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yena-enha · 1 day ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 - 𝐍𝐑𝐊

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Warning - Nudity (non-sexual), gentle sensuality, emotional vulnerability

Note - MDNI (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)/INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK/NSFW Content

Genre - Soft Romance, Sensual Intimacy

Pairing - Ni-ki x Fem!Reader

Song Inspiration - Lover BY TAYLOR SWIFT

Word Count - 3.5 k words

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It still surprised you sometimes—how Ni-ki could make you feel nervous even after two whole years together.

Not the kind of nervous that made your stomach twist or your hands shake, but the sweet, fluttery kind. The type of butterflies that made you giddy over the smallest things.

The way he laughed through his nose when you poked his side, or how he instinctively held your hand when crossing the street.

You had long passed the "getting to know you" phase. Now it was knowing everything: his favorite socks, the exact curl in his hair after a shower, the sound of his laugh when it was real and unfiltered.

You were each other’s comfort, your home. But in many ways, you still behaved like high school sweethearts—playful, silly, a little shy sometimes. And you loved that.

Tonight, the two of you were curled up on the couch, an old animated movie playing softly in the background while rain tapped rhythmically at the windows. You wore one of Ni-ki’s oversized hoodies, sleeves swallowing your hands as you nuzzled into his side.

He had one arm slung around your shoulders, fingers idly stroking your hair. His other hand rested over your thigh, thumb drawing lazy patterns.

“Hey,” you murmured, shifting a little so you could look up at him.

“Hmm?” He turned his head, his expression already so soft—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I wanna try something. With you.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Something… intimate.” You hesitated, chewing your lip. “Not sex, just… more closeness.”

He blinked slowly, attention fully on you now. “Tell me.”

“I want to lie with you,” you whispered. “Skin to skin. Like… completely. I want us to be naked together. Just holding each other. Nothing between us.”

He stared at you, lips parting just slightly. “You mean… cuddle? Naked?”

You nodded shyly. “Yeah. I want to feel everything. I want us to be that close.”

For a second, Ni-ki said nothing. Then a smile bloomed on his lips—so warm it made your chest ache.

“I’d love that,” he said softly. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You exhaled, relieved, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Let’s go to bed?”

He nodded, squeezing your hand before standing and reaching out for you. You took his hand, and together, you padded to your shared bedroom.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The bedroom was quiet, lit only by the soft golden light from your bedside lamp. The air was warm, cozy, with the faint scent of vanilla lingering from a candle you’d lit earlier.

You stood in front of each other at the foot of the bed, the silence between you not awkward, just full. Your eyes met his, and you both smiled—nervous, tender.

You reached for the buttons on his shirt, fingers careful and slow.

“Can I?” you asked.

“Please,” he said, voice barely a breath.

One by one, you undid the buttons, his chest slowly being revealed beneath your fingertips. His skin was warm, smooth, and the rise and fall of his breathing matched your own. When the last button came undone, you let the fabric slip down his shoulders, leaning up to press a kiss to his collarbone.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

Ni-ki’s cheeks turned pink. He reached for the hem of your hoodie. “My turn?”

You nodded.

He pulled it up slowly, and you raised your arms, letting him reveal more of you inch by inch. His fingers brushed your sides as he tugged it off, careful not to rush. When it was gone, he just stared for a moment, eyes soft, taking you in like you were something fragile and divine.

“Still okay?” he asked.

You smiled. “More than okay.”

His hands slid down to the waistband of your panties. “May I?”

Your breath hitched. “Please.”

He lowered himself to his knees, eyes never leaving yours, then bent forward and kissed your hip. One hand held your waist, steadying you, while the other gently eased your panties down. His lips trailed light, reverent kisses along your inner thighs, each one igniting something warm and slow inside you.

Once the fabric pooled at your feet, you stepped out of it, your fingers brushing through his hair briefly before reaching for his waistband.

“My turn,” you whispered.

He stood back up, and you hooked your thumbs into the band of his boxers. As you slowly slid them down, you kissed his abdomen—soft, slow, pressing your lips against the dip below his navel, then to his hip. Your breath tickled his skin, and he inhaled shakily.

When his boxers fell, you both stood there, bare and bathed in golden light.

Neither of you stared. It wasn’t about that.

It was about the vulnerability. The intimacy. The unspoken trust of being completely seen and still held with love.

You reached for his hand. “Come lie with me.”

You climbed into bed together, pulling the blankets over your bodies. Your skin pressed together, every inch of you warm and buzzing. He lay behind you first, spooning you, his chest to your back, arm around your waist. Then you turned to face him, and your legs tangled naturally, like they always did.

You curled against his chest, your forehead resting beneath his chin, his fingers trailing soft lines along your spine.

There was no need to speak.

Just his heartbeat against your cheek, and the warmth of his body against yours. His lips pressed a kiss to your temple. You tilted your head and kissed his throat.

“I feel like I could melt,” you whispered.

“I want you to,” he replied. “Right here. With me.”

You smiled, shifting even closer until your nose brushed his. He kissed you softly—no urgency, no need, just love. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and he exhaled into your mouth, both of you drunk on the gentleness.

When the kiss broke, you tucked yourself into his chest again. He cradled your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“I think about forever with you a lot,” you murmured. “Like… I can’t picture it with anyone else.”

Ni-ki kissed your forehead again. “You are my forever.”

A few minutes passed, quiet and still, and then you heard it—his breathing slowing, his arms still wrapped protectively around you. You closed your eyes.

Completely bare. Completely loved. Nothing between you but skin and a promise whispered in the dark.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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«Masterlist || Introduction»

Taglist» @strxwbloody

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s4psh · 1 day ago

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𐙚High School tropes ft. enhypen𐙚

pt.1

✪ heeseung

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪ ︶֪︶︶֪︶︶

secret relationship

He is a popular guy at school who excelles in everything he does, and is known for being a heartbreaker. Girls constantly flock to him, leaving him flowers and chocolates. He cherishes the attention he receives but is secretly head over heels for one certain someone, you. While others give him roses, he goes out of his way to get you a bouquet of tulips instead, since they are your favorite.

During classes, there's an intense energy between you as you make eye contact and he can't stop staring at you. In private, he teases you with kisses, creating a magnetic atmosphere filled with desire. You're the inspiration for his songs. Whenever he composes, it's your image that fills his mind. He pours his heart and soul into his music, his lyrics reflecting his feelings for you. His words on paper are a declaration of his love and admiration.

✪ jay

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ׄ 　۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ ׄ

opposites attract

He's a loud and outgoing guy who loves playing the guitar. His American background shines through in the way he affectionately addresses you as "my lady." You're more reserved, preferring to keep to yourself. You love reading books and you're shy around him, unable to hold his gaze for too long. Despite the differences in your personalities, somehow you mesh together perfectly. He shows his affection by spoiling you, but you're not used to having someone care for you.

You love listening to his stories, captivated by the sound of his voice. In his presence, your soft and goofy side emerges, a side that only he gets to see. He loves stealing kisses on your forehead in the crowded hallways of your school, drawing shocked and envious glances from the other students. It's almost like a scene from a romance movie, with him being the outgoing popular guy and you, quieter and more reserved, being his quiet counterpart. Despite the shocked reactions from others, you know your bond is solid, belonging to each other in every way possible. Your shared moments, whether in the crowded hallways or in quiet corners, are filled with love and affection.

✪ jake ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪ ︶֪︶︶֪︶︶

academic rivals

He’s everything. The physics and maths prodigy with messy hair, black glasses, and that golden retriever smile that could light up the whole town. He plays soccer like he owns the field, but it’s the way he debates quantum theory with the same passion that really gets you. You’re rivals constantly competing, trading sarcastic comments, always trying to outscore each other. But when you beat him, he smiles when you’re not looking. Because he’s obsessed with you, even if he won’t say it. You tell yourself he’s just your competition, nothing more. You’re both in love. Both terrified. And completely, hopelessly tangled in a rivalry that feels a lot like fate. One late evening, you're both stuck in the library—alone, arguing over a formula. He steps closer, frustration in his voice, but his hands are trembling a little. “You’re impossible,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Then stop looking at me like that,” you snap back, heart racing. And then it happens he grabs your wrist, pulls you in, and kisses you like he’s been waiting forever. It’s messy, electric, like your rivalry collapsing into something neither of you can deny anymore. When you finally pull away, breathless, he grins. “Still think I’m just your competition?”

✪ sunghoon

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ׄ 　۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ ׄ

the distant daydream

He’s the kind of boy everyone watches but no one really knows admired in the hallways, the subject of whispered crushes, effortlessly popular without trying. But he never truly belongs to any of them. He’s theirs in daydreams, but in reality, he’s yours. Only you get to see the version of him who slips into quiet corners, tells awful dad jokes just to make you laugh, and looks at you like you’re the only place he ever wants to be. He loves being around you, listening as you talk about your day. You’re the only one he shares his problems and worries with. You looked at him not the daydream version everyone else imagined, but the real one. Quiet. Gentle. Terrified to be seen, but brave enough to let you see. He often takes you to the ice skating rink empty, quiet, cold. Just you, him, and the echoes of blades on ice. There, he talks about his ice skating days the wins, the pressure, the silence. You’re his only comfort place. His home. You didn’t need him to speak often. You just needed to be the one he finally let in.

Ik I'm posting after so long, I'm not doing good rn mentally, so i took a break from all socials. Jay ff is otw, I'm still working on it i just need some time. I'll post it soon, before that i'll post pt.2 of this one. I hope you enjoy eading this, thanks for reading my work 😭😭 i really appreciate it. I love you sooo muchhh <3 have a great day and happy reading. 🩷

#enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #literature quotes #enhypen hyung line #heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #jay x reader #enhypen jay park #high school #tropes #Spotify

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acidangel011 · 3 days ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏.. rockstar!han se-mi x f!reader written by @acidangel011 ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)

pairing(s) : han se-mi x f!reader contents : fluff/comfort - based off the song, black sheep by metric. se-mi is a flirt, kissing, cute little fic for all my se-mi lovers. synopsis : han se-mi, a soulful vocalist and guitarist of the local band voulez-vous, shares a stage with her closest friends—choi su-bong (stage name thanos) on the drums, nam-gyu on bass, and park min-su on keyboard at their town's beloved tavern. you happened to be one of their biggest fans, your best interest set on the band's guitarist. among the sea of faces, you push through, eager to catch a glimpse of her, to make her notice you. little did you know, in a room overflowing with her devoted followers, her gaze had already found you. wc : 2.46k taglist : @.knfthxv @.ilovwfurina @.saebyeokbliss @.jumpedthenfell-13 @.room-722 @.amorisi @.merwdusa @.0idk0idc

(a/n) inspired by my fav doomed yuri nana & hachi! reader is basically hachi and misato combined? i hope you guys enjoy! ^-^ (for more, masterlist)

se-mi looked at her reflection in the dressing room mirror. the vanity light reflected her pasty black eyeshadow, her eyebrows knitted together.

the weight of pre-show nerves pressed on her chest. she needed to clear her head, to escape the swirling thoughts of her ex-girlfriend who had just walked out on her, right before she was supposed to take the stage.

