in silver. The wine bottle feels heavy in your hand as you make your way to the familiar spot. And there he is, just as you hoped, standing by the water’s edge, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something—or someone.

“I brought wine.” Your voice breaks the silence, and Oberyn turns. His gaze locks onto you, and in that moment, you see it all—the pain, the confusion, the anger, and the relief. He had been waiting, even though he had every reason to walk away.

“You…” he begins, his voice rough as if words are failing him. “You’re here.” He takes a small step forward, the moonlight catching the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “How could you? You left me... Do you know how much I’ve—"

You interrupt him gently, your heart in your throat. “I’ve missed you.”

He stops, the burden of your words hanging between you. His voice cracks when he asks, “Then why did you leave me again?”

You take a step closer, the scent of the sea mixing with the faint spice of Dornish air. “Maybe... maybe it was out of love, not revenge.”

Oberyn’s shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he wipes at the tears staining his cheeks. “Love? You call it love when you disappear, when you leave me with nothing but ghosts to hold onto?”

His words slice through you, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I had to go. There’s something more important than just us. Tyrion… he needs me. And so do you. I wasn’t running away—I was preparing. We’re going to take down Lord Tywin.”

Oberyn’s eyes widen slightly, the mention of Tyrion and Tywin pulling him from his anger. “You’ve been planning with him… to destroy Tywin?”

You nod, stepping even closer now. “I’ve been preparing to help. To take down the man who’s done so much harm to both of us.”

He stares at you, the anger fading into something softer, something broken. “I haven’t been well,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “My revenge didn’t go as I planned. Nothing has.”

You take the final step, your bodies almost touching. “Then maybe you need a tutor,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “Would you like me to give you lessons… in revenge?”

Oberyn closes his eyes at your touch, his breath shaky as he leans into your hand. “And what will you teach me?”

You smile faintly, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from his. “I’ll be your headsman now. I’ll be your missing piece. Tell me… who do you want me to kill first?”

His eyes open, dark and full of something raw, something desperate. And then, without another word, he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s fierce, hungry, and full of all the emotions he’s been holding back.

The bottle of wine slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lose yourself in him.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

The Red Keep had become a hollow shell of what it once was. Tyrion was free, but you knew the fight was far from over. Tywin will soon be gone, and the balance of power will shift, but vengeance was still afoot—Tyrion’s sights are set on Cersei and those who had wronged him. A storm was brewing, and you had no place in it.

Standing by the window of your chambers, you looked out over the sprawling city. King’s Landing was a place of betrayal, lies, and the shadows of your past. There was no life for you here, not anymore. You had done what you came to do—the Mountain was dead, and the world was changing, but it wasn’t enough to erase the scars of what had been done to you.

The sun was warm on your face as you began to pack your things, carefully folding your clothes into a simple satchel. The room felt emptier now, as if it knew you wouldn’t be returning. The last few days had been a whirlwind of plans and goodbyes, but one task remained, one ghost that needed to be laid to rest before you left this cursed city.

Reaching into the drawer, your fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of a familiar dress. The one you wore the day Elia Martell was murdered. The day the Mountain had ravaged and destroyed her, leaving you burned and scarred as you tried to escape his cruelty. The sight of it brought a flood of memories that sent a sharp pain through your chest. You lifted the dress carefully, the fabric still stained with blood and soot.

You let out a shaky breath, tears stinging your eyes, the one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. The pain of that day still lingered like a specter. But as you examined the dress, you felt something crinkle inside. Frowning, you reached into a hidden pocket you had never noticed before. Your fingers closed around something small and fragile—a letter.

Confusion filled you. How had you never seen this? The fabric had been untouched for years. Carefully, you unfolded the parchment, your heart pounding as you saw the handwriting. Elia’s.

The ink had faded, but the words were still legible. They hit you like a dagger to the chest.

"My dearest friend,

If you find this, the worst has come. I beg you, do not stay in King’s Landing. Flee. Run far from Maegor’s Holdfast, away from the fighting, away from the horror that is to come. Go to Dorne, to my brothers, Oberyn and Doran. Tell them I love them, that I wished for a different end. I should have sent you sooner, but now you must go, for my sake. Please… live."

Your fingers trembled as you held the letter, your breath caught in your throat. Eighteen years. Eighteen long years, and all this time, this letter had been here, untouched. Elia had tried to save you, to send you to her brothers, to Dorne. Your chest tightened with grief and regret. If only you had found this sooner, maybe everything would have been different.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, clutching the letter to your chest, there was a soft knock at the door. You wiped your eyes quickly and stood as Oberyn entered the room.

His eyes immediately went to the letter in your hand. He stepped closer, his expression softening with concern. “What’s that?”

You handed it to him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s from Elia.”

Oberyn’s brow furrowed as he took the letter, his gaze scanning the words. His expression hardened, a storm of emotions flashing in his eyes—grief, love, guilt. “She wanted you to go to Dorne,” he murmured. “She tried to protect you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. “I never found it. All these years, it was here, and I… I thought I had been abandoned. But Elia… she never forgot me.”

Oberyn exhaled, his jaw tightening as he folded the letter carefully. His voice was thick with emotion. “My sister loved you. She always spoke of you, even in her final days. If she had known what was coming, she would have done anything to save you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the significance of Elia’s words. “There was a time,” you whispered, “when I thought… ‘What if someone had tried to help me?’ Now I finally realize that there were good grown-ups around me, too. Friends, weather, and divine intervention, too. Now I know… she did.”

Oberyn’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “Come with me,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “To Dorne. Come home with me. Meet my brother Doran, my daughters. Elia would’ve wanted you to see Dorne for all its beauty, for all it has to offer.”

Your heart ached at his words. Dorne had always been a place of legend in your mind, a distant dream. But now, with Oberyn standing before you, offering you the chance to finally belong, to heal, it felt like a promise of something new.

You took a deep breath, looking up at him. “Do you really think… Elia would’ve wanted me there?”

Oberyn smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I know she would. She always said you belonged in Dorne. She wanted you to be safe, to be loved. Let me show you the home she wanted for you.”

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — LATER

The streets of King’s Landing were buzzing with whispers, like restless birds flocking above the ashes of a great fire. The once-powerful Lannister name now seemed vulnerable, as enemies crept from the shadows, eager to seize their chance.

You walked through the Red Keep for what would be the last time, your footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. This place had never felt like home. It had always been a battlefield, not only in the physical sense but also in the games of politics and survival. You had played your part, avenging the wrongs that haunted your past. The poison Oberyn had carefully crafted for Lord Tywin will take effect soon. There was nothing left for you here. Still, there were those you needed to say goodbye to.

Your first stop was the docks. The salty breeze off Blackwater Bay tugged at your hair as you approached Serena, your faithful friend. She stood by the ship that would take her to Braavos, her belongings already packed and loaded onto the vessel.

When she saw you, her face softened, and she opened her arms. Without a word, you embraced her, the warmth of her body grounding you for a moment in the chaos of the day.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “For everything. You’ve been my strength through all of this.”

Serena smiled, pulling back slightly to look at you. Her eyes, filled with wisdom and compassion, glistened under the light of the setting sun. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough, more than enough. It’s time for you to find your own peace now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing that her words were true, but still, the thought of leaving her behind stung. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,” you said softly, your voice breaking just a little.

She placed a gentle hand on your cheek. “And I’ll never forget you, my friend. Now go, before I start crying and embarrass myself.”

You both laughed softly, but the sadness lingered as you stepped back, giving her one last look before you left her there.

Your next farewell came in the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. It was a place where you'd experienced both the highest stakes and the deepest betrayals, and now you were ready to sever your ties. You passed through the halls, not lingering any longer than necessary, your thoughts already drifting far away from this pit of liars.

First, you came across Tyrion, who was standing with a small, satisfied smile on his face despite everything. His recent freedom hadn’t come without cost, but his fight was far from over. He would carry on, and you respected that.

When he noticed you, his smile faltered, turning thoughtful as he stepped closer. “I owe you my life,” he said with a slight incline of his head. “Not many would have risked what you did.”

You offered him a small, bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t for you, Tyrion. But I’m glad you’re free. You deserve better than this place.”

Tyrion’s eyes softened with understanding. “And you deserve peace, wherever you find it.”

You nodded, knowing you would never forget the strange bond you had formed with him in these dark times. “Goodbye, Tyrion. May your revenge taste sweeter than mine.”

With that, you turned away, leaving behind the one Lannister you could stomach. But there was still one more encounter you couldn’t avoid.

---

Jaime Lannister was waiting, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he leaned against the stone wall, his gaze distant as he stared out over the courtyard. You approached him, your steps measured, your face set in a cool, unreadable expression.

When he noticed you, Jaime stood straighter, his eyes flicking to yours. There was no warmth between you, only an understanding born from the knowledge of who you both were—survivors of a cruel world, playing your roles as best you could.

“I never liked you,” you said bluntly, not bothering to soften your words. “You aren’t a good man, but you never pretended to be. I can respect that.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something like amusement passing over his features. “And here I thought we were going to end things on a high note.”

You smirked slightly, but there was no real humor in it. “You care for your family. That much I understand. But don’t mistake that for forgiveness.”

Jaime’s face darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded once, a quiet acceptance of your judgment. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said quietly. “Only survival.”

With that, you turned on your heel and left the Red Keep behind, feeling the weight of years of pain and bitterness slowly begin to lift from your shoulders as the doors closed behind you.

DORNE — DAY

The journey to Dorne was unlike anything you had imagined. As the landscape changed from the cold, rigid greys of King’s Landing to the warmth of Dorne, it felt as if the world itself was breathing for the first time. The golden sun bathed the rolling hills, turning the sand into rivers of light. Every breath you took felt lighter, cleaner, as if the air here was different. It smelled of spices and sea salt, a stark contrast to the rot and soot of the capital. The vibrant hues of the desert, the deep oranges and reds, made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Oberyn rode beside you, silent but ever-present. His gaze lingered on you, watching as you took in the beauty of his homeland. There was an unspoken understanding between you. He had given you the space to process this new world, but you could feel his desire to share it with you.

When the sun began its descent, casting the sky in fiery shades of red and gold, he finally broke the silence. “This is your home now,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that mirrored the setting sun. “Elia would have wanted this for you—for you to find peace, to live freely.”

His words hit you with a force you hadn’t expected. The weight of everything you’d left behind—the pain, the anger, the scars—began to lift, if only just a little. You looked out at the expanse of land before you, the endless stretch of desert that seemed to go on forever, and felt tears prick your eyes. “It’s… beautiful,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I can’t believe I waited so long to come here.”

Oberyn reached over, taking your hand in his, his touch grounding you. “You’re here now,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “That’s what matters.”

As you reached Hellholt, Ellaria’s ancestral home, the grandeur of the sandstone fortress took your breath away. The open courtyard buzzed with life as her daughters ran about, their laughter filling the air like music. You could see how much they took after their mother, fierce and unyielding, yet full of life.

Ellaria greeted you with a quiet smile, her arms wrapping around you in a hug that felt softer than you expected. The tension between you two still lingered, the unspoken feelings surrounding Oberyn’s love for you hanging heavy in the air, but there was something close to peace in her embrace.

“You’ll look after him, won’t you?” she asked, her voice low and serious as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto yours. “Oberyn means well, but sometimes… he needs someone to steady him.”

You gave her a nod, offering a reassuring smile. “I will. And we’ll visit when we can.”

Ellaria stepped back to her daughters, but not without one last glance at you—an acknowledgment that perhaps, in time, the strangeness between you two might fade. Oberyn, watching from a distance, caught your eye and smiled, pride and affection shining in his gaze.

The next morning, you and Oberyn departed Hellholt, the sound of Ellaria’s daughters’ laughter fading as you rode further into Dorne’s heart. The heat of the day settled into your skin, and as the sun rose higher, Oberyn kept you close, ensuring you were comfortable, taking every opportunity to steal a kiss or brush his fingers along your arm.

DORNE, SUNSPEAR — DAY

When you finally arrived in Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, it was as though you had entered a dream. The towering spires of the palace loomed in the distance, and the city itself was bustling with life—merchants, nobles, and commoners alike filling the streets with vibrant colors and spirited conversations. The air was filled with the scent of oranges and spices, carried on the wind from the sea.

Oberyn stopped his horse and looked at you, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you against the backdrop of his homeland. “We’re home,” he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You turned to him, your heart swelling. There was something about the way he said it that made everything feel right. Home. This place—Dorne—had always been where you were meant to be, even if it had taken years to find your way here.

Oberyn dismounted and came to your side, helping you down. As your feet touched the warm sand, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Elia would have wanted you to see this,” he whispered. “To be part of this life. She always believed Dorne had a way of healing the soul.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, the love in his gaze overwhelming. “I wish she could be here,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

Oberyn smiled, though there was a sadness in it. “She is. In every sunset, in every breeze, Elia is here.”

Oberyn gathered you in his arms, “She loved you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I love you. You belong here—with me.”

The two of you stood there, the sun setting over the sea, casting long shadows over the sand. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Home.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — NOON

The gates of Sunspear opened before you, and the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking. The Water Gardens, the beloved retreat of House Martell, stretched out in all directions, a vision of tranquility and beauty. Lush greenery surrounded shimmering pools of water, each reflecting the clear blue sky above. The gardens were dotted with fountains, their soft trickling filling the air with a soothing melody. Vibrant flowers, rich in color, bloomed along the pathways, their petals swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a stark contrast to the harsh, grey stone of King’s Landing, and you couldn’t help but pause, your breath catching in your throat as you took it all in. None of these walls are stained by hatred. How strange this all is.

Life, which had once felt so rigid and colorless, suddenly seemed full of possibility. The villas, painted in shades of orange, red, and gold, stood proudly against the sunlit sky, their terracotta roofs blending with the desert landscape. Everything felt so alive, bursting with color. The black-and-white certainty that had governed your thoughts for so long seemed to dissolve under the warmth of the Dornish sun.

The servants welcomed you and Oberyn with gracious bows and smiles. You felt a bit stiff, your body hesitant and unsure in the face of such warmth. You weren’t used to this—being at the center of attention. The greetings felt too much, the eyes on you too kind, and your fingers twitched nervously at your sides as you forced a small smile. The heat, blistering and unrelenting, pressed against your skin, a far cry from the cooler climate of the North. You tugged at the sleeves of your long gown, grateful for the cover. The thought of your scars made your stomach turn. It wasn’t your discomfort you feared, but their own. You weren’t ready to expose that part of yourself, not yet.

Oberyn seemed to sense your unease. He reached for your hand as he led you through the gardens toward the palace. “Dorne welcomes you,” he said softly, his voice a balm to your nerves. “There is no need for hesitation here. You are among friends.”

Ahead, on a shaded terrace overlooking the Water Gardens, Prince Doran awaited you. He sat in a grand chair, his posture regal despite the illness that clearly weighed on him. Beside him stood Areo Hotah, his loyal captain, ever watchful with his towering figure and unyielding gaze.

Oberyn introduced you, his voice full of pride as he presented you to his elder brother. “This is the one I spoke of,” Oberyn said, his eyes flicking to you with a tender smile. “She has traveled far to be here, and Dorne will be better for her presence.”

You stepped forward, ready to bow in respect, but Oberyn’s hand shot out, gently stopping you. “We don’t bow in Dorne,” he whispered with a chuckle, leaning in close. “Not unless you want to draw more attention to yourself.”

