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nerdy-novelist017 · 6 months ago

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i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club.

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door.

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking.

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation.

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you?

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore.

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent.

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you.

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence.

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.”

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look.

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say.

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.”

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you.

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times.

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!”

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @charmingballoon @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms

#Benny loves a yapper #opposites attract #the bikeriders #benny cross #benny cross x reader #austin butler #benny x bunny #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #fluff #imagine #austin butler fandom #little bunny #requests

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puppywilliams · 2 months ago

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could you write about streamer abby 🥺

streamer abby

a/n: i literally love this au so much. i kept thinking about this req so i wrote this quickly even though its 2am °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° sorry if its lazy or it has typos!! lmk if u want more of streamer abby because id rlly love to expand on this au! im so tired so thank you for reading <3

warnings: Could be taken suggestively, size difference.

you have a simple life now that you’re in your early twenties, which is way earlier than you thought you would, but when your wife is loaded from twitch money whos to complain? abby takes care of you, you take care of abby.

she buys you pretty clothes and dainty jewelry. loving to see you spin around for her in a new outfit she had picked out and paid for herself. eyeing you up, asking herself how she got this lucky. if you needed something it was taken care of, if you wanted something, it was yours. sometimes she would buy you gifts just because she wants to treat her gorgeous wife. setting a gift bag down on the table and watching your eyes light up with curiosity.

when abby gets recognized it public it normally doesn’t bother you, it happens so much you expect it at this point, but that doesn’t mean you don’t watch where someones hand is placed, or how comfortable they immediately get with Your wife. putting you in a sour mood for the rest of the outing. abby watches you sulk the whole way home knowing you’ll get over it.

you often bring her dinner while shes streaming, knocking on her office door waiting until she lifts up one side of her headset and calls out “come in!” you walk in and set her plate on down carefully on her desk

“thank you, baby” she says softly and kisses you on the cheek. her chat floods as normal, not-so-painfully forcing you to sit in abby’s lap looking pretty and talking to her rambling chat while she queues up for her next quick play on overwatch. answering questions, saying hi to people you recognize from other occasions, thanking donators, all while abby mindlessly stares off onto the screen resting her head on your shoulder and wrapping her arms around you. her chats probably more obsessed with you than they are abby, but definitely not more than abby’s obsessed with you.

on some nights its late, and you’re watching a show in your shared bedroom. abby’s “working late” which is essentially her just screaming at the top of her lungs as she streams a horror game for the 5th night in a row. it echos the walls from behind you. it does bother you sometimes when you’re trying to sleep and she wont shut the hell up. but its worth it when she crawls into bed nearly 30 minutes later smothering you in kisses and apologizing for keeping you up. you love it, you’re addicted to it even. you’d let her scream every night until the sunrises for her to talk to you in that sweet raspy voice of hers you keep telling her shes gonna lose if she keeps it up.

she wraps her strong arms around your frame, molding you like putty. lazily kissing your neck. “i know its late…i’m sorry..” she mumbles into your skin so delicately. abby was always so Gentle with you, for a woman who could bench press you, she sure did treat you like you were made glass, like if she hurt you, she Herself would bleed. “‘s kay..” you mumble back to her. she kisses your forehead one last time before closing her eyes. fingers running through your hair as you both fall asleep. it was a routine, a beautiful one you loved. you’d do it all again tomorrow, and thank a higher power that it was possible.

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bogkeep · 1 month ago

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in which i tell you about medieval timekeeping methods

ok we gotta start with BABYLONIAN TIME and SUNDIALS because this is the Foundation. this is what they used for thousands of years. pretty much every structure we have for understanding and conceptualizing time is based on The Movements Of The Universe - years, months, days, this is how we understand Time to pass. the sun and stars were used for keeping time since Always!!!! there were also multiple ways of keeping time with the Shadows of the sun, not just sundials, but also tablets to measure the length of shadows. And Such

BABYLONIAN TIME is twelve hours daylight, twelve hours nighttime. this makes very good sense considering Sundials, you just split the indicators into twelve parts. don't know why Twelve specifically other than that the babylonians liked it, but it is a very nice, divisible number, and its been kept as the base for all the hour keeping systems i've read about so far.

but yes this does mean that a babylonian hour does not have a set, static length like a modern hour does...! it changes with the seasons and the place, so a babylonian winter hour is different from, say, a winter hour in northern norway. it probably helps to be closer to the equator and reliable sunny weather.

until the invention of mechanical escapement clocks, babylonian time was The main, foundational understanding of timekeeping, BUT...!!!!!! the church put a spin on it. what the monasteries needed to keep time for was Prayer Times, which they had seven of and were based on the passion of the christ. so they signaled the Seven Canonical Hours, starting at sunrise, ending at sunset. church bells is also how people kept time, because you could hear them out in the fields. timekeeping was a bit of a wibbly wobbly art but accuracy wasn't That important.

the various methods used to keep time in addition to sundials included: the cock's crow, candles, hymns, incense, and water clocks. not hour glasses, as they were invented around the same time as mechanical clocks. isn't that wild!!!!!!!

WATER CLOCKS, also called clepsydra, are a diverse category of clocks ranging from a container with water dripping out of it at a steady pace, to complex hydraulic mechanisms with weights and stuff that i honestly have yet to grasp. the simple versions were used in classical greece + rome in the same way you'd use hourglasses, to keep track of speech time, watch time, et cetera. the islamic world + china were the ones to develop the complex water clocks. there's documentation of a water clock in gaza that had like, moving automata and stuff around year 500. there was a water driven astronomical clock in china around year 1000. water clocks made a comeback in europe around the 1100ds, and were getting more widespread use. like at least they work at night, unlike SOME dials

"mechanical clock" is a bit of a misnomer since water clocks were clearly also mechanical, and the exact time of invention of what we think of as mechanical clocks is Vague. the word "horologia" was used to refer to any kind of timekeeping device, including the noble rooster, so it's a bit of a semantic haze.

they had astrolabes, which Could be used to tell the time, but weren't used to do that in the daily life. scientists wanted to make an automated astrolabe for like, the Science, they just needed to invent the perpetuum mobile first and then combine them. obviously.

the missing piece for the MECHANICAL CLOCK was the escapement, the mechanism that regulates the time with which the gears turn. once they got this going, probably early 1300ds, they got the shows on the road. the shows being: the astronomical clock, and the public striking clock. these were considered different things, you see.

the astronomical clock is the Automated Astrolabe. it shows the movement of the sun and moon and stars and as a consequence, the Time. they had dials that people could read the time from, but they were generally considered objects of prestige and god's glory, kind of like cathedrals. they often had moving figures and such.

now, public clocks that mark the hours with sound, THAT'S a timekeeping device. they didn't even have clock faces at first, and it really is so interesting to think about how looking at a clock wasn't considered the main way to tell the time. these clocks seem to have originated in italian cities and spread from there, and this is where we get ITALIAN TIME.

to show babylonian time with a mechanical clock is impractical. the machinery is good at regular movement, to show babylonian hours you kind of need the astrolabe. so italian hours were static and unchanging in length. you had twenty four hours in a day, and the cut-off point was half an hour past sunset. that was the end of the twenty fourth hour, and a new calendar date begun.

of course, the time of the sunset keeps changing all the time As Well, so these clocks had to be adjusted for that Continuously. which was annoying but they still did it until the 17th century. this method was used in italy, bohemia, silesia and maybe poland? i'm unsure what they used outside these spaces at the time, if they stuck to the babylonian hours even with mechanical clocks and did complex maths about it.

at least the NUREMBERG CLOCK had its own take on it, even if it didn't spread beyond southern germany at all. they used babylonian hours, but instead of changing the length of an hour, they changed the amount. eight day hours and sixteen night hours in december, opposite in june. the tables needed for how many days with how many hours were very complex and annoying also.

the concept of starting a new calender day at midnight, and never needing to constantly adjust day hours or when the sunset begins, WAS known but only used for scientific and astronomical purposes. like that's such a weird way to split the day!!!!! twelve at MIDDAY?? WEIRD. some travellers noted that this was a very practical and elegant solution, though, but travel and far flung communication was still very slow, so mismatched timekeeping was more annoying than inconvenient. but anyway that's for the future to figure out

#clockblogging #HERE U GO. HERE IT IS #were it not for the language of this site i could've just copypasted this section of my thesis #maybe some is repetition from my other posts.#anyway source for all this is history of the hour by gerard van-dohrn rossum #long post

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4pfsukuna · 3 months ago

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Bed Peace

Debrief: Touch deprived and exhausted Terry always finds solace in your bed. Fluff

‘Curled up with my head on your chest is the best remedy for the pain and the stress’

The first thing you notice when your eyes open is that you aren't home alone. You don't move though, instead just listening to the sounds fluttering through your apartment before noticing it's the early hours of the morning right before the sun rises and the sky is that wicked purple color.