"i've never even loved you anyways."

her voice lingered in se-mi's mind, mocking her, degrading her.

however, she didn't feel sad or angry.. not even disappointed. she just felt.. off.

if she were to be honest, the relationship was nothing but suffocating.

she had once thought being with someone would be fulfilling, but every moment with her ex had only made her feel more alone.

her breath came raggedly, erratic, as though it couldn’t find a rhythm of its own.

she reached for her cigarette case, putting a cig in between her lips, flicking open her cherry red zippo, cupping it slowly to shield it from the room's embarrassingly weak air conditioner.

click!

the tip of her cigarette glowed ember-red, crackling softly as she took a slow drag. the air went thick in the dressing room.

just as she was about to exhale the smoke out of her lungs, thanos rudely barged in to the room, making se-mi cough out the smoke that clawed her throat.

"WE'RE ON IN FIVE!" thanos yelled, smiling giddily, shoving his hand into the pockets of his leather jacket before skipping around the room in circles, as if nothing was amiss.

se-mi furrowed her eyebrows at the scene unfolding. "are you.."

"are you high!?" she interrogated, her voice going an octave higher.

"nope!" the purple hair assured, popping the 'p' with flair before twirling back out the door. "now lets goooo!"

se-mi rolled her eyes. useless. she thought.

this is going to be a long night.

the tavern pulsed with life, thick with the scent of beer, sweat, and something electric that buzzed beneath the surface—anticipation, excitement, the kind of feverish energy that only came alive when voulez-vous was on stage. a staple of the town’s nightlife, their music echoed in the hearts of those who packed into this dimly lit space night after night.

you had been here before, countless times, a face lost in a sea of voices screaming her name. all you wished for, was for her to notice you.

tired from fading into the background, you devised your plan—push your way to the front row.

before the show started, your eyes observed the tight room filled with fans from all over the region.

your grip on the souvenir you’d bought for se-mi kept you grounded as you made your way through.

the rusty metal stairs creaked under your ankle boots, just the staircase alone was holding about 20 people on it.

pushing through the bodies, the heat of the crowd pressing in from every side, you fought your way closer. nothing could stop you now.

the lights dim as you were nearing the front row.

your eyes were glued to the stage as the band entered. you mindlessly shoved gently on the people in your way, earning a few stares and 'hey watch it!"'s in the process.

you didn't care.. you were determined, adrenaline rushing throughout your body. you were so close.

you reached the front, finally, breathless, gripping the edge of the stage as she struck the first chord. the sound hung in the air, suspended in time.

you felt the breath in your lungs get knocked out when the stage lights flickered on, illuminating the band with a golden haze.

the crowd surged around you, restless, as they scream their names. fan girls squealing and reaching their hands out.

you'd usually do the same thing, but you took your time admiring the crew.

the bass rumbled through the wooden floors beneath your feet, nam-gyu’s steady rhythm syncing with the pounding in your chest. thanos was a storm behind his drum, every beat hitting just right. min-su's fingers delicately danced around the keys, his melodies weaving through the chaos like fireflies in the dark.

and se-mi

oh, se-mi.

she was a vision—the way her raven hair clung to her forehead, the way she parts her lips uttering every single ounce of herself into the music. her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

the way her fingers blurred over the strings, a raw, soulful melody spilling from the amp.

se-mi gripped the mic stand like it was a lifeline, her voice threading the set like a siren's call.

oh boy, were you hooked.

you stood there entranced, eyes wide, mouth agape before you realized you’d been staring for far too long and missed the chance to immerse yourself in the song, to join the crowd in their chorus of screams and chants.

your eyes were stuck on the short haired vocalist. her strong aura pulling you in. your heart thrumming to the rhythm of her performance.

as the song nears its end, se-mi's gaze lifted.

guitar still slung over her shoulder, her slender fingers curled around the neck of it as she strummed, she saw you.

in a sea full of people, her gaze found yours.

not to her band members, not to the crowd chanting her name,

yours.

you were dancing and swaying to the rhythm of the music, your hair spilling over your shoulders.

se-mi's breath caught in her throat. she was drooling over the fact how even when you were wedged between strangers.. you still looked effortlessly pretty.

something about you drew her in.

for a fleeting moment, everything else fell away—the weight of her ex, the chaos of the night—and she was left with nothing but the sight of you.

a shiver ran down your spine as you realized she was looking directly at you. time slowed, the world fading to nothing as her gaze locked onto yours.

the air shifted, charged with something unspoken.

se-mi faltered for just a second, missing an unnoticeable note before she regained her composure.

she tried to play it of by tilting her head at you, a knowing smirk played on her face as the first song ended.

coming here was worth it. you thought.

she sang directly to you, her sultry, low voice wrapped around you like a secret, a melody that was meant for no one else.

your pulse stuttered as she leaned in closer to the mic, her eyes still bore on you.

the crowd roared, oblivious to the little interaction you and se-mi had.

you've never felt more seen.

other women's hands reached for her, their high-pitched voice screamed her name. but it didn't matter..

not when she was looking at you with those eyes.

you didn't know what it meant, if it was real or not. or maybe it's just what rockstars are used to—captivating hearts with merely a glance. the final note hung in the air, vibrating through the floorboards before dissolving into the roar of applause.

the crowd erupted, voices screaming, hands clapping, bodies pressing toward the stage in a desperate attempt to hold onto the magic for just a little longer.

se-mi stood at the center of it all, radiant, flushed, her chest rising and falling as she smiled lazily.

she loved the adoration, the chaos, the thrill of hearing people scream her name. but there was something that made her unable to fully relish in satisfaction.

the band bowed, thanked the audience, and then the stage lights dimmed.

se-mi's band started leaving the stage, but she stayed behind to scan the crowd.

she was looking for you.

the venue buzzed with energy, conversations colliding in an explosion of post-show adrenaline.

nothing.

no signs of you.

no signs of your face anywhere.

you took a deep breath when you stepped out of the venue. the cold air hitting your face, piles of snow littered the ground below you. you stood beside the entrance as waves of people walked out, daydreaming.

you were definitely satisfied by the band's performance today and you were specifically thrilled by se-mi's silent flirting.

after she took notice of you, she'd leave quiet glances towards you in between notes, what seemed to be her winking and gazing at the crowd felt directed to you.

a content smile painted your face as you tightened your plaid scarf around you.

the same grin faltered seconds after you realized you didn't get a chance to give se-mi your gift. the gift bag still hung heavy in your hands.

you sigh and pouted in disappointment as you opened the gift bag. revealing a black and white knitted scarf with se-mi's name on it and a hand-crafted flower you made, its petals made out of maroon guitar picks.

"ah~ that's too bad.." you sighed, muttering to yourself.

"hm? what's wrong?"

you froze on the spot, breath hitching. you felt the weightless snowflakes starting to pull you down as they pile up on top of your head.

se-mi’s voice.

her tall, slender figure appeared, standing inches from you, her tousled hair framed by the glow of the streetlights. the rest of the band followed her, but she was focused on you.

"s-se-mi?" you stuttered. face turning red at the sight of the raven haired girl, her hair slightly tousled, her guitar case handing behind her. the other bandmates followed her behind inquisitively.

"are these for me?" she smiled mischieviously, her fingers brushed yours as she handled the cute pink vivienne westwood gift bag.

she unraveled the scarf with her name printed across it, her gasp was soft and genuine. "wow, you outdid yourself, pretty girl.." her laugh airy, reaching into the bag to twirl the guitar pick rose, her calloused hands caressing the maroon petals. "did you make this by yourself?"

you nodded slowly. your eyes still glued to her in disbelief. could this really be happening?

se-mi pretended to take a whiff of the flower, sighing. "mm.. aren't you talented?"

your legs weakened.

"se-mi.. i can't believe its you..!" you covered your mouth, trying to suppress your bewildered expression.

se-mi bit on her lip in amusement, her eyes never leaving yours as you rambled on.

"i'm your biggest fan, always have been since your debut! i.. i even got piercings to match you!" you stuttered in awe at the short haired girl in front of you. your confidence faltering as se-mi kept a prolonged eye contact.

se-mi did take notice of your angel fangs in the stage's lighting, the silver metal twinkled in the sea of dim lighting, and she sure loved how cute you were matching her snake bites.

this interaction caught the attention of passerbys and people who had attended the concert, more of them started crowding around you both and whispers turning into squeals as se-mi’s fans noticed her presence.

"thank you doll, i appreciate your support." se-mi whispered sweetly. taking your polished hands in hers and kissing it. sending a bolt of electricity through your veins.

you felt your heart stop as a chorus of excited squeals filled the air.

but se-mi… se-mi didn’t seem to care.

the rest of the band stood to the side, used to se-mi's affect she has on girls.

"how does she get more girls than me? i don't get it!" nam-gyu complained, scratching the back of his neck.

thanos agreed whole-heartedly, patting nam-gyu's back. "girls these days.."

"could you please.." you started, quickly getting distracted to scour your purse for the band's first album's cd, and a black marker "..sign these..?"

"anything for you, pretty." se-mi curled her lips into a grin.

you felt your knees buckle. your arms felt like jelly as you offered her your cd and pen. your fingers grazing together a second too long.

se-mi started scribbling on the cd, longer than you anticipated. you couldn't believe the person you admire the most was standing there in front of you, blatantly flirting with you.

"and what's your name doll?" se-mi stepped an inch closer, enough to close the distance, the faint scent of cologne and sweat clinging to her skin.

her voice was low, and it sent your pulse into an overdrive.

your heart was beating ten times faster now, you gave her your name and she gave you a toothy grin in satisfaction.

"ah, what did i do to deserve such a pretty girl at my show today?" se-mi laughed softly at your shy demeanor, tilting her head to the side, handing you your signed cd back.

you screamed internally. half of your red face was now hidden by the cd that you held close to your face.

"se-mi we've got to catch the bus now. hurry on," thanos reminded the raven haired girl. the rest of the band started retreating to the back of the venue where the oversized bus was parked in.

your bright, refreshed face quickly simmered down at the realization that you'd never get to interact with se-mi like this again. and she saw the change in your expression and she knows it shouldn't've, but it hurt her.

she turned back to you, eyes lingering.