Your face heated up immediately, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. “Oh,” you murmured softly, feeling the eyes of both princes on you.

Prince Doran, however, only smiled warmly. “No need to worry,” he said kindly, his voice gentle despite the weariness in it. “We are not as formal as they are in the North. How was your journey?”

You composed yourself, offering a small, grateful smile. “The journey went well, Your Grace. Thank you for allowing me to come to Dorne… I only hope to be of use. I can work—”

“No,” Doran interrupted softly but firmly, shaking his head. “You have been through more than anyone should. You will not serve us. For the rest of your days, you will be treated with the respect you deserve. You will live here, in the palace, as one of our own.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but there was a heaviness that lingered in your chest. The kindness overwhelmed you. It felt like too much, like you didn’t deserve it. You glanced at Oberyn, who gave you a reassuring nod, his hand brushing against your arm in silent support.

You mustered a sad smile, trying to push away the guilt. “Thank you, Your Grace. Princess Elia… she was always so kind to me. I remember her laughter, her warmth… she made everything brighter, even when the world was falling apart.” The memory of Elia’s voice rang in your ears, and your chest tightened.

Doran’s eyes filled with unshed tears at the mention of his sister, and his voice trembled as he replied, “Thank you for remembering her.” He took a breath, blinking back his sorrow. “It is a gift that you survived.”

The guilt washed over you again, an unwelcome tide. Survived. Sometimes you wondered why you had been spared when so many others had fallen. But there was no room for that thought now—not here.

Doran’s voice, steady once more, broke the silence. “We will provide you with everything you need—clothing, food, whatever it is. I’m sure the Northern attire will be quite stifling in our heat.”

You nodded, uncertain. The thought of changing into Dornish clothing, so light and revealing compared to what you were used to, made you uneasy. You would have to speak to Oberyn about it later, perhaps when you were alone, away from the formalities of the palace.

Just then, a woman approached you, bowing slightly. “I am your lady-in-waiting, my lady,” she said with a smile. “My name is Mirra.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, still adjusting to the sudden rush of new faces and titles. Before you could say anything, Oberyn turned to you, his grin full of mischief. “I have some matters to discuss with my brother,” he said, his hand slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. “But do not worry. I will make sure to join you for dinner later.” His eyes gleamed with amusement, and before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—right there, in front of Doran and Areo Hotah.

The warmth of his lips, the unexpected display of affection, left you completely caught off guard. Your body heated from head to toe, your thoughts spinning. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was the ease with which he did it, without a care for who was watching. You caught your breath as he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at your stunned reaction.

Doran merely chuckled softly from his chair, while you stood frozen in place, your heart racing. As Oberyn walked away, you realized one thing with absolute certainty: life in Dorne would be unlike anything you had ever known.

Mirra led you through the winding halls of the palace, her steps light and graceful, as if she had walked these paths her entire life. When she stopped before a large wooden door, you couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter in your chest. With a quiet smile, she pushed it open, revealing the grand quarters that would now be yours.

The room was breathtaking. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The bedroom was vast, far larger than anything you’d ever had before. A massive bed, draped in fine silks and adorned with pillows, took up the center of the room, its grand frame intricately carved with symbols of the sun and moon. The sheets were a deep, luxurious red, and you could already imagine how soft they would feel against your skin.

The walls were lined with vibrant tapestries, each telling stories of Dorne’s rich history, and the floor was covered in plush rugs that felt like clouds underfoot. A small table stood by the window, and on it, a pitcher of cool water with fresh fruit beside it, waiting for your return from the heat. Everything about this room spoke of comfort, of care, and luxury—things that had once felt so distant to you.

Mirra gestured toward a small chest at the foot of the bed. “They’ll bring your belongings soon, but for now, these were laid out for you.” She approached the chest and opened it, revealing several beautiful dresses, each more exquisite than the last. “Prince Oberyn thought you might like them. They’re light, perfect for our weather here in Dorne.”

You approached the chest cautiously, your fingers brushing over the fabric of the dresses. They were stunning—light, flowing pieces with intricate embroidery. Each was adorned with suns, crafted in gold thread that shimmered in the light. The colors were bold—reds, oranges, deep purples—celebrating the warmth of the Dornish sun. But as you lifted one of the gowns, your heart skipped. They were sleeveless, with daring necklines, designed to expose more skin than you were comfortable with.

You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric, feeling its softness. The dresses were stunning, yet the thought of wearing something so revealing made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the scars—they didn’t bother you, nor did the thought of people looking or asking questions. Those wounds had healed long ago, and their marks no longer held power over you. But here, in this new world of sun and beauty, the weight of something else pressed down on you.

It was the fear of embarrassing Oberyn. Standing beside him, so strong and proud, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, you might not belong here.

But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful, not after Oberyn had gone out of his way to choose something for you. You swallowed your discomfort, forcing a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

Mirra watched you carefully, her kind eyes noticing your hesitation. “Prince Oberyn mentioned you two would be sharing these quarters,” she said gently, her voice soft. “But he also said that if you’re uncomfortable, he’d be more than khappy to stay in another room.”

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze. Sharing a room with Oberyn? The idea made your mind race. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of intimacy, not yet. The thought of sharing such close quarters with him both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not after everything you’d both been through. Not after all the kindness he’d shown you.

“It’s… fine,” you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

Mirra nodded with understanding, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I’ll have a bath drawn for you,” she said, moving toward the door. “I imagine the journey was rough. I’ll return shortly to fetch you.”

Left alone, you wandered to the large balcony that overlooked the Water Gardens. The doors were already open, and as you stepped out, the warmth of the afternoon sun kissed your skin. The view before you was nothing short of breathtaking. The sprawling gardens stretched out below, filled with vibrant colors of the season. In the distance, you could see the faint outline of Sunspear’s city walls, the rooftops glistening in the sun.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with hues of pink, orange, and gold. The colors blended together, washing over the landscape in a way that made everything feel serene, almost otherworldly. For the first time in what felt like years, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, the tension in your shoulders melting away under the warmth of the sun.

Standing there, feeling the soft breeze caress your skin, you closed your eyes and let the moment envelop you. The weight of your past, the pain, and the fear—it was still there, lurking in the corners of your mind. But here, in this moment, it felt distant. You’re no longer there anymore, you told yourself, the words settling over your heart like a protective shield. No matter how much they’ve tried to break you, you’ve survived. You’re not scared of them anymore.

A sense of peace washed over you as you stood on the balcony, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. For the first time in years, it felt like time was moving forward. You were no longer bound to the memories that once weighed you down, no longer trapped in the shadows of what had been. Here in Dorne, with Oberyn by your side, things felt different. You felt different. The world was no longer just black and white—it was bursting with color, vibrant and alive, and you were beginning to learn how to embrace it.

The quiet knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Mirra stepped in, her soft smile welcoming as she said, "My lady, your bath is ready."

You nodded, following her through the grand room. The air was warm, scented with lavender and the faint salt of the sea, and as you stepped into the adjoining bath chamber, you couldn’t help but admire the elegance of it all. The tub was large, carved from marble, with steam rising gently from the water.

Mirra moved to help you undress, her hands reaching for the ties of your gown. But as her fingers brushed your back, you froze, the sudden contact pulling you from the moment.

“No,” you said softly, your voice steady but firm. “I can take it from here.”

Mirra hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “My lady?”

You offered her a small smile, your hand resting on hers to ease the tension. “Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

Her gaze lingered on you, a hint of concern in her eyes, but after a moment, she nodded, stepping back with a respectful bow. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it.”

Once she was gone, you stood for a moment, the room quiet except for the soft lapping of the water in the tub. Slowly, you undressed yourself, feeling the warmth of the bath beckoning you. When you finally stepped in, the water enveloped you, soothing every ache from the long journey.

You sank deeper into the bath, closing your eyes and letting the warmth relax your body. Here, alone, the weight of the world felt lighter. The tension you had carried for so long began to melt away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to simply be.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — EVENING

The evening air was warm as you stepped onto the terrace of the Water Gardens, the scent of citrus trees and the distant sound of trickling water surrounding you. Lanterns, hung delicately along the stone pillars, cast a soft glow over the long table where a simple yet elegant feast was laid out. The sky above was painted in soft shades of twilight, a backdrop of deep purples and golds that felt as if it had been created just for this moment.

Your dress—a light, flowing piece with intricate suns embroidered along the edges—shifted with the breeze, reminding you of the delicate balance between feeling exposed and free. You hadn’t quite made peace with showing so much skin, but here in Dorne, no one seemed to care about scars or imperfections. And for once, it was your own hesitation, not the eyes of others, that left you feeling vulnerable.

Oberyn was already there, seated at the head of the table, his eyes finding yours the moment you appeared. A soft smile tugged at his lips, warmth radiating from him in a way that set you at ease. He rose to greet you, his presence commanding yet intimate, making the vast expanse of the terrace feel smaller, more personal.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of charm and sincerity. He reached for your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Though I’m certain the gardens pale in comparison.”

You chuckled, trying to shake off the nerves that fluttered in your stomach. “I’m not sure I can compete with all this,” you gestured to the beauty surrounding you—the elegant table, the vibrant colors of the Water Gardens, the night sky overhead. “It’s like stepping into a dream.”

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pulled out a chair for you. “Then let’s make sure the dream is one you never want to wake from.”

As you sat, servants moved gracefully around you, pouring wine into delicate goblets and laying out platters of fruit, roasted meats, and bread still warm from the oven. You shifted in your seat, trying to absorb the sudden attention, feeling a little out of place despite Oberyn’s calming presence.

“Are you always treated like this?” you asked, glancing at him as one servant filled your cup.

“Only when I’m fortunate enough to be dining with such company,” Oberyn replied, his tone teasing. “Though I have a feeling you’ll soon grow used to the luxuries of Dorne.”

You smiled but couldn’t shake the underlying tension. “I’m not sure I ever will.”

Oberyn leaned in slightly, his eyes holding yours. “You don’t have to fit into any mold here. You’re not in King’s Landing anymore. You’re in Dorne, where people live as they are—unapologetically.”

There was something in his gaze that felt reassuring, a reminder that here, with him, you were free from the constraints of the past. You exhaled, the weight of the day lifting slightly from your shoulders.

The conversation between you and Oberyn flowed easily as the evening stretched on. The food was rich, the wine sweeter than anything you’d had in King’s Landing, and yet, despite the grandeur of it all, the simplicity of being in Oberyn’s company felt like the real gift. He spoke of Dorne with pride, recounting stories of its history, its people, and the beauty that stretched beyond the Water Gardens to the deserts and mountains.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his hand resting over yours, “I’ll take you to Sunspear. There is more for you to see, more than even the Water Gardens can offer.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with anticipation. “I look forward to it.”

As the night grew darker, and the lanterns flickered softly in the breeze, Oberyn leaned closer. “And tonight,” he whispered, “I’m just glad we’re finally here. Together.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom inside you at his words. No matter the uncertainty of what lay ahead, tonight felt like the start of something new—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined, just lived.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — LATE NIGHT

The walk to your chambers felt surreal, the weight of the evening's intimacy lingering in the air between you and Oberyn. The stars above cast a silver glow on the winding paths of the Water Gardens, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. Each step brought you closer to the privacy of your shared quarters, and with it, the quiet flutter of nerves began to stir in your stomach.

You’d been in his presence for hours now, sharing a meal, stories, and laughter, yet the intimacy of entering a room together felt like crossing an invisible threshold. This was the moment where things might shift, where you couldn’t help but wonder if something was expected tonight.

As Oberyn opened the door to your chambers, the room beyond was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. A massive bed with heavy, luxurious fabrics dominated the space, framed by stone walls adorned with intricate Dornish tapestries. The soft light of candles flickered across the room, casting warm, golden hues over everything. It was beautiful, intimate, a room meant for lovers.

Your heart raced as you stepped inside, your thoughts swirling as you tried to steady yourself. Oberyn, sensing your hesitation, moved behind you, his presence a steadying force. His fingers brushed your arm gently, grounding you in the moment.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting.

You turned to face him, biting your lip as your gaze met his. “It’s just... I know you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I don’t want to... disappoint you.”

Oberyn’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression softened. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Disappoint me?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “Do you truly believe that?”

You shrugged, feeling a little foolish now, but the thought had gnawed at you since the moment you’d entered the room. “You’ve always been... free. With others. I just—what if I’m not ready tonight? Will you... find your needs somewhere else?”

A small smile curved his lips, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “I won’t lie to you,” he began, his voice a murmur, “I’ve lived my life enjoying pleasure wherever it could be found. But you...” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “With you, I am content to wait. Because when it happens, it will be passionate, raw, and it will be worth every second of restraint.”

His words were like a soothing balm to your nerves, each one sinking into you, wrapping around your fears and quieting them. There was no pressure, no expectation—only the promise of something real, something deeper than just the physical.

“I don’t want you to do anything until you’re ready,” he continued, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “Your consent is more important to me than anything. And if tonight is just us, here in this bed, holding each other, that is more than enough.”

You exhaled, a wave of relief washing over you. “I’ve never been with anyone like you,” you confessed quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oberyn chuckled softly, his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close. “That’s because there is no one like me,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and soft against your skin, and you leaned into him, feeling the tension leave your body.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours. “But I promise you this—no matter how long it takes, no matter when you’re ready, I will wait for you. And when that moment comes, it will be ours.”

His sincerity left you breathless. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a tentative kiss. Oberyn responded instantly, his mouth moving against yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. His hand cradled the back of your head, deepening the kiss just enough to remind you of the passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior, but never pushing, never demanding more than what you offered.

You pulled back, breathless, your forehead resting against his as you smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the moment. “There is no need to thank me,” he murmured against your lips. “I told you, you’re in Dorne now. We take our time with everything worth savoring.”

A warmth bloomed inside you, a sense of peace and safety in his arms. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Oberyn whispered, guiding you toward the bed. He pulled back the heavy covers, and you slipped beneath them, the cool fabric against your skin a welcome contrast to the heat that still lingered between you. He joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close until your back was pressed to his chest, his body a comforting shield around you.

The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was the sound of Oberyn’s steady breathing and the warmth of his lips as he pressed one final kiss to your shoulder.

There's nothing that needs to happen tonight. You were exactly where you were meant to be.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell x fem!reader #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn nymeros martell #prince oberyn #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #got rewrite #got #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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mrzombielover · 10 months ago

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Hi could you please write some relationship headcanons for Tuco Salamanca? Both sfw and nsfw please :)

ohmy goshh anon u are wild for this tuco scaresssss me 😭

NSFW warning, toxic relationships, lotta drug use, canon typical violence (it’s tuco what do we expect)

SFW

When Tuco likes someone, he is all in. He is so obsessive and expects you to be 10000% loyal and devoted to him

He’s impulsive and spontaneous, will randomly insist on taking you on drives/trips at 3AM, especially when he’s high

fantasizes about taking you away to live on a ranch in mexico. if you don’t speak spanish, you’ll learn, no worries

reallyyyy wants a family. would go feral if he saw you interacting with his family- taking care of his grandparents, playing with his younger nieces/nephews- it makes him weak in the knees

likes to keep his work and domestic life separate. goes to great lengths to hide the ugly side of his work with you

of course, you know, but you’ll never have to see or meet anyone from his work if he can help it. you’ll never have to clean blood from his shirt or a carpet, he’ll take care of it.

fantasizes about protecting you 24/7. sleeps with a gun on the beside table just in case- and he’s never had to use it, but if it ever does he’s so prepared.

he knows the world is full of men who’d hurt you. who’d harass you, traffic you, drug you. he imagines himself taking care of it. shooting, strangling, breaking the bones of any scumbags who’d come near you.

on that note he is extremely jealous and possessive!!!

and you know he’s not all talk, either. would prefer if you didn’t witness it, but he’d happily violently take care of any guy who made you even remotely uncomfortable

has some lowkey stalker tendencies. not that he doesn’t trust you, just that he knows that being with him puts a target on your head. likes to tail you, it’s his idea of keeping you safe from a distance. plus, it’s kind of nice to see you naturally, whether you’re shopping or getting food or running- you just look so cute

has a surprising sweet side. yeah, he’ll manipulate and guilt trip and snap at you sometimes, but you gotta know he doesn’t mean it. when he wants to, he can totally spoil you. loves to throw his money at you, and see the look on your face when he buys you something you’ve really been wanting.

likes when you have to rely on him. it’s a bit twisted, but if you’re really drunk or high, or sick and weak, he’s happy to take care of you.