The morning breeze flutters through the room making the curtains rustle, goosebumps raise slightly on your skin, the brown silk sheets not helping to keep you warm. You settle for closing your eyes letting your head sink further into the plush pillows, scarf somewhere on the floor.

It's when the bed dips slightly and you feel a pressure on your lower abdomen that you finally relax. Being on edge for weeks not knowing if he was okay or where he even was. It's when your hands come down to the nape of his neck playing with the hair there that he sighs heavily, finally wrapping his arms around your waist, fingers curling into you as if you're going to float away if he doesn't.

As if this is just a dream that he's going to wake up from and be back in training.

As if this a dream and he’ll go back to the nightmare his reality turned into.

“I'm here” you promised, squeezing his arm watching the large man visibly sigh, one arm falling to hang off the bed as he begins to doze off the fatigue of the past few days finally catching up to him. Fatigue from constantly running, moving, planning, executing… PACING.

Running your fingers down his spine, the nape of his neck, ears, sideburns and even his hair for what feels like minutes but is actually hours and in your own way this was your version of how he curled his fingers around you to really make sure he's there. Not that he minds between falling asleep and basking in your soft touch does he notice how touch starved he actually is.

The next time he wakes up is only 2 hours later the sunlight dancing through the spaces in your blackout curtains flashing through his eyelids. The heat of the morning sun warming up the parts of his skin you weren't still rubbing, caressing and it eases him again though he hates he can't stay asleep past the sunrise.

“Sorry i forgot to close the curtains” you whisper, reaching for it not expecting his hand to grab yours placing it back on his neck his own way of saying he didn't mind… as long as you kept touching him.

And when he doesnt feel your hands moving on him he lifts his head green eyes looking unreal in the morning sun, fucking perfect. Flawless skin, pretty and thick lips… who was talking about who?

“Just say you wanted to see my eyes in the sun” he teases watching as you smile a small giggle erupting past your lips before he pulls the curtain closed this time laying on your chest. He's quick, wrapping and arm around you, his hand sliding up your shirt fully locking you in place and you aren't even sure who's holding who any more as you tangle your legs in his and that's when he really sighs.

It's like you were holding him down, keeping him grounded.

“Missed you” he murmurs into your neck inhaling your scent of strawberry vanilla unfamiliar since he was so used to your coconut scent. He keeps inhaling, holding you tight each time he does.

“Stop it” you giggle pushing him not that it does anything from how tight he's wrapped himself around you.

“You smell good” his morning voice rasp and it takes everything in you not to shudder. It's probably for the better if you couldn't see his eyes right now. And it's silent for a while. you almost think he dozed back off until—

“Really missed you”

“You're safe with me, it's just us. You and me” you promise and it's your turn to squeeze him tight.

“You can stay right here. Just lay right here. Everything is okay right here” you soothe running your hands down his cheeks over his broad shoulder feeling the gauze pad and then his spine— another gauze pad.

The sadness fills your heart for him and the way that THIS is the only thing he wants. The only thing he needs.

“You can stay right here” you squeeze tighter, pulling a soft groan from him as he nuzzles further into your chest.

“Just lay right here” your hand runs over his head caressing and stroking with your thumb his eyes closing and just focusing on your words and the feeling of your body against his.

“Everything is okay right here” you promise, leaving a kiss on his forehead running your hands over his hot skin once more before the two of you slowly doze off locked in another unable to move.

#terry richmond x y/n #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x oc #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x reader #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x y/n #rebel ridge #Spotify

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inherdaze · 10 months ago

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jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.

He doesn't.

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage.

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.”

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.

You peer down into the pot.

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.

Your fingers twitch.

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face.

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn.

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”

It’s a little loose.

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.

Finally, he fesses up.

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”

You see Kiyoomi make a face.

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”

The both of you choke.

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response.

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”

“Miya.”

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.

“Miya told me to confess to you.”

Your blood runs cold. Confess…?

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.

“I wish you could come with me.”

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”

Your mouth drops open.

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”

You stay rooted still.

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.

(He wants to).

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”

He gives an approving cluck.

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa fluff

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obsessive-valentine · 11 months ago

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Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

Wishing it was summer so bad so have this.

Being used to your captor being crude and rough towards you to keep you in line and obedient, today came as a shock when he seems to be empathetic and soften for you when you get sick during a heatwave. TW- kidnapped reader, non-con touching and hint of farmers past anger issues traumatising reader making them paranoid.

Its stifling hot, all the windows and doors are open for circulation and lace curtains drawn to try keep the house cool, but it does little. He had left the house earlier than usual to start his morning chores before the heat got unbearable, he had kissed your head and left hours before sunrise. You hadn’t seen him since. You probably could walk a few steps outside and see him in the distance somewhere but you barely had the energy to drag yourself from the bed to the sofa- infront of the fan.

You wished you hadn’t wasted energy on finding a cooler spot because the fan was only pushing around the hot air. With a exasperated sight you excepted your fate, waiting to succumb to heat stroke and begin vomiting. Laying flat on your stomach with only a vest top and underwear on, thinking about how good a glass of water would be right about now.

Until the dreaded sound of heavy boots stomp onto the deck, and into the house. “Fuckin’ hell” he huffed wiping sweat from his face with the shirt he instead slung over his shoulder when the sun had risen. You almost jumped a mile when the next time you opened your eyes from a slow blink he was standing right infront of you.

You braced yourself for whatever might come, used to being exposed to emotional whiplash. You could never read his face until it was to late, you tried to calm yourself from overacting by reasoning that you haven’t done anything wrong recently.

He leaned down without a word, the back of his dirty calloused hand pressed against your cheek and then the other one “you’ve been drinking water?” He questions suspiciously straightening up and towering over your form. You stayed laying down wishing to sink into the sofa, how do you tell him you couldn’t be bothered? You mumble a pathetic ‘no’ staring lifelessly at his dusty beaten up boots.

Expecting a scolding or to be told to ‘toughen up’, you flinched when instead you were met with his rough hand rubbing your back out of pity “hang tight for a moment”. It could have been just a minute or hour from when he left the room and returned with a glass of ice and water, you were to disorientated to get a grasp of the time or if you’d blinked or napped.

Slowly he pulled you up into a sitting position by your wrist, you groaned as a pulsating ache in your skull began “I know, hurts hu?” He steadies you with a firm hand in your shoulder before giving you the glass of water and made sure you drink it all. You feel the cold salvation trickle down your throat leaving your mouth cold for a moment, savouring the way the ice kissed your lips.

“Stupid of me, shoulda checked up on you. Think it’s heatstroke” he takes the cup off you once it’s all gone and places it on the table before bending down to pick you up “Can’t I trust you to look after yourself for just a few hours? This is why you need me sweetheart” he rather softly lectures you as he carries you down the hall, to the bathroom, turning on the cold tap to the bath.

He helped you out of what’s left of your clothes and steadied you as you stepped into the slow rising water. You felt to nauseous and uncomfortable to mind being naked or the fact he was also stripping down and slipping in the small bath behind you.

To tired to fight when he pulled you to rest your head back onto his shoulder or when his hands wandered when washing you with a cold cloth. You just closed your eyes and welcomed the cold goosebumps that spread up your legs and arms. You both stayed there for maybe half an hour, laying back in the cold with his hands mindlessly gliding up and down your body.

...

“Come on, I got work to finish” he huffed out pulling away his hands, watching you stir awake from you half conscious sate before getting out and wrapping a towel around himself. You grabbed ahold of his hands as he helped you out and handed you a towel. He wordlessly left but returned with one of his shirts walking past you to wet it under the cold tap “put this on, it will keep away heat rash and cool you down” his eyes wandered as you pulled it over yourself but you were none the wiser, struggling to pull the wet shirt over you as it clung to your skin.

Pulling on his clothes and boots he then lead you outside onto the shady front porch, sitting you on the old rocking chair with a book and glass of water. “Holler if you need anything, sweetheart” you felt a lot better but still exhausted, and for a moment relaxed and unafraid of the unusually caring man. That is until he turned around for a breif moment as he walked away “don’t you go wandering”

He was half smiling and it sounded light hearted but you knew it was anything but. It was a clear threat. A wave of sickness reintroduced it’s self, but now for a different reason.

You didn’t read the book but rather watch him work in a nearby field with sleepy eyes. How he would lovingly interact with the animals, how scarily strong he was lifting and dragging feed and muck around, how he’d carefully and proudly inspect his vegetables when watering them.

One of the livestock-guard-dogs came up onto the deck to keep you company, laying at your feet, and the cool breeze against the wet shirt sent waves of relief over you body.

...

At some point you had fallen asleep and when you woke up it was late afternoon and your shirt was dry, the chair rocked forward a bit then arms snaked around your waist and under you butt. You almost flew into fight or flight mode until you remembered where you are and who with, even though yet another headache you knew it was useless.

