#he's got some small patches on his back

[famouz-is-here]

Tulip propoganda:

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Tulip (@famouz-is-here)

Narnia de la Grâce (@since-times-long-forgotten)

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

I finally got a picture in the right light where I can show off how I know Sisu has the Touch of Velvet (TOV) gene!

So there are a few traits that give it away. The most obvious are the REALLY dark streak of especially thick, silky fur along his back and a little bit over his head. (TOV "veiling" fur has a different texture, it's a bit hard to describe but it's not quite as cottony and plush as the rest of his fur. It's smother, it's shinier, and it's more solidly black than the rest of his mottled-black-and-gray coat.)

Another trait is the black "wash" over his face, which you can't see as well here because he's facing away from the source of light, but he has the "mask" of that same darker, smoother fur on his face than Dusty has. The fur around his face doesn't stand up or poof out the same way Dusty's does.

(It's especially obvious when they've just waken up from a nap! Dusty's face fur gets very poofy when he first wakes up, and Sisu's really only poofs up around his cheeks rather than at the forehead and nose too.)

[pierogisfilledwithpaint]

just sew on my first patch on my future battle jacket and im proud of it. it's the small sleep token patch with their logo in the middle but pushing the needle through the fabric and the patch made my hand hurt. i have some more patches but i need some more to plan it out better, maybe if I get my hands on another smaller patch ill sew it on, i also plan to make my own pins to put it on there but my motivation for anything is currently nonexistent, hopefully i can get myself together in the next few days

[goldiipond]

it is absolutely caused by my love for the trope where a character becomes inseperable from a dead loved one's item but i think don should have been able to keep little bunny as a comfort item. its not about how feasible it would be for don to sneak into that room a second time n take it without isabella noticing its about how. well he simply deserved to have it i think

[maskedbyghost]

when simon wakes up in a hospital, the last thing you expect is for him to grab your hand, pull you close, and say, “hey, there you are, love.” his voice is so soft, so sure, it leaves you speechless. you stare at him, half in shock, because this is ghost—simon riley, the one person who’s kept every feeling locked up.

“simon, do you… do you remember anything?” you ask, testing the waters.

he blinks, looking at you with confidence. “of course, i remember. you’re my wife.”

you freeze. his wife? this is new, and you’re not sure where he got the idea, but before you can correct him, johnny walks in, taking one look at the two of you and biting back a grin. he leans in, whispering to you, “maybe just… go with it for now, eh?” he’s got that teasing glint in his eye, and something tells you there’s no harm in humoring simon for a bit, if it can be helpful for his recovery.

so, you go along with it. and to your surprise, simon doesn��t act confused—in fact, he’s more open with you than he’s ever been. suddenly, he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, always looking for you, keeping you close, calling you “love” or “darlin’” in front of everyone. he’s even got that soft smile every time you catch his eye, one that makes it hard to remember this isn’t real.

the team’s amused but supportive, playing along with the whole story. simon keeps asking you little things, like what your favorite meal is, or how you usually spend your days when he’s away, as if filling in gaps in a life he believes you share. you find yourself answering with things that feel so genuine, and the way he listens—focused, attentive—feels more intimate than anything you’ve shared before.

one day, you’re patching up a minor scrape on his hand, and he just watches you, eyes soft, like he’s memorizing every detail. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. it’s so genuine, so open, that for a second, you forget it’s all just part of his memory loss.

then, one night, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes serious. “do you ever think about us?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to get at something just out of reach. “how we’d be if things were… different?”

you’re not sure how to answer because there’s no script for this. “sometimes,” you admit, feeling a pang of something deep and unspoken. and for the first time, you’re almost grateful he can’t remember—because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only reason he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you.

as the days pass, you start catching little glimpses, small things that make you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. he catches you watching him once, and instead of asking why, he just gives you this little smile, one that feels like he’s in on the secret. and just when you’re starting to think this is all some kind of twisted dream, he pulls you aside.

“i know i’m supposed to remember,” he whispers, “but i don’t want this to end. not yet.”

it’s in that moment you realize the truth. he’s been aware all along—he’s been pretending just as much as you, holding on to this fragile, temporary illusion because, maybe, he needs it just as much as you do.

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hii!! i'm backkk!! send some requests plsss, byee <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[squiddy-god]

The Hydro Dragon? A closet freak!?

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I have no excuse for this other than I NEED this man so bad it makes me look stupid. He's just so…dreamy sigh anyway here are some hcs that i have for the Iudex of fontaine. This is really long. I think I blacked out writing this. This is 6 pages of google docs single spaced size 11 arial font. I think i need to be sedated

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

Cw : this is pure filthy smut, freak Neuvillette, dragon form, monster fucking, inhuman genitals, double dick, desperate kinda pussy drunk Neuvillette, soft dom and hard dom, no pronouns but afab anatomy, implied chubby reader, squirting, bath sex, rut, breeding kink, just pure horny, slight cumflation, oviposition,egg mention, a little bit of predator prey vibes, overstimulation, tail riding. Very slight watersports mentioned, Daycraphilia, Nasty dragon man, sweat and liquids. Spit swapping, spit swallowing, spit kink, marking, biting, possessiveness.PIV sex, possible anal, Title kink? Sir kink? Innocence and court kink?(trust me bro) Reader is matching this mans freak. Aftercare is given, safeword is in place even if not mentioned explicitly

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Neuvillette is not entirely oblivious, he knows that he has needs and instincts but what he is wholly unaware of is that many of these instincts and desires are quite… out of the ordinary

There's also the fact that he has like 0 experience, so all of these desires are rather new or have been festering in his dragon mind for centuries

What the Iudex of fontaine lacks in experience he makes up for in the fact that he is downright insatiable and animalistic at times

When you first got with him you quickly realized that this man was incredibly touch starved, even the most innocent and fleeting touch from his beloved sets his very being to a burning desire.

And he is embarrassed to say that he craves it Neuvillette craves your touch in both a innocent and intimate way to the point you are shocked to find just how clingy he is towards you

The only time when he's not touching you, holding you, trying to sait the burning you leave him with is when he has court, and once he is out of court his mind returns to you, making sure you have a permanent seat at the opera house right next to his usual reserved seating.

Once he's out of court he's by your side, placing a kiss to the back of your hand and guiding you with a hand to the small of your back

To the people of fontaine he is a doting and protective lover, which is true, but they don't know the sheer levels of clingy that he is

He tries at first to contain this, so he doesn't scare you off, but eventually he simply needs you to be close to him

The other thing that comes as a shock is that this man is a freak

Let's start with his more inhuman side

The reason he is so covered is because his skin is slightly scaly, beautiful scales of cyan and cerulean blues that layer his skin in large patches, the main areas are his sides and part of his back, his thighs and his arms where they seem to sit permanently much like his pointed ears and horns (the blue streaks in his hair are horns trust me on this) when he uses his hydro powers or lets loose they glow

When he really lets loose the scales creep up his neck to his jaw, his ears seem to grow longer and more pointed, his teeth get sharper, his nails seem to grow more into claws and his pupils draw into slits.

His eyes and the rest of him seems to give off a faint blue glow

His tongue is long- like really long- and forked- and when he lets loose its a deep shade of blue

His cocks- both of them are far from human, hidden behind a vent they are ribbed un the underside with the head coming to a slight point, the top side is lined with bumps that resemble small tendrils, they line the head of his cocks to.

His tips are flushed an angry dark blue

This man has nice veins, his cocks are quite veiny but the veins along his body are rather pronounced as well, a deep blue, good and hydrated

He also has a large tail, its long and a deep blue fully scaled, thick at the base and tapers till the tailfins witch are a almost iridescent cyan and resemble the ends of his coattails

Ok now into the real smutty stuff-

He needs it messy, as messy and wet as possible, the problem is the more wet and messy it gets the hornier he gets in return

If the bed sheets aren't soaked and dripping wet with just about every fluid possible then he isn't satisfied

And i mean the bed sheets look like they just came out of a river

He gets so pussy drunk- this man is insatiable and eats you out for his own pleasure, basically tongue fucking you to drink up all of your juices he possibly can

The taste of you is intoxicating and he cannot get enough

The first time he eats you out, his tongue fucking into your overstimulated hole before he finally pulls out and his long tongue wraps around your clit as he all but makes out with your lower half and you wine out that it feels weird like your goona pee-

And this freak without hesitation presses on your stomach as you cum from his unrelenting ministrations

Because he is a freak who doesn't understand that things like that are not in fact what most are into. (he is eternally shocked when you explain this to him, trying to tell him his taste in kinks and fetishes are abnormal. Cannot fathom how it isn't hot to others)

But when to his shock you squeal and squirt his mouth, chin, and chest soaked along with the sheets

You are mid apology for the mess when you look at his eyes, his pupils are blown wide as saucers as he stares down at you breath heavy- downright ragged and he groans so low it rumbles in his chest and almost sounds like a growl

“I hadn't known that this was something the human body could do” before his pupils contract into little slits and he is licking you clean before he goes right back into trying to make you squirt again-

He is obsessed with you squirting, the fact that you were so lost in (the sauce) pleasure that you produced a significant volume of liquid? This man lives off of moisture, his favorite drink is water and he needs everything to be moist and wet for him to be fully comfortable, such is the nature of the hydro dragon. So it shouldn't be a shock that he is obsessed with making you squirt

Usually this leaves you rather overstimulated, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and running down your cheeks

Oh and Neuvillette love it- tears of pleasure soon laped away by his tongue as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss

Asks you with utmost seriousness to spit in his mouth and is confused by how flustered that makes you

But once you do he is practically moaning at the taste, greedily drinking whatever you will give him

And if you match his freak? Ask him to spit in your mouth? He's gone lmao- truly you are a blessing hand picked from celestia just for him

The first time you gave him head and spit on his cocks so you could switch between sucking and stroking them, making sure they got equal attention, he came instantly. The sight was just too much for him to handle

Neuvillette cums an insane amount. Its slightly watery but the amount is ridiculous, his precum is enough to have you thinking he already busted, but when he actually cums its like a broken faucet taking several gulps to swallow down and it still manages to coat you

And he just stays hard as a rock, the dragon stamina is insane and is even worse when he's in a rut

He loves to see you absolutely plastered with his cum, dripping all over you and out of you

The way your poor tummy is bloated while his clawed fingers push the rapidly escaping liquid back into you

The breeding kink on this man is unmatched, and i mean the only other contender who even comes close is tartaglia “PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT” ajax,

Neuvillette doesn't care if you actually can get pregnant or not- he is breeding you and he will make it happen

More freaky shit the man is obsessed with your sweat

He always hates when it gets too hot out but he thinks he can stand it when he sees the beads of sweat rolling down your body as you guzzle down a bottle of water.

Has to restrain himself with a white knuckled grip on his cane to stop from licking the sweat off of you

Once you are alone tho? He is absolutely licking you, to the point you can't tell if it's the sweat or the saliva that's dripping off of you.

Another chance to match his freak. Once on a hot day in his office you gave him a chaste kiss to his jaw, witch already had him longing, but then you licked a strip up the chiseled line of his jaw and he came in his pants

Work was finished early that day

If there's one thing that gets him worked up its seeing you wet in any context, or seeing you return the desire he has for you. All in all he wants you to desire him, to long for him

I think he has a large bathtub, really its more like a pool that happens to be heated and deep, with benches along the edges for sitting. Again like a large heated swimming pool

His favorite place to fuck you is in his bath, despite the scene of soaked silk sheets being burned ito him mind, fucking you in his element is just something else honestly.

The water sloshing against you accompanied by the lewd sound of you getting absolutely rearranged? Music to his pointed ears.

Almost forgot to mention this but his cock glows and throbs, the veins pulsing with a slight glow- and if you get him horny and desperate enough (not hard this man is easy to get bricked up-) mostly after he's spent hours between your legs or making out with you, you can even see and feel how his cocks seem to writhe and they write inside you too, when their thickness is stuffed into your hole(s) and Neuvillette is about to cum again they writhe and squirm in your gummy walls sending you over the edge as they poke against that gummy spot inside of you

Neuvillette wants to have both his cocks in just your one hole but he knows the stretch of just one is intense so he won't indulge unless you beg him for it

Once when he was at work you decided to take a nice bath, to ease your sore muscles and the numerous marks littering your body, from bite marks to dark hickeys all over

The Iudex can be quite possessive at times, the dragon instincts letting that possessive streak coil in the pit of his stomach because you are his mate and when he says his, he means it.

When he gets possessive like this he gets meaner- no one in fontaine dares to flirt with his lover, out of both respect and slight fear of the consequences (harassment is taken very seriously)

But every so often someone wants to test his patience, or a foreigner who has no idea who you are oversteps. He is always calm, firm hand on your back as he states that it is rude and impolite to so vulgarly pursue his partner

But when the two of you are back at your shared home? He is a bit mean, rougher as he needs you to say that you're his over and over again.

This is where the title kink(?) and sir kink come in. call him “sir neuvillette” “sir Iudex” profess your innocence, plead your case to him, prove the other party guilty

And he will relent his marking and harsh grip infavore of soft open mouth kisses and the pleasure he bistoes on you

Afterall he is a benevolent and fair judge

Back to the bath-

You took a bath without him, witch is a rare occasion as he loves to bathe with you, even in a non sexual context. It is simply a comfortable intimacy for him

But this time is different

Seeing you surrounded by his element of hydro, the room moist with steam as your body glistens with moister, his eyes go to saucers again and he is quick to approach

Tugging off his gloves with his teeth and letting them cup your cheek and travel beneath the water while he leaves sweet kisses on your skin until he cant help himself and dips his head to the place where the water rest against your chest and he drinks

Like a man lost in the dessert, you can hear the obscene gulps this man lets out

The freak in him drinks your fucking bath water and has absolutly no shame about it

In Fact it has his cocks aching for you, while his expression can only be described as adoration

Because the Iudex of fontaine adores you in a way that is only brought on by centuries of longing for a person he has never met

He is much worse during his rut

It is a week solid of him just absolutely fucking you into whatever surface or body of water he can find

His throat is tight and dry, no amount of water seems to be able to quench this thirst and so he drink you

If you thought he was a munch before then the glint in his eyes at the scent of your arousal is downright predatory

He makes sure you drink about as much water as him, witch is a feat of its own, just so that you have more for him to drink from you

His taste for water is extraordinary on a good day but it even more apparent in his rut,

Because regardless of when it is he can taste you. The kind of water or liquids you drink seeps into everything, he can taste it in you sweat, in your slick, in your spit- the cool refreshing quality of mondstat, the mineraly flavor of inazuma, the sweet taste of sumeru, the tang and burn of inazuma, he can taste it normally but in rut he is downright shameful about describing how you taste on his tongue.

Has you drink different imported watters between rounds to get full flavor

Practically begs to breed you- hes already bad on a regular day, his paternal instincts too stong- but now its different, he wants his eggs inside you, wants you swollen and barefoot around his manor and he needs it- if you aren't ready he’ll just stuff you full like he normally does with cum he knows wont take, but he can hope

Remember how I said he doesn't care if you can get pregnant? Yeah that's because it doesn't matter- the part that matters is his eggs-

On the chance you do say yes to his eggs he is overjoyed, biting down on your shoulder with a bit of venom that numbs your mind- just enough so the stretch of his eggs and the way he has to deposit them doesn't hurt

Speaking of biting the first rut you spend with him is intense, its a week he takes off, (it is now regularly built into his schedule that he has a solid week blocked out for his rut) its his first rut he hasn't forcefully suppressed or simply worked through in solitude and now he has a mate to spend it with?

The first time he slides his length inside you he can resist the urge to sink his teeth into you, right where your shoulder meets your neck he bites down hard

A permanent bite mark with a small hydro mark in the center that glows faintly when he touches you, or when it rains, or you touch water. The glow sends a pleasant and refreshing feeling, like warmth without heat

Because he is so much more thirsty the dirty man fuck you in the bath a lot more and ends up drinking your bathwater more

Be a freak, do it back, drink this man up because he is a tall glass of water.

You do have needs, you can just be attached to the Iudex for a week straight, even tho he insists he could send someone to go grocery shopping, you so cruelly leave him to fist his cocks while you are out getting fresh air.

