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pedrospatch · 10 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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pomefioredove · 2 months

Note

hi hi, so excited to see that you opened requests! i love your character analysis posts sm :)

i’d like to request rook, vil, & leona headcanons with a gn s/o who has a weaker immune system and gets sick/tired easily but has a bad habit of being reckless with their own health.

like half of the requests so far are incredibly specific to me and things I experience 😭 thank you all

summary: immunocompromised reader type of post: headcanons characters: leona, vil, rook additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, mentions of illness!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona may act apathetic, but that's not him

sooo not him

you drive him mad with the way you take care of yourself

just one word from you, and he'd have every doctor in every direction at your bedside

but nooope

"I'm okay, just tired," "don't worry, it happens all the time," 'I'll be fine!"

some days he just wants to sling you over his shoulder and carry you to the nurse himself

he begrudgingly settles for sending over herbs and tea, and dragging you to his bed for cuddles when you're sick

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

not unlike Leona, Vil isn't too pleased

you'd almost worried him to death the first time you got sick

he had his favorite doctor on speed dial when you casually dropped the "oh, I get sick all the time. I'll be fine," on him

which does not help

now, unlike Leona, Vil doesn't trust that you'll actually take his word

sick? he's at your bedside every second he can spare

healthy? he's stocking your kitchen with vitamins and supplements that'll boost your immune system

it's almost cute how he fusses over you

a little overbearing, but cute!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unsurprisingly, Rook knows before you tell him

he's spent months by your side (and outside your window)

and, of course, even your illness piques his curiosity

a few weeks in, he'd already picked up a book or two on medicine and diagnosed you from there

"sorry, this happens a lot," but he already knows, and there's already a basket on your doorstep with medicine, vitamins, snacks and little handwritten love notes from him

sometimes it happens before you even feel sick

how does he know?

he just... does!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader

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echoofadream · 4 months

Text

Your favorite patient...

Part 1

Summary: You are a hardworking doctor and you save a man's life. Wait, why is he coming back with all sorts of conditions? What do you mean he followed you home? He's begging to be your...what?

Contains: Obsessive behavior(yandere), stalking, mentions of masturbation, slight smut, dom!reader(gender is not specified), sub!male!yandere.

Imagine you work in a hospital. You're a workaholic doctor who simply loves treating people and helping them get healthier and better. You greet everyone with a smile and try to cheer up every person who comes in, despite their state.

One day a young man is brought into the ER and you find out he had been in a horrible car accident. You don't waste any more time and treat his wounds and the next day he's already conscious and aware of everything happening around him. Yours is the first face he sees once awake.

The following days you visit him in his hospital room and ask him how he's feeling, the same honest and benevolent smile on your face. You can tell that he's exaggerating most of the time and that the pain he tells you he's experiencing is not as severe as he claims. So you do the only rational thing and discharge him.

Next week, he's back with another issue and he requests you specifically. An ear infection. It wasn't your area of expertise but you took a look and recommended him a qualified doctor. He left displeased.

One week later you saw him again. A stomach ache. It wasn't bad but he wouldn't have it. "You don't get it, doctor! It hurts!" he'd say and grab your wrist, putting it on his lower stomach. He wanted a set of tests. He was even willing to pay any sum of money! You actually ran the tests and he spent one night in the hospital. You should've paid more attention to the smile he had on his face when you came with his results. He wasn't pleased seeing a green line next to every word on the file, yet he understood the situation and left. "Thank you so much, doctor!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "I was so scared! What would I do without you?"

The following week he was in the ER again. Ibuprofen overdose. "I had a headache and didn't know what to do! Help me, doctor!" A part of you was starting to see a pattern, yet your overworked mind couldn't quite put the finger on the issue at hand. You treated him like any other patient. The same friendly smile on your face, the same soft tone of voice, the same tired eyes. You were busy saving lives everyday. This was your duty and you had to do it right. "Such a big heart you have, doctor!" the same adoration in his eyes when he says this as always. "You're amazing!" and you could've sworn you saw tiny hearts forming inside his dark pupils. You should drink less caffeine, really.

After a couple of days the man doesn't come into the ER. Yet you don't even notice his absence. You were so overworked, so tired! Poor you!

One random Thursday(a thoroughly planned day) you freeze when you step into your living room. A familiar person was sitting on your couch. You knew him from somewhere, but why was it so hard for you to remember?

"Hello, doctor!" he greets. The same smile, the same excited voice. And you recognized him. "Don't tell me you don't know who I am..." he started, a bit of disappointment making its way into his facial expression.

You were standing there, unable to move. What was your patient doing inside your house? How did he know where you lived? How did he get inside? Why did he get inside? Was he dange-

"You don't look too pleased to see me, doctor..." he says, a small frown on his face. He approaches you and you instinctively take a step back. "Don't be afraid. I'd never hurt you." his words were either as honest as they could be or he was one hell of a liar. The former sounded better. "You're good and kind and gentle. I'd never hurt you" he chuckled. That makes you make another step back.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, breathlessly.

"I'm here for you, isn't that obvious?"

It was very obvious but you were hoping he'd elaborate.

"You work so hard, doctor" he starts talking in a pitiful, saddened voice. "You work overtime almost everyday. You always come back home late. You don't even have time to cook and you always order takeaway. Then you sit in front of the TV with a glass of wine in your hand, drifting off with god knows what series in the background." He chuckles. "Well, I know actually.".

He takes another step towards you and you flinch. "I wanna make you feel good, doctor" he tells you, almost whimpering. "You work so hard...it's a pity you don't have a slave at home to take care of each and every one of your needs"

Did he just say slave?

"I've been following you ever since you saved my life, doctor. I owe you!". He puts a hand over his heart, trying to show you just how much he loves you. "I know everything you do. I know you barely have a social life, or a sleep schedule or time for yourself except for the moments when you lay on your back on the bed, your glass on the bedside table and you...touch yourself." He blushed at his own words. Meanwhile, you were going through the five stages of fear. If they didn't exist until now, well now they did.

"You don't have any time to clean this place either. I know, since I try not to cough when I lay under your bed and listen to your moans every night." A huge smile spreads across his face. "God, you're amazing..." .

Your hand goes to the pocket of your coat and, as soon as he sees you, his face darkens.

"Doctor...I told you I'm not here to hurt you" His tone held some sort of threat and that made you the more afraid. Your fingers wrap around your phone and you pull it out. He grabs your wrist, stopping you. "You're not gonna do that!" he screams. "You're gonna make me yours! You're gonna do it!".

The sound of your palm making contact with his cheek echoed in the room. He bends forward a little, covering his red cheek and whining softly. He looks at you with fear in his eyes, but you needed to be blind not to see the arousal that fear created. He drops to his knees, hands on his thighs, head lowered.

"I'm sorry, doctor!" he whines. "I shouldn't have yelled at you! Please forgive me! Please! Forgive me for being such a bad boy..." .

You look at him with a shocked expression. It was crystal clear that he was living inside his own world of make-believe in which you were the master and he was the slave. It was obvious he'd wanted it ever since he first saw you. And that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

You smirk, all the previously felt fear having already vanished. After all, everything he said was right. You were exhausted and you needed someone to serve you. You deserved it, didn't you? Weren't you that god sent person who saved this poor boy's life? Why not give him what he wants? Why not...give yourself what you want?

"You followed me home" you start, your tone as assertive as you could make it. You could see his body shiver and that only made you keep going. "You broke into my house multiple times. You stalked me!"

A soft whimper escapes the man in front of you. He tries to lift his head, to look at you with those big pleading puppy eyes of his, to show you how very sorry he felt(not in the slightest) for doing all that. But when you snap at him he lowers his head again.

"You gave yourself medical conditions so that I could treat you! What kind of sick fuck does that?"

He moaned when he heard your degrading words, lifting his head and looking you straight in the eyes, a big smile on his face.

"I'm sick, doctor. I'm very sick..."

You laughed at his wordplay. "I think you've been a bad boy. A bad sick naughty boy. You know what bad boys get?" You smirk, waiting for his answer.