To your surprise he scooped you up and sat back down In the chair with you in his lap “welcome back to the land of the living” he joked, he didn’t even have to look at you to know he’d woken you up, to busy digging around in his pocket for a cigarette. You didn’t answer still getting to grips of what time it is after being rudely pulled from a heat coma.

“How you feeling? Want me to wet the shirt again?” He lit the cigarette before pressing the back of his hand to your cheek seemingly satisfied with how much your temperature has come down “no thank you” you glanced at him but adverting you eyes quickly remembering how unusually soft he treated you this morning when you were dazed and confused. Wondering when he’d become crude and rough again.

He hummed in a response resting against the back of the chair dragging you down with him, he takes a long drag of the cigarette “How about we watch a movie tonight? Got some old DVDs in the attic” he offers looking out contently at his farm and his free hand runs through your hair. “I’d like that” you said sounding more like a question, unsure if there was a catch but there was nothing.

Just a short nod and some peaceful quiet with the chirps of birds and one of the horses whinny’ing in the nearby field. There was no lingering dread or fear, just peace. And maybe if you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough you could trick yourself into thinking you are on a summer country vacation with the man you dreamed of as a teenager.

For the first time since you got kidnapped, you aren’t plotting an escape, trying to stay quiet and unseen, or fearful of facing the mans wrath or worried about spending the night in the shed. Your heads empty and feel rested.

...

Tomorrow you’d lash out again, remembering today and how you seem to be slowly accepting your situation -accepting your kidnapper. With a clear-head in the morning you will grow afraid of the reality that your stuck here for life. But as for today, you have a moment of peace - free from worry and perhaps a bit of contentment even if just for the night. As he finally has the chance to lovingly hold you close -watching the movie he let you pick.

#yandere oc #yandere #x reader #yandere farmer

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forest-hashira · 10 months ago

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Forever Yours

before i drop this here and run away, i just want to say that i welcome anyone who follows me because you enjoy my writing, but please keep in mind that this is far outside of what i usually write, so if you're following expecting a lot more of this, you're going to be disappointed. everything i've written here besides this is sfw, so. you've been informed. don't get mad at me for expecting something i told you not to expect. anyways, enjoy this!

read on ao3 here | wc: ~5.1k | cw: omegaverse, omega/afab reader, alpha kyojuro, established relationship, mating cycles (reader's in heat), knotting, mating bites, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, implied chubby reader. minors do not interact.

No matter how many times he assured you it was fine, that he wanted you there, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to spending your heats with Kyojuro.

You’d been dating for over a year at this point, but you’d only had half a dozen heats at most since then, probably less. Your heats had been irregular ever since you presented, but multiple doctors had assured you it wasn’t anything to be seriously concerned about, so you did your best not to worry about it.

The first heat you had after you started dating had started in the middle of the night, when the two of you were supposed to watch the sunrise together in the morning. You’d immediately texted him, saying vaguely that you didn’t feel well and that you’d have to take a rain check on the sunrise, though it made you sad to do so.

Much to your surprise, he had still shown up at your agreed upon time for your date, but instead of flowers he’d had shopping bags in his hands. He didn’t even seem upset that you hadn’t specifically told him you were in heat, just more concerned that you might not have everything you needed to get through it. You could tell he wanted to stay with you through it, but since you hadn’t invited him to, he didn’t ask, only promising that he was a phone call away if you needed him.

You made it less than forty-eight hours before you were calling him, asking if you could stay with him through it. He’d dropped everything to pick you up from your apartment and bring you back to his own.

After that it was an unspoken agreement that you spent all of your heats with him at his apartment.

Even having done this before, even knowing that nothing you did to make yourself more comfortable in his space could make him upset with you, nesting at his apartment still made you nervous. The first time you’d built a nest in his apartment, you’d done it in a closet, not wanting it to be in his way or disrupt his life any more than you already were. He’d told you he was honored you felt safe enough to nest in his apartment, but there was a sadness in his voice and on his face he hadn’t been able to disguise. In your delicate state, you’d wildly misunderstood the reason for his sadness, and had begun to cry, apologizing for taking up space that wasn’t yours. He’d spent a long time after that assuring you that you hadn’t done anything wrong, and that the only reason he was sad was because he’d hoped you’d nest somewhere he could join you, or at least keep a better eye on you.

Progress had been slow, but every time your nest migrated to a more open spot, he seemed to get happier and happier. You hoped that trend would continue, because this time the only place your Omega instincts would accept as a nesting spot was his bed.

You’d kept it small, as much as it pained you to do so: just a few extra blankets, the extra pillows from his closet, and a hoodie of his you’d slipped into. The clothing was thick, almost too warm with your rising body temperature, but it smelled like him, and you needed that to help calm you until he got home from work.

Almost as if your thoughts had summoned him, you heard his keys in the front door, and you sat up in your nest, anxiously gripping the blanket in your lap. What if he hated it? you fretted internally. What if he’s angry I used his bed? What if—

Your anxious thoughts were stopped in their tracks when you heard him call your name, his voice full of warmth and love and tenderness, just like it always was during your heats. You didn’t call back, the words sticking in your throat, but you knew it wouldn’t take him long to find you; your scent had begun to fill the apartment a few hours before, though you’d done your best not to let it get too overwhelming outside of his room.

Within a minute his footsteps approached and his head peeked around the door. Your heart leapt into your throat then, convinced he’d see your nest in his bed and become upset, asking you to take it apart. Instead, you watched as he took you in for a moment, then seemed to realize what you’d turned his bed into, and he broke out into a bright grin.

He closed the distance between you in just a few steps, and he cradled your face in his hands for a moment before he kissed you.

“You’re not upset?” you asked, once he’d finally given you a chance to breathe.

“Upset?” Kyojuro asked, clearly surprised by your words. “Baby, I’ve been waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to nest in my bed for months. How could I possibly be upset?”

Tears pricked at your eyes at his words, and all you could do was turn your head slightly into his touch, pressing a featherlight kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“My only concern is the size, though,” he added after a moment, stroking your cheek with his thumb to get your attention again.

Just like the first time, you misunderstood his meaning. “O-oh, okay,” you said quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I can make it smaller, move it to my side of the bed. You don’t have to, uh. Have to share it with me.” Your voice grew softer as you spoke, barely a whisper as the last few words left your lips. You had hoped he’d cuddle you in the nest for as long as you could take it — maybe even fuck you in it later, your inner Omega suggested hopefully — but clearly he didn’t want that, and the last thing you wanted was to impose.

“No, little flame, don’t be silly,” he chided, his fiery eyes shining as he looked at you. “I just meant it looks a little sparse, your last few have been cozier than this. Are you sure it’s to your satisfaction?”

You stared at him for a moment, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “…no,” you admitted after a moment. “I just…didn’t want to take over your space like that.”

“It’s yours to take over,” he assured you, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose before finally releasing you. “Come on, I’ll help you bulk it up.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and all you could do was nod, allowing him to take your hand and pull you up from the bed, forgetting until you were standing in front of him that you wore nothing but his hoodie and your panties.

His eyes flashed briefly at the sight, but all he did was smile. “You look comfy like that,” he said simply, giving your hand a squeeze before leading you into the laundry room. A basket full of his clean clothes sat by the door, and he easily scooped it up, carrying it back to his room. “Pick whatever you want out of there,” he encouraged. “I’m going to find every single blanket in this apartment for you, and if you want more I’ll drive to the store and buy the softest ones they have.”

A small giggle escaped you at his words, and you shook your head slightly at him. “That’s not necessary,” you assured him. “As long as it smells like you I’ll be happy.”

Reinforcing the nest didn’t take long, especially with Kyojuro there to help, following your every instruction about where to put the blankets and how best to arrange them to help the nest keep its shape. You incorporated every shirt, hoodie, and pair of pajama pants from the basket of his clothes into the nest, leaving out only the jeans and boxers.

“It looks beautiful, baby,” he murmured, after you’d finished your work. “Do you want to lay down in it now?”

You nodded eagerly at his words, your inner omega preening as he praised your nest. Upon his insistence, you climbed in first, settling down near the center. Once you were comfortable, you looked over at him with your best puppy eyes and reached out for him. “Cuddles?” you pleaded, blinking slowly at him the way you knew always worked.

“Anything you want,” he agreed, shucking off the jeans he was wearing before he crawled up the bed to your side, smiling at you all the while. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, holding you close once he’d reached you.

“For what?” you asked, a bit confused.

“For building your nest in my bed. For being honest and telling me you weren’t happy with the state of it when I asked, and for letting me help you make it better for you.”

The blush in your cheeks was impossible to hide, especially with the way it crawled up your ears and down your chest a bit. “Oh…” was all you could manage for a moment, his praises making you feel almost dizzy. “Thank you for helping me put it together. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to,” he promised, nuzzling his nose lightly against your own; he wasn’t quite scent marking you, but it was reassuring all the same. “I’d do anything for you,” he added, almost to himself, and your blush intensified, making you feel as if you could burst into flames right then and there.