Personally I like the idea of neuvillettes home being underwater like those glass structures you can find in fontaine. Its huge in a lake, half of it is a beautiful mix of stained and clear glass, even some that seem iridescent, the other half is built in the same french rococo style as the mansions of fontaine, with the exception that it is built into the rocky wall of the deep lake. There is a tunnel that leads to the oceans of fontaine and its ideal for neuvillette. But you need fresh air

So you are gone for a few hours on the surface and he is suffering,

By the time you get back he the mansion is dark, none of the lights are on and it was raining outside (hence your hasty return)

The second you step in through the elevator down you can tell something- someone is watching you, the subtle growl and fleeting glimpse of glowing blue in the corner of your eye making the hair on the back of your neck stand up

Like a small lamb you wander through the large house knowing that hes right there, stalking in the shadows, hunting you

The only light is at the very ends of one of the halls, where you know the master bath is. With trepidation you walk towards the bathroom, knowing that's probably where he's going to absolutely jump your bones, you can't help the arousal that pools

Another thing that alerts you being the growl you hear behind you

When you finally get to the bathroom you decide to play his game- stripping off your clothes slowly- temptingly as his eyes burn across you before you sink into the water and swim to the center of his large bath (real basically a swimming pool)

You don't even hear him get in, but the second you turn back around expecting him to be at the water's edge- he's inches away from you, predatory eyes staring down at you as if to let you know he's won

The lights go off and all you can see is the glow of his eyes as you swim away slowly while he drops towards you until the cold hard tiles press into your back while you sit on the built in ledge, he rises cageing you between his arms as his long silvery hair falls disheveled down his back and cascades over his tense shoulders like a waterfall, he glows more and more and water drops hit your face, the blue streaks that cover the underside of his hair give off a faint glow, then the scales along his body, the long dark blue tail that you now see is also slightly alight. You dare to travel your eyes away from his, away from his hands- his claws that grip and cut into the tile slightly, down his chest and below his waist to the glow that sits just below the water

His tail wraps around your legs nudging them apart

“Look at me my beloved”

His tone is soft but there's a edge to it that has you snapping to attention, for once your eyes are blown wide as saucers and his are narrow slits like needles

Then you feel it, the rub of his thick tail that has your legs spreading to accommodate it while it grinds against you getting you worked up and just as desperate as he is

Ride this mans tail he will be put under a trance

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ♥︎ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[dksfml]

off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

[doctorbeth]

Secondary Hospital for Toucan and Hippo

Sometimes, animals need to go to a higher level hospital, kind of like visiting the Mayo Clinic after having first been treated at the local community hospital. When the toucan's person first wrote to me, he was looking for that higher level hospital.

Toucan was born in 1965. His person got him by sending in box tops from Fruit Loops Cereal. Earlier this year, he decided that Toucan, while still furry, really needed a bath, and he sent him, along with his friend hippo, to a hospital (not mine). When they came back, they were clean, but their colors were faded, their fur was gone, and their facial features (as well as hippo's ears and tail) had all been replaced. Their person was, needless to say, not happy.

Here is the diagnosis photo of Toucan that he sent:

Toucan was supposed to be two shades of yellow as well as blue and purple! His man was ok, with the new eyes, but his beak was malformed (he couldn't get small bugs with that rounded tip) and his tail had a poor patch.

Hippo (who was too shy for diagnosis photos) was similarly pale and unfurry, with the wrong ears, eyes, nostrils, and tail!

The only treatment I can offer for fading and balding is new fur, which I explained to the pair's man. He thought this would be acceptable (especially since it was reversible if he didn't like it, unlike their earlier cleaning), so he sent them in -- I got to be the Mayo Clinic :-)!

We went through a few options for colors and furriness amounts, but eventually figured out the right balance and surgery commenced. Here is the Toucan all better and waiting for some Fruit Loops:

The hippo took a bit longer. While the man had photographs (old original photos from film!) of them younger, the angle on Hippo was not great for his nostrils, and it took a few tries to get them and his eyes just right. But here he is all better too... he's even showing off his new tail!

They flew home (not far, just down to Los Angeles) and their person wrote:

The pair have arrived safe and sound.  They have never looked better.  Thank you so much for your superb craftsmanship.

[eff4freddie]

Sittin'

Joel Miller x F!Babysitter Reader No outbreak Joel Miller AU - Words: 10k

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI

You're working your way through medical school, supporting yourself by taking the occasional babysitting gig. One local single Dad needs someone to look after his 10 year old daughter Sarah on nights when he's late back from the jobsite. And it's all fine and good until your neglectful boyfriend decides to crash the party. Warnings: small age gap (Joel is 32, reader is in medical school), reader is babysitting Sarah as a side hustle to support her studies, Sarah is cute, reader has a shit boyfriend, Joel is trying really hard to resist, exhibitionism, thigh-riding, praise, dirty talk, thigh-humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, general defiling of a perfectly good granite countertop, Joel has opinions about how a woman should be treated as is not afraid to demonstrate them.

A/N: My attempts at writing PWP almost always end up like 10k lol. Whatever, I like a good slow burn. If you enjoy, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you - Freddie x

It was a hot night, the latest in a long line. You knew you were lucky getting to spend some of your evenings over at the Millers, simply because it meant you got to sit under Mr Miller’s air conditioner, the box wedged firm into the window in the living room, little droplets of water condensing and running down the pane of glass underneath it. You’d put a dishtowel down to protect the carpet.

You knew you were lucky, too, because once Sarah went off to bed you could spread your books over Mr Miller’s kitchen table, listening to the buzzing of the fridge as you tried to memorise the functions of the lobes in the brain. In class, your biomedicine professor had blown up balloons and handed out sharpies, inviting her students to draw the lobes in the right place, and yours had popped when you pressed too hard on the occipital lobe, and your lab partner had laughed and said that it was ironic, but you couldn’t figure it: the motor cortex would have been ironic, this was just startling.

You cracked your neck, rolling your shoulders and looking over to the clock on the wall. Nearly 10:30 PM. Mr Miller would be coming back soon.

Sarah was a good kid, and some nights she stayed up to ‘help’ you study, mostly by pointing to pictures in your textbooks and asking you to explain them to her. She’d hated the full-page coloured illustration of the eye, but had been fascinated by the heart, trailing her finger along the arteries, into the chambers, tracing the pathway in and out again. You’d make a cardiologist of her, yet.

Tonight, she’d only made it to twenty minutes past eight, her eyes growing heavy as she turned the pages of your book. This one didn’t have as many pictures, and you could sense her fatigue in the stuffy air.

‘What kind of doctor do you want to be?’ she’d asked, and you’d pulled your hair up off your neck to try and get some air on your skin. You weren’t sure how to explain it without sounding gruesome, without giving her nightmares. She was only 10.

‘When people have emergencies and they have to go to the hospital right away, they need to see a doctor to patch them back up again…’ you’d said, and she’d stared at you with a tiresome expression on her face.

‘I’m not a baby,’ she said, disapproving. You smiled at her.

‘Trauma surgeon,’ you replied. She nodded her head, deeming your answer satisfactory, and taking herself up the stairs to bed.

She was one of the easiest kids you’d ever babysat for, and over the years you’d racked up quite a roster. You’d started in high school, first saving up enough for the prom dress right in the storefront window, and then later keeping yourself fed during your undergrad. When you’d moved to Austin you’d rented a studio apartment in the back garden of a little old lady, a woman who had revealed herself to be an excellent cook if militant about her hydrangeas. You’d letterboxed the neighbourhood and picked up a few odd jobs but nothing lasting, until the evening you’d got a call from a very frantic Mr Miller, who was so beside himself he only asked how quick you could get there and didn’t even ask about your rates.

It turned out Mr Miller got caught up at the jobsite some nights, staying back later than he expected with his little brother to finish framing, or guttering, or wiring. He was running out of favours with his neighbours, he’d explained, and Sarah was still too little to feed herself. You hadn’t minded, his deep southern drawl doing something to you even over the phone, such that you found yourself cancelling plans just to go and sit on his couch that very evening, textbook over your knees.

Some nights with Sarah tucked up fast asleep you’d stand and stare at the pictures of the two of them, her holding up a soccer trophy nearly twice her size, him standing with his hand in his pocket, his other over the shoulders of a younger man you assumed was Tommy. If you were feeling particularly bold, or were procrastinating especially hard, you’d extend a finger and run them up and down the strings of Joel’s guitar, resting sentinel against the windowsill. You imagined his fingers pushing into the fretboard, the strings indenting the flesh.

It wasn’t even that he was handsome, although he definitely was. He was a young father, doing it almost entirely alone, and on any other man that would have made for grumpy, for overly tired, for entitled. On Mr Miller it made for kindness, for a nurturing type of strength, corded tight under his skin. For a single dad always thinking about his daughter, only ever wanting the best for her. For a man focussed on doing right for his family, small as it was.

You rolled your shoulders, the pre-frontal cortex just about beating you for the night. Just as you were wondering if the Millers kept any ice cream in the freezer, you heard the key in the front door. You listened as Joel followed the same routine, first toeing off his boots, letting out a little grunt as the second one hit the floor. You heard him huff as he stretched his back, rolling his hips in a little circle to try and get some stretch into them, before dropping his keys on the table and padding, surprisingly light on his socked feet, into the kitchen.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said, his pet name for you emerging on only the second time you’d sat for him and still, even after this many months, causing your stomach to do a little flipper.

‘Evening, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he tutted at you, moving over to the fridge and extracting a beer.

‘Told ya not to call me that,’ he muttered, but you could see the grin behind it. ‘How was my girl tonight?’

‘Perfect, as always,’ you said, smiling at him as he poured you a glass of sweet tea from the jug in the fridge without bothering to ask if you wanted any. You accepted it gratefully, suddenly noticing how dry your throat had become.

‘She’s a good kid,’ he said. He sat down, heavy, in the chair opposite you. The ceiling lamp buzzed above you both, and the light bounced off the fine sheen of sweat accumulating on his arms, on his cheeks. He glowed, even if it was under a layer of exhaustion.

‘You look tired, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he cocked a little grin.

‘You sayin’ I look like shit, Sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘No, never,’ you said, instantly regretting how quickly, how fervently, you had responded. He continued to grin at you, lopsided, the dimple on his right cheek popping out to greet you.

‘What is it tonight?’ he asked, and you held up your book to him. ‘The bio-mech-an-ics-of-thought: phys-ee-ol-o-gee of the brain,’ he intoned, before letting out a low whistle. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he said.

‘It’s interesting,’ you defended, unsure why. ‘So long as there are diagrams,’ you added.

‘So that’s where the magic happens?’ he asked, gesturing to the illustrated image of the brain in the centre of the page you had been working from.

‘This is where thought happens,’ you nodded. ‘Kind of like…where decisions are made.’

‘Must be a woman’s brain,’ Joel deadpanned, taking a swig of his beer. ‘Can guarantee men make their decisions someplace else.’

You caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes as he glanced over you. You blushed, swearing it was just the heat, and furious with yourself. This wasn’t like you; you weren’t some shrinking violet type. You’d had boyfriends, you’d had fun in college. You had no idea what it was about Mr Miller that made you immediately go all giggly, all girly, but whatever it was you wished it would fuck off.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You were used to this from him, the way his mind seemed to drift, the way he seemed content enough to let it. Gently, so as not to jolt him out of his thoughts, you closed your book, gathered your pens together. Everything tucked away in your bag you were surprised when you looked up to see he was watching you.

‘Apparently Sarah’s taken an interest in science,’ he said after a moment, his warm eyes watching yours for a second. You felt a tingle of pride in your chest.

‘Oh yeah?’ you asked.

‘Mmhmm, apparently after she pushed Simon Strzelecki off the monkey bars, she offered to patch him up again.’

You grinned before you were able to catch yourself.

‘That’s…very, umm…’ you trailed off and he huffed out a little laugh.

‘It’s very Sarah,’ he agreed.

‘M’sorry, Mr Miller…’ you started, but Joel stood up, waving you off.

‘Don’t be, Strzelecki’s a little shit’f the highest order,’ he said. ‘You gonna let me give ya a lift this time?’ he asked, and this time you shook your head at him.

‘No, I can walk it.’

‘Y’know I don’t like ya walkin’ around out there on yer’own,’ he grumbled, and you felt the insane urge to reach your hand out to rest on his bicep, to ease his evident discomfort.

‘I can handle it,’ you said, instead.

Something stole over his face for a moment, a sharpness in his eyes. For a moment you gazed up at him, the furrow in his brow deepening, the muscles in his jaw twitching as his eyes roamed over your face. Standing this close to him you were reminded how tall, how broad he really was. You dropped your eyes to his arms, crossed over his chest, and imagined him holding you with them, circling them around your back as you leant, safe, into his skin. You blinked yourself back to reality, worried for a second he could read your thoughts.

‘Know you can handle it,’ he said, his voice low, ‘just don’t like it, is all.’

You did this every time, this stand-off. You worried one night you would waver.

‘G’night, Mr Miller,’ you said, over dry lips. He nodded, once, at you, still evidently displeased something dark, something haunted, passing over his features before he brought them back into line.

He stood on the front porch, light still on, until you rounded his driveway and disappeared past the oak tree by the front lawn.

--

Mick was a guy from your Tuesday morning bio class, and you only realised he was your boyfriend when he introduced you to a few of his friends that way. You’d just gone with it, because it had seemed easier, and he was nice if a little full of himself at times. He was the son of the one the big ranching families, had been almost guaranteed a position at whatever college he chose on the day of his birth, hadn’t ever really considered that money was something you saved, something you worked for.

But he would never let you pay for dinner, and often he showed up to class holding a coffee just for you. You’d been on your own for a long time, had been self-sufficient well before you had any business to, and it was kind of nice to let yourself be cared for, if that’s what this was.

On nights when you had to work he would pout and complain, and you told yourself it was because he cared about you, because he wanted you around, even if some part of you knew he just didn’t like to be alone. Every once and while he would ask if he could come with you, ‘feel you up on the couch like it’s eighth grade’, and it made you feel exactly fourteen years old, like this was a summer job you had failed to grow out of. It didn’t help that he more than once referred to your sitting job as ‘cute’. His mother had stayed at home the moment she fell pregnant with Mick’s older brother, and as far as you could tell was yet to leave. You never asked about a future with Mick, terrified of what kind of picture he would paint.

On one such evening, after he’d been particularly insistent that you blow off your job and come and hang out with him and his friends, he’d starting blowing up your phone just as Mr Miller sat down beside you, weary-boned and sleepy-eyed, at his kitchen table.

You ignored the calls, tried to carry on reading even as Mr Miller arched his brow at your insistently vibrating device. You huffed, knowing at some point Mick would get bored.

‘You’re popular tonight?’ Joel prompted after a while, making you lose your place in the paragraph you’d read over at least ten times already.

You huffed out a sigh, reaching out and scrolling through the stream of notifications. He’d started texting, sometimes just sending a single emoji, sometimes entire paragraphs about how badly you were letting him down. You felt an ache bloom behind your right eye socket, and you reached up to your temple to try and massage it away.

‘It’s my boyfriend,’ you told him, and with your eyes still closed you didn’t see him scowl. ‘He wants me to come out to some bar with him and his drunk friends.’

Joel considered this for a long moment. When you opened your eyes they blurred under the sudden light, and you blinked away sleep to see him clearly again.

‘You should be out with your friends, it’s a Friday night…’ he said, almost looking guilty for a moment, and you rushed to reassure him.

‘No, no trust me…this is better. They’re boring when they’re drunk. And also when they’re sober.’

Joel smiled, straining just slightly, at this.

‘He a good man?’ he asked, and you scoffed a little.

‘He’s barely a man at all,’ you said, automatically. Later you’d reflect on this moment, feel it turn you inside out and scold your skin with the heat of your own shame. For now, though, you were too tired, and it was too hot in the kitchen, for you to catch it.

Joel caught it, though. He cleared his throat.

‘We met at college, and he’s…well, he’s kind of set up for life. He doesn’t have to worry about grades, or proving himself. He’s almost guaranteed his residency.’ You were aware you were starting to sound bitter, and maybe you were just a little. Something about Mr Miller, sitting at his kitchen table late in the evening with a beer, muscles wrapped in a plaid, his soft brown eyes watching you carefully, made you think he’d understand.

‘He doesn’t make you feel good enough for him?’ he asked, after a while.

You considered this, eventually shrugging your shoulders. ‘I don’t know if he makes me feel anything,’ you said, truthfully.

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he watched you, gazed at your face.

‘What do you want him to make you feel?’ he asked.

‘Seen,’ you said, without hesitation.

‘Just seen?’ he asked. His voice was deathly quiet now, almost entirely gravel. His eyes were burning, sharp. You watched as they darkened, stealing your breath out from under you.

‘Desired,’ you almost whispered. He dropped a hand to the table, his fingertips only inches from yours, resting casual on your textbook.

‘What man’s out there runnin’ round this town not desirin’ you?’ he asked, almost as though he couldn’t believe it, and you felt scorching heat on your cheeks, rushing down your sternum, pooling heavy in your core.

You blinked, terrified to move in case you broke whatever spell had befallen him. He turned thoughtful, his eyes dropping to the woodgrain of the table.