"Punishment!" he yells, his eagerness immeasurable. "They get punishment. Please, doctor..."

"Please, what?"

"Please....punish me"

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

If this goes well I'll write the second part(smut ofc).

#yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #sub yandere #sub!yandere #dom!reader #sub!character #dom reader #anime fic #anime fanfic #anime #anime x reader #x reader #smut

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distantdarlings · 8 months

Text

PARTING THE SILENCE // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theo plans a special evening for the two of you on the night of your anniversary.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Virgin!Reader, Dom!Theo, Gender-Neutral Reader, losing virginity, language, piv - no protection, fingering (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

HEAVEN - Isabel LaRosa

(Quick note: This is not entirely proof-read and was originally written with a fem reader before I realized the gender is not specified in the request. I tried to rewrite w/ a gender-neutral reader, but if I've missed something, please let me know! Thanks!)

---

Your foot tapped impatiently against the leg of your desk as you anxiously awaited the end of class. Your eyes glanced around aimlessly, attempting to catch a glimpse of the sun. Perhaps you’d be able to get an idea of what time it was.

“Okay, that is the end of my lecture for today!” Professor Flitwick announced. With a flick of his wand, dozens of textbooks flew toward the students. They were small and very old with cracked bindings, but they held the class’ homework for the rest of the week.

Once you selected yours and shoved it into your bag, you were practically already out the door. Your boyfriend, Theo Nott, had promised a romantic evening for your anniversary, and you weren’t planning on being late.

You shouldered your bag and exited the Charms classroom with your dormitory in mind. Every other student that was trying to get to the Great Hall or to Hogsmeade crossed the halls, making it near impossible for you to wiggle through each one. It was like an ocean constantly pushing against you.

Past staircases and groups of students, you’d finally managed to get back to your house's common room. You ignored the growl in your stomach as the scent from the kitchens wafted through the hair. Surely, they’d had nothing but distraction in mind when they put the Hufflepuffs right next to the kitchens. You rolled your eyes.

You didn’t need to eat anything right now. Theo had planned dinner just for you, and you wanted to be able to eat as much as you could if it. You didn’t want to show up to your date full.

You spoke the password and whisked through the hallway into the common room. Its yellowed walls reflected the setting Sun outside, casting a peaceful, golden glow onto everything. It was nearly empty, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case forever. Since it was a Friday night, everybody had plans, and they’d be rushing back to their dorms soon enough.

You jogged the rest of the way to your dormitory and let the door fall shut behind you. Only a few of your dorm mates were scattered around the room, doing homework, tidying up, and whatever else. They all gave you a small wave or nod as you walked by, to which you politely returned.

You had no time to talk at the moment. You had to get ready. Due to the likely possibility that you’d be late, you’d already laid out an outfit. Theo always had the mind to plan ahead and have everything ready perfectly on top. Your issues with punctuality tended to put you both behind, though. So, today, you tried to think forward.

Dropping your things, you grabbed the outfit and headed to the joint bathroom. Though it was simple, it was fancy enough to be suited for a nice dinner and casual enough for a picnic. You could never prepare for the wild dates Theo planned.

You slipped the clothing on and readied yourself in the bathroom mirror, splashing a bit of water on your face and messing up your hair. Though you didn’t look half as well as you wanted to, it would work for tonight.

Turning on your heels, you made your way out of the bathroom and back through the common room as quickly as you could. The hallways of Hogwarts were closer to empty now that classes had been out for a while, making it much easier to find your way to your destination.

The sky outside was blackening quite rapidly due to the wintry month the castle was currently submerged in. With a shudder of nerves at the thought of having to walk in the dark by yourself, you picked up your pace a bit. The air around you was chilled and swirling, urging you to wrap your jackets tighter around you.

Theo had told you to meet him by the Black Lake on the side opposite the castle. You weren’t sure if he had planned to do something there and then go out to eat or… A deep sigh left you. You were definitely overthinking this. No matter how long you’d been with Theo, you always became extremely nervous before any of your dates. Due to your house of origin, you constantly felt as though you weren’t good enough to be with Theo. It wasn’t as though any of his friends made you feel that way. It was other people in Slytherin house and even some in Hufflepuff. It was an unnerving feeling that led you to believe they were right, even though Theo picked you.

You came up to the edge of the Black Lake. The quickly approaching starlight above began to reflect in the dark waters. Halfway across the way, you could see a small lantern pressed up against one of the trees lining the banks. A wide smile spread across your face, urging you toward that dim glow. Swallowing your anxiety, you began to skirt the edge of the lake until you came upon Theo, who seemed to be admiring his work.

Before him was a dark green quilt, weighed down with two large, woven baskets, the lantern, and what looked like his school bag. You suppressed a smile and snuck up behind him, intending to surprise him.

You eased up behind him, feet as quiet as possible, and sucked in a breath—

“Rah!” Theo turned and shouted, grabbing at your sides. You shrieked at the sudden shock, having no time to react before his fingers started attacking your ribs. Panicked giggles swirled throughout the air as he tickled you relentlessly, his eyes mean and teasing.

“No, no, no! Please, stop!” you screamed through forced giggles. You kicked and wiggled to try and separate yourself from him, but his hold—as always—was much too strong for you to escape from. He used the size difference between the two of you much too often. “Theo!”

When he finally stopped tickling you, he pushed you back slightly to avoid your next move, which was all too predictable. As soon as he had separated himself from you, you began to swing your arms at him, trying to get a good hit to his arms.

“You jerk! I’ve told you not to do that!” you shouted, smacking at his clothed arms.

“You were trying to surprise me!” he defended himself, trying to push you away from him.

“I don’t care!” He grabbed a hold of you suddenly, pulling your body close to his, his strong arms wrapped snugly around you. The two of you attempted to contain giggles at the feeling of being so close to one another. The chilled air cooled your lungs and fanned across your chest. Despite the temperature around you, Theo’s body against yours was as warm as it needed to be. The weather barely had any effect on you when he held you. He was like your own personal heater.

“Oh, I missed you, darling,” he groaned lovingly into your ear, his lips tickling the flesh of your neck. The vibration of his words and the feeling of his breath on you sent a shiver through your body. You gasped slightly at the sensation, clinging tighter to his arms.

“You cold?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why’d you shiver?”

“Because you make me a little nervous,” you giggled awkwardly. His arms loosened around you almost instantly. His eyes found yours, a deep concern shoved into them. Your nervous smile dropped slightly at his expression. Was he upset?

“I make you nervous?” he asked. “What did I do? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Was it the way I held you?”

You nearly melted at how worried he seemed to be with your comfort. Never before had you met a boy so serious about how you felt. Being with Theo felt like always being taken care of, always being thought of, and never being forgotten. It never failed that—no matter what the issue was—Theo was there and ready to fix it. Whether it was his hands, his lips, his words… Whatever it need be, he had it waiting for you. You loved him endlessly for it.

“No, darling,” you laughed. “You make me nervous … in, uh, a good way.” His eyebrows quirked, and a small smirk began to spread across his lips.

“Nervous in a good way, huh? Can you explain that to me a little bit?” he asked slyly as he inched back toward you. Once he was behind you, he wrapped himself around you again, allowing his face to press back into your neck. You could feel his breath against your skin; each inhale and exhale made your heart rattle in your chest. One hand that was tightened around your stomach loosened itself and slid upwards. His fingers softly slid around your neck, never tightening, just placed there. It was so domineering, yet soft, that it had you gulping.

“L-like when you do that,” you sighed, cursing yourself for stuttering.

“When I do what?” he asked. His free hand moved gently against your stomach, gently tracing curves and dips, claiming your body so easily.

“When you touch me,” you whispered. At some point, your head had begun to lean back against his strong shoulder. If not for him holding you up, you were unsure if you’d still be standing.

The two of you had only done a few things together since you started dating. Of course, you’d kissed and petted a bit, but the two of you hadn’t gotten…there yet. The thought of it started your heart beating wildly in your chest, with no regard for your pride, as Theo’s hand was still splayed against your thorax.