Not knowing what to say, you cuddled further into him, fingers tangling in the shirt he wore and pressing your cheek against his for a moment. “Could we watch a movie?” Your voice was quiet as you spoke, but he was so focused on you that he caught your words easily.

“What do you want to watch?” Kyojuro turned away from you slightly to grab the remote for his TV from the nightstand, but even with as short as the distance between you was, you whined softly. He chuckled softly at the sound, quickly returning to his position, squishing you against him and peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“You pick,” you told him, relaxing once he had you in his arms again. Honestly, you didn’t really care what you watched; you just wanted some background noise to help you sleep. You were exhausted, and though you hadn’t said anything, you were sure your boyfriend could tell.

A soft kiss dropped to your forehead after you spoke, and you watched as he turned on the TV, clicking around a bit until he landed on a period drama; your inner Omega cheered when you realized it was one of your favorites.

The feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back had you melting into him in seconds, practically purring in satisfaction. Before you could fully sink into sleep or your heat-driven headspace, you forced yourself to pull away from him enough to look up into his face. “Hey Kyo?”

“What is it, little flame?” he asked, his eyes soft as he smiled down at you.

The nickname sent a little shiver down your spine, but you ignored it for now; what you needed to tell him was important. “I want you to claim me this time.”

The alpha in your arms seemed to freeze then, and you suddenly worried you’d crossed the line. The two of you had never technically had a conversation about the subject, but it had always felt like the obvious next step in your relationship; you’d never felt the same way about anyone else, and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Are you sure?” he asked after a few moments, brushing a stray hair away from your eyes. “That’s a big commitment.” He watched you closely as he spoke, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded eagerly at his words. “I’m sure,” you promised. “I’ve felt the way you hold back during my heats and your ruts. I really want your mark this time. I needed to tell you before I got too lost in the hormones, in case you didn’t think I meant it.”

Any anxiety you might’ve felt about the situation melted away as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands cradling your face so lovingly it almost hurt.

“I want it too,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again softly. “I’ll mark you this time. I love you,” he promised, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

“I love you too,” you breathed out, relief washing over you at the knowledge that you were on the same page. You snuggled further into him, burying your face into his neck and seeking out his scent gland. A purr rumbled in his chest at the touch, and it made you melt.

“Get some sleep,” he encouraged, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head while the other squeezed your side gently. “I know this week is gonna wear you out, you’ll need all the rest you can get.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, purring against his skin as you finally drifted off, tucked close into his warmth.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep, but when you woke up you were sweating, suddenly feeling suffocated in the hoodie you’d put on earlier. You wriggled out of it as quickly as you could, tossing it to one side of your nest. Unfortunately, freeing yourself from the stifling garment didn’t bring the relief you’d hoped for, and you whined.

After a moment, you realized you were alone in the nest, and you sat up, turning towards the door. “Kyo?” you called out, not quite sure where he would be; he didn’t leave your side much during your heats, so waking up alone during them was uncommon.

Thankfully, he was back at your side in less than a minute, placing a bottle of gatorade – your favorite flavor, of course – and a snack on the bedside table. “Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted, crawling into the bed with you again, kissing your forehead. “Just went to get a couple things for you. Could smell your heat setting in while you were still asleep.”

You nodded dumbly at his words, leaning into his touch as he pulled you close. You sought out his scent gland again, pressing your nose into it and taking a deep breath. The smell of him was heady, spices and woodsmoke filling your senses and making your mouth water slightly. You shifted your position slightly, pushing yourself up on your knees a bit to rub your cheek against his scent gland, eyes closed all the while.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, and he wrapped his arms more securely around you, letting you get as much of his scent as you wanted. One hand rubbed your back softly as he held you, the other trailing down a little lower, grabbing at the meat of your thigh and relishing in the way it squished a bit in his hand; he’d always been fond of your softness, saying your squishiness and stretch marks were his favorite parts of you. He’d figured out early on in your relationship that you sometimes felt self conscious about your weight, even to the point of watching what you ate around him, but he had promised you countless times that your weight didn’t matter to him; he just loved you.

A soft gasp escaped you as he gripped your thigh, and your hold on him tightened slightly. It was at that point that you fully realized he had removed his shirt at some point, leaving him in just his boxers. The feeling of his warm skin – he had always run a bit warm – pressed against your flushed body had a purr escaping you, loud and happy, your hips rolling into him slightly, the action completely involuntary.

Kyojuro bit his lip as you moved against him, stifling the moan that rose in his chest. “Baby,” he murmured, after he’d gotten himself under control again. You didn’t react, seeming not to have heard his voice, so he tried again, this time pulling you away from his neck. “My love,” he murmured, a gentle smile on his face as he looked into your eyes. “Can you tell me what you need? I don’t want to assume anything or do something you’re not ready for yet.”

You whined softly as he pulled you away from where you’d been scenting him, but the weight of his hands at the back of your neck and on your hip kept you grounded there with him. Mind already beginning to grow a bit hazy, you had to take a moment to formulate an answer. “Touch me,” you replied, the words much breathier and pleading than you had intended.

His smile turned a bit more knowing at that, his smile quirking up into a slight smirk. “Alright, I can do that. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” His words were gentle as reassuring as his hand left your hip and trailed down between your legs. He couldn’t stop the moan that left his lips this time, the feeling of your slick soaked panties making him feel a bit feral. “So wet already,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “C’mon, lift up for me. Gonna take these off, ‘kay?” he asked, meeting your eyes again and tugging lightly at the waistband of your underwear.

You nodded at his request, lifting yourself off of him, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact with him, though soon you’d helped him get your panties down your legs, the clothing tossed to some unknown corner of the room.

“Gonna start with my fingers,” the fiery haired man said, bringing you back to settle on his lap for the time being.

You nodded again at his words, more eager this time, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hand made its way between your legs. Normally you would’ve been embarrassed at the way slick was beginning to drip from your pussy, but right now you were so desperate for him to touch you that you didn’t care.

As his fingers finally brushed against your folds, you gasped, clinging to him a bit tighter without thinking about it. His touch was gentle at first, but when he found your clit he pressed his thumb to it, he began rubbing it in firm circles that made you whimper so pretty for him. “Kyo, please,” you pleaded quietly. “Need more.”

“I got you,” he soothed, kissing your temple before pushing a finger into your entrance. He pumped it a few times, though when he met with no resistance he easily pushed in a second. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling on every few thrusts, his thumb still steady in its movement on your clit.

Your arms tightened slightly around his neck as he started touching you more, panting against his skin and letting out little moans every time his fingertips brushed against your sweet spot. After a few minutes of that, your hips rocking into his hand slightly to meet his thrusts, he pressed a third finger into you, the stretch causing your eyes to roll back into your head. It was nothing compared to his knot, you knew that, but it still felt sinfully good the way the digits pumped in and out of your cunt, movements aided by the amount of slick leaking from you.

Eventually your thighs began to tremble, and you buried your face further into his neck. “Feels s’good,” you whimpered into his neck. Your hips still rocked down into his hand, eagerly meeting his thrusts and adding to the stimulation of his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

“Yeah?” he asked softly, the hand not currently buried in your cunt rubbing up and down your thigh, almost as if to soothe you. “You gonna come on my fingers like this?” His words held no teasing whatsoever, only love and affection; all he wanted to do was make you feel good, so hearing that you were enjoying his touches made his internal Alpha swell with pride.

“Want to,” you whined, rocking your hips down a bit harder than before. A breathy moan escaped your lips then, and before you had fully realized what was happening, your lips were captured in a warm, affectionate kiss.

“You can do it,” Kyojuro praised, after he broke the kiss. He began to curl his fingers into your most sensitive spot with every thrust, his thumb moving more quickly on your clit. “C’mon, baby, come for me. Wanna make you feel good.”

His words seemed to flip a switch inside you, and you came with a cry, hiding your face and sinking your teeth lightly into the curve of his shoulder; you wanted to mark him, but some part of you was holding back, wanting him to claim you first, leave his mark on you and show how much he wanted you.

He couldn’t have stopped the grin that crept across his face if he’d wanted to, feeling very self-satisfied at the way you fell apart for him, so well and so easily. The hand on your thigh slid up your back, pressing you closer into him as he worked you carefully through your high and let you catch your breath. “How do you feel?” He asked after a few moments, nuzzling lightly at your cheek until you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“Feel hot,” you answered honestly, and you could feel yourself slipping fully into your heat. “Need you, Kyo. Need your knot, please, need it so bad.” You were practically babbling at this point, and he shushed you with a gentle kiss.

“Alright, little flame, alright. I’ve got you,” the alpha soothed, sliding his fingers out of you to maneuver you onto your back in the middle of your nest.

A pathetic whine escaped your lips as he separated from you, and you reached out for him weakly, brows furrowed as your pussy clenched around nothing. “Please,” you whimpered, eyes slightly glassy as you looked up at him.