‘Y’been working a lot here…can’t imagine hanging out with me and a ten-year-old girl is the same as bein’ out there, living your youth…’

You felt something heavy shift in your belly, something essential curdle and erode.

‘I like it here, Mr Miller,’ you said, all big eyes and almost quivering lower lip. Joel moved away, sitting up straight and peeling the label off his beer.

‘Pretty thing like you, shouldn’t be spendin’ all night waitin’ on us,’ he said, almost to himself. You shook your head again, but he was closing off on you, you could see it in the way his shoulders were folding, the way his mouth was tugging down at the corners.

Without even considering it, operating almost entirely on instinct, you reached your hand out to rest on his bicep. You watched as his eyes drifted close, a long exhale through his nose. He grimaced, almost like you were hurting him, until he lifted his hand and held yours fast to him, wrapping his paw around you.

‘I really love spending time with Sarah,’ you said, just over a whisper, as he stared hard at the table. You could sense he was avoiding your gaze, and you wanted to say something to draw him to you, wanted to give him a little nugget of truth that he could take into himself, hold deep and quiet in his depths. ‘I love spending time with you,’ you said.

He raised his eyes to yours. His hand was so warm over yours, your cheeks so pink in the sleepless heat of the late evening. You saw his eyes fall to your lips and you slipped your hand from under his, reaching up to trace the contours of his jaw with your fingertips.

‘Baby…’ he whispered, ‘I been’ resistin’ you so long, don’t know if I can…’ and you pushed a finger to his lips. You didn’t want him to break whatever spell you were both suddenly under. Didn’t want him to take this from you both, whatever it was turning out to be.

‘Don’t argue,’ you instructed, quietly. With brows saddled, he nodded his head.

And he didn’t argue. Not when you moved your finger from his lips and traced it down over the hollow of his neck, over to his pulse where it thundered under your tough.

Didn’t argue when you leant forward, pressing your nose to his, giving him time to pull away, to move from your lips.

Didn’t argue when you pressed them to his, a little soft and quiet thing, earning you a wanting gasp from him, a prize you would hold in the cavity of your chest so long as your heart stayed beating.

Later, when you had gathered yourselves, when he had gazed at you and you had felt the want in him mixing with the regret, with the necessity of the un-having corrupting the want to take and take and take, you had simply gathered your books, tucking them quiet and neat into the bag at your feet. He didn’t argue with you about driving you home that night, suddenly quiet in a way that set your teeth on edge, and you felt an ache in your belly you couldn’t account for when he closed the door. You waited behind the trunk of the tree at the end of his driveway, counting the minutes he left the light on for you after you’d slipped from view, giving up when you got past 15.

--

You were unsettled. Joel hadn’t called for two weeks, and you were starting to worry that you’d ruined things, your silly little kiss bubbling corrosive at the base of your spine. You couldn’t help going over the whole evening again and again in your head.

You should have told him you preferred spending the nights at his house, that the way it smelt like play-dough and sometimes sawdust, sometimes pine, was so unique to the both of them that you felt your nerves settle the moment you stepped over the threshold. That the house was warm and quiet, that you could spread out your books and something essential to you, that in this space with them you felt more yourself than anywhere else on the planet, even locked away in your little studio apartment, even just you and your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You wanted to tell him Sarah was funny, and smart, and kind, and being around her made you nostalgic for the childhood you never had but ached for, that you felt all that time with her she was giving you something precious and absent, something simple and something sweet. That there were nights you weren’t sure who was sitting who.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t expect anything from him, that it didn’t matter to you if nothing ever happened, if he regretted letting you kiss him, if it had just been that it was too awkward in the moment to say no. Just that you wanted to keep sitting for him, just that if all you got was a casual conversation at the end of the evening and an argument about driving home that would be enough for you, because it would have to be, and so you could make it so.

You begged off seeing Mick for the second Friday night in a row, wanting to be available in case Joel called. You felt silly but you could use the cash. Your textbooks were $400 a piece, and next semester you were taking three classes. Just feeding yourself was enough to stop your studies in their tracks.

Two things happened in the span of ten minutes. A knock at your door stirred you from your lecture notes, and your phone rang. By the time you had it in your hand you were holding Mick back from your face, your palm to his chest, as you craned your neck away from him to speak.

‘M’sorry, Sweetheart, it’s just…I know, it’s a Friday…’

‘It’s fine, Mr Miller,’ you said, ignoring the way Mick was making smoochy faces over your shoulder. ‘I don’t have any plans.’

When you got off the phone Mick was pouting again, and you sighed.

‘I thought I was your plans?’ he said, and you shrugged at him.

‘It’s good money for easy work, babe,’ you said, the nickname sitting heavy on your tongue.

‘I can give you money,’ he said, pulling you towards him by your belt loops and nipping at your jaw. You cringed away from him.

‘That would make me your whore, right?’ you said, and he grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘Never seemed to bother you before…’ he said, and you bristled against him.

‘The fuck does that mean?’

“Oh, fuck me, babe, make me yours…” he imitated, his voice high in a general approximation of yours. You blushed, furiously. ‘You think good girls beg like little whores?’ he asked, and you knew he was kidding around, knew that he wasn’t smart enough to do it without outright insulting you, knew that you’d put up with this shit before so there was no reason why he wouldn’t assume he couldn’t get away with it now. You knew the way he spoke to you was basically your fault, and you couldn’t yell at him now that the precedent had been set. You felt yourself crumple, landing with a thump on the edge of your bed.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he was saying, grinning at you like he’d won his prize. ‘You put the kid to bed, and I’ll come by and keep you happy ‘til Dad gets home.’

You hated the idea, the thought of Mick in that space you’d almost come to think of sacred making your stomach churn.

‘No,’ you said, and you watched as he arched his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You can’t come in…’

‘Say no more,’ he said, grinning again, and for whatever reason, you didn’t.

--

He arrived, just after 9 PM, already drunk. You winced as he parked his car in the driveway, right in Mr Miller’s spot, worried for a moment he was going to swipe the mailbox when he took the angle too fast. He skidded to a stop mere inches from Mr Miller’s garage door and you exhaled, realising you were bracing for the sound of splintering wood. He ambled over to where you stood on the front porch, tugging at your shirt sleeves in the cool night air.

‘Babe!’ he called, and you shushed him almost instantly. He was carrying a sixpack of beers, three of them already gone. His breath reeked and you wrinkled up your nose when he slung his arm over the back of your neck and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

‘This feels like high school,’ he said, and giggled.

‘This is my job, y’know,’ you corrected him, but he wasn’t hearing you, backing you up against the side of the house. You thumped into the brick, wind temporarily knocked from your lungs before he was on you, slipping his entire tongue into your ear in a way that made your skin crawl.

‘Easy…’ you said, and he ignored you, his hand not holding the beers rising up to paw at your breast over your shirt.

‘Mmm…such a tasty little slut,’ he said, and you closed your eyes. ‘Little naughty baby-sitter.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ you stage-whispered, not sure how well your voices wouldn’t carry over the breeze in Mr Miller’s cul-de-sac. He leant down, resting the beers on the front porch so that he could grope you with both hands.

He groaned as he rubbed his cock at your clothed centre. You moved your face to the side, letting your eyes slide closed again.

You tried to think of a romantic movie. Tried to remember some of the fragments of the romance novels your mother had kept stowed under the bed and that you snuck into the den to read to your giggling friends. Tried to imagine a different man, a stranger’s hands on your chest, a stranger’s fingers pinching at your nipples. Tried to imagine what it would feel like if they found the sweet spot, if they sent electric shocks into your belly, into your cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the sound of Mick’s heavy breathing out of your mind, focusing instead on rough and calloused fingers, the scruff of a beard teasing along your skin. Heavy accent and sweet pine, a groaned little ‘Sweetheart…’ as he slipped your shirt up over your shoulders.

‘The fuck’s going on here?’ you heard a gruff voice as your eyes sprang open, pushing Mick from you hard enough that he stumbled, backwards, landing on the grass.

‘Mr Miller!’ you exclaimed, shame burning bright on your cheeks as you righted your clothes. ‘M’so sorry, he just dropped by…’ you started but Joel was striding up his driveway, as you realised with a new flash of guilt he’d had to park on the street.

‘Hey, man…’ Mick was saying, his hands up in front of his face. ‘Just checkin’ in on my girl…’

You cringed, this particular pet name always feeling more like ownership when it came from him.

Joel looked up at you, his brows saddled. ‘You OK, Sweetheart?’ he asked you, and you realised for the first time he wasn’t angry but concerned, his fists balled up like he was ready to spring to your defence.

‘It’s Mick,’ you explained, glancing down at him as he tried to climb to his feet, getting as far as his knees and settling there for a second to plan his next move. ‘He…he wanted to…’

‘Yeah, I saw what he wanted to,’ Joel huffed out, reaching down to pull Mick upright by the back of his shirt. ‘Saw the way you were bracing away from it too,’ he said, looking directly into Mick’s grinning face.

‘What else you see, old man?’ he asked, and Joel dropped him back onto his knees.

‘You got your keys?’ he asked him, and waiting for the younger man to root around in his pockets.

‘Don’t steal my ride,’ he said, handing them over and not noticing when Joel slipped them into his pocket.

‘M’going inside, and I’m gonna call you a taxi, and you’re getting in. She can drive your car back to you tomorrow mornin’…if she doesn’t decide to drive it off a cliff,’ he said, abandoning Mick on the front lawn and coming towards you, grabbing your wrist gentle but firm in his hand and pulling you inside. ‘C’mon, darlin’,’ he said, and you followed, almost entirely on autopilot.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Miller,’ you started but he waved you away, placing a call for the taxi while keeping you fixed in your spot with his glare. When he was done, he rolled his shoulders, sighing.

‘You sit,’ he said, striding into the kitchen and emerging moments later with two glasses of sweet tea. You realised, as you lifted your hands to take your glass from him, that you were shivering.

‘I didn’t know he was going to do that,’ you said, and Joel shook his head. You felt the waves of disappointment rolling off him and you worried for a moment you might cry.

‘He always touch ya like that?’ he asked, palming at the back of his neck.

‘Like what?’ you asked, your cheeks burning again.

‘All…clumsy and…disrespectful,’ he said, quiet. He stared at the floor between you while you perched on the edge of the couch.

‘Well…’ you started, but you weren’t sure how you wanted to finish that sentence. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother to touch me at all, you thought.

Joel scoffed, his jaw squeezed tight. ‘Guys like that are all the same, Sweetheart, just…selfish. Even in the bedroom. No lady should be touched like she’s a piece of meat.’

You considered, for one crazy moment, if Joel wasn’t so much disappointed in you as he was in Mick’s prowess. Suddenly you had to stifle a giggle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Joel asked you, surprised.  

‘Just…I mean, they all go to such fancy schools, get all that college for basically free…’ you started, trailing off when you saw him starting to smile. ‘He can’t even boil an egg, and I don’t mean mine,’ you said, and he laughed then, free and loud, and the sound of it made a little fizzle of joy spark up your spine.

This was fun, you realised, shitting on your terrible boyfriend with the most handsome single Dad you’d ever laid your eyes on. This was really, really fun.

‘So, I take it he don’t make you breakfast in the mornin’,’ Joel joked, and you snorted. ‘What you eat for breakfast, anyway?’ he asked, turning to you now, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You swallowed. ‘No, wait,’ he said, ‘let me guess.’ He pretended to look you up and down, his brow arching as he considered. ‘You’re not a waffles kinda girl,’ he said, thoughtfully. You grinned and shook your head. You’d never liked the sponginess. ‘But you’re too fun for plain old oatmeal,’ he said, and you felt a blush crawling across your chest. ‘You’re a pancake princess,’ he decided, finally. ‘Am I right?’

You pretended to consider it for a second before nodding happily at him. ‘Maple syrup and berries,’ you agreed.

‘Maple syrup and berries,’ he said, grinning in his victory. He paused, something passing between you. Suddenly he shifted forward, his knees just barely brushing yours. You found yourself mirroring him, leaning in enough that you had to put your hand out to steady you, landing it on the cushion only inches from his thigh. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he whispered in your ear, ‘tart…but a little bit of sweet for m’sweetheart.’

You felt heat scorch its way up your chest, reduced to kindling beside him.

‘Bet he don’t kiss ya like ya should be,’ he said, and you thought for a second of Mick, grinning and drunk out of his mind on the front lawn. You wondered if the taxi had come for him yet, and had absolutely no interest in going out to check on him.

‘Mr Miller…’ you whispered, and he groaned, then, his eyes rolling back in his head.

‘Please, baby, when you call me that…’ he trailed off, eyes blown wide and you felt, then, the thundering in your chest. From this distance you could see his racing pulse in his neck, the same pace as yours.

‘Mr Miller…’ you said, again, staring now at his lips. You wanted to reach out and just take a little nibble.

And he was on you, grasping the back of your head and bringing it down to him, crashing his lips into yours as you gasped, swallowing the echo down into his throat. His tongue, scorching hot, exploring your mouth as he teased it open, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheeks.

‘Thought about you…’ you said, without even thinking, and Joel pulled back a second to appraise you; your swollen lips, your doe-eyes gazing up at him.

‘Say that again,’ he mumbled.

‘When he’d take me, I’d think about you,’ you said, and you watched as his eyes fell shut, taking the moment to glance down at his heaving chest, the aching bulge between his legs. ‘Thought about your hands on me, Mr Miller, about your mouth.’

‘Fuck, Sweetheart…’ he said, almost as if it pained him, before his eyes snapped back open to gaze at you.

‘Kiss me?’ you asked, sweet as you could for him while you tried with both hands to hang on to the moment, to stay here in it with him. You would need to remember this, every corner of the room, every detail. Would spend nights reconstructing his face in your mind, the way he was looking at you now, wanting and red-cheeked, dark eyes and a hot little huff as your words landed their blows on him.

‘Canna touch you, baby?’ he asked, and you were nodding, pulling him towards you as he slid his hands over your waist. Threading your hands through his hair he brought you over him, straddling him on the couch as he stared up at you, brows arching high, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. You smiled at him, feeling like his prize, as you brought your hips down on him and watched his eyes ease shut, heard his breath stutter. He was big, you could feel it even as the seam of his jeans rubbed at your core. You could feel yourself aching for him, hot and pounding where you ground yourself down.

‘Fuck, Mr Miller…’ you gasped as you felt him push his cock up into you, his hands on your hips and pulling you down.

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he whispered, reaching up with one hand to cup your breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers that, even through your shirt, shot lightning bolts to your cunt. You gasped, a high-pitched little sound you were sure you’d never made before, and he soaked it down into his skin, kept it held tight and precious in the core of him, to keep him warm on cold evenings.

You felt yourself shivering, even as his warm fingertips dropped to lift the hem of your tee and trace their way back up to your tits along the skin. His enormous hands almost completely captured it, and you felt small, then, and shy, but when you looked down into his warm, brown eyes you saw only safety there, only naked desire for your pleasure.

You let your hips roll, that building ache in your core. You’d only ever felt this alone, had never had another person bring it out of you, and you felt the sharp edges of it as you felt a shard of panic slice through your gut. No one had ever done this for you, before. You weren’t sure if your body would allow it, weren’t sure if you could let go enough to fall.

‘Hey…’ Joel said beneath you, his eyes roaming your face. ‘Relax, Sweetheart,’ he whispered, reaching his hand from your hip to your jaw, pulling you down to rest your forehead on his. ‘Just you n’me, baby,’ he whispered as you rocked on top of him. ‘You can take what you need,’ he promised. ‘I got you.’

‘Joel!’ you gasped, the shiver in your body now ratcheting up your spine, your thighs burning as you rolled your hips on his lap, his cock still tucked away in his jeans. ‘I don’t know if I…’

‘Sssh…’ he cooed, raising a thumb to your lips and slipping it between your teeth. You sucked instinctually, swirling your tongue over the tip and letting your eyes drift closed. ‘Just feel it, baby,’ he said, ‘don’t force it. Let it grow.’

Never in your life had you felt like this. You took his thumb between your teeth as you ground, the spark of fear in your belly engulfed by the roar of your desire. You could feel your hips stuttering, could hear yourself starting to pant.

‘Good girl…’ Joel encouraged, slipping his thumb from your mouth now and smearing it across your lips. ‘Right here for ya, baby,’ he said. ‘Wantchya to feel so good.’

You cried out, smacking your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries. He was going to kill you, and you would let him again and again, let him bring you back to life just to kill you this way all over again. You had no idea bodies were made to feel this good.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, all the warning you could muster as he grabbed your hips with both hands, slamming his bulge up into you as he pulled you down, the seam of his jeans rubbing hard into your clit. ‘Yes!’ you whispered, your body shuddering as you felt yourself crest, the pleasure roaring from your cunt to your chest, exploding out of your skin as you rolled, roiled, boiled on top of Mr Miller.