“I could touch you more if you’d like,” he suggested. The fact that he’d presented the question like an option rather than a definite made the experience feel all the more pleasurable. He so obviously cared about how you felt, and that made you want him even more.

“Outside, Teddy?” you breathed nervously, your chest rising and falling heavily beneath the fall of his hand. Every breath and every touch against you had your mind racing.

“It’s dark, and no one else is out here,” he mumbled against the skin behind your ear. His lips caressed the shell of it every few moments.

“It’s cold…I don’t know if we should.” You wanted to. You really did, but you were trying to reason with him a bit. In his defense, your plan was to come out here and have a romantic anniversary…but now all you could think about was what lay beneath his knit sweater.

His free hand trailed around your waist and skirted your core through the fabric of your bottoms. A shuddering gasp left your lips ever so quietly, the sound slicing through the icy silence.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered against your ear. The tip of his nose traced along the line of your shoulder, traveling lower and lower until he pressed a sensual open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. Your heart was pounding, your breaths leaving you in desperate pants.

“Yes,” you moaned breathlessly. You could practically feel him smirk against you as he gently pulled you backward to the beautiful picnic he’d set up.

With a small shove, he’d moved the prepared baskets off of the quilt and laid you softly on the ground. The earth beneath the blanket was soft and even, and the boy above you was strong and rough. The contrast had your pupils blown wide in pleasure.

Once above you, he hovered easily, his lips running slow, personal kisses along your jawline and neck. Your head tilted back against the ground to allow him as much access to you as possible. You didn’t want anything coming between the two of you.

“Darling, please,” he breathed against your skin, “…want you now…”

His lips hovered just over your chest where your shirt split down the middle. They were parted and swollen and wanting as he brushed them along your flesh, impatiently waiting on your consent.

“Yes, please,” you whined out, clutching his curls within your fingers.

It took less than a second for him to begin to undo your bottoms, his hands gentle yet swift. Once the task was completed, he did the same with himself. He removed his belt and dropped it to the ground next to him, the leather slapping against itself with a loud crack. At the sound, you could feel heat broiling in your core…you figured that was an experiment for another day, though.

Theo undid his pants and pushed himself over the top of his briefs so he was still covered from the back. At the sight of his perfectly reddened dick, you could feel your body clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you.

Theo caressed gentle fingers up and down your core with one hand while the other collected a bit of spit from his mouth. He let it fall down between your legs and trace circles around your entrance, spreading the slick all around. At the feeling, your back arched toward him. Your lips parted in a silent scream. You’d never done this before, so you were bound to be as tight as possible, but you didn’t care. The nerves of your first time with Theo were very quickly overpowered by the raging lust pushing through your body.

He found your eyes and, with a soft nod, slowly slid his finger within you. It was a stretch—one that put your fingers to shame. You grasped at anything—the dirt, the grass, Theo’s back. He was sending you into space and keeping you grounded all at the same time. His finger slowly worked you open with genuine care until he was able to add more. He was preparing you for himself, but you could barely reach the third finger.

“Ugh, slow, baby, please,” you whined.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered. “Too much?”

You nodded pitifully, your fingers grasping at the quilt and the grass beneath. His hands slowed and eased you closer and closer to your finish before carefully removing all of his fingers from you. You groaned at the sensation and the sudden emptiness.

“Why’d you stop, Teddy?” you moaned. You stared up at him, your bottom lip jutting out slightly in a slight pout. He clicked his tongue and placed a dominating hand on your jaw. The size of his hand dwarfed your face as his thumb traced the length of your lip.

“Because I want to give you more, baby,” he cooed. “I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

You sucked in a shuddering breath as he balanced himself on his knees. He agonizingly slid himself over your entrance, the tip tracing you meanly. Your lips parted at the sensation, anticipating the stretch and fullness.

“I’m gonna move, sweetheart,” he moaned, his hands gripping your bare thighs tightly. You nodded in response to his guidance and braced yourself against him.

As he pushed in, the stretch was a strong yet delicious burn. The slick around your entrance was enough to allow him to slide in quickly, yet he took his time, allowing you to grow around him. Once he’d filled you up to the base, he groaned lightly, waiting patiently for the go-ahead to move.

Once you settled around him, you nodded eagerly. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers tightening into your flesh. Your lips parted at the motion. He ever so slowly began to move in and out of you, each stroke caressing some unknown spot deep within you.

“Fuck, Teddy,” you whispered, “I don’t know how long I can last.”

“Go as long as you can for me, baby…just want to feel you around me,” he grunted out. You glanced up through hissed lids to observe his gorgeous face and the fucked out impression painted on it.

The sweat dripped down the side of his face, trailing over his jawline and tracing his strong neck. His lips were swollen and parted delicately, with whispers of moans slipping through. His eyes were shut loosely. With every particularly deep thrust, you’d clench around him, and his eyelids would part, showcasing his sea-misted eyes rolling back as far as they’d go.

The sight of his pleasure was enough to push you over the edge into an ocean of ecstasy. You came hard around him, the last remains of your virtue spilling down between your thighs. Your back arched, your legs shook around him, your fingers gripped at nothing.

The feeling of your orgasm slammed into his chest. He cried out pitifully, a melodious whine parting the silence as the evidence of his finish coated your insides.

With a deep exhale, he eased himself out of you and collapsed beside you. You laughed breathlessly, the aftershocks of your orgasm flowing through you like a wave.

With a lazy smile on his face, he leaned forward and reached over you. He lifted the lid of one of the baskets and pulled an extra folded quilt out. You laughed aloud at his preparedness.

“Knew you were gonna get fucked, is that it?” you teased.

“Actually, I figured we’d stargaze,” he admitted, sheepishly tossing the blanket over your bodies. “I brought it in case we got cold.”

“You’re adorable, Teddy,” you giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face couldn’t hide the love he was feeling for you.

He passed around the perfectly preserved food and pumpkin juice, ensuring you got a taste of each sweet and snack he’d brought along.

He then wrapped himself around you and reminded you ten times over why you’d fallen in love with him.

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil (if you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!)

#fanfiction #creative writing #writing #fanfic #harry potter #reader insert #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #gender neutral reader #request #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott smut

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heartkaji · 24 days

Text

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 ]

★ ── selfship event

❤︎ WHAT’S CAPTAIN CUPID ?!

hihi hello ! welcome to my selfship event where I, MARS, assign scenarios & headcannons to your selfships !

❤︎ HOW DOES THIS WORK ?!

easy ! all you have to do is send me an ask describing you (or your oc’s) personality ! it’s similar to a matchup event except you’ll specify what character you’re being shipped with. my job as cupid will be to assign a dynamic & scenarios based on you & your fictional other’s personality !

you’ll select a maximum of three questions ( or four for moots ) you’d like me to answer about your selfship, and i’ll do my best to answer based on my idea of what your relationship would be like !

❤︎ WHO CAN I BE SHIPPED WITH ?!

your fictional other should be a character from wind breaker, haikyuu, mha or blue lock only.

note that all characters will be written as adults (18+) by default (everything is still sfw !)

only one f/o per person

❤︎ ANYTHING ELSE, CAPTAIN ?

here are some guidelines when requesting :

anyone is free to join ! you don’t have to be a follower or mutual to take part.

on that note, all scenarios & hcs will be sfw or at best lightly suggestive, so everyone of all ages is free to join

you can send your requests on or off anon. i recommend sending it off so you’ll be notified, but it’s all up to you ! edit : if requesting on anon, feel free to assign yourself a name or emoji !

don’t be shy ! i feel like a lot of self shippers are shy when talking about their self ships because they may feel cringy or embarrassed. trust me i’m not judgy at all. i love reading selfship posts so describe yourself or your oc in as much detail as possible !