"don't be hesitant to text me yeah, pretty? i'd like to get to know you more." se-mi winked.

your face scrunched in confusion as you divert your attention back to the signed cd, her number was written on it with a heart doodled on the side.

your face lit up once more, sparkling with energy. your heart raced at the fact that you've just got se-mi's number.

"thank you, se-mi.." you stammered, fidgeting with the cd case.

"the pleasure's all mine doll." se-mi smiled gently at you, taking in your warm presence. "will i meet you again at my next concert?"

you nodded enthusiastically now, gaining more confidence. "yeah, i'll be there!"

se-mi couldn't keep the smile off her face even after she had turn her back away from you, but she felt the need to make the moment last longer.

she impulsively turned back to you to lean down and sneak a light kiss on your sweet lips. her touch soft, sweet, and full of promise, before retreating next to her band members. looking back at you for the last time with a wink!

this most definitely created an uproar at the crowd that was circling you both. but you drowned out their screaming, instead focusing on the sound of your own heartbeat.

the ghost of her lips lingered on yours, you lifted your fingers to graze your bottom lip. the taste of her beer flavored lips still present on your cherry tasting one.

you went home that day screaming into your pillow, body weak, wondering if you should text her.

you missed her already!

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edb954 · 3 days ago

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Wake Up Call (Coriolanus Snow x Fem! Reader)

(Summary: You caught Coriolanus cheating on you so you decided to take matters into your own hands... let's just say you should've known better..)

Masterlist : Request Info

(A/n: omg I have no idea where this came from but surprise? (Think I blacked out a bit as well😂) I get a lot of inspiration from songs😅💀 also I'm not the best at writing smut so apologies!)

Word count: 1.2

(Warnings!: Cheating, infidelity, sexual themes, Coriolanus is his own warning, implications of murder, possibly slight ooc Coriolanus?)