Kyojuro only separated from you long enough to pull his boxers down and kick them off, though as soon as that was done he was leaning into you again, fingers slipping between your legs again and rubbing up and down your soaked folds. “I’m right here,” he soothed, smiling gently down at you as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The touch settled you a bit, and a slight smile tugged at your lips when he kissed your forehead. Your eyes slipped closed as he began to trail kisses down the side of your face to your neck, where he buried his face into your scent gland, taking a deep breath of your scent: black tea, honey, and the tiniest hint of mint enveloped him, and he dragged his tongue across the spot, drawing a shudder from you. Your fingers tangled in his hair at the touch, and you tugged, trying to get his attention again. “Please, Kyo, need you to fill me up, need your knot.”

Your words made him groan against your skin, and he pulled away from your neck to look down into your eyes. “Okay, baby. Okay,” was all he said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he took his length in his hand, lining himself up with your entrance before pushing in. His length slid in with ease, meeting no resistance until he was seated fully inside you.

The two of you moaned in unison once he was inside you, and you had to close your eyes for a moment as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you. He scattered kisses across your chest as he waited for permission to move, not wanting to overwhelm you at any point during this, regardless of how much he may have wanted to just start pounding you into the mattress; this wasn’t about him, after all, it was about making sure you were satisfied and taken care of.

After a few moments, you opened your eyes again, looking down at where you could still feel his lips against the skin of your chest, and you trailed your fingers gently along the curve of his jaw. Once he’d tilted his head to meet your eyes, you gave him a small nod, shifting your hips slightly to assure him you were ready.

The alpha smiled warmly as you let him know you were ready for him to move, and he shifted up slightly to capture your lips in a soft, loving kiss as he pulled his hips back, relishing in the way you sighed against his lips as he sank back into you. His pace was slow at first, far more focused on how deep he could reach than on how fast he could fuck into you. When you sank your fingers into his hair and tugged, though, a small growl slipped from his lips, and his pace quickened.

A moan escaped you as Kyojuro began to thrust into you harder than before, rolling his hips against you at the end of every thrust, the movement grinding his pubic bone into your clit in a way that had your toes curling. “Kyo,” you whimpered, nuzzling against his cheek. “Need more, please.” Your voice was soft, and if you hadn’t been pressed so close together, he might have missed it.

“Yeah?” the fiery haired man panted, nuzzling you back lightly. “All you had to do was ask, baby.” With that, he adjusted his position, pushing himself up slightly on his knees for a moment as he gathered your legs in his hands, squeezing the plush of your things as he guided your legs around his waist. Once he was satisfied with the new position, he smiled down at you again, though now his expression was a bit more predatory, like he was ready to devour you. Without another word, he leaned in again, pressing a searing kiss to your lips as he began to fuck you even harder, even faster than he had been, now chasing his own pleasure as well as yours.

A high-pitched moan had you breaking the kiss long before you wanted to, but his lips never quite left your skin, mouthing across your jaw and down your neck, licking and sucking and nibbling as he went. When he reached your scent gland, he sealed his mouth over it, grazing his teeth lightly over it. The action made you tighten around him, and he groaned, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs.

“Fuck, baby, feel so good, all for me,” he mumbled into your skin, one of his hands leaving your thigh to reach up and pinch your nipple between his fingers, tugging on it once before releasing it, smirking slightly at the way it made you squirm.

“Only for you,” you cried out in response to his words, your grip on his hair tightening. “Please, Kyo, need your knot, please.” You clenched around him, already able to feel the swell at the base of his cock catch at your entrance every few thrusts. “Want you to claim me, wanna be yours.”

He swore under his breath, pressing his body closer to yours as he fucked relentlessly into your dripping cunt. “You want me that bad? Want me to fill you up? Want me to mark you so everyone knows you’re taken?”

“Yes!” you practically wailed, tears beginning to well in the corners of your eyes. “Fuck, please, Alpha, want it so bad, need it.” You were bordering on incoherent at this point, the knot in your stomach tightening with every slap of his skin against yours.

“Then cum for me, Omega. Show me how bad you want it.”

His words were enough to tip you over the edge, and you screamed his name as you clamped down on his dick, hips bucking up to meet his as your eyes rolled back in your head.

Kyojuro growled at the feeling, only managing to thrust a few more times before his knot swelled completely, locking the two of you together as he came, pressing as deep into you as he could. As he came, he sank his teeth into your neck, biting down on your scent gland until he tasted blood, his internal Alpha cheering as he finally marked you as his.

Your nails dug into his scalp as his knot locked the two of you together, and you swore you could feel his cum shooting straight into your womb, filling you until you couldn’t possibly hold any more. When you felt his teeth sink into your throat, your vision went white, your whole body shuddering into another small orgasm, every muscle in your body going taut until he finally released your neck.

He pulled away after a few moments to admire his work, grinning slightly at the sight of his mark on your neck. He dropped his mouth to the spot again, though this time he laved his tongue over the wound, soothing the spot as best he could in that moment. Unbeknownst to him, he’d started purring against you as he dropped his weight onto you, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and causing you to relax a bit.

Slowly, your mind came back to your body, and you couldn’t help the dopey grin that settled on your lips. Your hold on his hair loosened, your hands now sliding down to his back hugging him to yourself as you began to purr as well. “...Can I mark you?” you asked after a few minutes, nuzzling against his neck, scent marking him even though you knew your scent was all over him already.

“Of course you can, little flame. Gotta make sure we match, hm?” He tilted his head to the side as he spoke, offering you complete access to his neck.

Your expression brightened slightly at his words, and after pressing a soft kiss to his neck, you sank your teeth into his scent gland, sealing him to you, just as his bite had sealed you to him.

He gave an involuntary thrust of his hips as you bit him, and he felt more than heard your gasp as he released another spurt of cum into your cunt. Turning his head to face you again, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, almost as if in apology. Attentive partner that he was, he immediately noticed the way your eyelids began to droop shut, and he smiled softly. “Get some rest, love,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair away from your sweat-sticky forehead when he saw you fighting sleep. “I’ll be right here to keep taking care of you when you wake up.”

dividers by cafekitsune

tagging: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @witchbybirth @marinnnnnnnnn @peachdues

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joelscruff · 2 years ago

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one thing i'm missing (joel miller x reader) PART FOUR

okay wow, so since the last chapter i've somehow hit 200 followers and have received so much lovely praise for this fic ;-; you guys have no idea how much i appreciate it. life has not been going great for me lately and having this outlet + such a great response has been such a bright light for me. i can't thank you all enough. i'm estimating that this fic will probably end up being six parts total, so look forward to those! i'm also open to writing requests & suggestions for other fics so feel free to send me an ask anytime! without further ado, here's part four :) PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | ao3 summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: (for this chapter) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink, (slight) dirty talk, grinding, handjobs, fingering word count: about 6.5k (yup)

You awoke in the early hours of the morning and slowly opened your eyes, hints of sunrise trickling through the cabin window and illuminating the dust that danced around the room. It took a few seconds to reconnect yourself to the new location, your gaze shifting to the chair in the corner of the room that still held yours and Joel's coats. Your lips parted in a breathless realization, the memory of last night flooding into your mind.

“I've got you,” he'd murmured, “Keep goin', don't think about it.”

You stared at the coats, heart racing as you remembered the way he'd held you so close to him while you came completely undone, helped you rut against him until you got what you needed, til he gave you what you needed. The way he'd groaned in your ear when you brushed against his groin, whispered “good girl” to you like it was a secret.

You swallowed, feeling the familiar throb in your underwear, recalling the thick strength of his thigh between your legs...

A rustle of movement behind you brought you back to the current moment, and you finally registered that Joel was still in bed with you, spooning you from behind again, arms wound comfortably around your torso. You couldn't help but smile and without any hesitation you shuffled back further into his embrace, tilting your head back slightly so he was nosing your hair.

You heard him hum softly, arms tightening around you. You looked down and felt your skin get hot when you saw how large his hands were, one placed atop your belly while the other had snaked its way up to your sternum, almost between your breasts. He was so strong but he held you so tenderly, forearms freckled with nicks and cuts that made your heart ache; you wanted to kiss every single one.

“You awake?” you whispered, not too loud in case he was still sleeping.

He gave you an affirming grunt but didn't actually say anything, the tip of his nose tickling the back of your neck. You shivered and leaned back even further so his body was fully enveloping yours, savouring the moments before he was fully awake and would inevitably pull himself away from you. You felt something prod at your lower back and you froze, breath hitching.

Guiltily you remembered falling asleep ridiculously quickly the night before without helping him find his own release, meaning he must have fallen asleep absolutely aching. You'd felt how hard he was while you were on top of him; it must have been torture for him to watch you have the best orgasm of your life and then pass out without so much as a thank you. That torture was seemingly still ongoing, the shape of him firm and stiff against the swell of your ass.