❤︎ PICK A QUESTION, ANY QUESTION !

note that before answering questions, i will provide a description of what dynamic i think your selfship would have !

if using an oc, please provide their name !

starred questions (*) have potential to receive slightly suggestive answers

remember you can only pick a maximum of three while moots pick four !

how did you first meet ?

who confessed & how ?

who fell first & who fell harder ?

first date ?

what do others (ex: parents/friends) think of your relationship ?

toxic things they do ?

toxic things you do ?

what do you often fight over ?

why/how did you break up ?

at what moment did they fall in love ?

at what moment did you fall in love ?

what do they not like about you ?

what do you not like about them ?

what do they love most about you ?

what do you love most about him ?

how was your first kiss like ?*

their favorite activity to do with you ?

their green flags in your relationship ?

how did they propose ?

what’s having a family with them like ?

❤︎ HOW TO REQUEST ?

to participate, you must first reblog this post then send me an ask following this template. starred (*) questions are optional. any requests that do not follow instructions will be deleted !

pronouns

*gender + any relevant information regarding gender identity (ex : perhaps you don’t wear certain clothing, or use she/her pronouns but prefer to be treated as male. this is to avoid me making you uncomfortable in descriptions

*sexuality (if unanswered, i will assume you are attracted only to the same gender as your f/o)

f/o + their fandom (refer to list of accepted fandoms)

what questions you want me to answer (3 or 4 max)

a description of you/your OC’s personality

*a description of you or your OC’s appearance (this is to make more specific & personal hcs, ex: them loving you/your OC’s freckles)

your perception of your f/o. everyone has different perspectives on different characters; so i’d like to see your f/o through your eyes in order to make more accurate hcs !

that’s all ! please remember i can only take a limited number of requests. i can’t guarantee requests will be answered on a first come first serve basis, but i recommend requesting as soon as possible ! when requests are closed, the prompt below will go from “start” to “end !”

TAGGING : @kaiser1ns @seneon @seumyo @caelivir @y2kuromi @17020 @megutime @bloodswrd

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 ]

end.

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weirdsht · 2 months

Note

cale with an s/o that's mothers so hard (coos at the averaging 9 year olds, bakes/cooks for the knights, plays and trains with the wolf children) – absolutely soft for kids, loves cuddling the children and cooking for them^^

Biased Concern - Cale/Reader

notes: I combined 2 asks because the premise was similar

tags: fluff, no gender specified for reader, novel spoilers (war)

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

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another anon said: omg!! regarding the small preview you posted,, like there's the part in the novel where on and hong are in the eastern part with Ron and Beacorx while Cale has 3 days to live and smth smth + Raon going through his first growth phase (I don't really remember) so his s/o is in despair bc of the situation and they're like– ONE OF MY BABIES IS SICK AND ONE IS DYING AND THE OTHER 2 I DONT EVEN KNIW WHAT THEYRE DOING WAHHH 😔😔 that's all bye ✊️

Things are hectic. War is ongoing. Everyone is on their toes. Commander Cale Henituse is nowhere to be seen. Roan Kingdom’s Crown Prince Alberu Crossman is in a state of shock.

In short, things are chaotic.

However, it doesn’t look like that on the outside as most don’t have an idea what’s going on. Only very trusted people know just how everything is on the verge of being in shambles.

“I’m sure you were shocked your highness. Please forgive him. He has this terrible habit of throwing fast ones at random times.”

That was the first thing you said to Alberu as you entered his tent. The golden-haired man was already busy as it was. Now he has to cover and fill up Cale’s missing presence.

“I think I’m getting used to it now.”

You let out a short laugh at his response. Alberu said it with a nonchalant tone however his face conveys just how much of a headache Cale brings him. But it wouldn’t be Cale if he didn’t bring a headache.

“At least eat while you work your highness.”

Pushing the cart closer to where the crown prince is, you presented the foods cooked for today. On the plate, there’s a medium rare steak paired with some vegetables like asparagus, mashed potatoes, and others. It’s a simple meal, but it has all the nutrients and protein one would need.

“Did you help cook this? You were fighting earlier you should’ve just rested.”

“It's not a bother at all Your Highness. Seeing everyone energetic is enough to make me energized as well.”

You smiled at Alberu as he started eating. Humming in approval at your cooking.

“When are you going to visit Cale?”

Alberu stopped eating for a second to ask you a second. You stayed silent at his question, deeply pondering about it.

On one hand, you wanted to visit him and check how the children and he is doing. On the other hand, you are still needed in the Gorge of Death. Especially since the others are gone. Your complicated thoughts did not go unnoticed by the quarter elf. He can easily tell just how worried you are for your significant other but also thinking of your responsibilities.

“Just go.”

“But Your Highness as Cale’s Deputy Commander–”

“Are you going against the word of the crown?”

That made you shut up. However, you were still hesitant. Cale’s absence already puts so much on Alberu’s plate. His responsibilities will overflow if you go away too.

“It’ll be fine. Just make sure to come back quickly. While you’re at it tell that punk to get well fast too.”

Alberu waved his hands. Telling you to go now, leaving no room for argument.

“I… Thank you, your highness.”

Soon enough you are inside Hope and Adventure Loving Inn. Specifically, you were inside Beacrox’s kitchen making sweet treats for everyone.

Just outside the kitchen the staff, the previous mountain bandits, are whispering among themselves. They’ve never seen anyone freely enter the chef’s territory so this is a shock for everyone.

“Thanks for letting me bake Beacrox! Take this portion and share it among yourself and the other staff.”

You smiled at the tall man with him only responding with a bow of gratitude. As you go out of the kitchen you see everyone acting a bit weird. It was so obvious they were trying to look busy while eavesdropping. One of them was even feather-dusting another employee’s face.

“You’re here nya!”

“We missed you nya!”

On and Hong greeted you respectively as Ron guided you upstairs. Indeed, you haven’t seen them since the opening of the inn. You said you were going to visit but things got delayed because of everything that happened.

“I missed you too. Now go share this among yourselves. Make sure to leave some for your youngest brother.”

You hugged the two for a bit before asking Ron to show you where Cale was. As he showed you the way you reluctantly let the two children go. Promising to play with them more later.

“I must warn you. The sight inside is unsightly.”

The servant warned you before opening the door. Sure enough, it was. The first thing that caught your attention was the foul stench of blood.

Speaking of blood, Cale was super bloody. He keeps vomiting blood like a water pipe with a leak.

“Oh my…”

You unconsciously said. The two heads lying on the bed turn to you. With Raon’s expression brightening up.

“You visited!”

“Well, I did promise to visit your siblings.”

Smiling, you welcomed the toddler into a warm embrace. Behind you, Ron excused himself to give the three of you privacy.

Cough!

A certain redhead deliberately coughed out blood louder than before. Clearly unsatisfied at you saying that you came to visit the children.

“Of course, I came to visit you too.”

You laughed, walking towards the bed to give your significant other a kiss on the forehead. The bed dips as you sit down on it, with Raon still in your arms.

“I take it that you successfully got the water ancient power? All this blood must be from your plate fixing itself then.”

One of your hands was stroking Cale’s hand while the other one fed Raon the singular cookie you had brought with you inside the room.

Cale’s eyes looked at you. Probably examining if you were hurt somewhere while being away from him. He then frowned as he saw you feeding the chubby dragon. Your gaze travels to where he seems to be looking and the jealousy makes you laugh.

“Yes, I made it. Yes, there’s still some left. Yes, I already prepared some greasy food to cook so you eat later after you’re well. No, I will not stop feeding Raon. Don’t be greedy, you already have most of my attention.”

The commander’s frown etched deeper in his face as you said the last part. His gaze seems to be asking you if you’re really concerned about his well-being.

“Of course I am.”

You chuckled.

“I wouldn’t left the Gorge of Death if I wasn’t silly.”

Pushing his hair back a little, you gave his forehead another kiss. Reassuring him that you didn’t just go for the children.

Later on, when Cale was feeling much better he asked you if you only got together with him so that the kids would favour you.

“Silly man, I don’t need to be with you for the kids to love me.”

“That’s right nya!”

“Certainly nya.”

“I’ll like my human’s human even if you aren’t together!”

The defeated Cale could only click his tongue in annoyance.