'Came without a warnin so I had to Shoot him dead...'

~~~

You thought you and Coriolanus had a happy strong marriage but of course you should've known it was all a thieving lie coming from the snake himself.

You never paid much attention to what people said. That he was a cheater, a liar, a murder. Since you had known him and Tigris since you were kids you never fully believed it. Oh how naive you were...

Especially one day when you decided to swing by his office to see if he wanted to grab lunch together only to see him railing his assistant in his office.

Most people would've made a scene but you conjured up an even more scandalous taste of revenge that would be the perfect all star payback.

Before you had officially ended up with Coriolanus, you had a guy that you had fallen for Atlas James. He was the light of your life before Coriolanus came in and swept you off your feet again.

You decided to had call him up and so it began Coriolanus being way to busy at the office and the media are already being aware of your close friendship with Atlas they thought nothing of it.

Little did you know that one of Coriolanus peacekeepers had caught you and Atlas one day. Which lead to this moment.

"So you thought you could deceive me?" Coriolanus spat as he shoved you into your shared bedroom that hadn't been shared in weeks.

"You're one to talk about deceiving." You spat back sending him death glare. "I found you screwing your assistant a few weeks ago and Atlas was there for me. Besides it gave you the taste of you own medicine."

That statement made Coriolanus snap as he grabbed your neck pushing you against the door harshly making the door knob jam into your side as you managed to let out a cry from his strong grip.

"Your just a little thieving slut aren't you? Or have you forgotten that Your mine!" He seethed as you let out a whine as your body betrayed you letting your undergarments get soaked. His eyes gleaming with something you couldn't understand.

"I think it's time I show you exactly who you belong too.." He growled before pushing her down onto the bed bringing her into a rough hard kiss as he ripped off your panties.

"Filthy slut." He grumbled at your soaked garment and entrance. Without warning he shoved two fingers into your core making you let out a strangle moan as he held you in a bruising kiss as his fingers plunged in and out of you.

"Cori-" Shut up. Shut that filthy little mouth of yours." He snapped as he pulled her hair back roughly making her gasp.

He ripped off her silk dress completely now making it tear before pulling his fingers out pushing her into the mattress with his hand around your throat squeezing it harshly as he unbuckled his pants and shoving his cock into you before pulling out and slamming back in making hers eyes widened in pain at the unreadiness before letting out a strangled moan as he continued at the very rough pace.

"You belong to me!" He growled as he snapped his hips into you. "Mine." "Mine." "MINE!" Her eyes rolling back into the back of her head with a mix of pleasure and light headedness.

"Say it! Say your mine!" He snapped letting go of your throat.

"I-im yours!" You shouted into a moan as you crumbled underneath him letting him win once again.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked making you look into his eyes as he fucked into you.

"Y-you! Only ever you!" You moaned. The smirk on his face displayed he was satisfied but you knew. You knew better and should've known better.

He licked and sucked down your neck as he brought your legs over his shoulders giving a new angle making you cry out in pain as you felt him in your cervix.

"You feel that?" He grumbled pushing down on your lower stomach making your eyes widen and gasp. "Me. That's my spot.and only mine.."

"Tell me did he make you feel this good when he fucked you?" He asked lifting his head from her neck and looking into your eyes.

"N-no." You moaned looking into his eyes. "O-only you have made me feel this g-good!"

He kissed your ear and whispering. "Good girl."

"Cum for me. Cum on my cock baby let everybody know how good you are being fucked." And of course you obeyed as you finally came with a loud moan as he pushed himself in balls deep a final time before spilling his seed deep inside your womb.

His hands letting go of your arms as they came around you holding you as you both panted sweat dripping down your bodies. Before unwrapping his arms pulling out of you making you whine at the sudden emptiness. You honestly thought he was going to just leave you a mess once you saw him get up and leave. But to your surprise he came back and picked you up taking you to the bathroom placing you into the hot steamy bath before stripping his own clothes and getting in behind you before bringing you to lay against him.

You felt too tired to say a word or protest his actions only to relax against his chest in his arms.

"I apologise for deceiving our marriage.. for deceiving you." He said making you freeze and wonder if this was just another manipulation temp or actually coming from the Corio you once thought you knew.

"I was stressed and I didn't think about you." ‘Obviously’ you thought. "But it's you. It's been you. My wife." Coriolanus said pressing kiss on the back of her neck.

"Why did you do it? With your assistant?" You asked at the risk of angering him again.

"I was working late hours. Barley home and... I missed you." He confessed. "I know it's a bullshit excuse.. but it's true.."

"I-I only slept with him the time you found out about it all the other times I would meet up with him was just to mess with you.. to see if you would care." You admitted feeling an unwanted sense of guilt however this filled Coriolanus with pride at your sense of knowing. Before bringing her head up as he pressed his lips to yours in a wanting kiss.

You turned around in the kiss coming to straddle him neither of you caring much if some water spilled out of the tub as he slipped himself back into you causing you to moan in mix of pleasure and pain against his lips.

Coriolanus smirked against your lips as he got her exactly where he wanted you. As he also smirked at the knowing fact that your beloved ex and his slut of an assistant will no longer be a problem after tonight and won't be coming around anymore.

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inaconstantstateofchange · 1 year ago

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A Snippet Shared | Minthara x Karlach

There's no real tag game motivation behind this, but I'm proud of this snippet and not sure when I'll finish the larger oneshot it is a part of, so I'm putting it here for now.

Note: Set post-canon, with Minthara and Karlach in Avernus together.

Karlach, gracious in victory – at least this once – doesn’t belabor her point. And she, too, is undoubtedly impatient to take advantage of this potential windfall. “Now, don’t go expecting some grand beacon of hospitality. We’ll be slumming it with the finest dregs Zariel’s legions leave behind them, b-u-t—four walls! That’s basically the Elfsong, at this point!”

Minthara nods, deadpan, as she agrees with Karlach’s determination. “An apt comparison, my love. The music certainly sounds similar enough.”

Karlach nods enthusiastically, half her quick-paced mind already mapping out the path before them as she scans the desolate horizon. Minthara waits for the constant background noise of Avernus – the wails of doomed petitioners forming a melody with the snarls and clashes of distant engagements – to filter back into her hearing. Karlach has proven quicker and quicker to pick up on her little jests, and this one was surely obvious enough—There. Karlach whirls back around, pointing at her accusatorily.

“You—you! The music is similar, oooh! How many of those little jokes did you slip past everyone back then?”

Minthara smiles, slow and toothy. “More than you would ever believe, dear one.”

#if this inspires you to share something of your own #consider yourself tagged #and pls tag me in return!#i want to see the little snippets you are fond of #even if their broader homes are not ready to send out into the world #voidling speaks #my writing #my fic #bg3 #bg3 fic #minthara #karlach #minthara x karlach #karlach x minthara #karthara #bg3 spoilers #bg3 ending spoilers #wip

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tourettesdog · 6 months ago

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I am begging people to be normal about completed fics, and in particular one shots.

I am begging people to stop demanding more from authors, and insisting that one shots need to be longer or have sequels.

I don't think yall understand how many fanfic authors are one more "where's the rest of it?" comment away from throwing out any plans they might have had to continue an idea.

Unless an author like specifically says they might write more for an idea, just-- assume something marked as completed is complete, and respect it as it stands, please.

#dog barks #not dp #fanfic #few things are more frustrating than pouring your heart into something only to essentially be told it's not enough #consider writing your own fic inspired by a one shot if you really vibe with it!!#I know a lot of fic authors would love to be asked if someone could write a fic inspired by their work #We're all here to share creative works that we make for fun #and I'm just continually frustrated when people wind up treating fic writing like it's youtube content #I know it's not intentional but please think about how you interact with artists and how demanding more more more content is soul sucking

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alphalesbian · 11 months ago

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Youll just be minding your own business when all of a sudden the inherant intimacy of solo instrumental music is realized upon you. Like youre just supposed to proceed normally after

#that being said the 'ill write an ep' to 'too much songs ill make it an album' pipeline extremely utterly too real. im in too deep #sexy and hilarious of me to be so committed to letting my first Big Serious Personal musical endeavour be such a Big Serious Personal thing #like my plan about it of course will probably keep changing but im like 99% sure of what i will do to a point #a lot of fully complete songs that i love!!!!! and a lot of unfinished projects n ideas recorded snippets things written down !!!!!!!#much to consider as always but the clarity ive been able to have with shaping it and working it has been. welcome #grateful to be attracting such spaces and people to be learning and relearning whats been in front of me lately #grateful to have the space and time i have to do what i do with it and myself #extremely grateful to be inspired in an otherwise negative at best time in my life above all else.#i needed that weird painful clarity to become inspired and know i want to actually do this i guess #as sure as ive ever been and now even just. reinforced not just by the space and the world around me but the people around me as well that:#make music how you want to and music you want to hear and make it at your own pace #i know i need to trust this process in full and honest faith i need to trust it like i have been to even get this far #and then some to make my thing and put it out and keep doing that musically really #of all the facets of my own and the time i have and resources to make things happen i know in my heart of hearts really that i could do it #forever and im a whole force when it comes to it all if i let myself go in it with no inhibition. shedding years and years of these negativ #ities purposefully and exclusively and thoroughly finally leaving some understanding in my soul i can even pridefully say is there #and with enough confidence in myself to know its something i will do forever and want to be a thing i put into the world always #and to do it how i want is.... exciting and the fruits of that labor excite me and i must say i cannot wait to be sharing this with everyon #cant wait to be sharing truly myself like i do with myself with every one i know could appreciate me like i want to be

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 3 months ago

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How to Start Writing Again When the Spark Fades

Sometimes the well of creativity runs dry, leaving you staring at a blank page with nothing but frustration. But trust that the art of writing is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. Here are some ideas to help you reconnect with your writing practice when you feel like your passion has dimmed.

Redefine Your Environment Consider taking a deliberate step outside your usual writing space. The environment in which you work can drastically affect your mindset and creative flow. Even if it’s setting up in a different corner of your home, finding refuge in a local café, or enjoying the subtle distractions of a park bench, a change in scenery often signals a mental reset. This isn’t about permanent relocation, just a simple shift can break the monotony and stir new ideas that have been hiding in plain sight.

Embrace Imperfection The pressure to produce perfect prose can be paralyzing. Give yourself permission to create something imperfect yet honest. Think of every sentence you write as a rough sketch, a necessary experiment in understanding your own voice. When you allow yourself the space to write without the weight of perfection, you invite experimentation and genuine self-expression. That freedom lies at the heart of rediscovering why you fell in love with writing in the first place.

Set Incremental Goals for Continuous Momentum When the idea of diving into a full chapter feels overwhelming, scale back to manageable, bite-sized projects that feel achievable. Instead of demanding a polished page, challenge yourself to write a paragraph or even a single sentence each day. These micro-goals build a foundation of small successes, gradually restoring confidence and momentum. Over time, these consistent efforts enrich your creative reservoir, proving that every little step is indeed a victory.

Engage Deeply in the Process of Freewriting Allow yourself to spill thoughts onto the page without judgment or expectation. Freewriting is an exercise in vulnerability and self-exploration, offering you a space to unburden tangled ideas and unexpected insights. In these unfiltered moments, you might stumble upon a germ of an idea or a rediscovered passion that rekindles your creative fire. Embracing this unstructured approach can transform an intimidating blank page into an open canvas of potential you haven't tapped back into.

Rekindle Old Inspirations There is power in revisiting the work and moments that first ignited your creative spirit. Even if it’s rereading an old journal entry, rediscovering a favorite piece of literature, or reflecting on the stories that once moved you, reconnecting with your past inspirations can shed new light on your present creative journey. This reflective practice not only reminds you of your original passion but may also reveal new directions for your current writing endeavors.

Create a Consistent, Loving Writing Routine Creating a structured yet gentle routine can help reestablish your relationship with writing. Treat your writing time as a vital appointment, a moment carved out just for you. Even if inspiration seems scarce, the simple act of sitting down, opening your notebook, and letting words flow without self-censorship can be incredibly healing. Over time, this practice transforms writing from an obligation into a ritual of self-discovery and mindfulness.