“aww, shh, chiquitita, it’s okay, i’ll take care of you, don’t worry your pretty head about it,”

NSFW

Insanely high sex drive. you can barely keep up! his hands are on you every chance he gets

loooooves high sex. would much prefer if you use, too, but it’s not vital. when he’s already on cloud fucking 9, adrenaline coursing through his veins, all he wants is you. to inhale your intoxicating scent as he pounds into you from behind.

so into rough sex. of course, he would never hurt you! but takes pride in the deep bruises left by his hands, the hickeys on your neck, bite marks on your collarbones, etc

could never be submissive i think. but he enjoys a struggle for power, he likes someone that can throw his energy back in his face, it keeps it interesting

remember when i said he really wants a family?? you guessed it he has a humongous breeding kink! doesn’t like cumming anywhere except inside you. then he pats your head and kisses your forehead and tells you you’ll be a wonderful parent

likes body worship, both ways. he knows he’s not going to heaven, but seeing you on your knees, begging for him comes pretty close. he always returns the favor, of course, his abuela taught him to be a gentleman

also very into overstimulation. partly stems from his insanely high sex drive. he just loves making you come completely undone for him, until your brain doesn’t work anymore and your legs are jello and you’re crying. he’ll lick your tears off your cheeks and tell you “just one more, i know you can do it,”

gives surpassingly good aftercare if he has the time. unless he had to make do with a quickie, sex with him lasts a looong time, and you’re both completely spent by the end. he likes to take baths after, he’ll massage your sore skin and tells you what a good job you did for him and how sweet you are

has this ultimate fantasy of fucking you while covered in the blood and brains of some inferior asshole who tried to hurt you in some way. he’ll show you how safe you are with him

#tuco salamanca x reader #am i a tuco fucker now?#anon you might’ve converted me #you know i love fucked up men #!not sfw #!my stuff #tw unhealthy relationship #breaking bad x reader #better call saul x reader #tuco salamanca

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pixaho · 11 months ago

Text

White Rascals With Girlfriends

♥ Pairing | White Rascals and girlfriends :> ♥ AU? No |

♥ Warnings | Mentions of violence, drinking, smoking, and NSFW stuff ;)

M.LIST H&L LIST

R☺CKY

♦ FIRST MEET

Rocky met you when he was doing dangerous jobs before forming White Rascals. You had been walking when you noticed a young man fighting a group of black-clothed people. Thinking he was in trouble, you grabbed a near by officer and pointed him to the group. Rocky would later thank you with a coffee and or tea.

♦ DATES

His date choices are usually a restaurant, a picnic, or at home dinner date. He knows how to cook so majority of your dates are at home. He only settles for a restaurant if its a special occasion or a picnic if its a nice day out.

♦ FIRST TIME

Your first time together was magical as Rocky made sure that everything would go to a decent plan. His mistake was honestly not all bad, as he forgot to turn off his phone while you guys were at it and it lowkey drove him insane with the absurd amount of texts from others.

♦ ARGUING

You and Rocky argue from time to time. This is typically about him overworking and spending more time fighting, which usually left him injured beyond your eyes. This can also be about him taking his anger out through other ways, such as using a punching bag and not noticing when you were there.

♦ JEALOUS

Rocky doesn't get really jealous but rather annoyed when he sees someone flirting with you and possibly making you uncomfortable. His whole motto is that the White Rascals don't harass or hurt women so he makes sure that the person who is making you seemingly uncomfortable, doesn't get to see the light of Club Heaven ever again.

♦ HOW YOU SLEEP TOGETHER

♦ HOW YOU KISS

K☺☺

♦ FIRST MEET

Surprise, you meet Koo at Club Heaven. You thought he was a butler until he introduced himself as the subleader of White Rascals. The only actual reason he had introduced himself to you was because you were drunk and asking questions, but you still remembered everything about him.

♦ DATES

Unlike Rocky, Koo isn't that great at hosting dates. This leads to him asking Rocky to then asking Kizzy and then finally just asking you what you wanted to do for date night because well he's not the brightest for dates.

♦ FIRST TIME

Koo is one of the only people to not make an entire mistake but rather a little one. He also doesn't rush around to make sure everything is comfortable and good because he prefers comfortable stuff anyways. His tiny mistake was breaking his hand before you guys did it. He had a cast on for the whole time.

♦ ARGUING

Arguments between you and Koo are rare but he has a calm personality and will search for any points to make things right. If he's wrong, he's quick to admit it. If he isn't, he tends to sit down and explain it. Bonus, if he is wrong, he'll let you paint his finger nails (only white but a pale pink or blue can be painted). (KOO IS BBG YOU CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE)

♦ JEALOUS

Silent jealousy type of person. He'll just death stare the person he's jealous of and then remember that he doesn't need to be jealous of them and they should be jealous of him because he has you. He will not let the person know he's jealous.

♦ HOW YOU SLEEP TOGETHER

♦ HOW YOU KISS

KIZZY & KAIT☺

♦ FIRST MEET

You ran into Kizzy whilst at a Library doing research for a paper. She was with Kaito and they seemed to have been getting something for Rocky. You already knew Rocky, you just didn't know the others so you strike up a conversation with them. You guys seem to get along even if Kaito seemed uninterested.

♦ DATES

Kizzy is the one who makes the dates and has the help of Kaito. Although they are very different people, they seem to coordinate everything very well, even with you. If they can't come up with an idea, they usually ask you what you want to do. If you keep your relationship a secret from the other gangs, they'll settle for movie cuddles. This is where you have a movie night and cuddle. <3

♦ FIRST TIME

Kizzy and you actually did it in a hot tub. You were both sober and just flirting, plus giggling. Kaito wasn't there for it but he didn't hear the end of it from Kizzy. She did make a mistake which was knocking the temperature a few degrees higher which made it feel like it was boiling hot. With Kaito, it was after you got home from a long day at work. He was in the bed room reading when you walked in and dropped everything to help you relax. Let's just say a massage went from a massage and turned into you guys fucking.

♦ ARGUING

Arguments between you three happen half the time. This is typically because of them getting hurt or leaving a container in the fridge that is empty. Kizzy is the first to apologize and make things right with Kaito being more stubborn, but Kizzy always makes him apologize somehow.

♦ JEALOUS

If you are even flirting with another person, Kaito is quick to grab you away and bring you where people won't flirt with you. He's the more jealous one out of the two as he doesn't like others touching what's his. Whereas Kizzy doesn't care as much, just as long as you are being safe.

♦ HOW YOU SLEEP TOGETHER

(Couldn't find 3 people sleeping so just imagine it's Kaito, Kizzy, and then you.)

♦ HOW YOU KISS

Kizzy ^ Kaito v

I know a lot of people might be upset by this, but I didn't include the last few White Rascal members because 1. You don't get much on them and even though we get to see Aizawa, Enari, Bito, and Shimura, you don't get enough of their actual personalities for me to write on. 2. As for the others (Heidi, Marco, Lassie, and Cosette) again not much information and I also didn't know how to write them with girlfriends. Maybe at some point I'll end up coming back and editing this or I'll make a part 2 where I finally come back and put Heidi, Marco, Lassie, and Cosette, but as for now I think I'm not going to do that. I don't mean to make people whose favorite characters are those 4 feel like I'm not showing or caring for them, it's just with characters with little screen time where you don't get much about them makes it hard. Thank you for understanding.

♥ Mutuals; @talusional @dillpick (since you like stalking my page haha! <3)

#elixirol0gy #high and low fanfic #high and low #highandlowfanfic #frothing at the mouth #highandlowsmut #fluff #high and low rocky #high and low kizzy #high and low kaito #high and low koo #highandlowwhiterascals #white rascals #whiterascals #high and low white rascals

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moonlit-imagines · 1 year ago

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Rekindled

Dick Grayson x Kyle!reader

warnings: guns/violence, death, brutality. like, the typical arkham game themes. not graphic, tho!! mostly mentions

a/n: this sorta takes place in the arkham knight storyline but you really dont have to know anything about that game to read this, i wanted to give enough detail bc i liked this idea and the arkham game fandom is under appreciated. also lowkey y/n is based on an oc but almost all my y/n’s are <3

prompt:

Gotham was on fire. You were dumb enough to stay behind. Selina had been MIA for longer than you were used to, and every effort of contact was futile. Last time this happened, she had been arrested and thrown into Arkham City, so it was needless to say that you were a bit worried.

Last thing she told you was that a “pretty worthless supervillain” needed her help with something, but she left it at that. Yeah, she had a habit of making herself scarce, but she was your only family and you two always kept in touch. And now that the evacuation was in effect, you felt even more uneasy.

You pulled on your suit, black leather and spandex hugging your body tighter as you zipped up. Pulled your gloves on, claws and all. Clicked the belt around your waist, equipping your small set of weapons and utilities. The headpiece was pretty simple, just some silly cat ears to match your aunt’s, along with the goggles for good measure.

Gotham was more dangerous than you’d ever seen, only delinquents like yourself roamed the streets. Except, they didn’t carry a code like you. Scarecrow caused a panic, this “Arkham Knight” had a personal vendetta to fill, the city was on its knees. Tanks were starting to load onto the islands, troops taking over buildings, and riots overwhelmed what little protection was left here. You knew a few places to go, but your best bet was the movie studios.

Panessa, Batman’s secret base with the Wayne name slapped right on the outside, it always made you smile when you saw it. You were hoping to find an ally inside, maybe someone who could help you find Aunt Selina.

And you may be thinking you’d just sneak inside like a lovely little cat burglar would, but why not try the front door. “Stray.” You spoke into the voice box and chuckled as the doors opened for you. “It’s like they were waiting for me to crawl on back.” You stepped inside and into the elevator and poked the down button, trusting the rickety old elevator to deliver you safely to the lower level.

When you stepped out, there was only one familiar face that wasn’t behind a pane of glass. Didn’t know Batman kept prisoners. “Y/N?” Robin asked from across the room, setting down his tablet to meet you halfway. “What the hell are you still doing in Gotham?”

“Selina’s missing and I didn’t want to leave without her. What’s…all this?” You motioned at the containment cells, starting to understand why there were prisoners when you noticed their Joker-esque features. The lot began to make trouble, beginning to harass and poke fun the same way that clown would.

“Ignore them. I’ll call Batman.” Tim told you. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. You already broke in.”

“Broke in?” You scoffed. “I used the door, actually. Still have my little voice thing activated. I just had to say my name and I walked in. Kind of rude to assume I just break in just because I happen to be a burglar from time to time.” You ranted and heard a chuckle from Robin just before Batman answered his call.

“He wants to talk to you.” Tim called you over, holding out his arm in an awkward way to you could talk to Bruce.

“Tell me everything, y/n.” Batman instructed.

“Hey, good to see you, too. Uhh, yeah, so Lina said she was hired by some loser supervillain to steal something they needed. That was basically all she told me before she left, been a few days. Can’t get ahold of her.” You explained, looking over at Tim and shrugging. “She considers most of the so-called ‘supervillains’ of Gotham ‘losers,’ though, so it doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“Okay. Stay at the movie studios. I’ll look into it.” Batman hung up just like that and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to leave either. This…” Robin motioned to the Joker lookalikes, “is what Joker left behind in his death. All that infected blood from Arkham City, it wasn’t all caught, and I have to find a cure.” Robin went back to his tablet and you sat on a nearby chair. “Catwoman tell you much about the City?”

“Only that it was a shithole and Two-Face is a loser.” You started scrolling through the computer before you, reading little lab notes here and there. “How’s Oracle?”

“She’s in the city, of course. Refused to evac, wanted to help, but no one expected anything less.” Robin noticed you snooping, but let you continue. “Nightwing’s okay, too.” Your eyes peeked to the side and your brows raised. “Well, not really. Ego’s bruised since Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy kicked his ass the other night.” You laughed out loud, quite amused by the news.

“Good, he probably needed it.” You leaned back in the chair. “You know, I could probably help out there.”

“I already tried, Batman said to stay here.” Tim sighed.

“I don’t work for Batman. Maybe I wanna go kick some ass and try to find my aunt.” You explained, only half-jokingly. If was only seconds after that projections of the Riddler showed up all over Gotham. “Oh, brother. Not this guy.” You groaned, watching Nygma go on about his plan until Catwoman appeared on screen, causing you to bolt up and out of your chair. You would have run for it now if not for his explicitly telling you to stay away.

“Oh, and Stray, dear? Keep away, please. This is for Batman and Batman only, and if you get too close I might just…oh, well, you know.” Riddler chuckled at the insinuation that he’d detonate the bomb around Selina’s neck. Robin looked to you, noticing you were completely flush as you watched the broadcast.

“Y/N, he’s won’t let Nygma do anything to her. Try to stay calm.” Tim tried to snap you out of it, which only caused you to transition from fear to rage, jumping up from the chair and pacing around to keep from hitting him.

“Just…shut up, T—Robin. Shut up.” Your claws were drawn and you were steadying your breathing before things got ugly for everyone. More taunts were thrown at you from the Joker-infected and you needed to get the hell out of here, so you headed for the elevator.

“Wait, hey! Y/N, you can’t go out there, it’s not safe.” Robin jogged up beside you, but you ignored him. “You can’t save her right now, Riddler is obsessed with besting Batman. You can’t interfere or it’s over.” You stepped into the elevator and just as you were about to press the button, “Dick is in the city.” You paused.

“Why do I care?” You rolled your eyes and watched Robin pull a wrist communicator from his belt.

“You care.” He handed you the comm. “You can call any of us with that. We have our locations on, too. Keep in touch.”

“Where is he?” You sheepishly asked, looking down at your boots. You knew Tim had a stupid, told-you-so smirk on his face.

“Near the docks, he’s working on something. He’ll probably need your help.” Your eyes sort of lit up when you heard that, but you quickly took yourself back to reality knowing Tim was just trying to make sure you weren’t alone out there. For Dick’s sake.

You were still considered apart pf the family, even if Selina and Bruce weren’t a thing at the moment and you and Dick had gone your separate ways. You still caught yourself thinking about Dick Grayson often, wondering what could have been, what you would have done differently, why you guys even chose to leave. Sometimes it made sense, sometimes you struggled not to pick up the phone.