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heegyukeluv · 1 month

Text

tangled (enha's hyung line)

enha's hyung line when... the reader has curly hair.

pairing: hyung line x reader (i THINK i did a gender neutral reader)

my's note: had this idea on my mind for a while. hope you like it! <3

warnings: skinship, kissing, fluff, reader has curly hair (type of curls not specified). i think that's all!!

wc (total): 1k

NOT PROOFREAD.

Heeseung

Heeseung would learn how to help you to style your hair.

Heeseung always loved to watch you working on your hair. Your focused expression on the mirror singing along to the music playing while using your fingers to curl one by one of your strands, then throwing all forward to scrunch it in order to make it loosen up. So gorgeous.

The smell of your hair products mixed with your own inebriated his senses for good, making him want to kiss all your pretty face. However, he knew that you hadn't finished yet.

Noticing you wiggling your shoulders and arms as if it was hurting, Heeseung stepped up quickly before you could continue.

“Darling, let me help you with that,” he said, approaching you and taking the dryer out of your hands. “Tell me if I do something wrong, yeah?”

And then he proceeded to help you to blow dry your hair, doing all the work for you with you guiding him, giggles filling the room because of how cute he looked, all concentrated on not burning your scalp. By seeing you doing it all the time, he tried his best to learn how to give you the assist you needed, so you felt really glad to have him.

“Thank you so much, Hee. You’re so sweet,” you said with a small pout, turning at him to kiss his lips.

“And you’re so cute,” he squished your cheeks to peck your lips, fonder eyes blinking lovingly at you. “Please, let me always help you, ok?”

. ✦ . ⁺ . ☽ ∙ ☾ . ⁺ . ✦ .

Jay

Jay would buy you every curly hair product.

Anywhere he went, if he spotted a specific curly hair product he would facetime to ask you if you wanted it. Most of the time you would decline because he already brought you tons of products – to the point where your vanity was full and you had not finished testing everything yet.

“But it’s said here that it's good for nutrition. You don’t have one for nutrition, do you, angel?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“Actually I do, Jay,” you giggled, loving how committed your boyfriend was with your hair care. “You got me one last month.”

“Should I get you another, then? It’s been a month alrea–”

“Jay. No. I have too much product in my house, please,” you pleaded with a gentle voice.

“Are you su–”

“Totally, my love. Now, hurry home so we can cuddle.”

And he hung up almost instantly – of course, after saying that he loves you with all his heart –, because how would he deny such a sweet order?

However, when Jay showed up at your front door with an awkward smile you immediately squinted.

“Park Jongseong.” Your tone was serious in total disbelief, looking at the bag he handed you, full of products. Expensive products.

“I know, I know,” Jay said with a soft voice, hugging you by the waist to pull you closer. “You already have a lot. But it’s not like they’re going to expire, right? Also, you deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes, not really annoyed by his actions, just thinking they were unnecessary. But that was pretty much your boyfriend, spoiling you to the brim.

“Now, let’s go eat. I grabbed your favorite on my way here.”

. ✦ . ⁺ . ☽ ∙ ☾ . ⁺ . ✦ .

Jake

Jake would always compliment and understand you.

You once shared with him how you hated your looks when styling your hair, because in your opinion you only looked good after drying it.

But Jake managed to find you pretty at any time.

Whenever you two woke up together, your hair all messy, curls flattened and lifeless, or when you busied yourself working on a hairstyle to hide your “bad hair day”, or the moments you got off the shower, hair all slicked down still wet, Jake would always be giving you heart eyes.

You were sitting in your vanity chair, finishing braiding one piece of your hair for the new hairstyle you saw on tiktok and decided to try. Jake was laying down on the bed watching you with soft eyes, waiting for you to finish.

“You look so beautiful,” you heard him saying after you made a sound of frustration for not being able to do what was being taught in the video.

“I haven’t finished it, though,” you murmured, switching your attention from your phone to the mirror. You felt Jake’s hands on your shoulders, giving you a gentle massage.

“You’re always looking beautiful, sugar,” Jake smirked through the mirror. You blushed, frustration feeling long gone.

“I’m sorry for taking so long, I swear I’m already finishing!” You hurried to say, afraid of losing track of time and ruining Jake’s plan of taking you on a movie date.

“You’re fine, love,” he kissed your cheek, warm lips making you shiver a bit, reassuring you. “You have all the time in the world. The movies can wait. And I want you to feel as beautiful as you already are,” he offered you a tender, caring smile. “Take your time.”

. ✦ . ⁺ . ☽ ∙ ☾ . ⁺ . ✦ .

Sunghoon

Sunghoon would play with your curls, but with all the care in the world.

He knows how hard you work to keep your curls all pretty like that – and you also voiced out once about how annoying it is when people touch your hair without permission or caring if it’s making it messy.

So whenever you lay on Sunghoon's chest he would ask you if it was okay to touch you. Your hair tickling his face, your smell intoxicating his airlines, your soft breath on his skin, everything sending him into heaven.

His hand would always find comfort on your curls by gently patting it, sometimes scratching your scalp with the same delicacy, worrying about not making it frizzy, and even playing with the bigger curls that he could fit his finger on. From time to time, Sunghoon would also plant a tender kiss on the top of your head, complimenting how silky your hair feels.

“Babe, it’s so soft,” he said. You smiled, lids feeling heavy.

“If you keep doing that, I might actually fall asleep,” your voice sounded muffled against his neck, and then you heard him chuckling, his heartbeats calming you down even more.

“Go ahead. I’ll carry you to the bed after,” you were about to complain when he interrupted you. “And don’t worry, I’m capable of putting your sleep-hair-thingy on you.”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #enhypen drabbles #heeseung scenarios #jake scenarios #jay scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #heegyukeluv works

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ihrtsevyn · 8 months

Note

Can you please write something about Johnnie getting jealous🫶🏼

— JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY . . . 𖤐 | j.g x reader

synopsis small scenario + headcanons of johnnie being jealous !

warnings slightly aggressive behavior?, cursing, lowercase intended, no specific race/gender/age specified. use of gender neutral terms. reader is intoxicated in the scenario. talks of insecurity.

wc 1.3k

masterlist | main page <3

. . .

SCENARIO:

johnnie would like to think that he isn't a jealous person, but undeniably he is. there's not a worse feeling than seeing the person you love fawn over another.

the feeling that grows in his stomach is unsettling, it makes him want to throw up. do you always scrunch your nose up when you laugh? is this guys jokes really that funny? the way you throw your head back and let out a loud cackle makes it seem so, but johnnie fully believes you're putting on a show. johnnie's funny too. you would know if you weren't so busy cuddled up under...brian? brad? whatever his name is, it doesn't matter. that should be him.

jake had been talking johnnie's ear off for the past 15 minutes about a small brawl that happened between two girls, or was it two guys? johnnie couldn't remember, his eyes had been laser focused on you the entire evening, his ears only picking up bits and pieces of jake's story. the sight hurt him, truthfully. it really shouldn't have because you two weren't dating but he did believe there was something going on between you two. an unspoken mutual attraction.

"dude, you haven't blinked once in the past twenty minutes i've been talking to you." jake worriedly mentioned with raised eyebrows.

jake's small comment easily caught johnnie off-guard. he rubbed his eyes with his free hand before rapidly blinking. his taller friend was joking but it was comical to see the emo get red in the face from embarrassment.

"just go talk to them." jake muttered, following his friends gaze. "they're busy, can't you tell?" johnnie mumbled bitterly before finally tearing his eyes away from your form for the first time that night.

he looked down at the solo cup that he maintained a loose grip on, woefully swirling the alcohol in choppy motions. he couldn't even remember what he was drinking at that point. ever since he laid eyes on that familiar face it's all he's been thinking about. you. you. you.

as well as the fact that all of your attention was on some other guy when it should be him.

jake scoffed before taking a quick sip of his drink, head shaking in disappointment. "just go talk to her, i can't stand to see you looking like a kicked puppy all night."

he tapped johnnie's shoulder a few times before escaping off into another conversation.

johnnie's gaze followed jake's form until he was fully out of sight, turning his full attention back to you. what he didn't expect was for your eyes to already be settled on him, making him freeze in the spot.

you offered him a kind smile before waving him over. he hesitated in his steps before taking quick strides over to you. what happened to that guy you were talking to?