‘Jesus, there she is…’ he whispered, and you opened your eyes to gaze down at him, your breath still coming in gasps as he watched you, awe and desire on his face. ‘There she is,’ he said again, like a prayer, a benediction.

--

You woke slowly, the dappled light streaming in through the oak tree beside Joel’s window. It took you a moment to orient yourself, to remember that you were in his bed because he’d considered it too late for you to take yourself home, even if you had Mick’s car. Because the pleasure he’d wrung out of you on his couch had left you boneless, because the idea of ripping yourself from his smell, from his heat, was unthinkable in that moment.

You stretched, noting that the other side of the bed remained made, that he had spent the night on the couch. You remembered that you had wanted to ask him to stay, that the words had formed on your lips, and that in that moment you saw the regret on his face, the longing to tuck himself in beside you and pull you into his chest, let the weight of the night take him and you with him, but that he wouldn’t allow it, that he was holding back. You weren’t sure why, but you assumed out of decency, out of respect. Out of some vague employee-boss professionalism you would both cling to in an attempt to paper over the grasping maw of desire opening up between you.

You had wanted him, and you had denied him, allowed him to deny you. You rolled to your back in a frustrated huff, surrounded by the scent of him, of his cologne and the scent of his skin imbued in the sheets beneath you.

After a while you heard noises in the kitchen and you left your cocoon, pulling your clothes on and padding down the stairs constructing a cover story for Sarah as to why you were still there. When you rounded the corner, though, you saw only Joel –in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, standing at the stove.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said casually, as if you hadn’t come on his lap less than twelve hours before, ‘Sarah’s headed off to soccer practice, so you and me’ll have to take care of all these.’

He gestured over his shoulder to the kitchen table, where a stack of cooling pancakes stood proud. You felt a shiver of shock run though you at the sight of them, turning to Joel with the curl of tears tickling the back of your eyes. ‘No berries, sorry darlin’,’ he said, without looking up. ‘But we got enough syrup to make it up to ya, I hope.’

You weren’t sure anyone had ever done anything like this for you. You wanted to sob, wanted to walk over to the table and pick up the pancakes in your fists and mash them into your skin, wanted to drown them in syrup and eat until your belly distended, wanted to force feed them into Joel. Instead, you stepped forward, your arms opening all of their own accord, wrapping yourself around his back like a Koala. He huffed out a surprised laugh, growing serious when he turned you in his arms to face him, seeing the gathering tears at your waterline.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he asked, and you grinned, watery, up at him.

‘No-one has ever…’ you started, catching your words before they spilled too much of the truth. Understanding passed over Joel’s face.

‘Oh, my sweet girl…’ he said, and you glowed for a minute, the words reaching down into your chest and igniting something long extinguished.

He leaned down towards you, pressed his nose to yours, his forehead resting gently on yours. You inhaled him, his scent and the sweet smell of the pancakes on the stove, tried to imprint the memory deep in your DNA.

‘What the fuck is this?’ an angry voice sounded from behind you, and you snapped away from Joel, taking several steps back. Mick, still in his same clothes from the night before, stood furious in Joel’s kitchen.

‘The fuck, you let yourself in?’ Joel asked, matching Mick’s anger with his own. ‘This is a private residence, man.’

‘That’s my girlfriend, man,’ Mick spat, his face twisting into an ugly mask you weren’t sure you’d ever noticed on him before. ‘The fuck you doing feeling her up? You stealin’ my car and my girl?’

‘Mick…’ you started but he was ignoring you, advancing on Joel. You stepped towards him, hands up to placate, but Joel was suddenly beside you, tucking you behind him and shielding you with his broad chest.

‘Back up, buddy,’ Joel said, a whispered warning.

‘Me, back up?’ Mick seethed, about to go on before Joel interrupted him.

‘Yeah, you back up. You need to sit your arse down and learn yourself somethin’,’ he said, advancing on Mick so that the younger man took several steps backwards, heading towards the kitchen table. You wondered if anyone had ever actually stood up to him, if usually his wealth was enough to make people cower. He backed into a kitchen chair, slamming down into it with a thud as he stared up at Joel, the older man red faced and pointing a finger at his chest. ‘You think that little display last night was any way to treat a woman?’ he grit out. You watched as Mick shook his head no. ‘You think she enjoyed that, being pawed at in the dark like a fuckin’ street walker?’ he asked.

‘She looked pretty whorish a few seconds ago,’ Mick responded, petulant and stupid. You could see by the way Joel braced his shoulders, his back expanding in resplendent fury, that Mick had made the wrong fucking choice.

‘Ya little shit,’ Joel said, stepping back from Mick and towards you. He held his arm to you, beckoning you into his chest and you went to him, tucking yourself against his side.

‘You have a woman like this, you fuckin’ cherish her,’ Joel muttered, tracing his fingertips along your side and making you shiver. ‘Look at these pretty little tits,’ he said, moving to cup them as you blushed, tucking your face into his neck. You heard Mick’s sharp intake of breath, mirroring your own as Joel rolled your nipples through your shirt. ‘The way you were grabbin’ at ��em last night, you think that felt good? You make her groan like this?’ he asked, applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive nubs, eliciting a moan from you, unbidden.

‘Listen, man, this is…’ Mick started but Joel cut him off with just a look, stern and disapproving, before his face shifted back to adoration when he turned to you.

‘Let’s show him, baby?’ he asked, his brows saddled high. You knew you were safe with him, that at any moment you could call it off, but you wanted this. You wanted Mick to see what Joel could do to you, the sounds you could make. Wanted him to feel small and insignificant in the presence of a real man, of real pleasure. Wanting him to see what money couldn’t buy.

You nodded your head at Joel and watched as the grin bloomed over his face. ‘M’good girl,’ he said, quiet enough that only you could hear it, and you felt the bolt of want shoot down into your core. Your cunt already aching, already dripping for him.

‘Show me where,’ he said, stepping back as you surveyed the space. You nodded towards the kitchen island, the bench just above your hip height. Joel nodded, lifting you up easily to perch on the edge, your body facing Mick as he sat, frozen, at the table in front of you.

‘Slip these off, baby,’ Joel said, tugging at your sweatpants and you lifted your hips as he slipped them, your panties along with them, out from underneath you. The granite countertop cold on the top of your thighs you revelled in the sensation of it, the hard, cold surface so different to Joel’s hot body as he hovered at your side.

‘Show him,’ he said, tapping you on the knee. You spread your legs, hooking one thigh over the edge of the counter and the other widening out to your side, your cunt unfolding before the two men in front of you. You watched as Mick’s face turned pink, sweat appearing on his brow. You turned to look at Joel, the hunger in his eyes as he devoured every inch of your skin. He reached over, running his fingertips over the inside of your thigh, moving closer to you, leaning over your body to whisper into your ear.

‘You’re dripping onto my countertop, baby,’ he said, and you could hear the glee in it, the wanting.

‘For you, Joel,’ you clarified. ‘Not him.’

‘Nah, never for him, I reckon,’ Joel agreed, his fingers slipping further towards your slit. You felt totally exposed and wanton, whorish, as Mick had put it, and your cunt was pulsing, aching from the desire of it. You felt like a priceless piece of art admired in a big city museum, like a stripper opening up her legs for hoards of braying men, like a girlfriend letting her disappointing boyfriend know in no uncertain terms he would no longer neglect her. You felt power coursing through your veins and into your cunt, your slick pooling on the top of your thighs as the most beautiful man you had ever seen stood beside you and teased the pleasure from every nerve.

‘Fuck…’ you whimpered as Joel’s fingers landed light and dexterous on your clit, the little bundle of nerves sending the pleasure roaring through your core and into your chest. You bucked your hips, nearly slipping from the countertop, Joel coming forward again to brace you against his chest.

‘God, look how much she wants it,’ Joel said over your head to Mick. ‘Bet you’ve never made her jump like that.’ You opened your eyes, not even having realised they’d closed, to watch Mick swallow hard and heavy. You beamed back at Joel, letting the pride in his face radiate warmth down upon you.

‘So good f’me, so good t’me,’ he said, spreading your lips apart with his fingers and pushing a fingertip inside. You gasped, shock on your face at the intensity of the need for him burning where he touched.

‘Please…’ you whimpered, just wanting more and just wanting him to never stop, just wanting him to reach inside you, to wring the pleasure out of you, to make you come so hard you forgot your own name.

‘Sshh…’ he cooed to you, ‘your boyfriend needs to concentrate so he can learn.’

You emitted a squeal of frustration, bucking your hips on his hand to try and draw him in, earning you only a chuckle from Joel.

‘Ok baby, m’sorry. Just like teasin’ ya,’ he grinned at you, before sliding two fat, rough fingers hard into your cunt.

For a second you lost touch with reality, your head flying back to the ceiling as sensations strong enough to take your breath roared from your cunt. The stretch was delicious, the heel of Joel’s hand rubbing hard at your clit as his fingers reached deep inside you, opening you up for him, your slick gathering in his palm.

‘Look how wet she gets,’ Joel noted, over his shoulder to Mick. ‘Such a shiny little cunt when she’s drippin’ like this. You ever work her up like this?’

You heard Mick grunt, a pleading note of displeasure, and you sighed as Joel started pumping, stoking the fire in your cunt that threatened to eviscerate you and everyone within the vicinity.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, rolling your hips again, trying to shove him deeper into your greedy little cunt as it grasped at him.  

‘Could lick ‘er up, whatchyu reckon?’ Joel asked, already getting down on his knees as you groaned, certain now he was going to send you into the stratosphere. ‘Can I, baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, frantic, unable to form words.

‘Bet she tastes sweet,’ Joel said to Mick, who was inching closer in his chair, peering over Joel’s shoulder as your cunt swallowed his thick fingers. ‘Like watermelon on a hot summer day. You ever taste her, Mick?’ he asked. You watched as the shame bloomed over Mick’s face. Joel scoffed. ‘Course not, ya fuckin piss weak little prick,’ he spat before turning, diving in to lick a fat stripe at your folds, settling in to lap at your clit as his fingers worked you.

You screamed, sucking in huge lung-fulls of breath just to let them keen out of you, your hips slamming shut on Joel’s head as he sucked at you, every nerve ending screaming now as you felt the blooming heat of release.

‘Oh, he’s gonna make me…’ you said to Mick over Joel’s shoulder, watching you with owlish eyes.

‘Don’t talk to him,’ Joel admonished you, pulling your focus down to him as he perched between your legs, ‘you talk to me,’ he said.

‘Sorry, Mr Miller,’ you said, watching as his eyes rolled shut, a shiver passing over his shoulders.

‘Be the death of me…’ he muttered, returning his attentions to your pulsing cunt. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips on his face and rocking into him, chasing the release now gathering at the base of your spine.

‘Jesus…oh, fuck…’ you cried, trying desperately to warn him, your eyes slamming shut only to open in shock as he found new ways to wring the pleasure from you.

Joel worked you up, his tongue never fatiguing, setting up the perfect rhythm to hold you just on the edge. You could feel your sweat pooling on your skin, the heat in your cunt spreading down your legs, the pull of the knot in your belly.

To your utter dismay Joel stopped, lifting his face to address Mick at his shoulder. ‘You ever make her squirm like this?’ he asked, and you cried for him, then, scrabbling to grip his shoulders, his chin, to push him back to your desperate cunt. He laughed, nipping at your fingertips as they passed by. ‘Look at her graspin’ for me. You seein’ this? This is what real pleasure looks like.’

You cracked open an eye, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain control of your limbs. You saw the look of shame embedded deep into Mick’s face now, the sight of it somehow intensifying your pleasure, the building pressure in your cunt.

‘Fuck me,’ you gasped, turning your attention back to Joel, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Show him how to fuck,’ you groaned, pushing off the countertop and spinning up onto your toes, laying chest down on the granite now hot to the touch from your writhing body on top of it. You spread your legs a little, knowing that your puffy little cunt lips would be revealed to them both, and you heard them both groan, Joel’s chesty moan full of grit, Mick’s high pitched and brimming with regret.

‘Don’t do this, man…’ he pleaded, and you heard Joel’s little scoff.

‘That’s the thing, buddy, the lady always gets what she wants.’

You felt him come to stand behind you, heard the rustle of his sweats as he pulled his cock over the waistband. It took everything in you not to turn and admire it, knowing in that moment you would have plenty of opportunity.

‘Fuck, she’s got me weepin’,’ Joel said, and you heard the unmistakable sound of skin on skin as he wrapped his hand around himself and tugged. ‘Got me harder than a railroad spike, this little cunt…’ he muttered. You whined, swivelling your hips to try and entice him, begging him to move faster as the walls of your cunt fluttered for him. You heard him sigh, a happy little sound. ‘Ok, baby, I’m here,’ he said, running a hand up your spine to hold you gentle and firm at the back of your neck, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. ‘Gotta be gentle with my sweet little pussy,’ he said to you, leaning over you to place a chaste kiss in the cup of your shoulder blade.

‘Please, let him see it stretch me,’ you said, and you felt Joel shudder, notching himself at your entrance.

‘Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll chain him up in the basement, make him watch me fuck you every day,’ he muttered, pushing gently at first, the tip enough to make you gasp.

He was big, you realised. All of this time working you up he’d been leading to his moment, preparing to tease you open. ‘Oh, shit…’ you gasped as he pushed.

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, pausing until you nodded, frantic, hands gripping at the edge of the counter for purchase as you pushed back into him, sliding in a few extra inches, as Joel moaned.

You were dimly aware that Mick was moving, coming to stand in front of you, a look of sorrow and unabashed heat on his face.

‘Please, can I?’ he asked, rubbing himself through his pants and you swatted him away.

‘No, fuck you,’ you said, emboldened by Joel’s desire for you, by his cock currently splitting your folds. ‘You never get this pussy again,’ you hissed at him, and you felt a bloom of pride at the look of hurt crossing his face just as Joel cheered from behind you.

‘That’s my beautiful girl!’ he gasped, bringing a finger to your clit and rubbing tight circles into it, making you gasp as you let your head fall, resting on the countertop. ‘So good f’me.’

The burn in your cunt from the way he stretched you abated, the pleasure Joel was giving you from your clit causing more slick to gather, your cunt grasping him again, your walls fluttering as you felt the ache turn to sweet pleasure, to a blooming rapture.

You lost touch with the ground, Joel’s harsh thrusts pushing you further up the counter, completely at his mercy as your legs hung useless beneath you, hands braced against the granite to give him purchase. In this moment, spread out on his cock, your cunt open and dripping for him, the pleasure ripping the words from your brain, gasps racking your throat, you felt completely under Joel’s spell, his touch, his heat. Mind-numb, thoroughly fucked out, gripped in this moment between the build up and the threshold of release.

‘Oh, you’re gonna make me…’ you warned but Joel had you, was there already with you.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he grunted between thrusts. ‘Can feel it, can feel that sweet little cunt grippin’ me.’

You cried out, nodding your head furiously, entirely at his mercy now. ‘Yes, yes…Joel, it’s gonna…’

‘Let it go, baby,’ he moaned, and you felt none of the panic, none of the terror at your impending release, wrapped up safe in Joel’s body, in his groans of rapture, in the pull of the knot as it threatened to snap entirely.  

‘Watch me make her come,’ he spat out over your head, and you were only dimly aware of what he was saying as your release sped towards you.

You writhed, your breath stolen from you by the roar of the wildfire across your chest. The push of your orgasm slipping you under, crashing your body into the shore, rolling and quaking underneath it as indescribable lust coursed through your veins.

‘Oh, fuck, there she goes,’ Joel spluttered, his hips stuttering as he started to deepen his thrusts. ‘Gonna fill up ya girl,’ he grit out, his final movements sloppy and desperate as he approached the edge.

‘Do it, baby,’ you whimpered beneath him, words finally able to escape the cage of your throat. ‘Need you.’

He did, then, his come exploding into you and washing you clean, cleansing you of Mick, of all your disappointments, of all your fears. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he crested, his eyebrows saddled and his eyes trained on you, a look of reverence and hunger, of sweet shock, as though he couldn’t believe how good it felt either, as if everything for him was also slotting into place, as if he knew in this moment he would never let anyone separate you, would never let anyone take you from his side, that in his moment you were his just as much as he was yours, that this was a forging of something solid and essential, something vital and something precious, something that was just for you.

--

You didn’t remember Mick leaving. Didn’t care to say goodbye.

Joel had peeled you off the counter and carried you upstairs, drawn you a bath and lowered you gently into the water, sat beside you and washed your body as you lulled in and out of a light sleep.

Drying you off he wrapped you up in his clothes, swamping you in cotton and his scent, before promising to make you a fresh batch of pancakes. You hadn’t let him, whimpering when he tried to leave your side, pulling him down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you.