But now you stood on the rooftop of Panessa Studios, looking out to a city in ruins. A city in need of saving. As much as you respected Bruce, there’s no way you believed he could do this all alone. And if he was going to save your aunt, maybe you should lend a helping hand in the meantime. You fiddled with the device on your wrist, trying to get the hang of the new model communicator until you found Nightwing’s contact programmed in. Clicking the button made your stomach drop, you froze up as the line rang.

This comm was given to you, but wasn’t updated in the system as yours, so Nightwing answered the message from Batcom #1 and was shocked to see your beautiful face waiting for his answer. “Y/N! Are you…are you still in Gotham?” Dick’s calling of your name was embarrassingly high-pitched, but he recovered it upon his question. “Please tell me you’re not here.”

“Dick, I’m wearing cat ears and my aunt is being held hostage at the moment, of course I’m here.” You sarcastically answered, just like he remembered. “Tim gave me this thing, said I could go help out if I wanted. Just have to stay away from Riddler stuff for the night.” You explained, showing the Panessa Studios sign in the background.

“Yeah?” You could see Dick’s smile, like he and Tim knew exactly how to plan and you just wouldn’t figure it out. But despite this cold, brutal night, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside when that smirk grew on his face, you knew he was happy to have this opportunity. “I kind of need a partner for what I’ve got going on, Penguin’s doing something shady down by the docks. Wanna join me?”

“I could get behind that.” He sensed a bit of flirtation in your voice. “Meet you there?”

“I’m already here, why don’t I meet you in the middle? It’s really bad out here…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, thinking he’d come on too strong.

“You’re worried about me?” You chuckled and he told himself his suspicions were true. “How sweet.” You began walking to the edge of the roof, beginning to plot your path to avoid any psychopaths that may try to murder or kidnap you. “It’s not that far, I’ll be fine.” You hung up on him and he took a deep breath. Seeing his ex, probably his first love, after a long, long hiatus, it probably freaked him out more that Gotham’s takeover right now.

You barely felt the nerves he did, you knew you had a certain power over him. Not that you’d like to use it, not like you used to. Getting away with petty little crimes with your charm until you finally gave him a chance, let him show you the other side of things. Betraying that trust would put you down the wrong path once again.

Dick waited patiently for you, staring at the rooftops you may travel across to try and spot you, completing ignoring the smoke and flames from below. Running into trouble up there wouldn’t be much of a problem, everyone was busy robbing stores and shooting each other on the ground. You’d heard about some freaky bodies strung up on rooftops, some more Riddler shenanigans hidden around the place. Honestly, it didn’t surprise you much. This was Gotham City, where anything could happen.

Soon you found yourself just a few more steps from your past. You and Nightwing, both masked, stood across from each other with only a gap between buildings between you. With a graceful leap, you swung above the road and landed right beside the vigilante, who was a bit too stunned to speak, but he was the famed Dick Grayson…he doesn’t stay quiet for long. “Nice landing.” His smooth voice made you smirk involuntarily.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” You rolled your whip up and clipped it back to your belt.

“Eh, you did…but I’m willing to forgive and forget.” He quipped in his nonchalant tone, same boy you’ve always known. “Bat bossing you around?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to stay at that run-down movie studio. I really wasn’t about it.” You sighed, looking down at the arms deal below. “But I guess you know the feeling a lot better than me. I never really listened to the guy, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” Nightwing chuckled, kneeling down by the ledge. “You’re my inspiration for breaking away. Always giving Bruce shit, not taking him seriously. He hated it.”

“Hated me?” You asked him, wide-eyed.

“Actually, I think it was the reason he liked you so much back then. Usually people see him as like, an authority figure.” Nightwing explained, still observing the Penguin goons below. “And the people who didn’t listen were usually still a little afraid of him. But you were just that ‘kid’ who never quite listened and didn’t quite care.” You chuckled at some old memories that came back to you with his words. Memories of awkward patrols and first encounters with Batman and the first Robin. You and him were so young back then. So young and so hopeless.

“So you’re saying he approved of me?” You teased with a taunting smirk and poked Nightwing in the arm, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes. “Oh, yeah, the big bad Batman approved of the poor little street cat.”

“Well, as close to approval as possible. He is still a hardass.” Nightwing realized in that moment how easy it was to fall into your old ways. No awkwardness, just two people who have a bond you can’t break with time. “So, uh, these guys down here.”

“Righttt, the Penguin guys. North Refrigeration, huh? Man, you’d think Oz wouldn’t be so predictable.” You remarked as a car sped past you on the street behind, shooting an automatic rifle into the sky, but you paid little mind to it. “Remember the Iceberg Lounge? He must really like the cold.”

“He’s definitely got a gimmick.”

“Don’t we all?” You pointed to the cat ears on your headpiece and you both burst into quiet chuckles. “Are we gonna go down there or what, Dickie?” Your nickname for him made his heart flutter.

“Bruce wanted me to wait, he’s got a plan.” Nightwing sighed. “I’m only listening now because of how insane it is tonight, but I wish he’d let us handle it ourselves. He needs a break.”

“I think we all do.” You crossed your legs on the concrete rooftop and wrapped your arms around them, looking past the illegal activities below and over at the city skyline across the water. “If we all make it out of here alive, I think it’s time I leave Gotham.” You stared in silence for a few moments, pretending not to realize Dick staring at your profile. “Wanna do my thing and not listen to Bruce?” You snapped out of it and raised your eyebrows in a playful way. “You can’t say no, it’s not in my nature to listen to big strong men.”

“You wanna go bother these guys down here? They’re just doing their jobs.” He joked, getting up to play your game.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.” You shrugged, nearing the edge of the roof. “Maybe I just wanna say ‘hi.’”

“Oh, well if that’s all you wanna do.” Nightwing stood beside you and you both took a quick leap from the building to the ground, startling the group of thugs and interrupting their very important work.

“Shit! Catwoman?” One of the thugs asked before getting punched in the gut by yourself.

“Hah, he deserved that! Rest of us know who you are, Ronnie’s just a dumbass.” Another thug assured you before Nightwing shocked him with an escrima stick. You both took turns knocking around these cronies until all of them were laid out across the ground, only ones left were hiding inside of the van beside you.

“That was fun.” Nightwing nudged you with his elbow as you walked side by side to the back of this van. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

“How about when we find their hideout?” You suggested, knocking on the van doors. They flung open and were shocked to see two vigilantes waiting for them, then desperately drove off just as you’d planned. Nightwing grabbed you by the waist, pulled you close, and used his grapple gun to bring you both back the the rooftops so you could easily follow the van without being spotted. It was a bit off-guard, being pulled in like that, but you didn’t mind at all.

After some time and a bit of flirty remarks here and there, you both made it to the Penguin’s hideout. “You sure you’re in? There’s a lot of people in there, we can still wait for Bruce.”

“Come on, Dickie. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” You tilted your head to have him come along with you and led him to an unconventional entrance. “It’s gonna be tons of fun, you’ll see.” You opened the rooftop vent and slid down first, crawling beneath the floor and estimating how many men you’d be going up against with your infrared goggles. Probably twenty or so, but you and Dick had trained together for a long time, it would all come back to you in an instant—you hoped.

The both of you popped out from the shadows and immediately started beating on these criminals, watching them all scramble to figure out how to react. “Told you, fun!” You called out to Dick, tossing a pair of bolas at a goon’s legs causing him to trip right into Nightwing’s roundhouse.

“Never doubted you for a moment!” Nightwing answered, pushing another thug your way so you could catch his arm with your whip, pulling his fist into his face. “Ouch! Why’d you do that, man?” Nightwing punched your victim once again. “Starting to think you like getting hurt.” The two of you continued throwing punches in sunch a calculated, synchronized way, catching a few as well. Once a thug managed to land a punch to your face, Nightwing was right to the rescue. “You okay?”

“Never better, baby.” You held your cheek and he worried you’d got a concussion for a moment before realizing you called everyone “baby.” Dazed, he also caught a punch to the back, knocking the final thug down with only his elbow. “That was it? That wasn’t even a challenge, that was a warm-up.” You told Dick, who was still kind of staring at you. “Hey, I told you I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled.

“It’s not that.” Dick chuckled. “It’s just, I’m thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What’d I say?” You kicked a guy’s arm away from your foot, wondering what Dick meant.

“About leaving Gotham…I’ve got an extra room at my place.” Dick shamelessly offered, but you could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“An extra room? Did you move apartments?” You raised a brow and saw his cheeks turn red under his mask.

“Uh, well…no.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I have extra room in my bed, though…if you’re down.” You stared at him, shocked and expressionless. Not many people could do that to you. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t expect anything out of you, but y/n, I want you in my life again.”

“…What?” You quietly answered him, still dumbfounded by the sudden proposal. You absolutely loved seeing him tonight, and you loved fighting beside him, and you loved him. It was like everything was coming back together.

“I left Gotham, I left everything behind. I left you behind. And I know that was both of our decisions, but if you’d just leave Gotham with me tonight, after all of this is over, I’d like to start over with you however you’d like.” Dick and you stood below these dim string lights in this criminal base surrounded by beaten foes, piles of money, and loads of firearms. A hell of a place for a romantic speech like this. “I just realized how much I was missing without you. And all the dangers of tonight, and you and I getting stuck here. I don’t want to be apart again, y/n.” He confessed to you.

You both quietly stood there a moment, not knowing what to do. You were still sweating from the fighting that had concluded a few minutes ago. Still breathing heavy with a fast heartbeat, but now for a new reason.

You said it yourself, you wanted to leave. Tonight solidified that decision. And Selina would understand. You were a Stray, you went where it was good for you, and maybe Blüdhaven would be good for you. It wasn’t on fire nearly as much, didn’t have as many supervillains, wouldn’t give you a target on your back.

And it had him.

And he was offering you everything.

And without another thought, you took a few paces forward into his arms and pulled his face in for a deep kiss, hands carefully cupping his cheeks as not to scratch them. Dick was surprised at first, but couldn’t resist what he’d been wanting since he left for Blüdhaven. He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly kissed you back, the passion was still there. Both of you felt it.

You pulled away slightly and gazed into his eyes, both smiling stupidly from the kiss. “Does this mean you’ll come with me? Please say it does.”

“Yeah, Dickie, I’ll come with.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #batman arkham games #batman arkham knight #batman arkham knight imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine

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youremyheaven · 6 months ago

Note

on the topic of malefics and sensuality, i'm martian and unsurprisingly celibate. but one thing that i think is unique to martian celibacy is hating men and let me tell you... i sure do 😭 i've had a few experiences as a teen that were like okay at best but as i've gotten older i find men so disgusting and stupid and quite frankly sinister that i just cannot bring myself to even flirt with them. i think there probably is a man out there who won't make me feel this way (venusian munch man if you can hear me please save me) but in the meantime me and my misandrist martian friends (i'm like a mars magnet) are gonna be locked UP

and also, i have mrigashira moon and i think that mrigashira specifically makes you fantasize about romance/sex a lot but not wanting to actually do it. my mrig rising and venus friend feels the same way! we both spent our teen years on wattpad 24/7 😭 mrigs love escapism and fantasy!

omg BBG you spilled 💅🏼

I've noticed the man hating tendency with many Martian women lmaooo, everytime I hear it, I do feel a bit shook ngl, it's like Saturn men hating women

Venusian man save me is so realllll 😩😩😭🤣

Honorable mention for Jupiter men (esp Vishaka) they're the sweetest guys except they're kinda sexless (except Vishaka) they're romantic but not sexual??? If that makes sense??

My friend dated a Vishaka Moon man for a year and he apparently never ever touched her 😭😭😭and she thought it was because he found her unappealing lmao (dating within the Indian context means a man who doesn't touch before marriage is a good man etc so she felt too "slutty" to ask him for anything bc most men are sleazy and would've tried to pull something and him not doing so meant he was a decent guy and she was the problem 💀🤡)

I'd say Venus & Jupiter men are the ones who know how to treat women right 😌😉 (obviously how evolved they're as individuals also matter, there are sex addicted Venusians and party everyday, constant thrill chasing Jupitereans)

Lmaoo the Mrigashira fantasizing about sex and never actually wanting to do the deed is so true. My 60yr old aunt (Mrigashira Moon) has been separated from her husband for like 20 years (and she's thrived as a girlboss ever since) and she often talks about finding a handsome man etc 😌😏🤤 for her company but when my dad says "okay let's try matrimonial sites and find a guy for you 😌🫶🏼" she's like "🤮🤢🤢EWWW"

A gang of Martian misandrists is so funny 😭🤣😳😶‍🌫️💀🤣😭 I feel like Martian women are so unimpressed with me bc I seem like a deranged lover girl to them lmao,, my friend in college had Mars in Mrigashira atmakaraka and she literally acted like my mom and shooed away any man who approached me (since many of them were creepy, I was grateful for it ngl) but the WAYYY she spoke about guys always felt a bit unhinged to me like ??? it can't be normal to walk around with this much rage and angst ??? And I always tried to gauge if there was something in her past that made her this way 😔😶‍🌫️😶 but girlie never dated, never had a crush, never went near a man, was never assaulted/harassed/abused by men etc so I figured it must just be a hating Indian men thing bc who can blame her for that 😔🤡💀she did however feel like her dad was a patriarch with a misogyny issue but that's just every brown dad tbh :/// everytime I told her about a crush or about something some guy told me 🤪😜, she'd start the character assassination on him and make him sound like the worst person to have ever lived ,, and then lowkey make snide remarks that made me feel stupid for having my moment of fun😔like damn ma chill outtttt, I'm not having his babies!!!! We had a very homoerotic friendship so I feel like there's that as well 😬😶‍🌫️😬

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girlboybug · 1 year ago

Text

Crush

"he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds."

what's playing 🎧: crush by ethel cain

pairing : bfd!joel x reader (no outbreak au)

word count : 14k (oops)

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, heavy petting, grinding, fingering, handjobs, references to m!masturbation, unprotected sex, creampies, light dirty talk, riding, soft dom!joel, but also switch coded joel if u squint, slight angst kinda sorta

TRIGGER WARNINGS : lowkey dubcon just bc of the power imbalance that comes with the age gap but everything is consensual as always. joel knew the reader when they were 4, 16 years have passed so now they're 20! brief mentions of messy home life and brief descriptions of verbal sexual harassment

A/N : i've been dying to write bfd!joel, and when i heard crush i knew what i had to do lolol. so sorry this took ages, it wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are lol. i hope you guys enjoy <3 comments really motivate me, so if you liked it plz lmk in the comments :3

your eyes continually drift over to the time glowing in the corner of the screen on your register, wondering when joel was supposed to swing by. you pray that he hasn’t forgotten his promise to your dad of checking out your air conditioner to see what needs to be repaired.

the tiny fan that sits beside your half drinken water bottle does little to nothing, and it only adds insult to injury.

you think back to last night at dinner, in your air conditioned home, about the ‘exciting’ news your dad had to share. he rattled on about how he ran into an old college buddy and family friend, joel miller down at the pro bass shop—and of course it was at the pro bass shop.

after a few jogs of your slightly depleting memory, you finally, somewhat, remembered a face to the name. you vaguely joined in with your parents’ reminiscing of how he used to come over with his little girl sarah for play dates, and occasionally babysitting you when your parents went out on their date nights.

they also were quick to tease you about your little crush on him, one you swear you can’t remember, which in your defense, you really don’t, and desperate to change the subject, you asked about his wife, which only worsened the allegations of your crush on him.