"hey." he quietly muttered with a tight lipped smile. "hey, are you enjoying the party?" you asked. from that sentence alone, johnnie quickly came to the conclusion that you were fucked up. your smile was wide and blissful, eyes glossy and spaced out, not to mention the drunken drawl in your voice.

"sure, are..are you okay?" johnnie asked, a worried tilt in his voice. you nodded your head with closed eyes. the way your head lolled to the side and the cheshire grin on your face made johnnie think that you weren't fully aware of how drunk you had gotten.

"have you met my new friend brandon? he just went to go make us some more drinks. but he's so funny, i swear you'll love him." your pronunciation of words was all over the place and you could barely keep your eyes from closing.

oh, right. brandon was his name. johnnie rolled his eyes at the simple mention of the man before sighing and taking the seat next to you. even with your dazed state you could see the clear annoyance on his face. "i think it's time we get you home, hm?" johnnie muttered, eyes softening at your doe eyed stare.

"you don't like him, do you?" you asked quietly, completely ignoring johnnie's last statement. his eyebrows furrowed at your comment, slightly caught off guard by your question. "what? what do you mean? who don't i like?"

"brandon. you've been staring knives at us the whole time we've been talking."

shit. you saw him? "i-i dont even know the guy enough to hate him." johnnie nervously croaked out, his smile fell weak as he avoided your gaze.

"if i didn't know any better id say...you're jealous." you muttered, a sly smile growing on your lips. "what? no! come on, let's get you home, you're talking nonsense."

"don't you wanna wait for brandon?" you asked looking up at him as he grabbed your arm, pulling you up. "no." he immediately answered with slightly widened eyes.

you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your mouth as you leaned into him for support. "you're definitely jealous." you quietly stated another muted laugh following after.

. . .

HEADCANONS:

he gets quieter. johnnie himself isn't the loudest most out-spoken person but when shuffles to the side and stops inserting himself in certain conversations, you'll know something's wrong.

becomes passive aggressive. he doesn't really mean to, it just comes naturally. the person that you seem to take a liking to makes a joke at someones expense and johnnie will find a way to turn it back on them. adding in snippy comments whenever they talk open their mouth and scoffing in disbelief when you laugh at one of their corny jokes.

tries to act unbothered. he'll force a smile and shrug his shoulders if someone asks him if he's okay. his responses are curt and have a monotonous tone, his voice straining sometimes as he forces out an "i'm good." he thinks he looks cool and unbothered when in his jealous state but instead he looks spaced out and miserable. it's very noticeable how frigid his posture becomes, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he stares daggers at whoever is taking up too much of your time.

overthinks. johnnie has been hurt before and he doesn't want it to happen again. his mind starts to go to a dark place and insecurities start to rise to the surface. he hates feeling this way so once he realizes these harmful thoughts are starting to come back he won't hesitate to voice his thoughts to you. you mean a lot to him and he'd hate for your relationship to go off of the rails because of a lack of trust or because of an insecurity that's been uprooted.

will isolate himself. if he's feeling jealous to the point of anger then he'll outwardly avoid you until he cools down. he goes to the quietest place available and is just alone with his thoughts, which isn't the best idea when he's starting to lose confidence in the role of being your boyfriend.

seeks comfort. in all honesty johnnie doesn't get jealous that easily, it's a rare thing. but when it does happen it's kind of hard to pull him out of that self-deprecating headspace. he won't outright ask for your comfort but as you build your relationship and notice his habits, it's easy to realize when he's in need of some reassurance.

he'll become a fidgety and nervous mess. his thoughts becoming more clouded and loud as time went on. half of his thoughts are telling him to grow a pair and the other half are worriedly expressing their concerns about the state of your relationship. he really just needs to hear you say that he's all you want/need.

once he gets that reassurance that he's the love of your life accompanied with an unwavering confidence from you, he starts to feel all better. even a bit cocky when he hears how you fawn over him. his once congested thoughts become clear of any and all doubt and he's suddenly smiling from ear to ear. he realizes how stupid it was to feel any type of jealousy when it's clear that the love you share for each other is equal.

. . .

thank you sm for the request! i really enjoy writing for johnnie lol. hope you guys like it <3 :)

requests are still open if you guys have any ideas :)

#johnnie guilbert headcanons #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert imagine #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert scenarios #johnnie guilbert

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noyasmashing · 6 months

Note

hear me out... noya gets dommed by his partner who is SOMEHOW shorter than him. (bonus points if he booked them a love hotel. like they spent the whole day traveling and sightseeing in tokyo only for his partner to find out his horny ass booked them a love hotel for the night.)

oh anon, as someone who is 4’11, I LOVE this idea. also my first time writing more than just a hand/blow job so sorry if it’s bad 😓

I’ll try to leave this gn reader since you didn’t specify gender! mentions of the readers “cock” but can be interpreted as a strap! (plz keep the requests coming i need more motivation)

You and Nishinoya had been dating for a year now, and he was eager to escape the rural area of Miyagi prefecture and explore new sights with you.

So, when you suggested spending a night in Tokyo and booking a hotel, he was thrilled! He insisted on handling the hotel booking to spare you the stress, but of course, there was another reason behind his eagerness.

After taking the bus to Tokyo, you spent the day wandering in and out of charming shops, picking up souvenirs and trinkets that matched your unique interests.

As the night drew to a close, you and Nishinoya enjoyed a romantic candlelit dinner, feeling content and ready to unwind in the comfort of a hotel bed.

As you hailed a taxi, Nishinoya quietly directed the driver to a specific location, causing the driver to chuckle. You eyed Noya suspiciously, but he avoided your piercing gaze, pretending to look around with curiosity.

The beat-up car halted to a stop in front of a rather sleek hotel, its planters and greenery framing the modern exterior. The streetlights illuminated the taxi as the two of you stepped out, carrying your overnight bags.

"Yu? What is this," you asked suspiciously, placing a hand on your hip, catching onto the situation at hand. He swallowed nervously, looking down at you.

"I-I... well, [name], I just wanted to spend a romantic night with you," he confessed, hoping to soften your reaction. To his slight surprise, you replied with a smirk as the two of you ducked into the discreet entrance.

Less than ten minutes later, you had him pinned against the door of your room, his hands clutching your shirt as he nervously looked down at you.

"Did you book this so you can be as loud as you want?" you asked in a seductive voice that made his knees buckle. Instead of replying, he half nodded, embarrassed at his own reasoning.

Without hesitation, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Noya responded eagerly, by moving his body closer to yours, practically climbing on top of you.

You pulled away way with a trail of saliva following, “You’ll be excited to see what I brought.” You told him mischievously.

Walking over to your bag with him trailing behind, you pulled out a bottle of lube and his favorite toy. His reaction was adorable with his face flushing red in surprise letting out a small whimper.

With a breathy, "Please," He moved closer to you once again. You couldn't help but let out a sadistic giggle at his reaction.

"Wow, are you already begging?" you teased playfully, holding the bottle of lube and toy in your hands.

Noya's embarrassment turned into anticipation as he watched you with eager eyes. "I-I just... I want tonight to be special," he stammered, his voice betraying a mix of desire and nervousness.

You smiled, appreciating his vulnerability and enthusiasm. "It will be," you assured him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before moving to his ear, "I’m going to ruin you.”

You led Noya further into the room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light. The ambiance was perfect for what you had in mind, and Noya's bashfulness only fueled your desire further.

His spiky hair was now tousled as he lay on the heart-shaped pillow atop the circular bed that you both would be sharing for the night.

At this point, he wore merely a shirt, and his well-defined thighs were widely apart, exposing his cock, that oh-so desperately wanted attention. You chuckled at his vulnerable position, comfortably seated between his exposed legs, exclusively for your amusement. His faint "be quiet" response elicited a gentle coo from you.