Later you would figure out lunch, and then Sarah, and then the rest of your lives. For now, you had each other, and cool sheets, and the light patter of rain as a welcome cool breeze blew new life over the garden beneath Joel’s window.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?

[criminalamnesia]

Not a request but NEW TRAITOR CHAP WHEN??? prioritize urself no rush Pookie just the ppl gotta know

part 7 is here 🙏

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

it was pouring rain as you slid from the taxi, the driver attempting to yell at you to shut the door as thunder rumbled overhead.

you paid him no heed; boots splashed in murky puddles as you pushed the door closed and moved towards the yellow cab’s trunk.

you could barely hear yourself think. the rain was battering the ground as if locked in a viscous war with the cracked pavement— puddles forming as the asphalt resisted with all its might. it wasn’t enough, water seeping into the ground and muddying the grass nearby, drowning it mercilessly.

you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before shutting the trunk. you’d barely stepped back from the car before it was speeding off, kicking up water and splashing your legs.

you didn’t mind— you were soaked through to the bone, anyways. besides, you didn’t mind the storm. it was comfort— a distraction from what lay ahead.

your new team. a small, covert operations group made up of the best of the best. two sergeants, a lieutenant, a captain— and they wanted one more soldier.

the opening couldn’t have come at a better time. you’d run your course with your old squad. they’d been fine— until they weren’t. carelessness and ignorance from teammates almost resulted in your untimely death, and laswell hadn’t questioned your transfer request after hearing the tale.

in fact, she’d recommended the one-four-one to you.

you thought you’d be meeting them on base, but the captain had requested you meet them here, instead. a run-down old diner, with its bright, neon pink sign blinking down at you through the rain.

you inhaled, then exhaled. clenched your fists, then unclenched them. it was a habit you’d had since you were a child. it forced you to slow down and think, to overcome the emotions you were lost in.

you blinked. rain ran down your face, creating false tears as it streamed from the corners of your eyes. you were sure you looked a sight.

another inhale, another exhale, and then you moved towards the diner’s door. you pushed it open, stepping inside and wiping your boots on the mat in front of the door.

“I think you’re gonna need to do more than that to dry off, sweetheart” a woman’s voice calls to you, causing you to look up towards the counter. she’s grimacing, looking you up and down. no doubt she’ll be following your path through the building with a mop in hand.

“sorry,” you tell her, trying to brush some water from your jacket. “forgot my umbrella.”

the woman gave a huff, waving her hand before turning and attending to an ancient-looking coffee maker.

you take the time to glance around the diner then, noting the substantial lack of customers. only two booths were occupied, one containing a young couple tangled in each other’s arms, and the other containing a man wearing a baseball cap with the UK flag patched on it.

he looked up from his phone as you approached, seemingly unsurprised based on the grin he gave you.

“glad to see you got here in one piece,” he says as you shrug off your bag, placing it on the floor as you slide into the seat across from him.

“one drenched piece,” you say, and he gives a small chuckle.

“im kyle,” the man tells you. “don’t know what laswell told you,” he clicks off his phone and places it on the table. “but im one of the sergeants.”

you nod. “callsign ‘gaz,’ right?”

he gives a nod of his own. his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up. his eyes glance down, scan the message, then meet yours once more.

“rest of the team got held up. price is in a meeting. johnny and ghost are on assignment, but they’re due back any day now.”

“so you’re the welcome committee by default, huh?” you say, and he laughs.

“guess i am. have i scared you off yet?”

“dunno,” you tell him. “but laswell sings your praises. the captain’s, especially.”

“she sings yours, too.” kyle says.

you give a small nod, your mind racing at what laswell may have told the task force. you weren’t bad at your job— you were great at it. a great shot, a reliable solider, a tireless sentry.

your emotions got the better of you at times, that was all. attachments and bonds that formed, linking you and your fellow soldiers together in the web of warfare. tying you around the wrist and dragging you along, for better or worse. little siblings or lovers evolving from what once had been just another set of boots on the ground.

this job was all you had. you found family where you had too, and it made you all the more loyal. but when you were spurned? when the fire leapt from the pit and scorched your skin?

you weren’t quick to forgive, and you found that reasonable in this line of work. mistakes by teammates could get you killed. who could blame you for holding a grudge against an ally who had almost cost you your life?

it’s why you were here now. a new start with a new team— a team of the best, you included.

kyle’s phone buzzes again. he picks it up, the screen illuminating his face as the lights flicker overhead. the storm wasn’t letting up.

“cap’s on his way— says he’ll be here in less than 30.”

“price, right?” you recall his name. kyle nods.

“don’t tell him I told you,” he leans in, a mischievous look in his eyes, “but he’s been lookin’ forward to meeting you. maybe even more than johnny has.”

“why’s that?”

“said the one-four-one is overdue for someone else who can kick johnny’s ass. wants you to knock him down a few more pegs.”

you laugh at that, giving a small shake of your head. kyle’s lips curl into a smile. “nah, he’s just happy to have some more hands on deck. always helps to have another person that’ll watch your back.”

as kyle starts talking again, you find your nerves settling.

maybe this team could be your new family.

you looked down at your hands, noting the slight shake of them. you don’t think they’d been steady since before everything happened.

your eyes glance to the ugly, scarred stump of the finger you’d lost. simon hadn’t chopped it off prettily, and it’d been stitched up hastily. you couldn’t blame the doctor, there had been more pressing injuries to attend to.

such as the bone-deep cut to one leg, growing infected from your time spent in the chair. the scar was long, stretching from the top of your thigh to your knee. it was still pink, a sign of your body still trying to put itself back together.

your torso wasn’t much better. jagged scars and puckered knots of skin marred your image. both from before and from after.

your eyes met your own in the mirror. you barely recognized yourself. the anger within you still burned, but its flame had reduced to a simmer. exhaustion, apathy, and shame had taken its place.

perhaps that was a good thing. it saved you the energy of fighting the men you inevitably saw every day. despite your numerous pleas and demands for them to simply leave you alone, they seemed to have a hard time listening. it made you want to scream. to hurt them, digging your fingers into skin until they understood the pain behind your words.

a knock sounded at the door. you didn’t move.

a knock again. you could hear the shuffle of feet outside the door. you wished whoever it was would leave you be.

another knock, accompanied by the soft timbre of kyle’s voice.

“love, you alright in there?” he was saying. you still stood before the mirror.

things had been different since you attacked the doctor. it had only been a few days, but word spread quickly through base. if people had avoided you before, you were like the plague now.

and the shame you felt was insurmountable. the pain and regret and fury were building like a tidal wave in your stomach, rising and choking the air from your lungs.

you wanted to leave this place. get away from the men you once called family, the one you once called yours.

but leaving meant the end of your career. you just had to hold out until kate arranged your transfer, that’s all. just a few more days, right?

and then this place and these people wouldn’t be a constant reminder of what had happened to you. of what it had done to you, physically and mentally.

“go, kyle,” you called out to him, breaking from your trance as you reached for the scratchy robe johnny had gifted you one christmas.

“not until i see you breathin’, love.”

you sigh, tying the robe shut and hugging the material to your body. you moved to the door, turning the lock before inching it open.

“breathing,” you tell him, watching as his eyes flick away from yours. god, it made you want to strangle him.

to yell at him, to yell at all of them— "you did this, and you should be able to look me in the eyes and see it.”

“now go.”

he looks at you again, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “will you let me in?” he asks, and you scoff as you move to slam the door.

“fuck off, kyle.”

but he’s quick, and his hand shoots out, grasping the door’s wooden edge and keeping it from closing.

“we need to talk.”

“whatever you need to say, you can say it from there,” you tell him, and he pauses for a minute before he nods.

“doc is asking about you again. she’s up and runnin’ around. said she wants to see you.”

your lips press into a thin line. you didn’t deserve that woman’s kindness, not after what you’d done to her.

you hadn’t been in your right mind, but that didn’t excuse it. you had bloodied your fists; harmed an innocent in the war between you and your own mind.

you didn’t want to see her still worrying about you when you had assured her you were fine. you had left her supervision, and then you’d attacked her. and you hadn’t stopped until simon had pulled you away.

you would’ve killed her, you know that in your heart. you would’ve killed her, thinking she was one of the men who had wanted to kill you.

“tell her im fine,” you said, your hand tightening around the door’s knob.

“i think she’d rather see that for herself,” he says.

“im fine,” you repeat. “i’ll be out of everyone’s hair in a few days, anyways.”

kyle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “you’re leaving?”

he knew this, they all did. perhaps they just didn’t truly believe it. all of them, every single one, still thought you’d turn around and run back into their arms.

bastards.

“as soon as laswell gives the word,” you reply. “should be soon.”

kyle doesn’t speak. he’s obviously biting his tongue— you’d seen the expression that was on his face enough to know when he was holding back, but you didn’t prod like you would’ve before.

let him keep his secrets, lies, promises, and sorries. you didn’t need them anymore.

“don’t bother me again,” you said before shutting the door in his face.

you hear him sigh on the other side of the wood, then hear the retreat of his steps. you turn back to the mirror, snarl, and grab the alarm clock from your nightstand.

you throw it into the glass, shattering it to pieces. seven years of bad luck, you think.

well, it couldn’t get much worse, could it?

kyle sighs, staring at your door for a second longer before turning away. simon looks down at him from where he was leaning against the wall, hidden from your view, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“surprised?” simon asks as the two of them retreat down the hallway. he makes sure they’re far enough from your door before speaking, so that you won’t hear his voice.

“we knew it was happening, price said as much after that whole thing with johnny,” kyle replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “just thought this might change things.”

“change ‘em how?” simon says. “if anythin’, this speeds it up. they’re a liability now.”

“they’re hurt, ghost,” kyle retorts, his eyes meeting his superior’s. “that’s ptsd. not everyone’s as forgiving as the doc. they attack someone outside and that’s a fucking felony.”

“that’s not our problem, sergeant,” comes simon’s baritone reply, and kyle stops.

“you’re a fuckin’ case yourself, y’know that, LT?” he says, and simon stops. “we all played a part,” kyle continues. “but you? you would’ve killed ‘em if we never knew the truth. i know you would’ve. i’ve seen you do it.”

the men stare at each other. simon’s expression is hidden underneath his balaclava, but kyle knows it’s unreadable regardless.

mean, old ghost. heartless bastard, loyal to the mission only. that’s what the others around base whispered to each other.

kyle had seen proof to the contrary. yes, simon was loyal to the mission. but he was also loyal to his team, his family. you.

he was loyal to you.

“watch yourself, sergeant,” simon speaks, his voice a dangerous rumble.

kyle scoffs and walks off, shaking his head.

simon watches him go, his breath steady.

kyle didn’t understand him, not really. not the way you had begun to. and that was his own fault, he knows it. forever holding those close to him at arms length for fear of the worst.

he’d let you in— let you invade that space he enforced so ruthlessly. and the worst had happened.

kyle doesn’t know this is tearing him in half; none of the team does. they don’t understand that simon wants you to stay because you’re you, but he wants you gone because he can see how this is killing you.

even when he’s the villain in your story, he’s still trying to look out for you— in his own, twisted way.

he doesn’t regret it. that is cemented in his mind. but as he grapples with his own emotions, his mind in its own turmoil, he knows he wants you to be okay.

“im sorry,” he had spoken to deaf ears.

sorry for the ripping apart of your life, but not sorry for what he had done.

deep down, he knew you would never forgive them. he knew that leaving this team would be the best thing for you.

he knew, he knew, he knew.

knowing and accepting are two different things.

hope this was worth the wait! i think the next part will be the end, unless my idea changes 👀

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too?"

Joel miller x f!reader

next part

Summary: Joel doesn't like you until he loses all his memories.

w.c: 14k> (longest piece I've written and my eyes are dry)

warnings: fluff, mention of amnesia, memory loss, ANGST and angst, and more angst because I love angst. There is smut but you already know I'm bad at writing that. No proof reading, I'm lazy, sorry.

a/n: hello! I got inspired by this "memory loss" type of story. It was supposed to be a one shoot, but I had to split the whole thing so another part is more likely to happen. I know there has been some drama surrounding writers and I want to say that every single person who writes and makes an art with that is amazing! Everyone who is reading this, please give creators here your flowers. With that being said, Happy reading or not 😭💌 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. (come on, talk to me)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel didn't used to hate women, but man, when he met you for the first time, you crawled under his skin. He had fun with you, making jokes, trying to get on your nerves. For his hell, everyone in Jackson loved you; after all, you were the nurse and the sweetheart. Always looking after everyone, always being sweet to everyone.

It was a sunny afternoon when you first arrived in Jackson, your kind demeanor and skilled hands quickly gaining the trust and admiration of the townsfolk. Joel watched from a distance with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He couldn't understand why everyone was so taken with you. To him, you seemed too soft, too gentle for the brutal world they lived in.

"Hey, Joel," Tommy called out one day, pulling Joel from his brooding thoughts. "We're heading out on patrol. You should meet the new nurse. She's something else."

Joel grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disinterest. He didn't need to meet you to know what kind of person you were. In his mind, you were just another naive newcomer who wouldn't last a week.

But fate had other plans. That very evening, a group of raiders attacked the outer perimeter. The town was thrown into chaos, and Joel found himself side by side with you, defending the walls. He couldn't help but notice your bravery and the way you handled yourself under pressure.

After the attack, as the town counted its injuries and losses, you worked tirelessly, tending to the wounded. Joel watched you, his irritation growing as he saw the way everyone fawned over you, thanking you for your care.

"Think you're some kind of hero, huh?" Joel muttered as he approached you, his voice laced with sarcasm.

You looked up at him, exhaustion evident in your eyes, but you offered a small, tired smile. "Just doing my job, Joel."

"Your job?" Joel scoffed. "You think patching up a few cuts and bruises is going to keep these people safe? This world doesn't care how sweet you are."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "And what would you have me do, Joel? Let them suffer? We're all trying to survive here, and we all have our roles to play."

Joel huffed and walked away, but your words lingered in his mind. Despite himself, he couldn't deny that you were right. Over the following weeks, Joel continued to watch you, his annoyance slowly giving way to a grudging respect. He noticed how you never backed down, how you always stood your ground, even when faced with his relentless jabs.

One day, during a particularly harsh winter storm, you and Joel were sent out on a supply run. The weather was brutal, and the path was treacherous. As the wind howled around you, Joel found himself instinctively moving closer, his protective instincts kicking in despite his irritation.

"Watch your step," he warned, his voice gruff.

You nodded, shivering against the cold. "Thanks, Joel."

As you both trudged forward, the wind picked up, and visibility dropped to almost nothing. You focused on placing one foot in front of the other, barely able to see Joel a few steps ahead. Suddenly, you heard a sharp crack and a thud.

"Joel!" you shouted, fear gripping your heart.

Rushing forward, you found Joel lying on the ground, unconscious, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. He must have slipped on the ice and hit his head on a rock hidden beneath the snow.

Panic set in, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You needed to get him back to Jackson quickly. You checked his pulse, relieved to find it steady, then did your best to bandage the wound with the supplies you had. With great effort, you managed to lift Joel and drape him over your shoulder, carrying him back through the storm.

By the time you reached Jackson, you were exhausted and freezing, but you didn't stop until you got Joel to the infirmary. The doctors took over, treating his wound and monitoring his condition.

You sat by Joel's bedside, watching him closely. Hours passed, and eventually he began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented.

"Joel?" you said softly, leaning forward.

He turned his head to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. But then, a slow, almost lazy smile spread across his face. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Did I die and wake up in heaven?"

You blink, taken aback by his words. "Uh, Joel, it's me. Do you remember what happened?"

Joel's smile didn't waver as he looked at you. "I remember everything... except meeting you before. Are you sure we haven't met in a dream?"

You glanced at Tommy, who had just walked into the room, and saw the same confusion mirrored on his face. "Joel," Tommy said cautiously, stepping closer, "do you know who I am?"

Joel's eyes shifted to Tommy, his smile fading into a look of mild frustration. "Of course I do, Tommy. You're my brother. But I'm more interested in getting to know this doll here."

Tommy exchanged bewildered looks with you. "Joel, this is… Ah. She's... well, you two never really got along."

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Well, I must've been an idiot then because I can't imagine not liking someone like you."

Your heart raced, unsure how to respond to this flirtatious side of Joel, the same who hours ago was trying to crawl under your skin, the same one who had rejected you all this time. "Joel, you really don't remember me at all?"

Joel shook his head, still gazing at you with that same enamored look. "Not a thing. But I gotta say, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time, and I like what I see."

Tommy scratched his head, clearly at a loss. "This is... something else. We need to figure out what happened to his memory."