Connect with a Community That Understands Engaging with fellow writers can remind you that you’re not alone in this struggle. The shared experience of creative highs and lows can be profoundly comforting. Join writing groups, participate in online forums, or simply reach out to someone whose work inspires you. These interactions foster a sense of belonging and accountability, encouraging you to keep writing even when the path isn’t clear. In the gentle exchange of ideas and feedback, there is often a spark that reignites your dedication.

Every writer’s journey is unique, filled with ebbs and flows. If you’re feeling disconnected, know that these moments are integral to growth. Embrace each phase as an opportunity to rediscover writing on its own terms, and allow your passion to guide you back into the words you love. If you need any advice from me, never be afraid to send me an ask.

Until next time, Rin T.

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oceantornadoo · 4 months ago

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inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

#simon ghost riley #tornadothoughts #cod 141 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #fluff #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x oc #fwb simon #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x f!reader

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daryltwdixon · 1 month ago

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Summary: You’ve never felt fully at home in your own skin, but that has never stopped Joel from showing you just how much he wants you. One night, you gather the courage to show him what you’ve been too afraid to share, and he shows you exactly what it means to be wanted, worshipped, and seen.

|| smut MDNI 18+, Joel is down bad in love, self conscious reader, no physical description (except 'soft belly') but reader is insecure of their body, no specific timeline, age gap mentioned but not specified, pinv, f!receiving oral, little bit of (f!receiving) ass play, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, soft!joel, he calls you like every pet name in the book. some aftercare || notes: joel miller in reading glasses hello? dont kill me for being a little bit of a cornball in here. joel is a cornball when he's in love. Yes I know I wrote the word pretty a lot! That’s the point!!! Inspired by this request

Joel’s bed became home long before you were ready to admit it.

It’s where you feel safest. It’s where he tugs you into his chest first thing in the morning, rough hand splayed over your back like it belongs there, murmuring something low and sleep-thick against your temple. It’s where you read curled into his side at night, him propped up against the headboard in that worn old Henley, eyes flicking lazily over the pages of whatever book you handed him, while yours is gripped a little tighter, the latest thriller mystery that has your heartbeat ticking up by the final chapters.

He had told you to stop reading them before bed once, but he didn’t really mean it. Not when you curled tighter into him, not when your hand slid across his stomach and stayed there gripping him like you needed to be close to something steady, something warm. Something like him.

Joel loves you like this. Warm and soft and pliant in his bed.

It’s one of his favorite places. Not just for pressing you down into the mattress and filling you, not just for the pretty, breathy sounds you make when you’re too far gone to think about what you look like or where his hands are. No—he loves the quiet moments, too. The ones where your limbs are tangled up with his, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, your skin still carrying the ghost of his touch.

And every now and then, when you’re asleep on his chest or laughing at something dumb he said, he still finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up with a girl like you.

You’re so much younger. So much softer. He doesn’t know what you see in a man like him—older, rougher, carved from all the years you haven’t had to carry yet. You could’ve had anyone. But you chose him.

You’ve been together a few months now, and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it. Still doesn’t know what he did to deserve your trust, your sweetness, your sharp quick wit when he least expects it.

He tried to keep his distance at first. Tried not to look too long when you smiled, not to follow the sound of your voice like a damn tether every time you were in the room. Told himself it wasn’t right. You weren’t for him. You were good. But you kept coming closer.

And once you started to pursue him—sweet and fearless and so goddamn certain—his resolve didn’t just crack. It collapsed.

The years between you didn’t matter to him anymore. The guilt didn’t matter. The voice in his head that told him to stop, that warned him he was too old, too jaded, too broken to ever deserve you—it all went quiet the second you looked at him like he was worth wanting.

He had to have you. To feel you, hear you, know you. So he gave in.

But there was still something there he didn’t quite understand, even now. Something that never quite leaves him.

Because every time he takes you to bed with the singular thought of getting you naked, of taking you until he gets his fill, until you’re trembling and wrecked and crying out his name—every single time, he sees it.

That flicker of hesitation.

He watches your shoulders shrink inward. Watches the way your hands move to cover your belly the second his fingers slip beneath your shirt. The way your breath stutters like you’re already bracing for something—even if it’s just his eyes.

You never say it out loud. You don’t have to.

And every time he settles over you, broad chest looming, palms sliding down your sides with reverent slowness as he lays you down on his bedspread, you ask him in that sweet, uncertain voice:

“Can we turn the light off?”

And Joel… hesitates.

Just for a second. Just long enough to take one more look at your face—flushed and perfect and lips swollen from letting him kiss them until they’re bruised. He always obliges. Always reaches over and clicks off the bedside lamp without a word, even if something in his chest aches as the room goes dark.

In the low moonlight, he can still see pieces of you. The softness of your belly. The curve of your thighs. The arch of your back when you start to melt beneath his touch. And he reveres it. All of it.

Worships you like you’re something holy.

But even in the dark, he notices everything.

The way your breath hitches when he kisses down your body—not with pleasure, but with discomfort. The subtle tension in your limbs when he trails his lips past your ribs. The way you squirm when his mouth lingers at the tender skin between your stomach and mound. Not because it’s too much. But because you don’t want to be seen.

And it kills him a little every time.

Because he wants to see you. All of you. Wants you to know that there is not a single inch of your body he doesn’t adore.

But still, like many nights before, he obliges you tonight and reaches over to turn out the light at your request.

The room falls into darkness.

Joel wakes to the warm and golden light of the morning, the kind where sunlight filters through the blinds in soft, slatted beams, pooling across the hardwood floor. The kind where the world outside feels far away, like it can wait a little longer while the house stays quiet.

His mind fully catches up to the scent of coffee and the soft creak of floorboards.

The bed is empty beside him, blankets still warm, your pillow carrying the shape of your head. He rubs the sleep from his face and swings his legs over the edge, the weight of last night still humming low in his chest.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re at the counter, barefoot, wearing nothing but his t-shirt—one of those older ones, soft and stretched out, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair’s a little messy, skin still marked in places from where his mouth had worshipped you in the hours of the night.

You’re so focused on pouring coffee into your favorite mug—the pink one with the little chip at the rim, just big enough to catch your lip if you’re not careful—that you don’t hear him come in.

He steps in behind you, silent as ever, warmth radiating off his chest before you even feel his hands.

One arm slips around your waist, the other gliding up beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—until his hand splays flat across your stomach. His lips find your neck a second later, soft and unhurried, brushing along your skin as he breathes you in.

You stiffen, just a little. It’s not resistance, you could never resist him, but your body goes still beneath his touch, that automatic flicker of self-consciousness rising to the surface like it always does when he touches you in the daylight.

Still, you don’t move away.

Joel’s voice is low and rough in your ear, all gravel and morning warmth, “‘Mornin’, darlin’.”

You smile, small, a little sheepish, but it’s there. “Morning.”

His hand drops lower, fingers brushing the curve of your hip, then sliding up again, slow and lazy. His other arm tightens around your front, keeping you pulled against him as his lips trail from your neck to your cheek.

“Joel—” you murmur, half a protest, half a laugh, squirming under his touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, voice thicker now, rougher with sleep and want. “So sexy in my shirt, honey.”

You go quiet. Not because you don’t like it. But because it still hits that spot—the part of you that flinches at being seen. You press your lips together, focus on the coffee in your hand, as if the words might disappear if you just don’t look at him.

But Joel sees it. Feels the shift. The way you tense ever so slightly when he calls you nice things. Like the words don’t fit, not yet. Like you still haven’t figured out how to wear them.

He kisses your cheek again, slower this time.

“I mean it,” he adds softly.

You nod once, a breath catching in your chest before you murmur, “I know.”

Joel leans in and kisses the back of your head, just behind your ear, then murmurs against your skin, “Put the coffee down for a second.”

You glance over your shoulder, suspicious but smiling. “Why?”

“Just do it, baby.”

With a soft sigh, you set the mug back on the counter. Before you can ask again, he’s turning you in his arms, hands firm but careful on your hips and over the shirt, as he spins you to face him.

He steps in close, real close, until the backs of your thighs press against the cabinets and his hands come up to cradle your face. Big, warm palms on your cheeks, thumbs brushing the softness there like he’s memorizing the way you feel under his touch.

Then his hands squish your cheeks between his hands, just enough to puff your lips out like a fish.

Your brows furrow as you try in vain to pull away. “Joel—!”

“Say it,” he says, dead serious despite the ridiculous hold he has on your face.

Your eyebrows knit further as you still. “Say what?”

He smirks, dipping his head until your noses bump. “Say: I’m pretty.”

You groan, giggling despite yourself as you try to wiggle free. “Joel, oh my god—”

He holds on, pressing exaggerated kisses to your squished face—your cheek, your forehead, your nose and your puffed out top lip. “Say it. Go on. I’ll wait all day.”

“Fine!” you huff, lips barely moving from the way he’s still holding your face. “I’m pretty.”

He grins, loosening his hold just enough so you can speak properly, though he keeps his hands right where they are. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I’m pretty,” you repeat, cheeks heating as you say it, soft and unsure but not sarcastic. Not deflecting.

Joel beams, eyes crinkling at the corners, kissing your lips as he loosens his hold on your face. “Damn right you are. Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You can’t help but smile now, wide and a little bashful. You duck your head, but he catches you again, presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and unhurried.

And when he backs away and you finally reach for your coffee again, cheeks still warm, he’s watching you like he’s already counting the seconds until he gets to do it all over again.

That night starts like any other night.

Late, quiet, the house dipped in soft shadows. The windows are cracked just enough to let in the evening breeze, the hum of cicadas drifting in with the warm air. Joel’s in bed already, reading glasses sliding down his nose, thumbing through the same page of his book he’s read three times without taking in a single word.

He’s waiting for you to join him, your book is still closed on the side table. You’d excused yourself to the bathroom before you could even cuddle up in bed beside him. You had said you needed two minutes.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

He figures you’re brushing your teeth. Or lost in one of your little bedtime routines—rearranging things on the counter or doing your 10 step nightly skincare. He doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to your rhythms the more you stayed over. Grown to love them, even.

But then he hears the bedroom door open, and when he glances up, expecting to see you in one of your usual pajamas, his breath catches. You’re not wearing one of his big T-shirts or those soft cotton sets you like so much.

You’re standing in the doorway in white lace, delicate and sheer and almost ethereal in the low glow of the lamp light.

It damn near knocks the air out of him.

He forgets all about the book in his lap—doesn’t even feel it fall to the mattress as his gaze rakes over you, slow and disbelieving. His jaw goes slack as he removes his glasses and sets them on the side table.

The bra—he doesn’t know what it’s called, not that it matters—looks daintier and more delicate than anything he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. Feminine in a way that hits him right in the chest. It wraps around you like it was made for your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. The straps are thin, dipping into the softness of your shoulders, and the lace cups give just enough to let his imagination blur with what’s already in front of him.

The matching bottoms sit high on your hips, scalloped lace tracing the tops of your thighs, giving him a perfect view of the skin he’s only ever touched in the dark.

Your hair is pulled back behind your shoulders—intentionally, he thinks, like you wanted him to have the full view.

Your lip is tucked under your top teeth, and your eyes flick down for a second, uncertain—then back up again.

But then you smile.

Shy, but proud. Like you’re showing him something precious and a little terrifying. Like you finally believe, even just a little, that he might actually mean every word he’s ever said about you.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed, jaw tight with restraint as he beckons you to him. Slowly, you make your way over, and he soaks in the look of your thighs as you move, the way your body is begging to be marked and taken. His hands curl against his own thighs like he’s afraid to touch you too fast, too hard, and shatter the moment.

But when you move to stand between his knees, and he lifts his eyes up to meet yours, you don’t flinch.

He lets out a long, shaky breath. Then his hands lift slowly, reverently, palms brushing along the outside of your thighs, up to your hips.

His voice is low, almost reverent. “Christ, baby… look at you.”

You let out a nervous laugh, eyes dropping for a second—but you don’t cover yourself. Don’t twist away like you usually do. You stay right there, between his knees, close enough for him to smell the soft scent of your lotion and whatever little perfume you’d put on just for him.