Well, it wasn't too late to thank him now.

Hesitating for barely a moment, you began to rotate your hips, slow and steady, pushing back against the hard feeling of him through his jeans. You felt his arms suddenly stiffen around you, brow furrowing against the back of your neck.

“What are you doin'?” he murmured.

“Nothing,” you pushed back even further, feeling the unmistakable pulse of arousal in your own jeans at the sound of his voice.

He was definitely fully awake now, and as he went to move his arms you reached up to hold them back in place, hands atop his own.

“You don't have to-”

“Shhh,” you ground yourself against him a bit harder and you felt him gasp, breath warm against your skin, “I want to.”

It didn't take much for him to surrender completely to the feeling of you being so close to him, inhaling and exhaling unevenly in your ear as you continued to rub your ass against his groin. Your hands loosened on top of his and he took the opportunity to move the one that was on your belly and carefully slide it inside the confines of your shirt, palming the skin there. You whimpered at the contact, grinding yourself even harder against him.

The silence of the cabin, the stillness of the air outside in the early morning light, it gave you that peculiar feeling of being somehow present in the world but also not. It was so easy to pretend when you were alone with him, so easy to feel like you were both the only souls to exist on this post-apocalyptic plane of America, of planet Earth. The only sounds in the entire world were the hitches of breath, the soft whispers, the quiet moans and whimpers that the two of you made together, melting into one.

“Feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly in your ear, nuzzling his face against your cheek. Without needing to ask, you reached blindly behind you for his belt buckle, pulling at the cold square of metal.

“Take this off,” you breathed, stilling your hips momentarily, and he removed his hand from your sternum to reach down and start to undo it, brushing against your fingers with every motion. When he'd pulled the leather from the straps you helped him to yank the long strip of material out from underneath the both of you, tossing it to the floor. You felt him pop the button on his jeans and your hand began to shake on it's own accord as you reached for his zipper.

He stopped you, enveloping your hand in his before you could tug it down, “You sure?” he asked softly, “We can stop-”

You suddenly flipped over so you were facing him, and your heart stuttered when you saw the look on his face; he was wrecked, eyes dark and blown wide, forehead tinged with sweat, splotches of red blooming along his neck and collarbone. It had been so dark last night, you hadn't been able to see what Joel looked like when he was turned on. Now as you looked at him and saw the desire in his eyes, the bob of his Adam's apple as he gazed back at you and swallowed, the way his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath, you felt any and all hesitation leave your body. You gripped his zipper with your thumb and forefinger and slowly began to pull it down, the room still quiet save for the sharp sound of metal coming undone in your fingers – it was practically pornographic. He kept his eyes on you, lips parted as he tried to get his breathing under control.

His underwear became exposed, framing the long and thick curve of him perfectly. You heard his breath hitch when your knuckles brushed lightly against him as you finished with the zipper, and your eyes snapped back up to find his again. He was still staring at you, watching your expression, gauging your reaction. Without breaking eye contact you moved your hand up to cup him gently, palming his girth and feeling your face get hot when you realized your fingers wouldn't even go all the way around him.

“Oh wow,” you whispered, voice squeaking a little bit as you stroked him once through his underwear, “You're big.”

He groaned in response, closing his eyes finally and throwing his head back against the pillows. You couldn't help but laugh breathlessly, fingers trembling a little bit in anticipation, “Can I take it out?”

He physically shuddered at your words, jaw tightening as he brought his hands up to his face. He pressed his palms against his eyes, inhaling deeply, “Yeah,” he replied, voice shaky, “But I won't last long.”

“That's okay,” you whispered, reaching for the band of his underwear.

BANG.

Your heads snapped up immediately, both of you freezing as you stared at the closed bedroom door in confusion.

“Joel, you in this one?” Ellie called out from the opposite side.

You both flung yourselves away from each other like you'd been electrocuted, toppling out of the bed like you were in a Saturday morning cartoon. Joel yanked the zipper of his jeans back up and you threw him his belt, then pulled yourself up from the floor to stand wordlessly across from him. You both stared at each other for a few seconds as he did himself back up, eyes wide in panic.

“Joel?” Ellie called again, followed by your name, “Anybody in here?”

“Gimme a sec,” he replied loudly, voice deep and rough, “Gettin' dressed. You alright?”

“Yeah, just wanna go to the springs. I'll wait outside,” she called back, and you heard the front door slam again.

You looked at each other, both still panic-stricken. After a few seconds of shocked silence you reached down and grabbed your pack, throwing it over your shoulder, “You go out front and lead her back toward her cabin, I'll sneak into the one next door.”

“That works” he replied breathlessly, eyes scanning you up and down, “Listen, I'm sorr-”

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't think she'd be up yet,” you tossed him his coat and gestured toward the bedroom door, “Now go, before she gets suspicious.”

With one last parting glance, Joel shrugged his coat on and turned on his heel to leave, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving you standing alone. It was only when he was gone that you fully allowed yourself to feel the weight of what you'd almost just done, your hand clenching around nothing as you stood in the centre of the room trying to catch your breath. You'd touched him; you'd basically asked if you could give him a hand job and he'd said yes.

There was no question anymore of whether or not he wanted you, that was for sure. But whether you'd talk about it or he'd broach the subject again was completely up in the air. This thing you shared – whatever it was – you hadn't spoken one word about it to each other. He wanted you, sure, but in what way? Did he just want you to touch him, for you to get him off like he got you off? Or did he feel something deeper for you, something strong and warm like you felt for him? How were you even supposed to figure out what exactly he wanted when you hadn't even had one conversation about what had been going on? You clenched your jaw, shaking your head and inhaling the stale, dusty air; you didn't have time to think about this right now, you had to get yourself into the next cabin without Ellie noticing. The last thing you needed was for her to start asking questions about a relationship you yourself couldn't even define.

You did your best to quietly leave the cabin, slipping stealthily into the one next door when you were sure Joel had led Ellie back up the path. A few minutes later you walked out onto the front porch with heavy footfalls that made them both turn to look, yawning loudly on purpose and waving in their direction.

“Morning, losers!” you called, “Let's go see some hot springs!”

It turned out that in her excitement for the springs Ellie had woken up much earlier than the two of you, which explained her sudden appearance this morning. Out of boredom she'd meticulously organized all the products you'd found the previous day into piles, resulting in each of you now carrying your own personalized bath-care bag as you set out for the springs. You rummaged through yours, smiling at the strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner she'd chosen for you; you'd told her once, maybe about three months back, that you loved strawberries. The fact that she'd remembered made your heart warm. She'd also packed you an unopened women's razor and toothbrush, along with some body wash and a towel.

“You trying to tell me something?” you teased, waving the razor in her face as the three of you walked down the overgrown path to the springs.

She laughed and reached into her own bag, pulling out an identical razor, “Just that I need you to show me how to use this thing. My pits are itchy as fuck.”

Joel chuckled at that, “Try having five times that amount all over you.”

His comment immediately sparked the image of that patch of hair that trailed from his belly to his groin, the hair you'd become very familiar with in the past few hours. You swallowed and adjusted your pack absentmindedly, trying to focus on Ellie's retort.

“You could use a shave, honestly,” she was saying, making a face, “Who knows what's living in all that shit.”

“Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious,” he rolled his eyes and slowed his pace a bit to gesture to his own bag, “If you really thought I needed to shave you would've packed me a razor too.”

“Okay, true,” she conceded, “But that's just because I was scared you'd shave off your beard and I don't want you to. You'd look weird without it.”

“I agree,” you said, probably a bit too quickly, and he turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “What? Beards are hot.”

It had slipped out before you could really think about how it would sound, and you saw the flash of something on his face that didn't last long enough to register. It was hard to read the expression that remained but he suddenly turned back around before you could get a good look. You looked at Ellie and she was eyeing you with her own unreadable expression.

“What?” you asked, feeling your cheeks go red, “They are, right?”

She scrunched up her nose in response, “I think I'm the wrong person to ask, sister.”

The springs could not have been more picturesque; there were two of them situated atop a small cliff face that overlooked the forest below, patches of snow covering hints of the rocky terrain. One was large and wide, probably big enough to comfortably fit thirty people, while the other one was more secluded and separated by the tree line for those seeking a more private experience. Without hesitation Ellie sprinted toward the big one and dipped her hand inside, jaw dropping when she felt the undeniable warmth of its depths.

“It's actually like a bath!” she called to you and Joel in delight, “Holy fucking shit!”

Joel turned to you and smiled, eyes reaching yours and capturing your full attention for a few seconds. It was the first time he'd made full eye contact with you since you'd left the cabin, and you felt heat rise in your cheeks at the memory of what had occurred between the two of you in bed, your hand on him and his eyes on you. The way he looked at you now, it was like he was trying to tell you something, but you weren't sure what.