You nodded, trying to process the sudden shift in Joel's demeanor. You knew the hit on the head did something to his memory, but you didn’t know how to face it. "Joel, you hit your head pretty hard. The doctors said you might have some memory loss. Maybe this is part of it."

Joel reached out and gently took your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, if forgetting the past means I get to start over with you, I think I can live with that."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place. Perhaps butterflies are flying all around inside your tummy. "We'll take it slow, okay? There's a lot you need to know."

Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "As long as you're the one teaching me, I'm all in."

Tommy coughed awkwardly, breaking the moment. "Alright, let's give Joel some time to rest and recover. We'll figure this out together."

You nodded, reluctantly pulling your hand away from Joel's. "Get some rest, Joel. We'll talk more later."

As you and Tommy left the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of Joel's gaze following you. Tommy put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Just... be careful. He's not the same Joel right now."

You nodded, your mind racing with the implications of Joel's memory loss and his sudden interest in you. The days ahead were sure to be challenging, but you couldn't deny the flicker of excitement at the thought of getting to know this new, more open version of Joel.

A version where he could get to know you and maybe, like, a new story waiting to be written with the both of you becoming friends, and not just acquaintances just having to tolerate each other for the community’s sake.

The days following Joel's accident were a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected emotions dancing on your mind. Joel's flirtatious comments and affectionate demeanor were a stark contrast to the gruff, often combative man you had known before.

You had started to get used to feeling his nice demeanor towards you. You found yourself happier than before, smiling at the thought of him when you weren’t with him, and he had become your last thought on your bed just before going to sleep, but you were aware his condition perhaps wasn’t permanent and he was going to recover his memories of you, so you didn’t want to take advantage of that, nor did you want to fall for Joel, not when the fear of him waking up one day and hating you as usual was a threat.

His recovery was slow but steady, and you spent a lot of time by his side, helping him piece together the fragments of his memory. Every interaction felt like walking on fire, with Joel's behavior making your heart flutter and your mind racing at thousand miles per hour.

As you were changing the bandage on his head, Joel watched you with a soft smile. "You know, you have the gentlest touch. It's like you're an angel sent to take care of me."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just doing my job, Joel. Making sure your pretty head heals properly."

Joel reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're more than just a nurse to me now. I don't know what it is, but I feel this connection with you. Like we're meant to be."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Joel, a few days ago I was nothing to you. You don’t remember me, so please just focus on getting better."

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with earnestness. "I get it, but I can't help how I feel. This connection—it's real to me, even if I don't remember our past."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of frustration and affection. "Joel, you're vulnerable right now. Your mind is trying to make sense of everything, and it's confusing. We need to take things slow."

Joel nodded reluctantly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pulled it back. "I trust you. Just know that I'm here, and I want to get to know you, past or no past."

You gave him a reassuring smile. "One step at a time, okay? Let's focus on getting you back on your feet first."

Just then, Tommy walked in, carrying a tray of food. He cleared his throat, causing you to step back from Joel. "Brought you some lunch, big brother. How’re you feeling?"

Joel's eyes lit up at the sight of his brother. "Thanks, Tommy. I'm feeling better every day. And with this sunshine here, it's hard not to feel good."

Tommy gave you a knowing look, his concern evident. "Glad to hear it. Mind if I have a word with you outside?" he asked, looking towards you.

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "Of course, Tommy."

As you stepped outside the room, Tommy closed the door behind you, his expression serious. "How are you holding up?"

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It's... complicated. Joel is so different now. He's kind, attentive, and he seems genuinely interested in me. But he doesn't remember our past—how much we clashed."

Tommy nodded, his face lined with concern. "I can see how that would be confusing. But you have to be careful. This might just be his way of coping with the memory loss. He's latching onto the one constant he has right now—you."

You looked down, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I know. I'm trying to keep my distance, but it's hard. He's... he's different, Tommy. And I can't deny that I'm starting to care for him."

Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "I get it. But you need to remember that his memory might come back, and when it does, he could revert to the Joel we knew before. You have to protect yourself, too."

“Am I that unlovable?” you sighed.

Tommy's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not unlovable. Far from it. But the Joel we knew before... he had his walls up, and you know how stubborn he can be. If his memory comes back, he might go back to those old habits, those old defenses."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "I understand. It's just... complicated."

Tommy gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just take it slow. Don't rush into anything, and remember to take care of yourself too. You suffered a lot before arriving here."

You managed a small smile. "Thanks, Tommy. I needed that."

Tommy smiled back. "Anytime."

Returning to Joel's room, you found him sitting up, his eyes lighting up as you walked in. "Hey, everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just had a chat with Tommy."

Joel's expression became thoughtful. "You know, I'm really grateful for everything you're doing for me. I can't imagine what it must be like, dealing with me like this."

You sat down beside him, taking a deep breath. "It's not easy, Joel, but it's worth it. You're worth it."

Joel reached out, taking your hand in his. "You know, even though I don't remember everything, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time. And I like what I see."

Your heart raced, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check. "Joel, we need to take things slow. Focus on your recovery first."

Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I understand. But I can't help how I feel."

He has repeated the same phrase as before, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself diving into a deep ocean for him.

You squeezed his hand gently. "One step at a time, okay?"

Joel's eyes held a determined glint. "One step at a time."

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Jackson settlement as you walked briskly toward the main gate, your medical bag slung over your shoulder. You spotted Joel waiting for you, his arms crossed and a scowl already etched on his face.

"You're late," he growled as you approached.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm five minutes late, Joel. I had to take care of a kid with a fever."

Joel grunted, clearly unimpressed. "We have a schedule for a reason. Being late puts us at risk."

"Don't lecture me about risk," you shot back, your patience wearing thin. "I know the dangers out there just as well as you do."

Joel's eyes narrowed. "Do you? Because sometimes it feels like you're too soft for this world. Always stopping to help every stray animal and sick kid."

"Excuse me for having a heart," you snapped. "Not everyone wants to live like a damn machine."

"Having a heart can get you killed," Joel retorted, his voice rising. "Out there, you need to be tough. Focused."

"And maybe if you lightened up a bit, people wouldn't be so scared of you," you shot back, your frustration boiling over.

Joel took a step closer, his jaw clenched. "I don't care if people are scared of me. I care about keeping them safe. And you, with your bleeding heart, make that harder."

You felt a surge of anger and hurt at his words. "You know what, Joel? Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you. Maybe you're so wrapped up in your own pain that you can't see anyone else's."

Joel's face darkened, a mix of anger and something else—something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "You don't know anything about my pain."

"And you don't know anything about mine," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. "So maybe you should stop judging me and start seeing that we're all trying to survive in this hell together."

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. Then Joel turned away, his shoulders stiff. "Let's just get this patrol over with."

You followed him out of the gate, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions. The silence between you was thick and uncomfortable, but neither spoke. The rift between you seemed insurmountable, and you couldn't see how things would ever change.

You woke up with a pain on your neck. You had fallen asleep on a chair next to Joel’s bed where he was now lay resting, his breathing even and steady. His recovery was going well, but the emotional landscape was far more complex and you wanted to take the risk to discover it.  

You watched him for a moment, taking a mental picture of his face, the creases on his skin, how peaceful he looked like this. feeling the weight of uncertainty and guilt within you.

In that exact moment, Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked around, his gaze settling on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "Hey, sunshine."

"Hey," you replied softly, mirroring his smile "How are you feeling?"

Joel stretched, wincing slightly but smiling nonetheless. "Better. Thanks to you."

You couldn't help but smile back, the tension easing a bit. "Just doing my job, Joel."

His eyes softened as he looked at you. "You're doing more than just your job. You've been taking care of me, looking out for me. I appreciate it."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "It's what anyone would do."

Joel shook his head slightly. "No, not everyone. You're special, and I... I think I’m starting to understand that."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. "Joel, you don't need to say that. You're still recovering, and things are confusing right now."

Joel's gaze remained steady, his expression earnest. "I mean it. There's something about you... something that's been here all along, and I was too stubborn to see it."

Your heart ached with the weight of his words, knowing how complicated the situation was. "Joel…”

“Did I care about you before?” he asked, gaze locked with yours.

You shook your head “No. Not really.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of the truth. “No. Not really.”

Joel looked troubled, his brows knitting together. “I find that hard to believe. Because right now, I can’t imagine not caring about you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Things were different before, Joel. We didn’t get along. You were... closed off, and I guess I was just someone who got under your skin.”

Joel’s expression softened with regret. “I’m sorry. For whatever I did to make you feel that way. I wish I could remember, but all I know is that right now, I see you, and I feel... connected.”

A memory from the past surged forward, vivid and painful. It was a cold evening in Jackson, just after a particularly difficult supply run. You and Joel had been at odds all day, and the tension between you was palpable.

"Why do you always have to be so damn difficult?" Joel snapped; his voice harsh as he slammed the door behind him.

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. "Maybe because you treat me like I’m incompetent! I’m trying my best out there, Joel. We’re supposed to be a team."

Joel scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "A team? You’re a liability more than anything."

The words cut deep, but you stood your ground. "That’s not fair, and you know it. I’m just trying to help, like everyone else."

Joel’s face twisted with frustration. "Help? You call what you do helping? It’s a wonder anyone here can stand you."

The hurt was immediate and sharp, but you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. "At least I’m trying to do something good. You just push everyone away."

Joel stepped closer, his expression dark. "Maybe there’s a reason for that. I find it hard to believe anyone could actually love you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, disbelief and pain warring within you. Without another word, you turned and left, unable to bear the weight of his cruelty.

Back in the present, you blinked, trying to dispel the memory. Joel was watching you closely, concern etched into his features. "What’s wrong?"

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "Just... remembering something."

Joel reached out, gently taking your hand. "I wish I could remember too. So, I could make it right."

You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Maybe it’s better this way.

Joel squeezed your hand gently. "A fresh start sounds good. But I still want to know everything. About us, about what I did wrong. So, I can be better."

You nodded, taking the risk and pushing your luck.

You and Joel could become friends, right?

"You and I... we could become friends, right?" you asked.

Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he smiled. "Friends sounds like a good start. We can build from there."

You felt a surge of relief. "Friends it is, then."

The days passed, each one bringing closeness between you and Joel. He had got better, slowly starting to get back to his tasks. The community noticed the change in him, how he was more open and approachable. You often found yourselves working together, whether it was on supply runs or him visiting the infirmary when you were there working.

One afternoon, you were busy organizing medical supplies when Joel walked in, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you. "Hey, need any help in here?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You looked up, smiling back. "Joel, what are you doing here? I thought you were out patrolling.”

Joel shrugged, stepping further into the room. "Finished early. Thought I’d come by and see if you needed a hand."

He, in fact lied. He switched places with another guy just to spend time with you again. He could feel your fear irradiating but he wanted to get to know you better. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact he didn’t like someone like you and he wanted to change that.  

You chuckled, shaking your head. " Sure, you can help me with these supplies. There are some boxes that need to be sorted."

Joel rolled up his sleeves and joined you, his presence filling the small room with a comforting warmth. As you worked side by side, you found yourself stealing glances at him, marveling at the changes in him. He was more relaxed, more open, and undeniably more attentive.

"You know," Joel said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence, "I think I like helping out here more than patrolling."

You raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "Oh? And why is that?"

Joel grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend more time with you."

You blushed, focusing intently on the box in front of you. "You’re just saying that."

"No, I mean it," Joel replied, his tone sincere. "I like being around you. You make everything better."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "Well, I like having you around too."

The truth was that stealing glances at him now felt like interlocking fingers without even touching his skin, there wasn’t precisely a sexual tension or possessiveness over him, but a warm incandescent glow within every time he smiled at you. That was something you hadn’t felt in so long, and this time felt so right yet so wrong.

You both continued to work in comfortable silence, the rhythm of your tasks interrupted only by the occasional exchange of smiles or a shared joke. The closeness was undeniable, and you could feel the lines between friendship and something more starting to blur.

One afternoon, you were out on a supply run together, scanning the area for anything useful. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the landscape. As you bent down to pick up some supplies, Joel suddenly appeared by your side, his proximity making your heart race.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

You looked up at him, finding it hard to concentrate with him so close. "Sure, thanks."

As you both worked, the conversation flowed easily. Joel's presence was comforting, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn't before.

"You know, I never really thanked you properly," Joel said, his tone serious.

"For what?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"For saving my life. For being there for me when I needed it the most," Joel replied, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart ache.

You shook your head, a soft smile on your lips. "You don’t need to thank me, Joel. I did what anyone would do."

"Not anyone," he insisted, his gaze intense. "You went above and beyond. You always do."

You blushed, the warmth spreading through you once again. "Well, I care about you. I can’t help it."

Joel's expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I care about you too. More than I ever thought possible."

The moment hung in the air, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You could feel the pull between you, the undeniable connection that had grown stronger with each passing day.

"Joel, this is complicated," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to take things slow."

"I know," he replied, his hand lingering near your face. "But I’m not going anywhere, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Joel's feelings for you had grown stronger. He found himself being smitten and completely in love by you, by your beauty, your strength and your soft heart. You were everything that was good with this world. Where everything and everyone was people with shadows dying out of melancholy, you were an angel wrapping your warm arms around him, making his world brighter. He had learnt how to savor the colors again.

As you continued your days together, Joel couldn't help but find ways to be close to you. He would always volunteer to accompany you on supply runs, ensuring you were safe and cared for. He would show up at the infirmary with small gifts – a flower he found on his patrol, a cup of your favorite tea, or a book he thought you might like. His gestures were always thoughtful and sincere, each one a testament to the depth of his feelings.

Joel couldn't take his eyes off you. You were kneeling in the ground, your hands deftly cleaning something you had found, your face serene and focused. Joel felt a swell of emotion, unable to keep it to himself any longer.

"You know," he began, his voice gentle, "I used to think this world had nothing left to offer. But then I met you."

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. "Joel..."

He knelt beside you, his hand covering yours. "You make everything better. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were."

You felt a mixture of warmth and apprehension. His words were everything you wanted to hear, yet the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on your heart. "Joel, this is all so new and complicated. We need to be careful."

Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes full of determination. "I know it's complicated, and I know we've got a lot to figure out. But I can't ignore what I feel. I want to be here for you, with you, through everything."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "I want that too, Joel. But we need to take it one step at a time."

He nodded, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I will make you fall in love with me," he said, his voice full of determination and warmth.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. "You're quite confident, aren't you?"

Joel chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "When it comes to you, I am."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. "Let's get back to Jackson," you said, standing up and brushing off your clothes. Joel stood with you, offering a hand to help you up.

As you made your way back to Jackson, the conversation flowed easily. Joel told you stories from before the outbreak, sharing pieces of his past he hadn’t opened up about before. You found yourself laughing at his anecdotes, feeling a growing sense of connection.

When you finally reached the gates of Jackson, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the community. People greeted you both warmly, noticing the change in Joel's demeanor. He was more relaxed and more present, and it was clear to everyone that you had a positive influence on him.

Tommy approached, a knowing smile on his face. "Good to see you both back safe and sound."

Joel clapped his brother on the shoulder. "It was a good run. Found some useful supplies."

Tommy nodded, then looked at you. "And how about you? Everything alright?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of Joel’s gaze on you on your face. "Yeah, everything's good."

As the evening settled in, you and Joel made your way to the communal dining hall. The chatter of the community filled the air, and you found a spot to sit together. Joel’s hand lingered near yours, his touch reassuring and steady.

Tommy, Ellie, and Maria soon joined you at the table. Tommy was carrying a tray laden with food, Ellie trailing behind him with a mischievous grin, and Maria gave you a warm smile as she took a seat.

"Good to see you two back," Elli said, setting down the tray and passing out plates. “How was the run?" Ellie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It went well," Joel replied, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he continued. "Found some useful supplies and had some good company."

Ellie smirked, elbowing Tommy. "I bet you did."

You blushed, focusing on your plate as you filled it with food. Maria, ever perceptive, glanced between you and Joel with a knowing smile. "It's good to see everyone together," she said, her tone light and warm.

As you all began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally. Tommy and Maria talked about the latest updates in the community, Ellie shared stories from her day, and Joel occasionally chimed in with his dry humor, making everyone laugh.

At one point, Ellie leaned over to you, her voice low enough so only you could hear. "Joel's been different lately. In a good way. You've been good for him."

You looked at her, surprised by her observation. "I hope so. It's been... a journey."

Ellie nodded, her expression sincere. "Just keep being you. That's all he needs."

The meal continued, filled with warmth and laughter. Joel's hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending electricity down your body.

Just as you were starting to relax, a woman approached the table, her presence causing a ripple of unease. It was Lori, one of the women Joel used to date. Joel visibly tensed, his gaze dropping to his plate as Lori stopped beside him, her smile a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place.