“goin through a divorce, it’s actually why he moved back here, but i’m sure you’re happy to hear that,” your dad snickered with a little nudge, and you wanted to bury your face in the steaming mashed potatoes on your plate.

once you managed to wrangle them out of the conversation of your alleged feelings towards the man you barely remembered, it was briefly mentioned that he’d be coming by today to check out your broken down air conditioner at the store your parents owned and operated.

you’re the cashier there, unwillingly of course, but it helps pay for your very expensive books you need for your classes, so it’s not a total issue. however, as you blanky look around the empty sweltering convenience store, you honestly consider closing up early and ubering home to soak in a nice, cold shower.

the bell that hangs from the door rings at the front entrance, but you’re too tired and worn down by the heat to say your usual greeting, instead deciding to just remain slumped in your small wooden stool, aimlessly trying to angle your mini fan at the most optimal point of your face.

your peripheral view catches a navy blue hued shirt, and your head lifts upwards to get a better look in case it’s a customer.

your eyes fall onto an older man smiling down at you, crossed arms bulging from behind his short sleeves. something bubbles in the very pit of your stomach. “mr. miller?” you ask, slightly unsure, but he nods, chuckling when his arms drop to his sides. “heya hun, it’s been awhile, how are you?” he leans in for a hug, and you suddenly don’t feel the sweat that’s been stuck to your skin for the past three hours as you rise to your feet and off the stool to meet his arms that come around your waist. you manage to stutter a response of, “i’m good, and you?”

“doin’ alright,” he says through a grin– oh god, his grin is so pretty, you think you almost see a cartoonish sparkle glint in his teeth from the fluorescent lighting.

your stomach bubbles up the more you take him in, and oh no. the worst possible thing just came to fruition.

your parents were actually right.

he pulls back, hands still on the backs of your arms as he takes a moment to really look at you. “you’re so grown up now honey, i remember when you were just this big,” he holds a hand just below his hip and you join in his light laughter, feeling those fluttery feelings you felt all those years ago rush to your chest and tummy like a dormant volcano erupting.

he hasn’t aged a bit, maybe a few more wrinkles here and there, and the crows feet beside his eyes deepen more now when he smiles, along with the grays that take the place of where some strands of brown used to be. but he’s just as beautiful as your fuzzy memories, if not more.

“y-you look exactly the same,” you chuckle nervously, trying to not give in to the magnetic pull tempting your eyes in the direction of his chest and abdomen. he grows a little bashful, glancing away for a moment before he replies, a little pinker in the cheeks than before. “i definitely don’t weigh the same, sweetheart,” he sighs playfully, patting his stomach.

you hear the traces of slight disappointment in his words and it saddens you. you shake your head, feeling even warmer under the heavy feeling from his eyes blanketing over you while you frown ever so slightly. “i think you look great.” you say truthfully, feeling nervous as soon as the words part from you, worried he might think you’re too forward, but instead he smiles again, looking down at his boots.

“you’re too kind.” he grins, looking back up at you, his fingers running along the side of his beard. you feel flushed, glancing away from his smiles.

“goddamn, it is hot in here,” he pinches at his shirt, pulling it back and forth to get a slight breeze. you nod vigorously, plopping back into your stool, fanning yourself once more. “i can show you were the ac’s at,” you offer, and he agrees.

you guide him to the useless machine, eyeing it down with an irritated look, as if it were alive, and purposefully broken down to spite you.

he walks over to it, bending down to its level and you balance on your heels awkwardly, overthinking on if it’s the correct social etiquette to say anything right now.

“hmm, lemme get my belt from the truck, i’ll be back hun,” he nods at you, sending you a smile before he disappears out the store and back to his truck.

when you’re sure he’s out of view, you curl in on yourself, holding your face and opening your mouth to let out a silent scream.

all it took was seeing him for two seconds, for a crush you didn’t even remember existed until last night to come back immediately.

when he returns, he sends you a smile before he goes right to work, setting up shop beside the air conditioner, toolbelt wrapped around the alluring circumference of his waist.

you imagine what it’d be like if it were your hands instead of the worn down leather that envelops him, how his skin would feel in your palms and jesus, you are being so creepy right now.

he talks while he works, listing about all the things wrong with the ac, jokingly calling your dad a cheapskate for not being willing enough to upgrade to a functioning one that wasn’t manufactured before you were born. and of course, you laugh, leaning against a counter, hoping he just so happens to turn to the side to spare you a glance and notice that you look effortlessly sexy.

he mainly keeps his focus on the task at hand but, you keep hoping he turns to look over at you at some point.

no customers have come in yet, and for once you are eternally grateful for a slow day.

your eyes trail from his biceps, down to his strong forearms, they look safe, secure, like they could hold you and keep you locked in, and his hands…god his hands.

they’re long, and big. his wide palms that splay across the side of the ac make the machine somehow look small in comparison. his fingers are so skillful, prodding and working at the screws and confusing bits you didn’t even know were a part of the contraption — but honestly the mechanisms of the ac are not what you care about right now.

you care about how it would feel if it were your sides, your hips, being touched and caressed instead of the machine, and how his big strong hands could hold onto them, grip them, squeeze them tight like a real man would.

you notice the way he swipes his forearm across his forehead, clearing away the sweat that beads over the skin, feeling bad that he’s doing so much manual labor in such terrible conditions.

you depart from your shared space for a moment, padding towards the refrigerators stocked full of drinks.

you return to him, tapping his shoulder and smiling brightly when he looks at you, eyes darting down to the cold root beer in your hands. “for you. least i can offer while you work,” you beam and he chuckles, switching some weight onto his left foot, his hand resting on his hip when he graciously takes the bottle from you.

“well thank you hun,” he tips his head at you, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

you watch the way his lips curl around the rim, how his hand just about swallows the entire bottle and the way his adam’s apple bobs while he drinks. you have to fight back the urge to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate the tingly feeling spreading inside you.

“how’d you remember i like root beer?” he asks, eyes peering at you with a warm surprise, his fingers twisting the screwdriver into the side of the ac.

you hop up onto the counter beside him, swinging your legs while you shrug. “just randomly came to mind i guess,” he turns to look at you, taking note of the way his eyes land on your bare legs first before they flicker back up to your eyes. you feel a little cocky about that.

“always were a helpful girl,” he says, and you just about glow at his little compliment, folding a leg over the other while you rest on your palms, trying to hide how big your smile grows.

“thank you,” you say quieter, shyer than you mean to.

you two converse a bit longer, and you decide to sneakily flip the open sign to closed in the window while you listen to his responses.

the topic of college is brought up, and you respond to his questions about how it’s going, what you’re majoring in, and you answer, creative writing, feeling flushed when he pauses his work to smile at you.

“an’ you know what, you always were a storyteller when you were young, i bet you’ve only gotten better since,” he says wistfully, fondly imagining you typing away and creating stories he’d happily read all about.

he’s not a big reader, but for you? he could be.

when he finishes up, he calls you over, turning the knob on high and watching as the ac releases what sounds like a guttural groan before a gust of icy air greets your bare arms.

you gasp and squeal in delight over no longer being slowly cooked to death in your parent’s mini mart.

“thank you mr. miller you’re literally the best,” you gush and he waves you off, gathering his tools as he nears the register.

“ahh don’t worry ‘bout it. i’m happy to do it. ‘specially if ya had anyone else do it for you, i know you’d get charged damn near an arm and a leg,” he rests his hands on the counter and your eyes trace over his long fingers while you make your way beside him. you feel giddy when you notice the tan line on his ring finger.

a reminder of the fact that he’s single now.

you just nod, holding back from saying something along the lines of how you’d be more than happy to pay him for this service with a…different kind of service of your own in return.

“so how much was the root beer hun?” he asks, flicking through the bills in his wallet. you immediately shake your head, ignoring his protests of accepting a free drink.

“no that was on the house mr. miller, i will not take your money,” you say stubbornly and he squints at you, huffing in defeat. “you sure? don’t want you gettin’ in trouble with your folks if they find out you’re out here givin things away for free now,” his hands settle on his hips and he gives you a playfully testing look, still managing to cause a flurry of emotions to ripple inside your lower tummy.

“who’s gonna tell them?” you counter, voice lowering just a little, eyes following in suit as you stare up at him.

his soft chuckle fades between his parted lips at the shift in your demeanor. his jaw comes down for a second before his lips curl to the side. “alright, thank you sweetpea,” he concedes just an octave above a murmur.

“is there anything else you wanted to get? because in all seriousness, they’d probably get more upset at me for actually charging you instead of just letting you have it for free.” you say truthfully, feeling positive that your dad wouldn’t mind joel taking a few things home free of charge.

he holds out that big hand of his, chuckling when his gaze shifts to the ground before it rests back over on you. “nah s’alright hun, root beer was already mighty gracious of you,” but you’re not buying it, you head behind the register, arms extending along the expanse of the wall of products, pretending to sell the items like you’re showcasing the prizes on a game show.

“you suuure? anything you want, completely free,” you offer temptingly and his lips collect themselves to the side of his mouth, chuckling mutedly, a little shake of his head as he watches you.

“alright,” he leans forward, and you feel your throat get a little tight at his ministrations, suddenly noticing the slight glimmer of a chain hidden beneath his shirt.

“can you get me that pack of marlboro reds behind you hun?” he points at the carton of cigarettes, and for some reason his request makes your stomach get tight.

you think back to how not even a day ago you rambled about your visceral dislike for boys, discarding them as a waste of time — but joel isn’t a boy. he’s a man, and may the version of yourself who existed moments before he came in, forgive you for being a melted pile of hypocritical mush he’s managed to turn you into in the span of less than two hours.

you can hear your mother’s scoff in your head as you find yourself feeling giggly at his choice of a freebie. it’s just so. manly.

he’s so manly.

you hand him the carton and he pockets it, not before taking a cigarette out, deciding to indulge early. “thank you sweetpea,” he smiles, cigarette already being placed between his lips.

“no problem,” you nod with a grin. he eyes the closed sign before he looks at you once more with a knowing smirk. “closing early i see,” he pointedly nods at the sign and you shrug with a sheepish little smile, neither confirming nor denying the notion.

“lemme guess—folks won’t mind? and would actually be more upset if you didn’t close up early?” he teases, and it almost feels like flirting. you decide to tell yourself it is. so you play along, rolling your eyes and waving your hand dismissively with an equally teasing ha. ha. ha laugh.

“it’s been a slow day, so no, they actually won’t mind, for your information,” you fold your arms, wriggling your face blithely. he chuckles, lighting his cigarette, taking a drag before he continues. “d’you need a ride home then hun?” he asks, genuinely offering and you have to forcibly give yourself a moment to pause before immediately yelling an overly enthusiastic YES PLEASE.

“are you sure? you’ve already done a lot for me today,” you act a little bashful, mostly because you are, but you also are attempting to hide the excitement bubbling inside you at the thought of being alone with him in his truck.

he shakes his head, exhaling the smoke from his lips silently, unknowingly entrancing you. “ts’ not a problem at all, cmon,” he motions his head towards the door and you trail along like a lost puppy.

you lock up the door behind you before you’re greeted by the sight of joel holding the passenger seat open for you.

your face gets hotter than it was before he fixed the ac at the sight of his chivalry, pretending to curtsy with your invisible dress before you climb into his truck, mumbling a shy thank you, as he safely closes the door behind you.

he hops in, and you read your address out for him as he turns the keys in the ignition.

it’s a little silent for awhile, but it’s okay, you’re content stealing glances at him, hiding behind the fist that supports the weight of your tilted head, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes cast over him adoringly.

he’s so beautiful. you definitely had taste as a kid.

he even looks strong, and not in an annoying machismo way, but in a natural, humble way. a kind way.

you want to touch his broad shoulders, kiss your way down his biceps to his forearms and down to each and every finger of his. you want to kiss away all the callouses and take care of him the way he deserves.

you can’t believe you’re daydreaming about him in such a way right in front of him, especially since it’s the first time you’ve seen him in about 16 years and this is how you react.

oh well.

the contrast of grey in his soft looking brown hair is so complementary, you hope he hasn’t turned into one of those guys that put dye over it, because frankly you think the natural look suits him quite well.

you drift your stares down to his strong hooked nose, admiring how charming it is. you want to trace your finger tip down the slope of it, and uh oh he’s looking at you.

you can’t be too obvious in your actions, despite the fact that you already are, so you just smile instead of whipping your head around in the opposite direction like you wish you could. “can i try?” you ask, motioning towards his cigarette, trying to play off the situation as to not expose the real reason why you were staring.

he just chuckles under his breath, his smile lingering when he turns to look back at the road. “that’s ahh, not really a good habit you wanna get yourself into sweetpea.” he says with a small shake of his head.

you almost give up right there, but you decide to push just a little further. “it won’t be a habit, i just wanna see the appeal is all,” you turn in the seat to fully face him, smile growing when he leans his head towards you in a jokingly exasperated tilt. he says your name warningly, and you deflate for a moment, worried he may actually be annoyed with you.

you don’t say anything else and he notices, feeling bad at your silence. he sighs with guilt, wanting to remedy the incorrect thoughts you have of him being upset at you as he hands you the cigarette. you instantly perk, taking it into your own fingers. “careful now. you might choke, waters right there in the cup holder if it burns. don’t inhale it too long,” he instructs, watching you from the corner of his eyes to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

you wave away his worries, placing the stick between your lips, feeling warm all over when you get a thought that says it’s kind of like we just kissed through the cigarette.

you inhale, hold it in for a few passing seconds before you’re proving his warnings correct, coughing loudly and not flatteringly whatsoever.

you try to face away from him, your eyes beginning to water and your throat burning worse than when you smoked from a very suspicious wax pen. the last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

he brings a hand behind your back, rubbing it soothingly as he sighs to himself, feeling a tinge of guilt for letting you smoke.

“easy honey easy, drink some water,” he hands you the bottle of water and you down it, blinking away your tears as you hand him back his cigarette. “that was so embarrassing i’m so sorry,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“s’alright honey, least now i bet you really won’t wanna make this a habit now right?” he asks, hoping you confirm your aversion to cigarettes. you instead choose to tease him a little, humming a contradictory response to his question. he squints at you and you giggle. “i dunno, might have to try again so i can really make sure.”

he taps the ashes out the window, laughing at your reply. “you’re gonna get me in trouble with your dad there hun f’he finds out i turned his daughter into a little chain smoker,”

you slide your hands under your thighs, watching him for a moment before you speak. “i won’t tell if you don’t,” you repeat yourself from earlier, alluding to something else, hoping he reads your mind and understands your allusions.

he purses his lips in a slight upward furl, looking at you once he’s reached a red light. “someone’s gotten a whole lot sneakier since the last time i saw her,” you laugh, leaning into the headrest while you look at him. “a lots changed since,” you say, voice falling quietly and he holds your stare, his eyes betraying him by clearly darting down to your lips. the red light switches back to green, forcing him to look away from you.

your chest bloomed at the way he looked at you in that moment, unsure if you’re delusional in even considering the possibility he maybe could reciprocate the attraction you’re feeling. but a little delusion never hurt anyone anyways.