Joel lifts his hands, slow and sure, and holds your hips, warm, steady, splayed wide like he wants to cover all of you. His thumb strokes gently over your skin where the lace ends, just above your hipbone.

“You did this for me?” he murmurs, looking up at you.

You nod once, eyes still shy but glowing with something soft. “I wanted to. I…I know I usually…”

“I know,” he says quietly, thumbs stroking your skin under his touch. “Don’t gotta explain nothin’ to me.”

His voice is gentle, but there’s something else beneath it now. Thicker. Hotter. Like he’s barely keeping a lid on what he really wants to say.

You bite your lip again, tucking it under your top teeth as you gauge his reaction. Joel leans in, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a kiss between the valley of your breasts—slow, open-mouthed, just wet enough to make your breath stutter.

You exhale, body already leaning into him, melting under the heat of his mouth, the drag of his stubble, the way his hands are rubbing slow circles along your thighs. His fingers toy with the hem of the lace between your legs, pinching the delicate fabric between them, like he can’t decide whether to rip it off or worship it.

“You know what this does to me? What you do to me, angel?” he rasps, voice rough now, filthy and unfiltered. “You got me starin’ like a damn animal. Don’t even know where I wanna taste first.”

He kisses the underside of your breast, and even though it's covered by lace, he bites softly at the curve, tongue soothing the mark he leaves behind. His hands move to grip your ass tightly now, pulling you closer, positioning so your stomach and hips are flush against his chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Every time I think I’ve seen all of you, you go and give me this?”

His eyes flick up, hungry and reverent. You squirm, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips, but Joel doesn't back off. He presses another kiss to your stomach, then just above your belly button, murmuring into your skin.

“Timid little thing—but deep down you like it, don’t you? Like when Daddy talks like this?”

Your thighs twitch under his hands and you nod.

He grins, feral and soft all at once. His hands slide up your sides, palms hot and steady against your ribs, thumbs brushing the edge of lace as his mouth follows—slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing higher, tongue flicking against the fabric covering your breasts. His tongue pokes out over the lace of your bodice right where your nipple would be, teeth grazing over the hidden but pebbled skin. Your jaw falls open as you watch him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, breath catching against your sternum. “You wore this just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

One hand lifts, fingers tugging gently at the strap of your bralette, sliding it down your shoulder. Then the other. His movements are careful, almost reverent, as he peels the lace down and away, baring you inch by inch.

And when your breasts spill free, his breath catches audibly.

“Jesus Christ.”

He sits back just far enough to look. Just for a moment. Just to see you.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, thick with awe and heat. He brings his hands up to grip the flesh of your breasts, kneading them together, “Bet you don’t even know what you do to me, baby.”

You bite your lip again, that flicker of shyness still dancing across your face—like you have to physically restrain yourself from trying to cover the revealed skin. But no. Not this time.

Joel leans in and licks a slow stripe over one nipple, making you gasp. He drags his tongue in a lazy circle, then sucks it into his mouth, groaning low in his throat like he’s tasting heaven.

You whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingers gripping him as your back arches on instinct.

“That’s it,” he growls, pulling back just to press a kiss between your breasts before taking the other into his mouth, this time sucking harder, leaving it damp and peaked from his tongue. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear every sound you make when I touch you like this.”

Your hips roll against him, thighs trembling as you stand between his legs.

“Sensitive little thing,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Just needed someone to show you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

He kisses lower, down the underside of your breast, then back up again, licking softly, sucking just enough to leave the faintest mark.

“M’gonna take good care of you tonight, baby,” he breathes, dragging his mouth back to your nipple. “Gonna take my timeand take every fuckin’ inch of this sweet body. You gonna let me?”

You nod, breathless, voice caught somewhere in your throat,“Y-yeah.”

Joel looks up, eyes blazing, lips slick from kissing you.

“‘Yeah’, what? Tell me, honey.”

Your begin to squirm as you tell him, “I want you to, Daddy. Please.”

Joel groans like it physically knocks the air out of him. His hands trail back down your sides, slow and reverent, fingertips grazing the lace waistband still hugging your hips.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth lower.

He kisses down your stomach, tongue peeking out to trace the little dip of your navel, his hands smoothing down your hips and behind to cup your ass again, fingers squeezing tight. The lace panties are all that remain, soft and delicate, slightly damp already with your arousal. He noses along the waistband, breathing you in.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he growls, teeth catching gently at the fabric. “Bet you taste even better.”

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging gently as he tongues over the lace, not pulling it down yet—just feeling you through it, his mouth wet and hungry over your hips and tummy.

You moan, your hips grinding against him again as he teases you, his one hand reaching down to drag his fingers over your clothed mound, the slick of your folds soaking through. He groans at the feeling before pulling back with a sharp exhale, looking up at you with wild eyes.

“On the bed. Hands and knees. Now.”

You blink, heart leaping, but you don’t hesitate. You scramble onto the mattress, crawling forward on shaky limbs until you’re positioned right where he wants you—on all fours, back arched, breath quick and needy.

Joel groans behind you at the sight, pulling his shirt over his head before dragging a hand up your spine, slow and heavy.

“Goddamn, baby. Look at you.”

Once he’s climbed onto the bed behind you, spreading your knees a little wider, he kneads at your ass with both hands, reverent and gentle. He settles his body lower, shifting on the bed until his face is level with your center. He drags his thumbs along the backs of your thighs, spreading them a little wider, groaning low when he sees how soaked the lace of your panties is—slick and clinging to your folds, a perfect puffy outline of everything he’s about to taste.

“Look at this,” he breathes, like it’s something sacred. “Fuckin’ drenched for me.”

You gasp when you feel his mouth again—not on your skin, but over the lace. A slow, deliberate kiss right to the center of you, hot and wet and perfectly placed. His lips part, tongue nudging against the fabric, teasing your clit through the sheer barrier.

It’s maddening.

He hums, the vibration making your hips twitch.

“Fuck, baby… I could spend all night like this. Kissin’ you through these pretty little panties. Smellin’ you. Feelin’ how worked up you are for me.” He nuzzles in deeper, breathing hot against you, licking a wide, slow stripe up the center of your heat—through the lace—then mouthing at it, sloppy and wet, soaking it even more.

You sob, spine arching, thighs quivering where they try to stay upright. Joel groans against you.

“Can’t believe you wore this just for me,” he mutters, dragging his tongue back down. “So fuckin’ soft. So sweet. Pussy’s beggin’ for it, ain’t she?”

You nod frantically, already breathless. “Yes—God, Joel, please—”

He chuckles darkly, biting gently at the fabric. “Please what, baby?”

“Take them off,” you gasp. “Please—need you.”

Joel pulls back, and you feel the shift in the air before you feel his hands—rough palms curling under the waistband of your panties, fingers brushing the skin of your hips as he peels the lace down slow. Agonizingly slow.

“Anything for my girl,” he says.

Joel’s broad, warm hands palm at your ass, kneading every inch as he situates himself behind you. He dips lower, mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses into the flesh of your left cheek, then the right, before his teeth sink down into the soft meat.

You yelp, hips jerking at the sharp nip.

“Prettiest noises too,” he murmurs into your skin, kissing the sensitive mark he left behind. His hands spread your cheeks, thumbs firm as they open you up for him—and when you peek over your shoulder, you find his eyes locked on your center, gaze dark and fixated, the pupils blown wide.

When he catches you looking, his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“She’s flirtin’ with me,” he says, grinning like the devil.

Your face burns, and you let your head drop into the pillows, hiding from the embarrassment that curls through your belly—hot and helpless, tangled with molten want.

Joel’s lips find your skin again, slower now, more reverent as he holds you open. His tongue drags between your cheeks, a deep, teasing stroke that makes your whole body tense. He kisses your slick folds with a wet, lewd sound that makes you gasp.

He hums, low and satisfied, then laps at your dripping arousal like it’s his first taste of water in weeks.

“And the prettiest pussy,” he rasps, lips brushing your folds. “You know that, darlin’?”

You moan, unable to answer, as his tongue pushes deeper. He flattens it and licks slow, wide strokes up your slit before circling your clit. His nose bumps your entrance, barely prodding, teasing you as his tongue works your clit in tight, filthy circles.

Your hips start moving without your permission, grinding into his face, seeking more.

Joel groans like you’re his favorite meal, tongue flattening again, letting you push into him.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos, eyes fluttering shut. “Ride my face.”

You mewl, your body bucking, wild and desperate, grinding into him like a goddamn bronco at the fair. Your walls flutter, your core pulsing with pressure as it builds, and builds, and builds.

Your thighs begin to shake.

Joel’s grip on you tightens as he takes over, tongue working your clit with expert flicks, fast and relentless.

The pressure in your belly snaps like a pulled cord, your spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out, pushing yourself deeper into his mouth as you come, loud and wrecked, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Joel moans into you like he’s the one coming undone, tongue never faltering, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from your trembling body. Even as you start to come down, breath catching in your throat, he doesn’t stop. He just slows, letting you twitch and gasp and shake through it.

Then, you feel it. The warm, wet pressure of his tongue pushing up past your folds, over the skin between, then circling your tighter hole. You jump at the intrusion, a sharp gasp breaking from your lips—but the haze of your orgasm makes your body soft, receptive, already melting for him.

You whimper, hips twitching. Joel just groans again, closing his lips around your sensitive rim, suckling gently.

“F–fuck,” you whisper, unable to think, to move, to breathe.

He licks you there once more before planting slow, open-mouthed kisses up your spine, up to the small of your back, your shoulder blades, and finally your neck.

Then he’s curling over you, beard scratchy against your skin, his lips brushing your cheek.

“Turn around,” he whispers, voice low and rough, "Wanna see your face when I stuff you full a'me,"

You can’t help but giggle at the tickle of his scruff against your neck, still dazed, still boneless, but do as you’re told—twisting under him until you’re on your back, staring up at him.

Joel’s eyes, though dark with hunger, hold something else too. Something deep and aching. Something sweet.

And then, with that same steady tone he uses when talking patrol routes or fixing fences, he says, “Now. Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart.”

His lips brush your jaw, then your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up so deep, fuck you so full of my cock, my cum, me, that when you look in the mirror tomorrow, all you’re gonna see is how fuckin’ beautiful you are—‘cause you’ll still be wearin’ what I did to you tonight.”

Your chest heaves, the words settling deep in your stomach, curling there like heat and honey.

“Joel, I—” you start to say, only to gasp when you feel the hot, thick head of his cock nudge at your entrance.

“You feel this, honey?” he murmurs, pulling back to look down between you, voice rough and reverent. “Feel how bad he wants you? How bad I want you?”

You nod, gripping his forearms tight, your thighs falling open even wider for him.

He notches just the bulbous tip inside you and hisses at the wet heat.

“Jesus,” you breathe. “I feel it, Joel, I—I… pleasepleaseplease—”

“I know, angel, I know,” he pants, his thumb stroking your inner thigh, grounding you. “Now I wanna hear you say it.”

Your brain lags, thick with need, swimming in lust and love and the ache to just feel him.

“W-what?”

Joel watches you, eyes burning into yours.

“Say, ‘I’m pretty, Daddy.’”

Your whole body flushes, lips parted in disbelief, already whining at the way he just knows how to unravel you.

You groan wordlessly, bringing your hands to your face to hide. He is so on your shit list for this.

Joel chuckles darkly, pushing in another inch, and you whimper behind your hands.

“I’m waitin’, darlin'.”

You squirm under him, thighs trembling, skin turning hotter and hotter by the second. Every nerve in your body is screaming for him to move, to fill you, to do something.

But Joel waits. He always waits—until you give in, until he gets what he wants.

You lift your hands from your face slowly, eyes hazy, cheeks heated, lips parted. He’s watching you like a man possessed, one hand gripping your thigh, the other wrapped around his pulsing member with agonizing patience.

“M’pretty,” you whisper.

Joel’s brow arches, lips curling, “Not quite, sweetheart. You know how I want it.”

Your chest heaves. Your pussy clenches around just the tip of him, and even though you see the twitch in his jaw, he still waits.

So you gather your courage, heart pounding in your throat: “I’m pretty, Daddy.”

Joel’s smile breaks across his face, so bright and full of something so tender it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It almost pulls you out of the heat of it, the haze of arousal, until your core clenches and he sinks into you just a little deeper.

You gasp, the stretch sharp and perfect.

He leans down slowly, hands braced in the pillows beside your head, lowering himself onto his forearms until his chest is flush with yours, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

He’s still not fully sheathed in you.

“Again.”

“I… I’m pretty, Daddy,” you breathe, voice shaky as your pussy tries to adjust around the thick stretch of him.