“Joel," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Joel looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Lori. Uh, hi."

Lori glanced around the table, her eyes settling on you for a moment before she looked back at Joel. "I was just passing by and saw you all together. Mind if I join?"

Before anyone could respond, Tommy jumped in. "Sure, why not? There's always room for one more."

Lori pulled up a chair and sat down, her presence adding a layer of tension to the dynamics. Joel seemed uncomfortable; his usual confidence was replaced by nervous energy.

"So, Joel," Lori began, her tone light but probing. "How have you been? It's been a while."

Joel cleared his throat, glancing at you briefly before answering. "Yeah, it has. I've been... good. Just busy with everything here."

Lori nodded, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "I can see that. Looks like you've made some new friends." She said, bitterly, “The last time I knew from you was when you left my house after our night, and then you hit your head and never spoke to me again.”

The table fell silent, tension crackling in the air. Joel looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to his plate. You could see the guilt and confusion in his eyes as he tried to process Lori's words.

"I'm sorry, Lori," Joel finally said, his voice low. "I don't remember much from before the accident. It's been... complicated."

Lori's expression softened slightly, but the hurt in her eyes remained. "I get that. But it still stings, you know? You just disappeared."

You felt a pang of empathy for Lori but also a fierce protectiveness over Joel. "It's been hard for him,” you said gently, trying to ease the tension. "Joel's been working hard to piece things together. He's different now, and we're all just trying to move forward."

Lori glanced at you, her expression unreadable. "I can see that, but it seems like you had taken advantage of the situation; he couldn’t stand your ass before his accident, and suddenly you have him like a little puppy following you everywhere.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, feeling warm spreading to your cheeks.

Joel's jaw tightened, and he quickly interjected, his voice firm. "That's enough, Lori. You don't know what you're talking about."

Lori raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I just find it convenient, that's all."

Tommy leaned forward, his tone calm but authoritative. "Lori, we're all trying to move forward here. It's not fair to make accusations."

Ellie, always quick to defend those she cared about, added, "You weren't here to see what she did for Joel. She saved his life and has been helping him every step of the way."

Lori's gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just needed to understand."

Maria nodded, her voice gentle. "We all get that, Lori. It's been a tough situation for everyone."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. "You took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll take some fresh air,” you said, standing up, not even looking down at Joel, who seemed sad at your whole dementor.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. I—" you paused, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. "I’ll take some fresh air," you said, standing up abruptly. Avoiding eye contact with Joel, who looked sad and concerned, you made your way outside.

The cool evening air was a welcome relief, and you walked a little way from the dining hall, finding a quiet spot to gather your thoughts. You leaned against a tree, closing your eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes to see Ellie standing there, her expression filled with concern. "Hey, you okay?"

You nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I just needed a moment. That was a bit embarrassing."

Ellie walked over and leaned against the wall next to you. "Lori was out of line. You've been amazing with Joel. Anyone with eyes can see that."

“So, don’t you think I’ve been taking advantage of him?” You asked, really concerned.

“What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you.” She replied, laughing.

Ellie laughed, shaking her head. "What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you."

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I know, but sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells. It feels like he is going to wake up from his trance and he will hate me again."

Ellie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I've seen the way he looks at you. He’s happier, lighter. You’ve brought out a side of him I didn’t think existed. And trust me, if he didn’t want this, he’d make it clear."

You took a deep breath.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked.

“Me, falling in love with him,” you answer.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked, her tone light but sincere.

You sighed, the weight of your fears pressing down. “Me, falling in love with him,” you answered quietly.

Ellie gave you a sympathetic look. "And why is that so bad?"

"Because," you began, struggling to put your feelings into words, "what if his memories come back and he realizes he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if I fall in love with him and he changes back to the old Joel, the one who couldn’t stand me?"

Ellie nodded, understanding. "That's a risk, sure. But you can't let fear keep you from living. You've been through so much together, and it's clear he cares about you deeply now. Maybe that won't change."

You bit your lip, the turmoil inside you reflected in your eyes. "I just don't want to get hurt, Ellie. And I don’t want to hurt him either."

Ellie squeezed your shoulder. "I get it. But if you keep holding back, you'll never know what could be. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith."

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Maybe you're right."

Ellie grinned. "Of course I'm right. Now, let's get back in there. Joel's probably worrying himself sick."

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay, let's go."

As you walked back into the dining hall, you found Joel still sitting at the table, his eyes lighting up when he saw your return. He stood up as you approached, his concern evident.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a breather."

Joel looked relieved, and he gently took your hand. "I'm glad you're back."

The evening continued with easy conversation, and as you all eventually made your way out of the dining hall, Joel walked beside you, his presence a comforting constant.

"Thanks for dinner," he said softly as you approached your door.

"Anytime," you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. "It was nice, being with everyone."

Joel nodded, his eyes lingering on you. "It was. And I meant what I said today. I’ll make you fall in love with me.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at his words. "You're really set on that, aren't you?"

Joel nodded, his expression serious but with a hint of a smile that made you go crazy. "I am. Because I know what I feel now, and I’m not going to let it slip away."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Joel, this is new for both of us. We need to take it one step at a time."

He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. “Am I that unlovable?”

You blinked, taken aback by his question. "What? No, Joel, you're not unlovable at all. It's just... complicated."

Joel's eyes softened, and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "I get that. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait as long as it takes."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "I appreciate that, Joel. And I do care about you. A lot. It's just..."

"Scary?" he finished for you, his voice gentle.

You nodded.

Joel's expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I get it. It is scary. But sometimes, the best things come from taking a leap of faith."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "It’s not just about taking a leap. It’s about making sure we’re ready for whatever comes next."

Joel squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand. And I'm ready to take it slow to give you the space you need. Just know that I’m here for you, and I’m not giving up on us."

You felt a mix of relief and trepidation, but Joel's unwavering support gave you strength. "Thank you, Joel. That means a lot to me."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. "We’ll figure it out, one step at a time."

You nodded, closing your eyes for a brief second, allowing yourself to savor the closeness and the promise of what might come. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Joel’s smile—a smile that made you believe in the possibility of a new beginning.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice tender, holding back the desire to cupp your face and kiss you.

"Goodnight, Joel," you replied, your heart fluttering, feeling the same as him.

Now standing, this close, face to face, skins touching. One of you would give in before, and once that happened, there was no going to be a way to stop two hearts beating this fast.

Joel's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze revealing the depth of his emotions. You could see the conflict within him, the longing that mirrored your own. His hand lingered near your face, his fingers almost brushing against your skin, his breath warm and steady.

The moment felt suspended in time, the air between you charged with unspoken words and electric anticipation. You both stood there, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from each other, your hearts racing in sync.

Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to push you, but I also don’t want to pretend like I don’t feel this.”

You swallowed, your own voice trembling slightly. “I feel it too, Joel. But we need to be careful.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. “I know. And I want to respect that. I just...” He hesitated, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “I don’t want to miss this chance with you. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the desire and uncertainty evident in his expression. His hand gently cupped your face. His touch was tender, as if he were afraid to break the spell that bound you both.

You felt your heart race, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Joel’s fingers brushed softly against your cheek, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His breath grew shallower, and his eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the closeness.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a whisper of warmth and affection that sent a shiver down your spine. The moment felt both exhilarating and comforting, the culmination of all the unspoken words and feelings that had been building between you.

You responded instinctively, your lips moving softly against his. The kiss deepened gradually, a sweet exploration of new and uncharted territory. His hands moved to frame your face, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were cherishing every second of this newfound closeness.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes locking in a moment of shared understanding. The kiss had been more than just a physical connection; it was a promise of something more, something that neither of you fully understood yet but were both eager to explore.

Joel’s smile was tender and full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that since I woke up that day at the infirmary,” he admitted softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his confession. His words made your heart flutter even more, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm glad you did," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been feeling the same way."

Joel's smile widened, and he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. "I didn’t want to rush things or push you. But now... now that we’ve shared this, I hope we can figure things out together."

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and warmth. "I think we can. I want to see where this leads."

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "No pressure, just... being here with you."

You smiled, feeling a sense of calm and excitement. "I would like that.”

Joel nodded; his expression full of affection. "Good. Now, how about we get some rest? Tomorrow's a new day, and I want to spend it with you."

You felt a burst of warmth at his words and, inspired by the new closeness between you, you hesitated for just a moment before speaking up. “How about we go inside for a bit? I’ve got some tea. It might be nice to relax and talk more.”

Joel’s eyes lit up at the invitation, and he nodded with a smile. “That sounds perfect.”

You led the way to your house, the familiar surroundings now feeling different with Joel by your side. Once inside, you made your way to the kitchen and began preparing the tea. Joel watched you with an easy smile, clearly content.

As you waited for the water to boil, you and Joel chatted about lighter topics—how his recovery was going, plans for the community, and small anecdotes from your days. The conversation flowed easily, and the atmosphere between you was comfortable and warm.

When the tea was ready, you poured two cups and handed one to Joel. He took it with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. You both settled into a cozy corner of your living room, the soft light of a lamp casting a gentle glow around the room.

Joel sipped his tea, his gaze occasionally meeting yours. “This is nice,” he said softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Joel looked around your living room, the peaceful ambiance a stark contrast to the harsh world outside. He took another sip of his tea, then turned his gaze back to you. “You know, before all this, I had a pretty normal life. A family, a daughter named Sarah. She was... everything to me.”

His voice carried a tinge of sadness, and you could see the pain in his eyes. You nodded, sensing the weight of his memories. “I’m sorry, Joel. I can’t even imagine.”

Joel’s expression was somber but grateful. “Thanks. She was everything. When the outbreak happened, she... she didn’t make it. It’s been hard, you know? Trying to keep going and make sense of it all.”

You felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing how devastating such a loss could be. “I understand. I lost my fiancé in a storm during the outbreak. We were caught outside, and he was... gone before I could do anything.”

Joel’s eyes softened with empathy. “That’s so tough. I’m really sorry you went through that.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your own memories. “It was the storm that made me afraid of them. Every time the weather changes, it reminds me of that day. I try not to let it control me, but sometimes, it’s hard.”

Joel reached out, placing his hand gently on yours. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that. It’s brave of you to face it every day.”

You looked at his hand on yours, feeling a comforting warmth from his touch. “It’s been a struggle, but having people like you around makes it a little easier.”

Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “We all have our battles. But we’ve found ways to keep moving forward. And maybe together, we can make those battles a little less daunting.”

+++++

The days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Joel grew stronger. The bond you shared was evident in the way you looked at each other and the ease with which you interacted. People in Jackson had noticed the change in both of you, and there was a sense of warmth and contentment surrounding your partnership.

One afternoon, as you were working in the infirmary, organizing supplies and checking on patients, Joel walked in. He had that familiar, easy smile on his face, and his presence was a comforting one amidst the hectic pace of the medical work.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You looked up, your face lighting up at the sight of him. “Hey, Joel. Just busy as usual. How’s everything on the patrol?”

Joel shrugged, walking over to where you were working. “Not too bad. But I figured I’d come by and keep you company. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time here.”

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah, I’ve been needed here more often lately. But it’s good to see you.”

Joel moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “I’ve missed you. It’s different when you’re not around.”

You felt a surge of affection at his words. “I’ve missed you too. But this is important. People need help, and I want to make sure I’m here for them.”

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get it. Just remember to take care of yourself too. I’d hate to see you running on empty.”

You chuckled, appreciating his concern. “I’ll try. But having you here now brought a smile to my face.”

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you. “Well, I’m glad to be here. Can I help with anything?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Actually, if you could help me restock some of these supplies, that would be great.”

Joel moved closer, his hand gently brushing against yours as he began helping with the supplies. The shared task created a comfortable silence between you, with only the soft sounds of organizing supplies filling the space.

As you worked side by side, Joel’s gaze lingered on you with an intensity that made your heart race. Without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The kiss was a sweet proof the connection you shared, and you responded with equal tenderness, savoring the closeness.

Just as the kiss deepened, the door to the infirmary swung open, and Dr. Ramirez walked in. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of you and Joel but quickly masked her surprise with a professional smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her tone warm but slightly teasing. “I came to check on things and see if you needed any help.”

You and Joel pulled away; a bit flustered but smiling nonetheless. “We were just finishing up,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Everything’s in order.”

Dr. Ramirez nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Joel with a knowing look. “Alright, if you need anything, just let me know.”

As she moved to her office, you glanced at Joel, your cheeks still slightly flushed. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

Joel chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on yours. “Yeah, but I guess it’s a good thing everyone know you’re my girl.”

You looked up at Joel, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I suppose it is. It’s nice to be able to be open about us."

Joel’s expression softened; his gaze warm. “It is. And I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

You squeezed his hand gently, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It makes everything feel more real, more... solid.”

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Do you want to have dinner at my place?” he asked.

You looked up at Joel, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of spending more time together. “Dinner at your place sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

Joel’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Great. I’ll make sure to have something good ready for us.”

You both made your way to Joel’s place, the evening air cool and crisp. The walk was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, a comforting routine that had become a cherished part of your days.

When you arrived at Joel’s house, he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. The interior was cozy, with soft lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. He led you to the kitchen, where a simple but inviting dinner was laid out on the table.

Joel’s cooking was surprisingly good, and as you enjoyed the meal together, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite memories, plans for the future, and the little things that made you both laugh.

After dinner, you moved to the living room, where Joel had set up a comfortable spot with blankets and pillows. You both settled in, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate.

Joel looked at you with a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Me too. Tonight has been perfect.”

He wrapped his arm around you, his touch warm and reassuring. “Here’s to many more nights like this.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

As the evening wore on, you both talked about your past experiences and shared stories from before the outbreak. Joel spoke about his life before everything changed—his family, the dreams he had, and the struggles he faced. You shared your own experiences, including the loss of your fiancé and the challenges of adapting to this new world alone.

Joel listened intently, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as if to reassure you. “It’s amazing how much we’ve both been through,” he said softly. “And yet, here we are.”

You nodded, feeling a deep connection. “Yeah. It feels like we’re building something meaningful despite everything.”

After some time, you both decided it was time to call it a night. You stood up, stretching slightly as you gathered your things. Joel walked with you to the door, his presence a comforting constant.

As you reached the door, Joel hesitated for a moment, then gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving. He looked at you with a mix of hesitation and hope in his eyes. “I was wondering… would you like to spend the night here? It’s been nice having you around, and I’d love to have you stay.”

You looked at him, surprised but touched by the invitation. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his voice made it hard to resist.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face.

Joel’s expression brightened, and he pulled you into a gentle hug. “Great. Let’s get you settled in.”

Joel led you to his bedroom, a space that felt both lived-in and welcoming. The room was simple but comfortable, with a bed covered in worn but clean linens and a few personal touches that spoke to Joel’s character—photos of his family, a well-loved guitar leaning against the wall, and a small stack of books on the bedside table.

He gestured to the bed with a slightly sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s not much, but it’s home.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance. “It’s perfect.”

Joel nodded, his expression softening. “I’m glad you think so.”

You both prepared for bed in comfortable silence, the familiarity of the routine helping to ease any lingering tension. Joel showed you where you could find anything you might need—extra blankets, a lamp for reading, and a small cabinet for any personal items you might want to keep nearby.

As you both settled into the bed, Joel turned off the lights, leaving only a soft glow from a nightlight on the dresser. He slipped under the covers, and you followed suit, the warmth and comfort of the bed providing a welcome respite from the day’s events.

Joel turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice tender.

You smiled, feeling a sense of peace as you settled closer to him. “Me too. It feels right.”

He reached out and gently took your hand, interlocking your fingers. The simple gesture was filled with meaning, and you could feel the connection between you growing stronger.

“Goodnight,” Joel whispered, his voice carrying a note of affection.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your heart fluttering with contentment.

A few days later, you and Ellie were seated at a table in the bustling dining hall, enjoying a well-deserved lunch. The room was filled with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of utensils, creating a comforting background noise.

Ellie, always full of energy, was animatedly talking about a new comic she’d found. “You won’t believe this,” she said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “but this one hero has the power to control weather. I’m telling you, if I had that power, I’d totally make it sunny all the time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like you’ve been reading too many comics. But I suppose a bit of sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

Ellie grinned, grabbing a bite of her sandwich. “True, true. But, seriously, how are things going with Joel? You two seem... really happy.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush at her question. “We are. It’s been nice, spending time together. He’s been really supportive, and I think we’re figuring things out.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased with your answer. “I’m glad to hear that. He’s been a lot happier since you two started spending more time together. It’s like he’s found a new spark.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “It’s been good for both of us. We’re still taking things one step at a time, but it feels right.”

Ellie’s expression turned thoughtful. “I know it’s been rough with everything that’s happened, but it’s nice to see people finding happiness again. Especially you and Joel.”