“So how we doin' this?” Ellie interrupted, appearing at your side once more.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if we're actually gonna get clean we're gonna have to take our clothes off,” she made a face at Joel, “And no offence but I really don't want to see you naked.”

“Ellie,” Joel admonished, rolling his eyes, “Obviously you'll both stick to one and I'll stick to the other, which one do you want?”

“Whichever one is more shallow,” she replied immediately.

“Oh shit, right, you can't swim,” Joel's brow furrowed and he looked at you again, “Watch her, make sure she doesn't drown herself.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” you gave him a salute and he made an exasperated face.

“You're both ridiculous.”

Ellie grinned, “Thank you, so are you.”

“I'll test the small one, see how deep it is,” you shrugged off your pack and walked through the line of trees to the more secluded spring, leaving Joel and Ellie to squabble playfully behind you.

This one was definitely more tranquil than the large one, the thick greenery almost entirely muting the sound of Ellie bothering Joel beyond the treeline. The water was clear and still, a hint of steam rising like a halo above it. Anticipation of the promised warmth overtaking you, you kicked off your boots and unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them off and wincing at the sting of cold air that hit your skin. You climbed into the water without much hesitation and sighed deeply in satisfaction at the way the warm liquid lapped against your bare legs.

You took a few steps until you were almost to the centre of the spring, then had no choice but to lift up your shirt as the water became level with your abdomen. You kept your bra on, reminding yourself that as much as you wanted to just completely engulf yourself in the water with no inhibitions whatsoever, Ellie came first. Your feet still touching the rocky bottom, you reached the centre and grinned: perfectly safe, no drowning risk in water this shallow.

“We'll use this one, Ellie!” you called through the trees, not wanting to extricate yourself from the water now that you were used to the heat. No one responded and you huffed to yourself, cupping your hands around your mouth, “Come use this one!”

The shuffle of boots and rattling of gear broke the quietness of the clearing and you froze when you saw both Ellie and Joel appear, the latter stopping completely in his tracks when he saw you standing in the middle of the spring wearing nothing but your bra and underwear, t-shirt hanging from the back of your neck. Your eyes locked onto his, lips parting in surprise. You hadn't expected him to come with her.

“Awesome!” Ellie was already unzipping her coat and throwing it to the ground, reaching for her boots, “Joel, leave, I wanna get in.”

She seemed completely unaware of his genuine shock behind her, still standing there looking at you with wide eyes. Unconsciously you felt your mouth close and your lips turn up into a smile, not breaking eye contact as you continued to stand there with your bra completely on display. It's not like it was anything special, just a basic white sports bra that had gradually yellowed a bit over time, but you doubted Joel had seen a woman this bare in months, not since Tess. You watched as his gaze shifted from your eyes to your breasts and back to your eyes again, like he was self conscious about what he saw there.

You looked down at your chest and you felt your heart stutter a bit when you noticed that your bra had gotten slightly wet, your nipples peeking through the semi-transparent fabric. So that's what was making him so flustered. You looked up at him again and smiled wider, sheepishly, flirtatiously. His face had turned bright red.

“Joel,” Ellie finally turned to look at him, sounding exasperated as she finished untying her laces, “Leave.”

His eyes broke away from you and he cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding to Ellie and taking a few steps back, “Yeah, sorry. I'll uh- I'll be in the other one.”

You watched him go, unable to stop smiling as he tripped a bit in his rush to clear the area. You couldn't get over the fact that it was you that had him all hot and bothered, his hard exterior cracking away more and more the longer you allowed yourself to be close to him. Maybe he held the cards when it came to the definition of your relationship, but when it came to sex... yeah, you definitely had the power.

The spring was heaven; you hadn't bathed in hot water since you were back at Tommy's, and even then you'd only been able to take a quick shower. Now you revelled in the feeling of getting clean, the smoothness of your skin after you took the razor to the hair that had been slowly getting thicker around your ankles, the silkiness of your scalp after you'd masked it in conditioner. After showing Ellie how to use her razor you'd both turned away from each other, sitting on opposite sides of the spring to fully unclothe yourselves and bask in the luxuriousness, pretending you were both completely alone. The only sounds filling the clearing were the occasional splash of water and the birds chirping throughout the trees, calm and welcoming.

After a long period without conversation, Ellie spoke, “So you and Joel, huh.”

You froze, “Um, what?”

You could practically hear her roll her eyes, “I'm not an idiot. I see how he looks at you.”

Despite being shocked by her apparent knowledge of the situation, your heart skipped a beat at her comment, “H-how does he look at me?”

“Like he wants to jump your bones.”

You spluttered a bit, completely unsure of what to say and hating that you couldn't turn around to face her. Instead, you shuffled forward and grabbed the towel she'd packed for you, wrapping it around yourself.

“Put your towel on so we can actually talk properly,” you said, wincing at the squeak in your voice.

“I'm already dressed,” she replied, and you spun around in confusion. She wasn't lying; she was no longer in the spring and had somehow slipped back into her clothes without alerting you. She was sitting against one of the nearby trees, doodling in her journal.

“How long have you just been sitting there?”

“Maybe ten minutes, my skin was getting all wrinkly,” she scrunched up her nose, “It was gross.”

You wrapped the towel firmly around yourself and exited the water, walking around the edge of it barefoot until you reached the place where she sat. You seated yourself on a nearby rock, wracking your brain for what exactly you were going to say. She just kept doodling, eyes on the paper.

“What are you drawing?” you asked awkwardly.

“Nunya.”

Your brow furrowed, “What?”

“Nunya business,” she looked up at you then with a sly smile and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Okay, book down, we need to talk.”

She sighed but obeyed, closing her journal and turning her full attention to you.

“Me and Joel, we've been.... well, there's something...” you scratched at the back of your neck, “He... him and I, we...”

Ellie made an exasperated sound, “You're together, just say it.”

You winced, “We're not, though. That's the thing. Nothing's actually happened.” It was a lie but you couldn't very well tell a fourteen year old that you'd almost gotten to third base with her pseudo-father this morning.

“But you've like... kissed.”

You looked at her sheepishly, “Uh, no. We haven't kissed.”

She seemed genuinely surprised by that, raising her eyebrows in confusion, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

You sat there for a few seconds in silence, Ellie seemingly lost in thought for a moment before she spoke again.

“But you want to kiss him, right?”

You blushed, “Uh, yeah.”

“So what's stopping you?” her face suddenly became serious, “It's not me, is it? 'Cause I don't care, really. Like yeah it's kinda awkward but that's just because we're all so close to each other all the time, so if you needed me to disappear for a little bit I could. I mean, I've been trying to give you guys your space at night, you know, and-”

You put your hand up, eyes going wide, “Stop. You've been doing what at night?”

She stared at you like it seemed obvious, “I've been sleeping further away from you guys so you could have some time alone together.”

You stared, mouth popping open in disbelief.

“Why else do you think I vetoed the 'let's all stay in one cabin' idea last night?” she picked up her journal again and flipped to a specific page, then began to read aloud: “Sleeping in the cabin with the duck sign tonight. The lovebirds are in the sheep one, I think. Joel is so predictable.” she closed the book again and looked at you with a guilty smile, “I told you, I'm not an idiot.”

You just continued to stare at her, mouth open.

“Come on, it can't be that surprising.”

“Um, yeah,” you finally spoke, leaning back on the rock and throwing your hands up in the air, “We literally thought you were traumatized.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “By what?”

“By that...that...” you didn't want to say his name, “That monster. The guy from the resort.”

She nodded slowly, processing your reply, “Him? I mean... yeah, I guess that makes sense,” her brow furrowed, “but honestly, I don't think about him much at all, not unless I have to. He's not worth my time.” She looked at you again with a shrug, “I think I've seen too much shit at this point for anything to actually fuck me up that bad.”

Your expression softened, “Ellie, that's not something to be proud of.”

“I know, but it's helpful.”

You sighed, bringing your hands to your face in defeat, “Joel is gonna kill you, you know. He's been so worried about you, we both have.”

“Eh, he'll be fine. He's about to get a girlfriend, right?” she gave you a shit-eating grin, “Can't stay mad too long when he's gettin' some.”

You made a face and swung your arm at her, slapping her shoulder lightly, “Okay, you're not allowed to say shit like that.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, tossing her journal back into her pack, “I'm gonna head back to the cabins if that's okay. I'm starving and that Chef Boyardee stuff is calling my name.”

“Okay, just let me get dressed and I'll-”

She put her hand up, “Nope, you're staying here. I saw how much you were enjoying the springs, you should get back in and relax a little while longer.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean you saw? We've been facing away from each other.”

She stared at you, mouth closing into a firm line as her cheeks began to flush a bright red.

“Ellie, were you drawing me?”

“...I gotta go,” she threw her pack over her shoulder and began to run back down the path, leaving you standing there with your mouth agape, “I'll save some for you!”

“Ellie!” you called after her, “I hope you know we're gonna have to talk about this!”