He exhaled a surprised gasp as your two fingers, coated with the cold lubricant, gently penetrated his tight hole.

“N-not so fast [name]… we have all night after all.” He reasoned with a shakily voice, fearing he might reach climax too soon if you were too hasty.

"You won't be able to think straight once I'm through with you," you retorted sharply. A hint of disbelief was present in your tone, as you questioned, "Did you truly believe you could secretly book a love hotel without me finding out?" Your fingers, now more assertive, continued their rhythmic movements within him.

He instinctively tried to close his thighs, an attempt to escape the intense stimulation. However, you were swift in preventing that, maintaining control. His response was a feeble, " 'm sorry, please... slow down, slow down or I'll-" His words were cut off as a wave of pleasure overtook him, causing the white liquid to leak from his poor cock onto his abdomen.

"Hmm, already cumming without my permission?" you inquired, detaching your fingers from his sensitive area, drawing a whine from him. Before he could utter an apology, you replaced your fingers with your member, silencing his words with a moan of pleasure.

His hands clung to your shoulder, his voice filled with desperation as you continued your relentless pace. "Too much, it's too much!" he cried, his back arched as you skillfully hit his prostate. Despite the exhaustion in your thighs, you continued your harsh pace not giving him a break.

He could sense tears forming on his eyelashes, an almost unbearable sensation accompanied by intense heat. His inner world was being invaded, as each thrust triggered his prostate.

You grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. In your view, it was a breathtaking sight. His eyes struggled to stay open, tears brimming, lower lip caught between his teeth. His legs twitched, hands tightly grasping the sheet. Oh, what a stunning spectacle it was. You couldn’t resist degrading him once more, “How is it that you tower over me, but right now you look so small?”

Leaning into your teasing words, he nodded, moans dripping from his lips as saliva filled his mouth, his mind not processing anything but pleasure.

You gripped his soft thighs and lifted them, transitioning to a missionary position. He felt the increase in your rhythm, his breath catching as he exclaimed, "Ah- gonna cum!"

However, just as he reached the brink, you abruptly pulled out, leaving him feeling empty as hot tears poured down his cheeks. He cried out a pathetic “noo”, his flushed erection twitching in disappointment.

"You can't expect me to do all the work. Why don't you ride me for a bit, yeah?" you directed in a husky tone, acknowledging the long night ahead.

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quinloki · 4 months

Text

Birthday Request Event v2024

Alright let's start off with the primary points:

1 - You do NOT have to give to get.

2 - You do not have to get to give.

3 - Read everything, there's quite a few moving parts =D

Things You Can Do During This Event:

1 - Request a story from me (see the end of the post for the format!)

2 - You can give me a gift! (see "Gifting Quin" below!)

3 - Reblog this post to be entered into a raffle!

Details below the cut!

Raffle Prizes!

-:- 1,000 words of anything you want (within reason) - can be a one-shot, can be a demand for a specific title (make me work on that title you've been dying to read more of). Just has to be One Piece related.

-:- OC Cameo - I'll plunk your OC/self-insert into a story (that is not the Host Club AU ^^; )

-:- I'll draw something for you \o/ I'm not great, but hey, free art xD

Gifting Quin!

❤️ - Pin 5$ to my shirt - it's a local-ish birthday tradition.

❤️ - Share one of my stories and leave a comment \o/ You can do this whenever, but it really makes my day, so have at!

❤️ - Gift me a story, or some art 😳🥰

Ideas (please do NOT send me saucy stuff on anon or if you're under 18):

1 - Draw a scene from any of the stories you've liked! 2 - Draw Quill - by themself, or with you and/or your OC, or a One Piece character \o/ Quill can be a boy, girl, or whatever mix tickles your fancy. Have fun =D 3 - Draw what you see when you think of "Reader" for any given story. 4 - Re-write a scene for a story =O How would you tell me that scene? 5 - Write me a one-shot using the prompts below 😇 6 - Free form a ficlet, drabble, head canon, series of bullet points with ANY anime character and either a "Reader" or Quill =3 Spread your wings beyond One Piece (Wind Breaker, YYH, FMA, MHA, Habin hotel, etc - go wild 🥰)

Feel free to ask me ANYTHING if you're unsure of something

Birthday Bash Requests \o/

Finally, the part you've all been waiting for XD

*** Anon Requests Will be SFW only ***

-:- Give me some reader vibes as applicable (gender/height vibes) -:- Give me a blorbo (or blorbos) - One Piece only please ❤️ -:- Pick something from each of the lists below and then submit your ask! (any items not specified in the ask will be my choice 😇 cause it's my birthday celebration XD )

Pick 1 Vibe: SFW SFW dark SFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW Consensual NSFW dubcon/dark NSFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW noncon Writer's Choice (please include squicks if you pick dark or dub/non con options)

Pick 1 AU: Canon Universe Mafia AU Fantasy AU Cowboy AU Government Mandated Marriage AU Soul Mates AU Modern AU Hallmark AU Mythical Creatures AU Vampire AU Coffee Shop AU A/B/O AU Monster AU (you can say what kind of monster you prefer) BDSM AU Host Club AU Grandline Metro AU (Quicksand, A Light Touch, Heart of Gold, Thrice Prophesized are set in this AU) Writer's Choice (spin that wheel!)

Pick 1 Prompt: Angst / Bad End Aphrodisiac - sex pollen, drugged food, struck by needle, devil fruit Bath/Shower/hotspring Body writing (icing, ink, blood, etc.) Caught in the Act Contractually Obligated Creature x Human Date / First date Dungeon Erotically charged fight Experienced w/virgin Forced Proximity - box, flight, cell, bondage, get-a-long shirt Friend’s hot older sibling Fuck or die Lazy morning sex Long-Term Established Relationship Only One Bed Outside Pliant When Horny Role-play Roughed Up Size Difference (I write this a lot, but I do love it.) Soft/Comfort Sugar daddy/mama The hat rule They were… coworkers/neighbors/etc. Trapped in a Room Trying Again (exes getting back together) Unresolved sexual tension Wounded Writer's Choice

***Requests will be accepted from 6/1 - 7/10 - and posted from 6/1 - 7/31***

Gifts are accepted from 6/1 until whenever \o/ Don't feel pressured to get them in by 7/20 🥰

#birthday request event 2024 #june-july event

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gayafsowhat · 2 months

Text

ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTS AND OTHER BENTS!!! I am here to ask for fic prompts and suggestions!

I want to practice writing shorter and mostly complete stories + romance so what better way to do that than fanfic amirite?

So if you have any prompts and suggestions for these ships.....

- Red x Chloe

- Red x reader

- Chloe x Reader

- Red x Chloe x reader

- Bridget x Reader

- Evie x Reader

+ Uma, Mal or anyone else you think of (just the ones specifically listed are on my hyperfixation list so I'll be more interested in them)

Please send em in an ask!!

Also note that unless you specify gender I'll try to use they/them or she/her depending on my mood 💖

💕✨You can find my Wip list here ✨💕

I'm also open to others but I don't really want to write for men rn! Especially since there is SO MUCH hook related stuff in my feed whenever I go looking for fics so please no reqs for guys my beloveds <33

I'm tentative on smut reqs (but will take them) but I can definitely do spice ✨

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pomefioredove · 5 months

Note

hi hi there! I'm not sure if I'm doing this correctly, but can I request vil comforting the reader through a breakup? (totally not self indulgent comfort) I love your writing so much and you write vil so well. Thank you!

anon this isn't related to any exes but I have a bunch of highly specific reaction images in my gallery to use when I describe a person (usually a man) I personally think vil schoenheit would hate

summary: vil has always hated your ex type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: implied romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, hurt/comfort

There are very few things Vil Schoenheit is ever wrong about.

Even when he wants to be.

There are a million and one ways he could have said I told you so.

He might have even given himself a little pat on the back if the timing was better, but this was about you, not him and his excellent judge of character.

He never liked that person.