You appreciated Ellie’s support and her ability to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Ellie. That means a lot.”

Ellie glanced around the dining hall, then back at you with a mischievous grin. “So, are you guys planning any big adventures together? Or just sticking to the small stuff for now?”

You laughed softly. “We’re sticking to the small stuff for now. Just enjoying the moments, we have together.” You paused, “I’m still a little bit scared of him waking up hating me again.”

Ellie’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get that. It’s natural to be scared after everything you’ve both been through. But you’re doing great, and Joel is different now. He’s not going to just wake up one day and hate you.”

You sighed, a mixture of relief and lingering concern in your expression. “I hope you’re right. Sometimes, it’s hard to shake that fear, especially after everything that’s happened.”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully. “I think you both just need to keep talking and being honest with each other. The more you communicate, the more you’ll build that trust. And remember, it’s okay to have those fears. It just means you care.”

You managed a small smile. “Thanks, Ellie. It’s reassuring to hear that.”

Ellie grinned and took a bite of her lunch. “Anytime. And if you ever need someone to talk to or just need a distraction, you know I’m here. We can have a comic marathon or something.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of Ellie’s support. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you and Ellie finished your lunch, you stood up to clear your plates, the conversation easing into a comfortable silence. Just as you were about to head to the serving area, you suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a warm embrace. A soft, affectionate kiss was placed on your cheek, making you feel a surge of happiness and surprise.

You turned your head slightly, finding Joel’s smiling face close to yours. “Hey there,” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to steal a moment with you.”

Ellie watched with a grin, clearly pleased with the sight. “Looks like someone’s got a fan club.”

You blushed slightly, leaning into Joel’s embrace. “Hi, Joel. I was just catching up with Ellie.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently resting on your side. “I figured I’d come and see how you were doing. Plus, I wanted to see if you’d be up for a walk later.”

You smiled, feeling content in his arms. “A walk sounds nice. I’d love that.”

Joel nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Great. Let’s finish up here and head out.”

You and Joel exchanged a tender glance before you both started to clear your plates. Ellie gave you both a playful nudge. “I’ll leave you two to your walk. Enjoy, and remember, I’m always here if you need me.”

+++++++++++++

“So?” you asked, as Joel was smiling in complete silence.

“So what?” he asked without erasing that smile from his face.

“Aren’t you going to talk?”

Joel chuckled, his smile widening. “I guess I’m just enjoying the moment. It’s not every day I get to be this content.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him. “Oh really? And why’s that?”

He looked at you, his gaze tender. “Because being with you like this, just walking and talking, it’s exactly what I’ve wanted. It’s simple and perfect.”

You smiled, feeling a warm glow from his words. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. So, what’s on your mind?”

Joel glanced around, taking in the scenery before meeting your eyes again. “I was thinking about how nice would be if you go to my place tonight. Ellie’s gonna spend the night with Dina and I want to spend the night with you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you said with a smile. “I’d love to spend the night with you.”

Joel’s face lit up with a genuine smile, and he took your hand, gently squeezing it. “Great. I was hoping you’d say that.” He leaned and kiss you on the lips, “No I gotta go helping Tommy, see you later, sunshine”

You pouted, grabbing his hand before he could go anywhere “Wait? That was all?”

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought I’d surprise you with the invitation, and I wanted to make sure you knew how much I enjoy spending time with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing. “Well, I didn’t realize the evening was just an invitation and a kiss goodbye.”

Joel grinned, clearly amused. “Alright, alright. If you want more, I guess I’ll have to come up with something better.” He pulled you into another kiss, this one longer and more lingering.

You smiled against his lips as you pulled away. “That’s more like it. But seriously, I was looking forward to spending time with you.”

Joel’s gaze softened, and he cupped your face gently. “I’m looking forward to it too. Just had to help Tommy out with something. I promise, I’ll make up for it.”

You nodded, still holding onto his hand. “I’ll hold you to that. See you later, Joel.”

He gave you one last smile before heading out, leaving you with a warm feeling and the anticipation of the evening ahead.

+++++++++++++

When you arrived at Joel's place, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the surroundings. Joel greeted you at the door with a welcoming smile and a quick, affectionate kiss.

"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, taking your coat and hanging it up. "I’ve got a few things planned, but we can start with something simple if you’d like."

You stepped inside, feeling the comforting familiarity of Joel’s home. “I’m sure whatever you’ve got planned will be perfect,” you replied, smiling at him.

Joel led you into the living room, where he’d set up a cozy area with blankets and cushions. The room was softly lit by lamps, and the atmosphere was inviting and warm. A few candles were flickering on the coffee table, casting a gentle glow.

“I figured we could start with some dinner and then maybe just talk or something else” Joel suggested, his eyes reflecting the soft light.

You nodded, feeling content with the simple but thoughtful setup. “That sounds great.”

Joel moved to the kitchen and returned shortly with a plate of homemade food—something comforting and hearty. He set it down on the table, then joined you on the couch.

As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily, just like it had during your earlier moments together. You talked about your days, your plans, and even some light-hearted topics. Joel’s presence was reassuring, and you felt completely at ease.

After dinner, Joel suggested putting on some music. He rummaged through his collection, finally settling on a classic that he thought you’d enjoy. You both snuggled up under the blankets, the music playing softly in the background.

Joel occasionally glanced at you, his hand resting casually on your knee. The song played, but most of your attention was focused on the comfort of being next to him, the warmth of his touch, and the quiet contentment that filled the room.

Joel turned to you, his gaze tender. “You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this. Just being here with you, it feels right.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I feel the same way.”

Joel’s hand moved to gently brush your hair back from your face. “What’s your biggest fear?” he asked out of the blue?

You sighed, leaving his gaze for a moment “You waking up and forgetting you love me”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly at your answer, a mix of concern and curiosity in his eyes. “Why would you think that? I don’t see any reason why that would happen.”

You took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as you shared your fear. “It’s just….you knew I told you we didn’t get along before, in fact you hated me, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he listened to your concern. He took a moment before responding, his voice steady and reassuring. “I know things weren’t easy between us before. And yeah, I didn’t handle things the best way back then. But that’s in the past. What matters now is how we are right now.”

He reached out and gently took your hand in his. “The truth is, I’ve changed. And I see you differently now. I see you for who you are, and I realize how much you mean to me. Whatever those old feelings were? They’re gone. What we have now is real, and I’m committed to it.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. “But what if one day you wake up and those old feelings come back? What if something changes?”

Joel shook his head, his gaze intense and full of conviction. “I don’t believe that’ll happen. I’ve come to understand how much you mean to me, and how deeply I care about you.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression earnest. “I’m not going to let those fears control us. We’re building something strong, and I want to keep building it with you. I’m here, and I’m committed to making sure we have a future together.”

You felt a wave of relief and warmth at his words. “Thank you, Joel. That really means a lot to me.”

Joel smiled softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m glad. And if you ever need reassurance, just ask. I’m always here to remind you of how much you mean to me.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of comfort and closeness. The fears that had been troubling you began to fade as you focused on the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice.

Joel’s gaze lingered on yours, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and resolve. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a careful exploration of newfound trust and affection.

As the kiss deepened, it became more passionate, conveying all the emotions and reassurances that words alone couldn’t fully capture. Joel’s hand cupped your face, his touch warm and reassuring as he pressed closer.

You responded to the kiss, your own hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The kiss felt like a promise, a shared understanding of where you both stood and where you hoped to go.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads touching as you gazed into each other’s eyes. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment of closeness.

Joel’s smile was soft, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I needed to do that. To show you just how much you mean to me.”

You smiled back, your heart full. “I needed that too.”

Joel gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

After that, everything happened in a flash. Neither of you realized when you removed your clothes, but there was too much desperation in your touch; you wanted to discover how his fingers could leave a mark on you, tracing invisible lines across your body.

He kissed you again, slipping his tongue past your lips, gasping when he felt your fingers running your fingertips across his bare chest, tracing the lines of a map leading to where you couldn’t stop.

With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold you against your lips again. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth.

He was hovering over you, giving you a passionate kiss. He was between your legs, exactly where you wanted him.

He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at you. To appreciate the features of your face and the nature of your body to admire the features of your face, and the nature of your body being displayed just for him right now. You felt the crimson color rushing up to your checks and for a moment you felt embarrassed under his stare, but he smiled at you.

“You look beautiful”. He swallowed hard, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

His hands on your tights only increased the sparks in the place you wanted him the most, you wanted to follow the path even when you knew it was leading to a treacherous destination.

You continued kissing slowly as he caressed your thighs with his gently touch, as he wanted to worship your body and devour every single sound coming out from your mouth. He kissed you down over your neck, kissing, nipping your skin between his teeth.

And God, he loved the way you were making him feel. The fact this time was different to everything you had experiencing before. At this moment, you weren’t driving for only passionate reasons, but for caring feelings for each other. You weren’t in a rush and that turned him on. He was hard for you and he wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs.

This time he was making love because he had drowned himself on your religion.

Both of you gasped aloud the moment he began to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours, interlocking them as he kissed you softly, muttering, "You're so beautiful like this". He was mesmerized by the way you were nervously giggling and cocking your head back in delight. He bit your neck, prompting your hands to move up to his neck, and his hands ran down your entire body without a layer of clothing on you, focusing on every thrust and diving deep to ensure he was making you happy.

You opened your eyes and stared back at him, entirely focused on you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as his hands massaged your breasts while he continued to devour your lips. Your back arched, followed by a moan against his lips. Every thrust felt so fantastic, you couldn't help but think you were in the celestial realm You could tell you were getting closer as you squeezed him and kept your gaze fixed on each other. He pushed harder, one hand caressing your cheek and the other gripping your knee to guarantee you fell apart.

The noises you made drove him insane, as he felt himself reaching the edge of the cliff. He wanted to stare at you under him as you came and with a loud gasp, he did it at the same time falling over your exposed chest, your heartbeats mingling.

You moaned softly beneath him, and Joel raised his head to look at you, flashing him a cute smile he hadn't tired of, as you kissed him on the lips.

"I love you so much," he replied, gazing at you with admiration. “I’m so in love with you.”

I love you.

I’m so in love with you.

Those three words were echoing in the shadows of your mind. Your expression softened and you felt your blood rushing. You were sure they had had an impact on you.

“And I love you so much” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your emotion.

Joel’s expression softened even further, and he brushed a tender kiss against your lips once more. The connection between you was undeniable, a blend of passion and deep affection that had grown stronger with each passing day.

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath you. The world outside seemed distant and unimportant in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, everything felt perfect, and you allowed yourself to fully embrace the love and happiness you had found with Joel.

Joel gently ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soothing. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

You nodded, your eyes closing as you savored the moment. “Yeah, we have. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. “Neither would I. Here’s to more moments like this, and to whatever the future holds for us.”

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment and anticipation for what was to come. “To us,” you agreed, your heart full of love and hope.

+++++++++++

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You stirred, waking up with a smile on your face. The previous night’s intimacy and love still lingered, and you turned to look at Joel. He was sleeping peacefully beside you, a contented expression on his face.

As you watched him, you felt a surge of happiness and affection. You reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart full of love for him.

But as Joel’s eyes fluttered open and he met your gaze, his expression shifted dramatically. His sparkly brown eyes filled with love, widened in horror, and a look of confusion and fear crossed his face. He pushed himself up, scrambling back slightly.

“What...What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear.

You were taken aback, your smile faltering as you tried to make sense of his reaction. “Joel, what’s wrong?”

No. It couldn’t be that, right?

Joel’s eyes were filled with a pained realization. “Oh my god, you came to my house trying to seduce me into sleeping with you?”

You felt a sharp pang of pain at his words, and your heart dropped. The warmth you had felt earlier was replaced by a cold, unsettling feeling.

“No, Joel, that’s not what happened,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the hurt. “We’re in love”

He chuckled. “In love? Me in love with you? I could never” he said.

Your chest tightened, and the hurt in Joel’s words felt like a physical blow. You struggled to keep your composure, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Joel, you can’t mean that,” you said, your voice shaking. “Last night, you said you loved me. We shared something real.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of confusion and pain. “I don’t remember saying that. Last night I was with Lori”

That’s it. You were back at were you used to be.

The weight of Joel’s words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt a mix of betrayal and heartache, as the realization sank in. The warmth and affection from the night before felt like a cruel illusion.

“So, what? You’re saying last night meant nothing?” you asked. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. “You really don’t remember? You don’t remember how we talked, how you told me you loved me?”

“I don’t love you.” He said, sternly.

“But I’m your sunshine” you sobbed.

Joel’s laughter pierced through you like a blade, and you could barely stand the weight of the realization. Each word he spoke seemed to tear away at the fabric of your heart, unraveling the dream you’d clung to so desperately.

The room felt colder, the air heavier, as you fought to control your sobs. Every touch, every shared moment that had once seemed so real was now reduced to nothing more than painful echoes of a memory that never truly existed.

He didn’t remember the stealing glances, the kisses, the touches and the promises than now seemed to fade with the cruel destiny meeting the ending meant to be.

You had taken a risk at falling in love with the version of a Joel who loved you back, and he didn’t exist anymore. He had faded just when he had told you he loved you.

He didn’t remember falling in love with you, he didn’t remember all the time you spent together, and he didn’t remember loving you, but you didn’t think this would hurt this much.

“Joel” you said, pleading him to remember.

“Out.” He said, gritting his teeth.  

You stood there, the pain in your chest almost unbearable, as Joel's harsh words echoed around you. The warmth and affection you had shared just hours before now seemed like a cruel illusion, shattered by his denial.

"Joel, please," you said, your voice trembling. "Just think about everything we shared. It was real."

Joel’s eyes were hard, and he crossed his arms defensively. “I don't remember any of it. And I can't fake feelings I don't have.”

You felt a deep, profound sadness, the weight of his words making it almost impossible to breathe. The life you had envisioned, the love you had felt, seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers.

“Please, just—” you tried to reason with him, but the look in his eyes made it clear that any further pleading was futile.

Joel’s expression remained firm, a mix of regret and frustration. “Everything I know is that you took advantage of me.”

The sting of Joel's words cut deep, each one echoing the finality of a dream you had cherished. The accusation of taking advantage of him felt like a betrayal, intensifying the emotional agony you were already struggling with.

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the fragments of your composure. "Joel, I never did that. We have something—"

Joel interrupted; his voice cold. "I don’t want to hear it. You need to leave. Now."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. With a heart heavy with sorrow, you nodded, unable to find the words that might change his mind.

You were only on one of his shirts, trying to find your clothes.

You stumbled through the room, your movements disjointed as you searched for your clothes. The pain and confusion made every action feel like an immense effort. Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his face a mask of distant resolve.

You found your jeans, but it was crumpled and stained, and you struggled to put it on with trembling hands. The fabric felt rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you had felt just hours before. You glanced around for your other belongings, the room now feeling foreign and unwelcoming.

“I... I can’t find my blouse,” you said again, your voice a whisper filled with desperation and trembling.

Joel’s eyes flicked to you briefly before he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “Don’t worry about it. Just wear my shirt. I won’t wear it again.” His voice was cold and icy, not more softness as when they used to whisper things on your ear.

The coldness in his words made it clear that there was no room for negotiation or further conversation. You nodded numbly, the shirt you were already wearing now feeling like a heavy shroud setting your skin on fire.

As you finished dressing, you glanced around the room one last time, trying to memorize the space you were leaving behind. The sight of the room, so filled with the promise you fooled yourself onto believing.

There was an intensified the ache in your chest.

Joel stood by the door, his posture rigid as if he were bracing himself for something. His eyes didn’t meet yours, focusing instead on some distant point. The silence between you was heavy with the weight of the broken bond that never existed.

As you pulled on your shoes, your heart cracked completely sank in deeper. You looked up, meeting Joel’s eyes one last time.

“Joel, I’m sorry for everything,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant to cause any harm. I just wanted—”

Joel cut you off with a slight nod, his face still set in a hard expression. “Just go. Please.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost making it impossible to speak. The intensity of Joel's gaze, filled with a mixture of pain and indifference, made it clear that any further words would be futile.

With one last, lingering look at him and the room that just yesterday had witnessed three empty words that now didn’t meant anything, you turned and made your way down the hall. Each step felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders, even as the burden of what you were leaving behind pressed heavily on your heart.

As you reached the front door, the cool morning air hit you, providing a stark contrast to the warmth you had felt just hours before. The quiet outside was a jarring reminder of the world that continued, indifferent to the personal turmoil you were experiencing.

With every step, you tried to reconcile the reality you faced with the memories of what you had thought was true, a momentary field of dreams. The pain was sharp and immediate. How would you continue life after losing another love?

+++++++

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

“I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)