“The prettiest,” he nods, and his lips mold to yours as he finally pushes all the way in. Your mouth falls open with a gasp, the sound swallowed by his tongue slipping between your lips, hot and hungry, as he bottoms out. His balls press firmly against the slick, wet crevice of your ass, and the mess between your thighs is obscene—your arousal dripping, sticky and hot, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Joel groans into your mouth, loud and wrecked like its been trapped in his chest for hours. His hands come up to cradle your head, keeping you right there beneath him as he begins to move, slow at first, pulling out a few inches before rolling back in, the full weight of him rocking your body with every deep thrust.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice low and reverent. “Pussy’s so damn tight.”

He pulls out slowly again, then drives back in hard, enough to jolt you up the bed, the sound of it lewd and perfect. His brow furrows, eyes fluttered shut as he focuses on the way your walls cling to him.

“Fuckkkk,” you mewl as he continues sawing into you, filling you and stretching you around him, buried to the hilt.

Joel grins, feral and hungry, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

“Sound even prettier when you take my cock.”

He sets a rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that hit all the way up, filling you to the brim. His body covers yours, chest brushing your nipples, beard scratching your throat as he nips and kisses every inch he can reach.

“Been thinkin’ about this for so long, baby” he grits out between thrusts, hips slapping against yours. “The way you’re always hidin’ yourself from me, coverin’ up like you’re not the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your hands claw at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“I got you, honey,” Joel pants, head dropping to your neck as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him even tighter. “And you’re gonna start seein’ it for yourself,”

His pace picks up, rougher now, slamming into you with the kind of need that’s barely human.

“Gonna fuck you so full you forget every goddamn lie you ever told yourself in a mirror. Gonna make sure the only thing you remember is me—how you sounded, how you looked, when I wrecked this perfect little body.”

You’re gasping, whimpering, shaking beneath him, stars flashing behind your eyes as he pounds into you like he’s never going to stop.

“That’s it, baby. You take it,” he growls. “Take my cock so good, like the good girl you are for me. Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Joel—” you cry, voice breaking.

He lifts his head, eyes wild and tender all at once.

“Say it again, sweetheart. Tell Daddy how pretty you are.”

“I—I’m pretty,” you choke out. “I’m—fuck, I’m so pretty, Daddy—”

He loses it.

His hand slides under your thigh, hooking it up, opening you wider, deeper. His hips slam into you harder now, the rhythm filthy, brutal, perfect.

“I know, baby. I know. Look at you. My good girl, look so beautiful takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, guiding you forward as he sits back—craning your head up so you can look down, see exactly where you’re joined.

Your mind barely registers the softness of your belly, too focused on the thick stretch of him splitting you open, the obscene way you take every inch. You both watch as he drives into you, slick and deep and devastating, a ring of your last orgasm glistening around his cock. The pressure builds again, white-hot and unbearable.

And Joel knows—he feels it in the way you clench, the way your voice goes high and desperate, the way your hands grip him like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

“You gonna come for me again, sweet girl?” he pants, fucking you into the mattress. “Gonna let Daddy feel you pulse around his cock?”

“Yesyesyes—Joel, I—please—”

“That’s it,” he snarls, “give it to me.”

You shatter.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a scream as he releases your neck, letting you arch your back, trembling as you milk his cock with spasms so tight it makes Joel curse, a broken sound from deep in his chest.

And then he’s coming, hips stuttering, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, filling you just like he promised. His voice breaks on your name as he grinds through it, hands gripping you enough to leave bruises, breathing ragged.

Neither of you move for a long moment. Just the sound of your breathing, tangled and uneven. His chest heaving against yours. Your legs shaking around his waist.

His hand slides up, cradles the side of your face. His thumb brushes gently beneath your eye, even though you’re not crying—but something about the touch makes you want to. Makes your throat ache.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice all gravel and reverence. “You okay?”

You nod, eyes still fluttered shut, heart pounding. “Y-yeah.”

Joel presses a soft kiss to your lips—barely a touch, like he’s afraid of ruining you more than he already has. Then another, and another, until you're giggling quietly beneath him, too dazed to hold it in.

He smiles, the kind of smile he doesn’t show anyone else. The kind that barely reaches his eyes, because he’s still looking at you like you’re a dream that might disappear if he blinks too hard.

“Look at me, baby.”

You do. You always do when he asks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, voice low and rough with what sounds almost like awe. “You know that?”

The words hit you deeper than they should. You suck in a sharp breath, trying to even out your breathing, but your lungs don’t cooperate. Your eyes dart away, suddenly misting and too overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze—by the sincerity written all over his face. It's too much. Too close. Too real.

But Joel’s hand is already there, catching your chin gently, tilting your face back toward his. His thumb grazes the edge of your jaw, soft and steady.

“No,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t do that. Not tonight. Not after everything you just gave me.”

Your chest stutters, emotion building so fast and so sharp you feel like you might spill over with it. Your fingers twitch against his back before finally settling, drifting across his damp skin in slow, absent circles. You take deep, calming breaths to settle yourself. Breathe in, breathe out.

He’s still inside you, still heavy over you, like neither of you are ready to let go just yet. Your limbs are tangled, the air still thick with sweat and heat and something quieter—something softer.

The room is quiet now, the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel empty. Just your shared breaths, slow and unsteady. The low thump of his heart where his chest presses to yours.

Joel shifts only slightly, just enough to press a kiss to your cheek. Then another to your jaw. Then your temple. The way he moves is unhurried, like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s kissing more than just skin—like he’s kissing the pieces of you he’s afraid to speak out loud.

It makes your chest ache.

“You’re being so sweet,” you whisper, throat tight almost like it’s a secret.

His lips hover at your lips, pressing gently but not fully, “I don’t know how not to be,” he says softly. “Not with you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. His scent wraps around you—salt and skin and something warm and comforting that’s just him. The warmth blooms under your skin again, curling around your ribs, spreading down your spine.

“I love you.” he says, like it’s always been there, waiting. Like it’s not a confession so much as a truth that finally found its way out.

Your breath catches. Not from fear, not from panic, but from the sheer weight of it. The gravity. The sound of those words, spoken into the low light of the room while he's still buried inside you, holding you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

Your eyes flutter open. You don’t move. Not yet.

Joel doesn’t either. But his voice dips low, softer now. A hint of uncertainty laces the edges. “Too much?”

You shake your head instantly, and your hands rise to cradle his face, looking up at him, fingertips brushing his temples like you need to anchor both of you in this moment.

“No,” you whisper, a tear finally escaping your eye. “No, not too much.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently as you pull him down and press your lips to his. And when you pull back, your words are trembling but sure.

“I love you too.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.Then he kisses you—slow and deep and home, his mouth moving against yours like he’s sealing the promise between your bodies.

taglist: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal, @anxiousscribbling

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou joel #tlou #the last of us

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itelya · 21 days ago

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Husband! Nanami notices every time you want something but don't dare ask him, even though he's always insisted you share all your wishes.

Husband! Nanami never hesitates to buy what you want, even if it's expensive, because he has the means to satisfy you for a lifetime.

Husband! Nanami at the end of each month, he prepares a surprise for you, just to see your happy smile and the little tears of happiness that flow when he spoils you with your favorite things. And especially, when you thank him in your own way.

Husband! Nanami picks you up from work, even though he already told you that you no longer have to work, that he'll take care of everything for you.

Husband! Nanami opens the door for you, and inside, you discover a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers, a Victoria's Secret bag with lingerie he's sure to blush in, a Pandora bag, a bag with all your skincare products he's carefully memorized, two VIP tickets to a concert by your favorite artist, and your favorite heels in a new color you'll love.

Husband! Nanami finds you in one of his languages; his love for you is infinite, and what you bring him is priceless.

a/n: I can so imagine Nanami like this omgg.. princess treatment princess treatment princess treatment😩😩 I so hope I find a man like that. ⟢﹒ masterlist

Inspiration: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNdNtx5Ky/

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selfcarecap · 6 months ago

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Halloween [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x neighbour!reader

summary: You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral, unprotected (but inconsequential) p in v, creampie, doggy in front of a mirror, missionary, cum eating and also Logan spitting it into reader’s mouth, brief chasing kink, (Ghostface) mask kink obv, pet names: bub, baby, good girl), worst!Logan I guess but I couldn’t find a pic to use, Wade being Wade

word count: 3.8k

note: I didn’t have that much time to write this but I wanted to post something for Logan before Halloween so <3, inspired by that I want to be fucked for Halloween sound on tt lol you'll see what I mean, and some ideas me and @ethanhoewke talked about 🤭, also I’ve never watched Scream so all I can do is mention the mask lol | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons & @anitalenia <3

You meet your neighbours Logan and Wade in the laundry room of your building on Thursday night. They’re fighting over whether they’re going to do a couple’s costume for Wade’s Halloween party next week.

“We’re not a couple, Wade. We’re not doing a couple’s costume.”

Wade sighs as he stuffs his blood splattered clothes into the washing machine – you’ve learnt not to ask anymore.

“Hey,” Logan says when he sees you, and those three letters are enough to make your cheeks heat up. You wave at them both, busying yourself with your own washing.

Wade puts his hand on his hip, “Can you believe Logie won’t do a couple’s costume with me after I adopted him and put a roof over his head? He’s such an ungrateful brat.”

You giggle, meeting Logan’s gaze as he rolls his eyes at his roommate. He turns away to let you do your laundry in peace but Wade walks over to you, sitting down on the bench behind you.

“What do you want to be for Halloween? Sexy nurse? Sexy doctor? Sexy cop?”

You laugh, “Why do they all have to be sexy?”

“Because it’s you, so it’s impossible for the costume to not be sexy,” Wade raises his eyebrows and you smile at the compliment, sitting down next to him.

You sigh as you think about his question.

“Fucked, Wade. I want to be fucked for Halloween.”

You hear a chuckle from Logan a few feet away. You were hoping he wasn’t listening, but he does you the favour of keeping his head turnt in the other direction as he sorts through laundry. You’re closer with Wade – you didn’t necessarily want Logan knowing how badly you need to get laid.

Wade points to his own chest, “Wait, by moi?”

“I love you but I’d prefer someone who doesn’t look like a burnt chicken nugget.”

“You know what? Even though I look like a burnt chicken nugget, I still love myself. Learned that from the OG.”

You smile, “And anyway, I thought you and Vanessa were back together?”

“That we are,” Wade says, rising to his feet and twirling out of the room like a ballerina, calling out, “I’ll see you later for movie night!”

“He’s fucking crazy,” Logan says, chuckling, and you smile as you finish doing your laundry.

You’re late to Wade’s Halloween party the following week. You rush two floors up to their shared apartment, but your knocks go unnoticed through the loud music coming from inside and the door won’t open.

You’re about to get your phone out to call Wade but you realise you can’t. Your fake claws are in the way.

You’re dressed up as Logan. You recently saw some pictures of when he was younger, effortlessly hot in a tanktop and jeans, hair styled charmingly, almost like kitty ears.

Accordingly, you’ve got yourself a fitted tanktop, jeans that make you stop in front of every mirror to admire your backside, and a belt with a big buckle like the ones he used to wear. You’ve paired your outfit with kitty ears the colour of your hair and, of course, fake claws protruding between your fingers.

You hope Logan doesn’t take offence. In your rush to get ready for the party, you didn’t even consider that.

What if he doesn’t like your costume? What if he thinks it’s disrespectful? You know he’s struggled with his mutation, after all, hurt people he loved because of it. Wade told you the costume was a good idea when you showed him your outfit the other day, but Wade isn’t Logan.

Plus, it’s Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be scary, even if most people’s costumes aren’t scary nowadays. What if Logan thinks you’re calling him a scary monster? Oh god. You’re considering going downstairs and changing – into what, you don’t know, but the last thing you want is to offend Logan, and if there’s even just a small chance of it then you don’t want to do it after all. Suddenly, you see Logan.

He’s walking down the hallway where you’ve zoned out, arms folded awkwardly because of your claws. He stops in his tracks, a plastic shopping bag hanging from his hand, and he’s squinting at you; you wouldn’t say he looks mad but you’re not sure.

Logan comes closer, folding his arms. “Are you supposed to be me?”

A smile creeps on his face as you tentatively answer with a “…yeah?”

He looks you up and down and it makes your skin heat up as he takes a step forward, “Not sure if I should be offended, bub.”

Oh no–

He continues with a smirk, “Going around stealin’ a man’s look and doing it better than him? Can’t say that outfit used to look that good on me.” You sigh a breath of relief. He likes it. You smile at his compliment, and then he’s reaching out to give a light tug on the cat ears in your hair.

“I don’t get what these are supposed to be though.”

You push the plastic hair band back in place as you smile up at him, “You know exactly what they are.”

Logan shrugs. “You got something wrong though.”