“it sure has,” he agrees, the corner of his eyes taking in your figure once more.

but he shakes the thought from his head, almost rebuking it and instead deciding to change the subject. “can’t fault you too much though. sarah’s the same way sometimes,” he says through a chuckle that sounds nervous — did you make him nervous?

again, you tell yourself you did.

you sit up straight at the mention of sarah, visibly growing excited. “oh my god sarah, how is she? it’s been so long, i’m sure she doesn’t remember me,” blurred memories of playing with plastic makeup sets, and real makeup you two ‘borrowed’ from her mom, replay in your mind at the mention of her.

he shakes his head, disagreeing at your slightly saddened thought of being forgotten by sarah. “she’s good, she’s in school just like yourself, and she does remember you hun! matter a fact, she’s home right now, if you’d like, you can come over for dinner and catch up with her,” you clap your hands together excitedly, nodding happily at his suggestion.

“yes! that sounds amazing, i would love to!” you accept and he smiles at the thought of his two girls sitting together talking at the dinner table.

“i’m sure she’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you,” he squeezes your knee and you go still, frozen in place when you feel the heat from his palm radiate into your skin.

his touch is gone too soon, you want to hold his wrist and keep him there, but you pretend his fleeting touch doesn’t affect you as strongly as it actually does.

the heat from his skin has become yours and you cradle it, pretending you’re not beaming in his passenger seat from it while he talks.

“i’m kinda nervous, it’s been so long,” you say, pressing the backs of your fingers to your cheeks and feeling the warmth of nervousness flush to the surface of your face.

“don’t be sweetpea, nothin to be nervous about, i promise,” he comforts your nerves with a soft voice, and you allow it to cushion you.

—

joel was right about two things.

you really did have nothing to worry about, you and sarah clicked right away as if no time had passed. she squealed when she saw you, racing towards you and enveloping you in a tight hug, rambling about how she’s missed you so much. it felt good to know you were never forgotten in her mind.

he was also right about sarah being sneaky.

or rather ‘persuasive’ and ‘just so happens to forget to mention certain things’ as she would put it.

she managed to convince both joel (which didn’t take much convincing to begin with) and your dad to let you sleep over, which you were ecstatic about for obvious reasons but also because she saved you from having to scramble for a reason as to why you closed up the shop early.

you’re in her bed now, sitting behind her while you help gather her hair into her baby pink bonnet, talking about anything and everything there is to talk about. while also getting ready to sleep off the high from the wax pen she has hidden under her pillow.

“i can’t believe you’re really here with me right now,” she grins as you move back in front of her, leaning into her opening arms.

“i know, me too, it’s been so long,” you hum, rubbing her shoulders. “i’m kidnapping you by the way, this was all just an elaborate scheme to lure you in.” she mentions casually and you laugh, falling back into her bed with her while you rest your head on her shoulder.

“fine by me,” you say, and you mean it, but you don’t add that in.

“i’m happy you’re here,” she whispers, her nose scrunching up against yours. you smile, holding your forehead to hers. “i am too.”

“are you busy tomorrow?” she asks, pulling the blankets over your bodies. you shake your head, curling under the covers. “nah, we’re closed tomorrow at the store and i don’t have school that day,” you say, feeling pure adoration as you watch sarah’s smile grow the more she listens to you talk.

“why don’t we spend the day together then! my dad’s gonna be at work so we’ll have the house to ourselves,” she whispers as all the excitement from the day starts to add weight into your bones, easing you both into rest.

you nod and smile sleepily, leaning into her arm that drapes over your side. “okay, i’ll call my dad tomorrow,” you yawn and she closes her eyes at that, content by your answer.

—

it’s 3am. you should not be awake. but you are, and you’re looking over at sarah, wishing you were fast asleep like she is. you carefully peel yourself out of her arms, gently covering her with the blankets before you pad out of her room and down into the kitchen for some water.

you tiptoe down the stairs, your heart sinking nervously right into a tight spot inside your stomach when you see the fridge door agape, with a broad back sticking out of it, also in search of something to drink.

joel rises and turns to see your stilled figure standing awkwardly, staring forward like you’ve just gotten caught stealing.

he chuckles, scratching a few lazy fingers down his stubble when he shuts the fridge. “what’re you doin up sweetpea?” he asks, and oh god his voice is nice and gravely, a rasp from the depths of sleep that he evades every night careens around your ears and you nearly fold at the knees.

“just uh, randomly woke up and i couldn’t go back to bed. was just gonna get some water, sorry,” you sound meek and joel shakes his head, and walks closer. you panic a little. it’s a good panic.

“nuthin’ to be sorry about hun, i’ll getchu some water,” he holds your arm, smiling softly down at you, nodding at you for confirmation. once again his touch abandons the skin of your upper arm when he leaves to fetch a cup for your water.

your hand graces the skin he touched as you watch him pour you water. he hands it to you, and you thank him quietly, taking a sip from the old plastic disney princess cup he picked out for you.

“so what woke you up? you feelin’ alright?” he murmurs, coming in close again to press the back of his hand to your forehead. you weren’t overheating until he decided to do that.

you swallow hard, shaking your head beneath his hand. “n-no no—well i mean yes, yes i’m-i’m okay, i just wake up randomly at odd hours of the night for some reason sometimes,” you say hushedly, afraid to disturb the peaceful silence the night brings.

he nods understandingly, withdrawing his hand from your face and you want to tell him he can keep it there, but you mentally digress.

“happens to me too,” he sighs, visibly tired with a hand lazily running down his stubble. “sorry you’re goin’ through it too then hun,” his thumb runs a small circle over your shoulder comfortingly and your body molds around the curve of his fingers.

“it’s okay,” you mumble shyly and he smiles softly, his touch stalling on yours before it drops back to his side. the air that fills the quiet kitchen turns into something warm and calming when it floats between your tired bodies, and it feels nice. feels domestic. soft smiles mirror each other on your faces and you look away, unable to handle the weight of his stare.

“so, do you um…do anything that helps you fall asleep?” you ask curiously, mostly just trying to make conversation to keep him tethered to you, even for just a moment longer.

he scratches his scruffy beard and sighs, nodding like he’s somewhat ashamed to admit. you grow curiouser, deciding to test the waters and inch in just the tiniest bit closer. “and what do you do?” you question through a whisper.

“i smoke,” he responds just as hushed and you chuckle. “sounds like you’ve got a bad habit.” you prod, lightly teasing and he takes the playful jab, chuckling along with you.

“well, we’ve all got our vices,” he smiles at you in a way that's playfully guilty, and you roll your eyes with the same playfulness before speaking again. “was i stopping you from taking a smoke?” you ask, and he shakes his head, denying the notion. “no no, and if you were it’d probably be for the best,” he shrugs and you grin. an idea occurs in your mind.

“can i smoke with you again?” you ask bravely and the volume in his laugh rises before he’s silencing himself so as to not wake sarah.

“ain’t happenin’, shouldn’t have even happened the first time,” he immediately shoots down your request but you have a sneaking suspicion you’ll wear him down.

“but you said it helps you go to sleep,” you counter with a pout and he sighs with faux exasperation.

“hun,” he says warningly again, eyeing you in a way that pins you where you stand. “first time seein’ you in what? 15 to 16 years and i’m already becomin’ a bad influence on you.” he says amusedly, his fingers dipping into the pocket of his plaid pajama bottoms, tracing over the curve of the loose cigarettes that await him.

“it’s not like you’re giving me hard drugs mr. miller,” you say, tilting a shoulder at him persuasively. his eyes trace over your face for a few passing seconds, taking in the way you look back at him before he decides what to do next.

“last time, understand? just to help you sleep.” he says, but it sounds like he’s more so reminding himself than he is you.

“okay,” you smile, following him to the loveseat that faces the window, and you assume this is where he usually smokes.

he cracks open the window, and sits down into the plump cushion, leaning against the very texan quilt that drapes over the seat. you sit down on the arm of the seat, stretching your legs above his knees, the closeness in proximity feels so personal, and you want to live the rest of your life in this quiet and intimate hour with joel.

he hands you a cigarette, watching you put it between your lips, his available hand straying off to the side to grab the lighter that’s on the tray beside the loveseat.

he flicks the lighter on and your faces become illuminated by the small flickering flame. he looks beautiful as he carefully lights the end of it, his eyes on the bud of it while your’s memorize each and every wrinkle that crinkles around his eyes.

“inhale, careful now,” his words of concern blanket over you and pave a smooth passageway for the smoke to enter into your lungs, successfully preventing you from breaking out into another coughing fit.

you inhale, and keep it before you fan it out the window. he smiles and pats your ankle that rests beside his lap. “there ya go,” he nods the crown of his head at you proudly. you bow humbly, handing him the cigarette.

“feels nice. makes me feel warm,” you mumble tiredly, watching the way he takes a drag effortlessly. “don’t get too used to it now,” he chides, words shadowed amidst the mist of his smoke.

“i won’t,” you reply with a knowing smile as he goes to hands it back to you. he pulls his hand that holds the cigarette back, eyeing you. he says your name in that tone and you wave him off, taking the cigarette from his fingers. “kidding,” you remedy his worries of your possible nicotine addiction in the nearby future, inhaling another drag.

you two go back and forth like this for awhile, until the cigarette becomes an unrecognizable little stub,

“feel sleepy yet?” he exhales through a fanning breath, and you nod, watching him flatten the bud into the ashtray beside his side of the armrest.

“good,” he yawns, lazily running a hand across the side of his beard. “got a long day tomorrow — or today technically, an’ so do you little miss, try an’ get some rest.” he drawls softly, sleepily, and you nod your tired head at his words, free falling into them.

“goodnight sweetpea,” he says with a gentle finality, leaning in to hold you by the back of your head, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. you crumble into his touch, shutting your eyes as if to fossilize yourself in the moment.

“goodnight,” you whisper, feeling cold when he pulls away. you wish you had thought of something more to say, anything at all that would’ve kept him in your presence for just a little longer, but now you’re stuck sitting alone in the living room, watching his broad back ascend up the stairs, wishing you were trailing behind him, with your hand in his.

you finish the rest of your water before you’re trudging back up the stairs, the weight of exhaustion lowering its heft onto your shoulders with each step upwards.

and as you crawl back into bed with sarah, despite the attempts to push the thoughts away, all you can think about are the ways in which her father could tire you out until you fell asleep.

___

after that day, the miller household practically became your second home. more often than not showing up to their house rather than your own after school and work.

at first you were worried that maybe you were beginning to overstay your welcome, that maybe they just didn’t know how to tell you to stop coming over so often. but they quickly put those insecurities to rest when sarah called you wondering why you hadn’t shown up after work, saying how joel set a plate for you at the table and it was getting cold.

they were just as attached to you as you were to them.

they really loved having you over, loved getting to make up for all those years you all went without each other, taking the time to relearn everything there is to know about the other.

for instance, joel learned you have an affinity for tight tank tops that ride a little too low on your chest and rise a little too high whenever you bend down.

his fingers have a tendency to straighten out your spaghetti straps, and he always murmurs something along the lines of, showin a lotta skin today huh hun?

you’d grow warm under his touch, hiding behind a pretty grin and an excuse of oh, heat’s just gettin’ to me lately, or his personal favorite, damn dryer shrunk my clothes again.

he doesn’t mind whatever your excuse is, he’d just hand you his flannel, telling you to at least wrap it around your waist whenever guys were around, because i know how men think, he’d explain and you wouldn’t argue, you’d happily accept his flannel and listen to his heeding.

you wonder if he was having the same thoughts he was trying to prevent other men from having about you.

you like to tell yourself he was.

but there is one thing you don’t have to convince yourself of. joel really, truly, and utterly cares for you.

joel is nothing if not protective, he just wants to look out for you, make sure you’re safe, that you’re okay, and so when you called him at work, voice trembling and meekly asking if he can pick you up, naturally, he abandoned his meeting at work to race over to you.

creating blueprints for a new apartment building suddenly became unimportant the second he heard your voice crack over the phone.

he could hear the way your breath paused for a moment, only to come out shakily through tears when he asked if you were alright. your audible sadness casted immediate worry and concern over him, instilling itself in his chest.

he sees you now, rushing to walk out of the store, locking it on your way out, and he hops out of his truck, wanting to be the first thing you’re greeted by as soon as you raise your head.

relief rinses through you the moment you see joel standing in front of his truck, your eyes betraying the attempt at strength you were fighting so hard to have the second he pulls you into his arms.

his hands feel warm and heavy behind your back, rubbing all the quiet sobs out from you with each gentle circular movement.

“oh babygirl,” he murmurs under his breath, feeling his heart break with each little gasp you make through your tears. “what happened?” he asks, unintentionally causing the tears to fall harder, making you fist at his button up.

“today has been so bad,” you finally say, your head resting on his strong chest, shaking fingers tracing over the seams of his button up in an attempt at self soothing.

“wanna get inside an’ talk about it?” he asks just above a whisper, keeping his voice soft for you. you nod, twisting the knife in his chest when you sniffle.

he helps you into his truck, shutting the door behind you, meeting back with you soon once he’s in the driver’s seat.

“now what happened honey?” he asks, and you take in a deep breath through the tears, waving your hands at your eyes to try and stop the stinging sensation at your waterline.

“today has just been one bad thing after the other,” you wipe away the stray tears with annoyed fists, wishing they would cease their incessant presence. “first, i got into a fight with my dad, he called me selfish and inconsiderate for not canceling class to come down to the shop earlier and that there’s no point in attending class because i’m just gonna get overwhelmed and quit anyway,” you barely manage to say tearfully, further etching a frown into joel’s features, his chest aching at the way you’re visibly hurting.

he says your name tenderly, matching the way his hand reaches out for you to hold. you squeeze his hand, holding onto it when it rises upwards to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping a stray tear across your cheekbone.

you lean into his palm, shutting your eyes at his touch. “and i’m scared he’s right, today in class i was so stressed all i wanted to do was walk out,” you whimper ashamedly, and joel shushes you, bringing his free hand to fully hold your face, turning your gaze back up to meet his. his hold on you is delicate, like you’re a dandelion amidst a strong breeze, and all he wants to do is keep you with him, safe and sound.

your cheeks are cradled by his hands, his calluses turning into a thing of comfort against your cheeks, along with his thumbs that swipe away the tears that refuse to concede from your lash line.

he holds you like this for a while, wordlessly guiding your breathing with his, evening out your sporadic hiccups induced by your crying, settling your nerves down to a more manageable level.

your eyes flutter shut at the safety he drapes over you, your smaller hands holding onto his wrists, mindlessly running your thumb along his knuckles. “wish you were with me at work today,” you mumble, imagining the way he would’ve protected you from the creepy customers you had to deal with.

“what else happened?” he lightly coaxes it out of you, wanting you to get everything out so you don’t have to carry the burden of the day’s stress on your shoulders.

“these guys came in, and they were just so weird,” your hands tighten around his wrists, recounting the uncomfortable interaction you were subjected to.

“kept…kept making weird jokes about everything…i said if they needed anything to let me know and i heard one of them tell their friend i better be careful saying things like that, and they like—ugh,” you take a moment to catch your breath, refocusing on the way joel’s gently running his fingers across your temples, something he’d do for you in the middle of the night whenever you’d get a headache.

“they kept making jokes about me taking off my clothes because it’s summer and it’s hot or whatever i dunno it was stupid but they kept ‘suggesting’ i should lose the tank top because walking around in a bra is the same as wearing s bikini at the beach,” you grimace at the fresh memory, and joel wants to take it away from you, wants to wash you clean of all the pain you felt today.

when you look up at joel his jaw is clenched, lower jaw jutting out in anger, his hands falling from your face down to your hands, holding them in his, while he shakes his head. “fuckin’ disgusting,” he mutters to himself. “probably good i wan’t there, woulda fuckin’ killed them,” he utters under his breath, and more so to himself, his hands migrating down to your hands, squeezing them hard. his eyes that hold an image of what he’d do to the men who harassed you dissipate as soon as they shift back up to you. “i’m sorry hun,” he sighs, cupping your cheek, cradling you into his palm, speaking gentler this time, “an’ as for your dad well…he’s an asshole. but i know you already know that,” he pauses to smile at your little giggle.