“Can't hear you!”

“ELLIE!”

“Get back in the water, loser!” was the last thing you heard her say as her footfalls faded into the trees.

Exasperated, you pulled yourself from the rock and dropped your towel, turning around and flopping into the warm water. You weren't even going to bother trying to process that information right now.

Instead you just let the water claim you again, floating on your back and closing your eyes as it rocked you gently back and forth. You basked in the peace for about a minute before you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the brush.

“Ellie, I don't have my towel on,” you warned, rolling over to stand in the water, covering your chest with your hands, “I thought you were-” You froze when you saw who had actually emerged from the treeline.

“I heard yelling,” Joel practically gasped out, standing there completely frozen.

He was wearing absolutely nothing except for his jeans, which he'd seemingly haphazardly yanked on in his efforts to get to you quickly. They weren't buttoned, hanging off his hips loosely and exposing the hair that lay soft against his pubic bone, trailing upwards past his stomach and to his now visible abdomen and chest. His skin was taut, goosebumps tickling his bare flesh from the cold air, his nipples – framed lightly with grey hair – peaked and hard. Your gaze finally reached his face and his eyes had gone dark, lips parted with puffs of hot hair escaping his mouth with every breath. He was staring at you, not even bothering to try and hide the way his eyes fell to your chest, almost like he could see past the hands that cupped your breasts.

“She's gone back to the cabins,” you said quietly, almost too much so that you thought he might not hear you, but he did. He took another step toward you.

“Is she okay?” he practically whispered.

“Yeah, she was just giving me some alone time.”

His eyes trailed slowly down your body to where your skin met the water, where it lapped at your belly, leaving the other part of you that he clearly wanted to look at invisible beneath.

“Jesus Christ,” he took another step, “Look at you.”

You felt your face burn, biting your lip and feeling incredibly vulnerable as his gaze penetrated you. You felt yourself start to throb beneath the water and you crossed your legs unconsciously as he brought his eyes back up to look at your face.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, taking another step, “Tell me to go and I will.”

You shook your head slowly, “Don't go.”

He stopped at the edge of the water, his expression suddenly pained as he peered at you, “I mean it,” the words were a murmur now, almost impossible to hear, “If I get in with you... if I-” he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, “If you don't want me, you gotta tell me now.”

“I want you,” you said it immediately, earnestly, voice barely a whisper, “Please.”

Keeping his eyes on you, he reached down and slipped out of his jeans, throwing them behind him. Your heart began to pound as he entered the water, eyes staying locked on his face, knowing full well that he was now completely naked but too nervous to look down at him. Instead, you slowly brought your hands down from your chest, your breasts on display to him as he traipsed through the water toward you. You expected his gaze to fall, but he never unlocked his eyes from yours, not even when he was suddenly standing directly in front of you.

“Say it again,” he whispered, and you felt his hand at your waist, gently brushing the skin there; you shivered.

“W-what?” you were completely intoxicated by his closeness, the musky smell of the body wash he'd used suddenly the only thing you could sense, surrounding you in a cloud of pure masculinity. He was so tall, so broad, so strong. You could barely think straight.

“Tell me you want me,” he breathed.

Instead of giving him a vocal response, you reached down between the two of you and felt for the firm length of his cock beneath the water; he was hard, long and solid at your fingertips. You wrapped your fingers around him as far as they would go and watched as he fell apart beneath your touch, brow furrowing in pleasure as he groaned, guttural and low. You leaned your head forward and buried your face in his warm chest, his coarse hair brushing against your cheeks.

“I want you,” you repeated against his skin, slowly dragging your hand up and down his shaft, shuffling closer so you felt the hot tip of it against your bare thigh, “Want you so bad, Joel.”

“Fuck,” he practically whimpered, and you felt his hand come up to cradle the back of your head like he'd done last night, holding you to his body, “Just like that, baby, just like that.”

You whined at the name, shivering when you felt his other hand press flat against your lower back, pulling you even closer to him. The head of his cock prodded at your lower belly and you couldn't help but look down, watching it breach the surface of the water, wide and dark. You stared at it, felt yourself literally begin to salivate as he fucked your fist, crossed your legs together even tighter when you looked up again to see that he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wrecked.

“This is what I wanted to do this morning,” you said softly to him, voice shaking slightly as the hand that wasn't on his cock trailed down his chest, “Just wanted to make you come, like you made me come.”

He made another throaty sound, the hand that had cradled your head moving down to cup your ass, “Fuck, I loved watching you come,” he moaned, squeezing one of your cheeks gently in his palm, “Prettiest thing I ever saw.”

You blushed, continuing to stroke him as you both breathed heavily and felt the warmth of the water, the warmth of each other completely overtake you. You pressed your forehead to his chest again and crossed your legs impossibly tighter.

“Don't do that,” he whispered, hand moving down beneath the water to grip your thigh, “Don't hide from me, not now.” Without any convincing necessary, you uncrossed your legs and allowed him to slip his hand between your thighs, thumb pressing gently against your clit. You moaned breathlessly, biting down on your lip. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you whimpered against his chest as you felt his thumb rotate tenderly against the sensitive nub. His fingers were so thick and wide, everything about him was thick and wide. You could already feel yourself starting to fall apart when he ever so gently pushed his index finger inside of you, making you physically shake, “Joel.”

“That's it,” he murmured, “Love it when you say my name,” you began to stroke him faster and he grunted, deep and loud, “You were sayin' it in your sleep last night, do you remember?” his finger was now fully sheathed inside of you, hot and tight, “Moanin' it. Was I in your dream, baby?”

“Yes,” you whined.

“What was I doin'?” he carefully began to push his middle finger inside of you alongside the index, the stretch burning you slightly in the best way possible, “Was it like this? My fingers? Or was somethin' else deep in there?” he thumbed at your clit again, making your mouth pop open.

You couldn't remember the specific details of the dream you'd had, the one that had ended with you waking up riding Joel's thigh, but you could remember the main gist of it, which was pretty much exactly what was happening right now. It was almost too good to be true, too crazy similar to be reality. For a moment you feared you were about to wake up again, but then Joel slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, and you knew this feeling had to be real.

“I don't remember,” you whispered into his skin, “But you were there, you were holding me close like this in the water,” you gripped his cock tighter in your fist, “Didn't want you to let me go.”

“I'm not gonna let you go, baby,” he murmured, breath hot in your ear, “I'm right here, never leavin'.” His breaths were becoming more frantic, erratic; you knew he was close. And so were you. “God, your hand feels so fucking good around my cock.”

His words were almost as penetrating as his fingers, and you gasped when you suddenly felt his other hand at your breast, teasing your nipple with his thumb and forefinger. You bit down hard on your lip again, keening at the overwhelming sensation of being so desired, so claimed. He mirrored your moan, eyes closing as he gently tweaked your nipple and squeezed your clit at the same time, making you clench around his fingers.

“I'm coming,” you managed to gasp out, hand stilling on his cock, “Oh god, Joel.”

“Come for me, pretty girl, show me,” he whispered breathlessly, “Show me how good it feels.”

You shook in his grasp as you felt your release overtake you, legs tightening again as he continued to relentlessly thrust his fingers in and out of you, thumb flicking wildly at your clit as you rode it out, repeating his name over and over like a mantra. You managed to start moving your hand on his cock again before your orgasm had ended, wanting to give him a similar release as he watched you come undone with his fingers. You heard him groan loudly and you opened your eyes to blearily watch as he finished in your fist, his come spurting above the water and along your fingers before disappearing into the water below. You closed your eyes again and whimpered as he carefully removed his fingers from your core, pulling you in close and burying his face in your neck.

“You're perfect,” he groaned against your skin, “Jesus, that was good.”

You laughed breathlessly, releasing him from your fist and bringing your arms up to wrap around him, palms pressed flush against his back in a warm hug. He hugged you back, and your eyes widened slightly when you felt him press a few small kisses to the space between your neck and shoulder, tender and gentle.

“My girl,” he murmured, and you felt tears suddenly sting your eyes, “Don't want anybody but you, you hear me? Nobody.”

You shut your eyes tight, holding him closer, “I don't want anyone else either,” you whispered, voice shaky with emotion, “It's just you, only you.”

He pulled back to peer down at you, and you were surprised to see that his eyes were also shining with tears, mirroring yours. He brought his hands down to your waist, thumbs stroking your bare skin as he smiled softly down at you.

“I'm gonna kiss you now,” he whispered, breath hitching a bit, “If that's okay.”

“Of course it's okay, dummy,” you replied with a smile, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, “Been waiting for you to ask me that for weeks.”

He chuckled at your words and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his beard rough but welcome against your chin. You kissed him back just as soft, hands stroking up and down his back soothingly as you gave yourself to him, let him take what was rightfully his. He held you tighter as he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, giving you your favorite crooked smile.

“Sorry it took me so damn long.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #*#fic: one thing i'm missing

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