He stands next to you with the side of his arm pressed against yours, and you gulp at the sudden contact with his warm, beefy arm. Logan makes a fist and unsheathes his claws, holding them next to yours, and they’re at least three times the length of your fake ones, metal sparkling even in the shitty light of the corridor.

“Should be much bigger,” he smirks, pulling them back in and unlocking the door for you. You don’t miss the implication behind his words, and you swallow as you step into the loud party in their apartment that is decorated to the nines for Halloween.

Wade runs over to you to hug you, wearing a sexy maid costume over his Deadpool suit.

“I love it,” you tell him while he simultaneously compliments your outfit. You look around for Logan and only just catch him closing the door to his bedroom, and he disappears behind it. You were too distracted just now to realise that he wasn’t even wearing a costume.

Your shoulders deflate as you realise he’s probably not coming back out. He was half of the reason you even came to the party. You were looking forward to spending some time with him, but now that you think about it, you wouldn’t expect him to be interested in a Halloween party, crafting an elaborate costume and hanging up corny decorations the way Wade did.

You try to shake off your disappointment and enjoy yourself nevertheless.

You’re stumbling back to the kitchen after dancing with Wade and Vanessa, getting yourself a drink. You’re softly humming to the music coming from the other room when you feel a presence behind you.

Your heart speeds up for a moment when you see someone in a Ghostface mask standing right beside you. He’s wearing the mask with a black, tight tanktop stretched over his broad chest. You smell Logan’s cologne as the scent swirls in the air around you, but you could have recognised him by the veins on his arms alone.

You try to keep your hopes at bay but you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing the mask because of you. When you watched Scream with him and Wade the other night, Wade kept teasing you about your crush on the killer.

At the time you felt like disappearing, hoping that Logan was as disinterested as he claimed, that he wasn’t listening to anything you two were saying, but now you’re glad he heard. If he’s wearing the costume for your sake. Which he probably isn’t. You’ve tried to convince yourself that your crush is unrequited, just to protect yourself. It’s a common Halloween costume, nothing to do with you… probably.

“Hi,” Logan says. You can’t see his face but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Hey…,” you reply, almost shakily, “didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to, couldn’t be bothered to think of a costume. But then I found this so I thought I’ll join you.”

You nod along as he tells you about going out to buy the mask only today, but you’re not paying attention. All you can focus on is how hot it is that you can’t see Logan’s face through the mask, but you still know it’s him. The way his voice is slightly muffled yet strong makes you shudder.

“So, has your wish for Halloween come true yet?”

You give him a confused smile, only just realising that he’s asking you something.

“You told Wade you wanted to get fucked for Halloween.”

Not able to stop a shy grin from spreading over your face, you say, “Oh. No, hasn’t happened yet. Not counting on it.”

“No one you like here?” Logan asks, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, trying to think of a flirty reply when Wade’s voice cuts through the tension in the room.

Wade runs over to Logan, leaning his head to the side flirtily, “I told you it’d look hot, peanut. Are you gonna hunt me later, Mr. Ghostface?” Wade brings a finger to his lip, and, for once, Logan doesn’t get annoyed by his jokes.

“Ghostface only hunts good girls,” Logan says, and your heart starts to beat faster yet again when you realise Logan is looking down at you.

“Am I not a good girl?” Wade asks, and Logan just huffs, ignoring him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel them on you. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

It’s not much later that Logan is chasing you through the hallways of your building, with you giggling and squealing only a few feet ahead of him as the adrenaline pumps through you.

He gave you a headstart but you know he’ll catch you. You want him to catch you. You’re fumbling with the keys to your apartment when he reaches you, your heart hammering in your chest at the thrill of being chased.

Logan’s hands go to your waist as he pushes you against your front door.

“I got you.”

You reach up to gently tug the mask off but he stops you when only his lips are exposed, and he grins. You smile and lean up to kiss him, and you somehow manage to fit your key into the lock while you’re making out and push the door open.

Logan lifts you and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he carries you to your bedroom.

With your claws and the rest of your clothes discarded on the floor minutes later, Logan is fucking you in front of the mirror by your bed. He’s taking you from behind, mask still on as he pulls and pushes at your hips with you fucking back against him as the mattress dips beneath you.

But as hot as it is to see the Ghostface mask looking down at you through the mirror, it’s also your first time having sex with Logan and you want to see him.

“Can I take the mask off?” you ask, looking back at him and Logan lifts you so that your back is flush with his chest. You turn around and pull the mask off over his head with a smile.

His hair is messy and a little bit sweaty, and as good as Logan usually looks you don’t think you’ve ever been quite this attracted to him. He holds your face to press a few sloppy kisses to your lips, and then he turns you back around to face the mirror.

Logan doesn’t push you back on all fours, but takes your arms and clasps them behind your back, holding them together with one big hand. He slides his cock back into your wet pussy and begins to rub your clit with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he nods towards the mirror, and you meet his eyes in it, watching as his gaze trails down your body, to where his hand disappears between your soft thighs, “So fucking pretty.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder as he continues to play with your pussy, but he can’t properly fuck you at this angle, so you buck back against him until he manoeuvres you onto your back.

His lips find yours again and your arm sneaks around the back of his neck, holding him close as you kiss him desperately. You whine when his lips leave yours. He kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, down over your tits and over your belly. He arrives between your legs with a smirk and licks through the wetness of your pussy.

He moans when he first makes contact, “tastes even better than I fucking imagined, baby.”

You smile down at Logan as he pulls your socked feet onto his shoulders, fingers grabbing your ankles. “You’ve imagined this?”

Logan looks up at you, “Every single fucking day. You haven’t?”

You smile bashfully despite his own admission, but he doesn’t let you answer anyway, moving his head back between your legs to make out with your pussy. He pushes two fingers inside you, the tips of his fingers rubbing up against your g-spot.

You begin to squirm as the heat builds up in your lower stomach, but Logan holds your hips down with his muscular forearm over your waist, “Stay still for me, baby, okay?”

Logan starts sucking on your clit, and you cum immediately, back arching as you grab onto his hair. Your pussy pulses and throbs around his fingers as pleasure floods your body. You grind up to meet his mouth and he lets you use him until you’re breathless.

He places a last, rough kiss on your pussy, getting back on his knees to fuck you, but you breathe out, “Give me a second.” You smile shyly, your pussy still squeezing around nothing every few seconds.

“Of course, bub.” He leans down to kiss you and you mumble a question against his lips.

“Can I go down on you?”

Logan smiles and sits up, “Me or…?” he nods over to the mask.

You shrug shyly, “Well, if you’re offering.”

“Why do you think I wore it?” Logan smirks, pulling the mask back on. You briefly pull it up to his forehead again to give him a small kiss of appreciation.

He holds your hand as you get off the bed, sinking down onto the carpeted floor. You smile as his hard cock bobs in front of your face, glistening with precum and your wetness.

You place your hands on his knees and softly trace a path down his cock with your tongue, gently sucking his balls as you look up. A thrill shoots through you when you only see the mask looking back at you, and you move to suck Logan’s dick into your mouth as deep as you can, tasting your own arousal on him.

He throbs hotly against your tongue as you let spit run down his length, slapping his cock against your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Logan’s voice sounds from above you, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, as you take his cock in your mouth again, your hands back on his knees for support.

You make out with the head of his cock, gently sucking on the skin down the side of him, licking your way up, playing with him.

“I’m close, baby,” he moans.

You mumble against his skin, telling him to take off the mask, and even though it comes out muffled he hears. Logan tugs off the mask in one quick movement, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure and his lips bitten raw. His face glows with desire and a hint of sweat, and he hums when you suck him into your mouth.

You use your hand to jerk off the rest of him, moving your mouth down on him as far as you can, and your eyes flutter shut when you hear Logan moan, and he’s spilling the first ropes of his load down your throat. You keep sucking until you’ve swallowed all of his cum, and only then do you take your mouth off him.

Sitting back, suddenly shy, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand but Logan’s already tugging you up to the bed to kiss you.

“You got another orgasm in you?” he asks against your lips. You straddle him and feel his hard cock smack against your thigh as you tell him yes. He tips you onto your back, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your pussy.

When he gets between your legs and pushes his cock into you again it somehow feels even better than the first time as you gasp in pleasure.

“You’re so warm, bub. So perfect. Wanna stay here forever,” Logan says mindlessly as he bottoms out, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you inside me forever too,” you babble, already fucked out. You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you. It feels like your wet pussy is sucking him in with the way you clech around him, and you both know you won’t take long for your next orgasms.

He slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit as he begins to fucks you deeper. “You gonna cum for me again, bub? You make such a cute face when you cum. Let me see it again, baby.”

You’re nodding dumbly and letting the feeling of him take over, not just his big cock in your pussy and his slicked fingers on your clit, but the way his body feels on top of yours, warm skin against warm skin as he sloppily kisses your jaw and neck, and you cream around his cock as you cum, moaning his name.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well. Taking my big cock like a good girl, hm?” Logan’s voice is strained, and then he’s cumming too, filling you up with his warm release until your pussy is stuffed full with his cock and his cum. He pulls out slowly and rubs your sensitive clit a little more.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, fucking two fingers into you and when he pulls them out they’re coated in his sticky load.

You reach out to pull him down by his wrist and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking his cum off them as he smirks down at you, rubbing a hand over his face to calm himself for now.

You both come down from your highs with laboured breaths, and he pulls you to lie your head on the pillow. Logan wraps his arms around you, just cuddling you for a bit, when you realise something and smile up at him.

“So, are you that narcissistic that seeing me dressed up as you made you want to fuck me?”

Logan smirks. “Nah, wanted to fuck you way before that. And I’m just honoured you like me enough to dress up as me.”

You open your mouth for a rebuttal but he instead takes that opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth as he holds the side of your face. You make out lazily for another few moments, slinging your leg over his hip, but then you drag his hand away from your face.

“Well, I’m honoured you like me enough to dress up for me.”

“Baby, there’s a lot more I’d do for you than just dress up in a horror mask.”

“Really?” you smile. Logan nods earnestly. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes as you relax into the comfortable silence.

He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “Will you go out with me?”

You giggle then, “Don’t think you have to ask me anymore.”

“What? I wanna be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, very gentlemanly what you just did to me.”

You feel some of Logan’s cum drip out of your pussy and onto his thigh in that moment.

Logan looks at you and gives you a silly smile, lifting your leg off him to sit up, “Yeah, baby, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman cleans up after himself.”

He spreads your thighs as he gets between them, and licks up your pussy, coating his tongue in his own cum. You smile at his words but soon you begin to pout in pleasure as he starts going down on you again.

You sigh when he stops and moves up to your face, but you smile when you realise what he’s doing, happily parting your lips for him. Logan leans over you and spits his cum into your mouth, “We taste good together, hm?” he asks.

You swallow your combined arousals eagerly, closing your eyes as you savour the taste, but a gentle pat on your clit makes you open them again.

“You got another one in you, right, baby? Just one.” You nod quickly, unable to form words with you needily spread open for Logan like this.

Lying back, you let Logan eat your pussy until you’re cumming again, your thighs pressing against his temples as he grabs at the flesh of your legs, licking your clit until you’re satisfied.

Logan lies back down next to you with his lips still shiny with your wetness, and you lean in for another kiss. He takes you in his arms to cuddle, when he asks you again.

“So, will you go on a date with me?”

“Only if it ends with you doing that thing with your mouth again,” you tease.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not going a day without it anymore.”

You giggle into his neck, relaxing against his muscular body.

Logan turns around when he gets a text, showing you his phone. It’s a message from Wade:

Everyone left and I’m about to give Vanessa a happy Halloweener if you know what I’m saying! So don’t come home tonight but I have a feeling you weren’t going to anyway ;)

Logan cringes while you laugh, ready to put his phone back when another message comes through.

And if you don’t treat her right I’ll cut off your Halloweener

Logan groans, switching off his phone. You laugh against his skin and let him hold you until you both sink into a warm, cozy sleep.

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🤭🙂‍↕️

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #fem!reader #deadpool and wolverine #selfcarecap

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