“he couldn’t be more wrong about you. you are so smart hun, an’ you can and will accomplish everything you set your mind to.” the soft gravel of his voice tides around you like an embrace, enveloping you in it as an attempt to wash you clean of your distress.

your eyes well and your heart soars up high inside your chest at his kindness.

“thank you mr. miller, you are so nice to me, it—it means so much coming from you, and i can’t even begin to explain how grateful i am that you even came here at all,” he left work for you. you groan with guilt at the remembrance. “and—god i’m so sorry that i just like, randomly called you at work i’m so sorry you were probably super busy, i just didn’t know who else to go to,” you ramble with guilt, but joel’s already shaking his head as you rattle off with apologies, his hands coming back up to your cheeks, stilling the words on your tongue.

“hey hey hey,” he shushes you softly. “no apologies, okay?” his thumb runs under your lash line, clearing away your tears. “i’m glad you called me, rather you call me than have to hear what happened from someone else.” he pacifies your guilt for calling him, and he does it successfully, watching the upset furrow between your brows disappear.

your lip trembles and you suck it in between your teeth, closing your eyes and leaning forward into his chest. he takes you in with no hesitation, his arms forever acting as a sanctity for you to hide in whenever you need.

he hesitantly pulls away from you for a moment, mumbling a soft, give me a sec sweetie. he shifts around to the pull at the bottom of the driver seat, extending it backwards and giving him more space between him and the steering wheel.

“cmere,” he says above a whisper, opening his arms for you once more. you’re being guided into his lap, gently wrangled in until you’re wrapped up in the thick protection of his strong biceps. he rubs your back, head resting safely on top of your’s, keeping you down to earth, keeping you in his arms.

he takes in all your tears, takes in every racking sob from your chest into his, his lips every so often pressing their silent reminders of his presence into your temple. he rocks you back and forth, his soft shushes folding over the sound of your fading cries, lulling you into a calmness you didn’t know you could feel.

“you’re okay, you’re okay,” he promises, and you believe him. you finally raise your head from his chest, the scent of him still lingering around you, his presence feels pliable, the way he’s looking at you, eyes downturned and scanning all over your face lovingly feels like a sign you know isn’t real. he says nothing, just clears away your stray tears, and that’s when you act.

you lean in, holding his wrist and intertwining your fingers as your lips do the same. you sigh into his mouth, ascending in his arms when you feel him kiss you back just as rushedly, almost like if he’s too slow you’ll vanish from him.

but it’s him who vanishes first. he pulls apart from you with a gasp, shifting you further away from him in his lap, your heart immediately cracking straight down the middle. “what’re you…what are you doing?” his questioning comes out breathless, he feels like he’s asking himself rather than he is you, and he prays you say the right thing, he prays that you call him disgusting and that you climb right out of his lap, removing the temptation and opportune to lean back in.

but you don’t. “i’m sorry,” you whimper, embarrassment flushing through your whole body, he shuts his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. “i’m too old for you, you know that right?,” his knuckles drag across your cheekbone, and you nod solemnly, swallowing hard. “i’m not a kid though, joel,” you say shakenly, nerves rattling your bones when you say his name for the first time, unhidden by the lieu of mr. miller.

“compared to me, you are,” he sighs, his hands gripping his own thighs, weighing them down to prevent them from gravitating to your’s. “i’m too old for you,” he repeats to himself, closing his eyes and leaning into the headrest, the sight and feeling of you looking up at him in his lap is too much for him to combat. “i’d be takin advantage of you,” he mutters, shaking his head, guilt starting to settle into the base of his chest.

you’re quiet for awhile, and he takes it as his answer. that he’s right, this is wrong.

but you contradict his thoughts. reaching up to pull his gaze back onto you. “you’re not taking advantage of me, i know that i want this.” you promise hushedly, and he wants to believe you. your eyes connect once more, a quiet tug of air being shared between the two of you, and you’re willing to let him have it, to let him have all the air you can offer and more. he leans in and you stay still, watching when he inches backward when he gets too close, like you’re a flame whose flicker burns too bright the closer he gets. and when you inch in, you can’t get yourself to break the seal and press yourself into him, a weight of nerves keeping you stagnant before him.

his stare rises and falls down from your eyes to your lips, and you feel it in your bones that your body needs to have him more than it needs anything else. your gaze rests on him while your body acts for you, your hand finding his and holding it, squeezing it. “please,” you whisper, your words leaving you before you can process them. he swallows down everything holding him back, lurching forward to take your lips into his. his hand slides from yours, and up your arm, squeezing it as a test to see if you’re real. his hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, kissing you hard and keeping you still, greedily wanting to keep you all for himself, wanting to memorize the taste of cherry coke on your tongue and raspberry lip balm on your lips.

it smears across his own lips, your taste immersing with his own, his mustache and beard tickling your skin just like you imagined it would, and you moan in his mouth at the feeling, flicking your tongue desperately over his, mindlessly bucking your hips against his. he groans deeply into you, grasping your hips and rocking himself into you, not a single thought in his head, just a carnal need to feel your cunt satiate the ache traveling down his cock.

you pull apart for a breath, lips still pushed together, foreheads melded in close, hips crashing into each other with need. “feels so good,” you whimper into his mouth, the pleasure from the friction making you blatantly honest.

he nods in agreement, never having heard truer words. his fingers indent the shape of themselves into your flesh, his hips acting on their own, desperate to push up into you while his mouth catches yours once more.

he groans, his cock twitching when he feels you slip your tongue into his mouth, a little moan of your own floating out when you taste a hint of root beer from his kiss.

your movements grow rushed, hands finding the heft of his flannel and fisting it to steady the heavy rocking of your hips crashing and tiding over his cock.

desperation flows in your veins where your blood once was, replacing all sense of anything except for the physical need to rut your cunt against his bulge. he can’t keep up, all he can do is let his head fall in your shoulder, his big hands coming around to find purchase on your welcoming hips. his thighs clench underneath yours, tensing when he feels you dampen him through his pants.

“baby,” he finally lets out shakily, thumbs running circles over your hips. “can’t—shit,” a beat passes with an involuntary grunt falling from his lips. “cant, can’t do this here,” he breathes, eyes hanging low upon you, his hips betraying his words with each thrust that meets your pelvis.

you slow your movements, catching your breath quietly, nodding in a silent agreement. “i don’t wanna stop,” you admit truthfully, no longer feeling bashful about the fact.

his cock aches at your honesty and he exhales through his nose, his hands tightening around you. “don’t have to,” he swallows, eyes drifting down to your hardened nipples. “just not here.”

his answer satiates you, which almost leaves him regretful when you climb off his lap and leave him cold and void of your warm cunt pressed up against him.

he starts the truck and all you can do is stare at the concentrated look on his face and his hands gripping the steering wheel.

you wonder if he’ll hold you by your throat the same way. your thighs squeeze together tightly, causing the hem of your jean shorts to rub against your clit just enough to soothe the ache inadvertently caused by joel.

he notices, eyeing you up and down, lips parted just a breadth at the sight. his hand itches to alleviate some of the pressure you’re carrying deep inside you, but instead he alleviates some of his own first. his right hand falls from the steering wheel for a moment, just to squeeze his cock when he watches the way you squirm and stare up at him from his passenger seat.

he turns away, knowing he’ll crash if he keeps staring at you, bringing his wandering hand back to the wheel.

“can i touch you?” you ask, seemingly innocent and his eyes shut for a passing second, a curt shake of his head joining the action. “not a good idea—“ he really wants you to though “gonna make me crash,” he exhales, though his hips say otherwise, inching towards your side with need.

your hand trails from his thigh down to his crotch, palming over him gently, and he grips the steering wheel, jaw vibrating with low groans.

a 10 minute drive has never felt so far until now.

your fingers curl over his bulge, straining against the seatbelt trying to lean in as close as it’ll let you until you decide to rid yourself of it all together.

“seatbelt,” he says warningly, and with concern, but you wash it away the second your lips meet the side of his neck, with your hand pawing over him to ensure his submission. and joel just about crumbles far too easily at the touches.

you’re impatient, he definitely sees that now, and you’re making it way harder than it needs to be for him to maintain his self control.

“i thought about this a lot,” you hum in his ear, leaving kisses in the wake of your warm words. his throat gets tight just like his lower belly, excitement strumming through him when he halts at a red light.

he turns towards you now, his hand dipping between your thighs, a little upward curl of his lips teasing the side of your cheek, his scruff leaving kisses of their own on your skin.

you stifle a whimper, holding onto his wrist when you grind down on his fingers. “thought about touching me like how i’m touchin’ you?” he murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to your jaw. you nod, your chest pounding at the wave of realization of what’s happening. it excites you.

“thought about it too,” he pulls away from you when the light turns green, and you stay frozen, your body suddenly unsure of how to function with a lack of his touch and proximity.

“didn’t wanna admit it to myself, but i thought about doin…a lot more than that whenever you’d come around,” he pays you a once over, his eyes lingering over the plushness of your thighs that fill his passenger seat.

“your skirts and shorts kept gettin’ so damn short, i felt guilty for wondering if it was on purpose,” a smugness takes over his face when he glances at you. “an’ now i know it was.”

you flutter at his confessions, a sense of pride swelling in you at the confirmation that your little tactics seemed to have paid off. “i just wanted your attention,” you say softly, words falling like pillows and he catches them with open arms.

his glance shifts from his crotch, up to your eyes knowingly, and he smiles faintly. “i can tell you that you had it even before you started wearin all that,” he rests his hand on your thigh, guiding the wheel with his left hand now. “but i can’t say i minded the change in outfits.” he brings his fingers over your clit, putting pressure over it and you whine quietly, bucking your hips into his touch.

“if you ever want me to stop you need to tell me okay?” he tells you, and he’s serious, his fingers pull away for emphasis and you nod profusely, holding onto his wrist desperately. “i promise, joel i don’t wanna stop,” you plead with him, and as a simple man that he is, he doesn’t seem to need much more convincing. the pads of his fingers run circles over your clothed clit, and you grind down into it, hungry for more.

“i want you,” you pant and he chuckles, drumming his thumb against the steering wheel.

“you’ve got me.”

“but i want more.”

—

it’s quiet when you arrive back at his house, the driveway is thankfully void of sarah’s little yellow volkswagen and relief blankets across your shoulders knowing she isn’t home.

he ushers you inside, his broad, strong chest pressed up against your back with his hands guiding you by your hips.

he closes the door with his back, leaning against it, watching you turn around to face him. it’s quiet for a few ticking seconds, and he watches as you lean in closer towards him. he doesn’t stop you but he doesn’t lean in to meet you halfway either. he says your name like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed to utter it, purposefully avoiding eye contact. you hum a soft little “yes?” and he sighs, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

“this ain’t right,” he reminds himself, and his hands begin to loosen on your hips. you clamp a hand over one of his, the other coming up to lure him back into you, a gentle palm of yours cupping his scruffy jaw, thumb running across the crows feet that gather at the corner of his eye. “says who?” you counter gingerly and he chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head in your hold, feeling all restraint trickle straight off him the second his eyes catch yours.

you move your hand away from his when his grip grows tight again, letting your now free hand hold both sides of his face when you go up on your tippy toes to meet him for a kiss.

he catches you off guard and pulls you deeper into him, your crotches pressed flush together when he slips his tongue into your mouth, hooking and reeling you in.

you moan into his mouth and it eggs him on, sending his hand into a downward motion towards your ass. he feels smug when you whimper in his mouth, pushing harder against his cock when he squeezes your ass.

he rubs over your ass posessively, squeezing it hard, almost in disbelief that he gets to have you like this. kiss “need you to tell me if and when you wanna stop,” kiss. you don’t reply, you just fall into him whenever he presses his lips back to yours. your lack of a response leaves him discontent and he pulls apart an inch, eyeing you down expectantly. you huff impatiently, hooking your arms around his neck. “promise. i will.” which is good enough for him as he melds into you once more.

his hands roam all over you, caressing, holding, squeezing all the places that only his eyes have traveled.

it feels good, it feels all encompassing, to feel the trails of fire his hands leave all across your skin, and you can’t get enough. “can we,” a kiss to your throat, “go to your room?” you ask, somewhat breathless and he pauses for a second, eyes tracing the outline of your bitten lips before he nods. he holds your hand, leading you into his bedroom.

the second you’re inside you’re guiding him into his own bed after having shut the door. he gazes at you amusedly, handing you the reins for a moment, keeping his hands on the edge of them while you take charge. he thinks it’s cute.

you sit him at the edge of his bed, straddling him while you push at his chest until his back meets the mattress. you’re leaning back down, holding his face in your hands, your lips hastily meeting his once more. he welcomes you, his hands holding you down on top of him by your hips.

you grind down on him, panting in his mouth at how good it feels to have him pressed right against your cunt. but it’s not enough. you need more.

your hands travel down his strong chest, fixing towards unbuttoning his flannel. he lets you, busying himself with unbuttoning your little denim shorts, but he wants to unwrap you slowly. he wants to make a show of it.

he flips you on your back and you gasp, feeling hot under his stare and stature above you. his knees rest on either side of you, indenting the bed while he maintains eye contact. his fingers take their time unzipping your shorts, and you whine quietly, bucking your hips towards him.

he pushes you back down and shushes you. “patience.” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over your upper thighs. he doesn’t rush taking your shorts off, wanting to savor the feeling of getting to do this for as long as he can. the vision of you in his bed, wet, and impatient, laying before him in your little pink panties is about to make him burst.

he’s still fully clothed above you and it casts a warm feeling throughout your bare body. you bring your knees close to your tummy, shutting your legs at your sudden shyness. he moves in closer, shaking his head with his palms on your knees.

he pushes them back down, slipping a hand between your thighs. you gasp, arching your back into him and exhaling with relief when his fingers trace over your clothed clit. “i wanna see you honey,” he careens you gently, coaxing your shyness away. your legs part for him, and he takes full advantage, running the pads of his fingers up and down slowly, feeling the slickness start to bleed through your panties.

he pushes them to the side, swirling over your clit and feeling proud when you moan into his shoulder. he dips into your little soaked hole, exhaling into your neck at how wet you are. “barely e’n touched you and you’ve already made a mess,” he tsks you lovingly, hints of teasing in his words, and it only excites you more. your stomach and chest get tight at his touches and the way he talks to you, it’s so unreal, and you could honestly cry in this moment from how bad you want to fuck him.

“i always get like this for you—oh,” you cry out into his shoulder when he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, his digit so long that it easily hits the little spongy spot inside you that you usually struggle to reach.

“aw sweetpea,” he coos, kissing your forehead while his finger curls inside you. “got you walkin’ around all hot and bothered with no release, i’m sorry,” he kisses your temple, his gentleness contradicting the way he’s fucking you with his finger, grunting under his breath at how tight the fit is when he works in his ring finger.

you choke on a gasp at the stretch, starting to wonder if his cock will fit if his fingers are already making you feel like this.

“you gonna make it up to me?” you whimper, still maintaining an air of playfulness in your response. he chuckles, pulling apart ever so slightly to look at you, to watch the way you struggle to stare up at him with his fingers in your cunt.

“i’ll make it up to you, and then some,” he says, his voice falling low on a raspy curve. you believe him, his response feeling like a promise he intends to keep.

he’s on you again and you invite it wholly, legs coming around on either side of him go trap him into you. his fingers fuck into that sweet little spot inside you, every single flick of his wrist has your lower back bucking up into his touch.

his palm hits your clit with every movement, it’s almost cruel, giving you just an inch when you need a mile. you’re running your hands all over him, kissing him messily even when there’s a mix of your saliva dribbling on your chin and air is depleting from your lungs. none of it matters, all that does is consuming as much of joel as humanly possible.

your fingers struggle to unbutton his flannel once more, shaking and trembling too much to do it as ladylike as you wish you could but he doesn’t mind, it makes his cock twitch knowing he’s the reason why you can’t stay still.

“feels so good joel,” you whimper, fucking yourself onto his fingers when you finally undo all the pesky buttons on his flannel. he kisses your cheek, his beard tickling your skin while you slide your hands underneath his wife beater.

“good honey, s’all i wanna do,” he curls his finger right there, drinking in your cries with his lips clamped over yours. your nails drag down his chest and he winces above you, your lips still brushing together. “sh-shit m’so so sorry joel,” you remedy the scratches with gentle caresses but he shakes his head, kissing your chin. “no no s’alright baby—kinda liked it,” he chuckles, thumbing over your clit, precum starting to leak through his boxers at the way you keen into him at the little action. you giggle at his response, raking your nails softly down his chest, fingers suddenly halting only to begin trembling when he picks up the pace inside you.

“want more joel, i—fuck,” you’re panting, arching up into him, the saturation of the room is getting dimmer and glittery, it’s hard to keep your eyes open and the pounding in your chest and cunt is nearly blinding you. “need more of you, please? please god i’ll do anything,” your desperation is loud and clear and you couldn’t care less. he can feel it, can feel you gripping his fingers, squeezing him so good and he certainly hears how ready you are for him; he revels in the slick clicking sound eliciting from between your legs because of, again, him.

he swipes the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and he shushes you, kissing you wherever your tears appeared, rubbing that little spot inside of you soothingly.

you hum in pleasure, hands traveling up to his shoulders. “don’t need to cry honey, i’ll give i’to you,” his promises fan out over your lips, slipping his fingers out of you.

the loss of his fingers inside you feels cruel, you feel clingy, all you want is joel near you, around you, on you, and in you.

the sound of his hands undoing his belt hangs in the air, quiet and low breaths of desperation flicker from out your lips while you watch him pull himself out of his jeans. his cock, fat and heavy, and twitching, falls with heft on your lower tummy, resting with impatience on your skin.

you whimper, hand nervously wrapping around it, your fingers barely able to cover the thick circumference of it. “you’re huge,” you choke, unintentionally adding fuel into his ego and he chuckles, shaking his head when he kisses you.

“you’re flatterin’ me,” he murmurs against your lips, wrapping a hand around himself, guiding his tip to circle around your clit. you gasp, curling upwards into him, your forehead resting on his broad shoulder. you kiss his bare skin, the comfort of his skin to yours soothes you while he slides his cock up and down your folds.

“oh—ooh,” you suck in a big breath, hands flying to his forearms to hold onto when he starts to push in, his tip inching into you feels just as big as it looks. “shit,” you whimper at the burn that follows along with the stretch that he pushes into you and he pauses with concern. he hovers above you like a gracious adonis and it almost makes you forget the twinge of pain between your thighs.

“you need me to stop?” he asks, his words of gentleness cradling you and you shake your head, running your palms down his chest. “no, please keep going, i can take it,” you nod as further emphasis, pushing your hips up, aching to feel more of him.

he brings his lips to your’s again, sighing when he feels your little moan escape into his mouth. his cock rocks into you at a steady pace, unintentionally pushing you further up into his bed, and he holds onto you tighter, not wanting you to move an inch away from him.

“haven’t felt like—shit,” he shudders something like a whimper against your lips, and you have to hold back a moan at the sound. “ha-haven’t felt like this in so long honey,” he swallows hard, caressing the side of your face. “haven’t thought about someone like this in years’,” he groans, pushing his cock in deeper.

your clit pulses at the way he speaks to you, the way he fucks you. “had to fuckin’ jerk off like i was a teenager again after you’d leave—y’have no idea what the hell you’ve been doin’ to me honey,” he messily kisses you between each word, his thrusts growing heavy and rough inside you, the fat head of his cock prodding perfectly into the spongy little spot inside of you.

“should’ve told me sooner joel,” you whine, bucking your hips to feel more of his cock. “touched myself every night thinking of you,” you whimper out, eyes falling shut when you feel his lower half brush against your clit. he pushed in especially deep at your confession, and you gasp, holding onto him tighter.

“joel—fuck, sl-slow down, it’s so much,” you cry, barely able to hold onto him while he starts to pound into you, like he’s lost the reins and his body is in control now, an energy and stamina he hasn’t had since he was in his 20’s was back in full force and it all went into fucking you stupid.

“m’sorry honey—you just, ohfuck, feel so good an the things you’re sayin’ i just—fuck i can’t help it,” he breathes out, pressing a chaste kiss to your bitten lips. “just take it for me baby,” he groans, his hands squeezing your tits before traveling down to your hips.

his head hangs low while he splits you open on his cock, struggling to keep his eyes from shutting, but he forces them open to watch the way his cock stretches you wide. “you’re so big,” you whine, teeth coming down to sink into the heft of his shoulder. he groans in your neck, sending you a particularly hard thrust.

the scent of cigarettes wafts around you the more he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips nip at your skin and you whimper into his shoulder at the thought of you going home smelling like him.

his calloused hands mold to the shape of your body no matter where they travel, forming perfectly around you to hold onto you as tight as he can.

silence falls between you two, the only communication occurring is the shared grunts and groans that slip into each other’s open mouths. his forehead rests on yours, occasionally moving to your collarbone or ducking down to graze his teeth across your breasts, tongue darting out to wetten your nipples.

the sound of your soaked cunt getting fucked is near obnoxious—it’s loud, and you pray that the windows in his bedroom are shut, because there’s no doubt that if they aren’t, his neighbors will hear everything.

your legs shakily hang off his lower back, pushing him in deeper and deeper.

his thrusts start to slow in pace, and each drag of his cock inside you feels hypnotic, feels amazing, and he groans the same sentiments in your ear, kissing the skin behind it. “m’sorry,” his hips pause to a halt and you panic for a second, wondering if you somehow did something wrong. “everything okay?” you ask softly, clearing the hair away from his eyes. he nods, avoiding eye contact embarrassedly. “my back—startin to cramp up on me,” he mutters, pulling out of you and you hold back a sound of disappointment from the lack of weight on top of you.

he sits up, back facing away from you, head in his hands. “i’m sorry honey,” he apologizes, still not looking at you. you frown, shuffling on your knees towards him. you hold him from behind, kissing the side of his neck.

“don’t be.” you murmur, moving around in front of him now. you push at his chest gently, clambering on top of him. his eyes widen, a grin slowly spreading across his lips while his hands rest on your thighs. “what’re you doin?” he asks under a raspy breath, his cock twitching underneath you with excitement.

you hold his shaft, realigning him with your eager hole, leaning down to press a kiss before you speak. “i’m taking over.” is all you say as you sink down on his cock, wincing at the intrusion.

his eyes roll back and his head falls into the pillow, his hands starting to grip your hips. “baby,” he moans to himself, his cheeks growing hot. you have to inch him in at a cautious pace but he doesn’t mind, your tight warmth is something he welcomed wholeheartedly.

you start to grind your hips experimentally, hoping it feels good for him. you honestly have no idea what you’re doing. you’ve only had sex once but you don’t know if it even really counts.

if a guy putting it in then pulling out because he came too fast counted then, sure you’ve had sex.

however all of this; it’s different with joel, that was a boy, and now you’ve got a man’s cock buried in your pussy. and you want to make him feel like one, you don’t want him to feel ashamed about his age or anything like that. you’ll make him forget about everything.

you shudder a breathy moan at the new position, resting your hands on his broad chest, admiring the beautiful man that rests under you. “tell me what makes you feel good joel,” you murmur, head falling towards him, making direct eye contact with him. he swallows hard, his cock aching at how fucking hot you are.

“shit baby, just use me how you want, use my cock honey.” he groans, licking his fingers and bringing it to your clit. you whine, almost toppling over on top of him at the contact, but you hold yourself up, determined to make both yourself and joel feel good.

you grab his hands, unclamping them from the grip that rested around your hips and instead dragging them up your sides and onto your breasts, silently telling him to squeeze as much as he pleases.

and that he does.

he squeezes them, bucking his hips upwards into yours as he watches the way your flesh fills the gaps between his fingers. you rise and fall onto his cock, bouncing on it with a rhythm that hits every sensitive spot inside of you.

you look down to where you meet, sucking in your bottom lip at the sight of him disappearing inside of you each time you lower yourself onto him. you rock back and forth, whimpering at how deep he can reach in you. you watch the way he swirls his fingers over your clit, touching you better than you could ever do on your own time.

“c’mere honey,” he groans for you, and you obey, bending down to rest on his chest. he stops you before you can fully lay on top of him, holding you just under your ribs. he pulls you into his mouth, sucking over the soft flesh of your chest, tongue licking messily and hungrily all over your breasts. you gasp, arching your back into his mouth. “j-joel,” you moan, struggling to maintain the rhythm you built.

his teeth tease your nipples and you shiver, your nails digging into his shoulders at the sensation. you bounce on his cock, mind going numb and fuzzy while your senses take over, each thrust feeling like electric in your veins.

after he’s done sucking bruises into your soft flesh, your hands reconnect once more, and you pin them down beside his head, hovering above him while you ride his cock.

i love you, almost slips from your lips while you stare at each other, chests rising and falling heavily, mouths parted, tongues darting out to wet your lips with hunger. the words hang in the air without sound, you’re sure of it.

you grind down onto him as far as you can take him, feeling him nudge your cervix, and you whimper at just how deep he can go inside of you. he takes your moment of weakness as an opportunity to flip you right back to where you all started; underneath him.

you gape at him, unable to process his quick movements. you’re laying at the foot of the bed now, and he’s grabbing your calves, tugging you closer towards him. he pushes back in and wastes no time in pounding you like nothing happened. he grabs your leg, pushing it up further towards your chest, angling himself in even deeper, pure desire fueling him. “shit baby,”

he mutters, his hair falling in his eyes as he kisses your jaw.

he rubs your clit with his thick fingers and you cry out, starting to tremble uncontrollably beneath him. “think m’gonna cum joel, m’so so so close,” you whine, your eyes falling heavy with your impending orgasm.

“let me have it honey, cmon,” he kisses his encouragement into your cheek, fucking you with determination to make you cum, hard. his fingers never relent on your clit, and you can’t stop the panting that leaves your lips, all you can do is writhe beneath him while he fucks you through your dizzying climax. you moan his name in breathy chants, spasming as your body tries it’s best to ride out the stimulation that joel bombards you with.

his hips grow messy and sporadic, he’s catching your lips in a hot kiss, tongues clashing and saliva falling to the corners of your mouth. barely taking any time to break apart for air. “m’almost there—where can i…” he trails off breathlessly, unsure of how to ask in a way that a gentleman would ask but you don’t care, you don’t need him to sound like one, not when he’s fucking you as if he’s never heard the word before.

“inside, y-you can do it inside, please,” you beg with need, curling your legs around his hips and pushing down on his lower back. he shudders, and has a millisecond to want to ask you if you’re sure, but he can’t stop pushing himself inside you, it feels too good, and he’s glad you’re trapping him between your legs, because he never wants to stop.

“sh-shit, i’m cummin’ honey,” he shakily moans in your mouth, struggling to keep his kiss coherent but the way your spent cunt tightens around him makes him lose all sense. you whimper against his lips, feeling hyper sensitive to each and every touch, but the feeling of him cumming inside you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

he slowly pulls out of you, peppering your face with kisses when you make a sound of discomfort. you two lie in a comfortable silence, trying to catch your breaths. you turn to look at each other, and he smiles at you, leaning over to cup your face in his palm. “you okay?” he murmurs softly, running his thumb across your cheekbone. you nod into his touch, holding the back of his hand with yours. “yeah,” you grin. “you?”

he chuckles heartily, and nods as well. “yeah. i’m alright,” he sends a playful wink and you can’t believe that it still manages to make your tummy flutter with butterflies. you suppose he’ll always have that effect on you.

you stare at him for a little longer, testing the waters to see if he’ll stop you as you lift up his arm and scoot closer to him. and when he doesn’t, you smile to yourself while he only pulls you in closer, tightening his arms around you. you can feel his heartbeat against your back, and you’ve never felt more soothed before.

you trace the veins on his strong arm that cradles you into him, your head resting on his other bicep. you don’t want to disrupt the peacefulness that’s settled upon you both, but you have questions that just might do that.

“joel?” you ask and he hums a response. “would you ever want to do this again? or not even this but just…like…hangout?” you unknowingly grip onto his arm with nervousness, and hope that he says yes.

he takes in a breath and you shut your eyes at the impending rejection. “honey,” he starts, and your eyes glisten with tears already. “i don’t know if this is something we should’ve done to begin with—not that i regret it—lord,” he shakes his head, chuckling dryly to himself. “lord knows i don’t regret it. but i don’t know if this is something we could sustain. i want to though, sweetpea trust me that i do,” he tilts your chin towards him, feeling his heart break when he sees your watery eyes looking back at him.

“oh honey,” he sighs sadly, shifting you around so you can look up at him properly. his arms encase you, his warm hand running up and down your back while he pressed gentle kisses to your forehead. “why?” is all you manage to ask and he shuts his eyes, resting his chin on top of your head. “your dad’ll shoot me down and hang my body in front’of the whole neighborhood if he knew. and sarah? i don’t think she’d take kindly to me datin’ her best friend.” you hate that he makes perfect sense and you hate that you sound childish, that you didn’t even take either of those things into consideration.

“we don’t have to tell them—at least not now? and we don’t have to be anything serious, i just…i like being around you.” you softly murmur, feeling pathetic as tears line your lashes once again. he thumbs across them, ridding your eyes of their wetness. “i like being around you too,” he returns your sentiments, leaning down to peck you. it feels gentle, domestic, and you can’t imagine going without more of them.

“i’ll still pick you up after you have class, i still want you to come over for dinner like you usually do, nothin’ has to change and,” he closes his eyes for a beat. “—despite everything i said, i…i don’ know if i could handle not havin’ you around honey, feels like somethin’s missin’ when you’re not around.” he admits, and to himself as well, for the first time.

you bloom with happiness at his words, surging forward to kiss him. he holds you by the back of your neck, tracing circles into your jaw. you hold his face in your hands, pressing kisses along his cheeks, feeling warm all over and when he laughs. it’s filled with a comforting airiness.

he holds your wrist, turning to kiss your palm. he plucks your index finger, bringing it to his lips to kiss gently. “got me wrapped around this little thing,” he says just above a whisper, and your heart aches, overflowing with adoration.

the door suddenly opens downstairs and you both share a look of horror.

“dad? i’m home!”

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