Thus, when you had turned up at his door not too long ago, looking like a kicked puppy, that was his very first guess.

And now, he dabs at the corners of your eyes with a silk handkerchief, trying to salvage the lovely makeup look he'd recommended earlier while you talk.

Another cascade of tears fall down your cheeks as you describe the nature of the emergency. He winces.

"Oh, dear. Please tell me you dumped them,"

You shake your head.

One part of Vil is aghast. The other is offended. Not only on your behalf, but at the simple fact that anyone could break up with someone he held in such high regard.

Are they ignorant? Stupid?

How could anyone be so foolish as to let you get away...?

"It's for the better," Vil says, tilting your chin up to prevent any more tears from falling down your pretty cheeks.

You sniffle. "I know you never liked them, but..."

"This isn't about that," he says it plainly, even though it's half a lie. "This is about the fact that you had ever entertained such a character. They're not worth a second of your time, do you hear me?"

You're quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond to his sudden attempt at boosting your confidence.

"It's just complicated,"

"Relationships tend to be. Hold still for me, dear," he picks a stray eyelash off your cheek.

Vil doesn't believe in things like wishing on eyelashes, but even as he blows it off the tip of his finger, he's thinking of you.

"You will survive," he turns back to you, smiling slightly. "Even with your terrible taste in partners."

"If you had it your way, you'd interview every person I liked,"

He rolls his eyes. "Tsk. You say that like it's a bad thing,"

Even now, you can't help a small, weak laugh. There was something rather impressive about the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

The same thought seems to occur to him, and he smiles, delicately wiping away another tear with the tip of his finger.

"I just don't think I'll meet anyone up to the Vil standard,"

"Good thing you don't have to," he smiles, almost teasingly. "I'm right here, after all."

Another eyelash is wiped away along with the tear, though this time, as he blows it away, he makes a wish.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued #(I wish twst had its en release when I was going through my last breakup I just know vil would have saved me)

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

Note

Omg hello fellow lumine main!

I don't know if you watched the recent Xiao teaser but i got inspired by it so if it's okay with you can you write an angsty scenario about this:

After fighting with the "evil" Xiao, Xiao feels extremely tired and after walking for a while he bumps into you in a deserted field he then confuses/ hallucinates as if you are his evil self so he starts choking you(?) tries to attack you(?) And no matter what you say your words doesn't reach his ears and he snaps out of it only when Zhongli calls his name when he happened to be passing by

Hope this is not too specific! Feel free to change any part that you don't like and it could end with whatever genre you want whether it's angst or angst with fluff!! Thank you and please ignore this if you don't feel like writing it<33

✿ 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙖 ✿

characters: xiao x nb!reader

warnings: angst, slight spoilers to xiao’s backstory, hurt/no comfort, fighting, descriptions of blood and canon violence, confession, big ouchies, major character death

notes: just wanna add that the reader doesn’t have a vision! since you didn’t specify the reader’s gender, i went with the “you” pronouns thing. also hiii❗️fellow lumine main❗️(ps: i wanted it to be different but my mitski’s playlist hurt me)

karmic debt is something that all yakshas bear in their lifetime until their timely demise. it is a collection of their evil deeds, of slaying demons, of taking the life of a corrupted being. of tainting one’s hand with blood whether that blood was already tainted or not.

out of five yakshas that guarded liyue and kept the land of any evil, three had died. minds corrupted by their own karmic debts, hearts shattered by the ones they once used to call a family, bodies torn apart, leaving behind only ashes with nothing to bury and reminisce about in the future. while one had disappeared without a trace.

out of five, only one remains.

and that one would sooner or later fall into his own karmic debt as well. it was only a matter of time. however, there was a small glimmer of hope in the yaksha’s tainted heart. a small glimmer in the shape of you.

sweet, loving you in all your glory who first met the legend of a being when he protected you from a mitachurl. kind, gentle you who thanked him later at the wangshu inn with a plate of hand-made almond tofu with a small offering at the side. thoughtful you who kept appearing every once in a while at the balcony, talking out loud to him about your day, your latest travels and business trades, knowing full well he was listening.

passionate you who gleefully accepted him with open arms when he first decided to sit beside you to hear about your day. understanding you who kept your distance when he warned you of his karmic debt, respectful of his wishes.

and the idiotic clumsy you who would sometimes trip over on the way up the stairs. who would smile at him with the same smile, calling out his name with a scratched hand or forehead. who would brush it off as something small and mediocre.

but the yaksha hated that you would always say your injuries are mediocre and “nothing to worry about”.

of course he would worry. you were one of the few people in his life that he held dear in his heart. one of the few who accepted him, karmic debt, dirty hands, tainted heart and all. the only one… he ended up falling in love with.

“if one day, this karmic debt that binds my soul becomes too much and i no longer can tell the difference between friend or a foe, call upon mister zhongli or the traveler. they’ll get rid of me before i can harm anyone” was something that the lonely yaksha would remind you often.

“it’s fine. that won’t ever happen” you would console him, hands weaving a flower crown together from the qingxin flowers he picked up for you.

“because i’ll be there to knock some sense into you” was your sweet promise as you would place the flower crown atop his head with a smile.

he always found it meaningless that you would weave the flowers into something as useless as a flower crown. but he couldn’t bring himself to ever take it off or throw it away, even after the flowers have dried up and he would pick up the fallen petals, storing them in a glass. he loved how even in death, without nourishments, the petals would continue to keep their beauty.

perhaps that’s why he always brought you flower bouquets back. ones made from random flowers. sweet flowers, glaze lilies, qingxin, silk flowers — he always brings back a flower for you whenever you visit. and on certain days when he feels an odd emotion gripping his heart, unable to tear his gaze away from you as you look at the setting sun, his gloved hand would slowly reach out, tucking one of the flowers behind your ear.

“pretty…” the lonely immortal would whisper without notice. only when you glance at him with a smile, would the yaksha realize what he had done, turn beet red and teleport away. too shy to confront his feelings, too conflicted to stay beside you, too afraid of your mortality.

there are so many times when xiao fears for your mortality.

the times when he feels his karma gripping his heart. hand clutching his jade spear tight to the point he fears he would break the weapon. blurry figures in his sight, muffled voices in his ears, an annoying high pitched ringing in his head.

it was just supposed to be another night. another night of keeping liyue safe. another night of banishing demons and abyss mages, mitachurls, what nots.

and yet it drained him so greatly. when was the last time he had ever felt this exhausted? down right almost collapsing right then and there in the fields of liyue? muscles straining, dragging his feet, vision blurry — the yaksha was exhausted.

amidst the chaos of the voices screeching in his head, demanding more blood, more death and sacrifices, xiao finds himself staring back at a familiar mask. his own mask. himself. or what kind of a twisted joke of himself it was.

their speed was evenly matched. spear swings and thrusts sharp, aimed at his weakest parts, the same feeling of adrenaline pumping as he fights against his own self. with some sort of blind luck or fate, the yaksha manages to make his other self kneel. a single plummet of his jade spear to the heart was all it took for the illusion to disappear.

this was a tiring night. xiao just wanted to go back to wangshu inn and collapse in your arms. you always had a soothing presence that quelled the karma in him.

“xiao?” a voice sounds from behind him. turning back to look at the person who spoke the immortal’s name, he finds himself growing enraged. another look alike of himself.

this was getting tiring.

and yet when the yaksha slipped on his mask and attacked, something was weird. this illusion was slower, weaker, never attacking back and he would almost daresay, felt wrong to fight against.

it didn’t took long for the seasoned fighter to leave a nasty cut on the illusion’s side, almost plunging his spear through their ribcage. he’d just have to try a bit harder then.

xiao wanted nothing more than to go back to you. to feel your arms around him. to feel your hands run through his hair, rambling on about your day or just simply choosing to stay quiet. either way, the lonely immortal loved it. he wanted to go back to you. to your loving embrace. sweet smiles. little nods when he whispered about somethings he wanted.

xiao just wanted to be with you.

just your presence alone was enough for him. he would savor the warmth your skin excludes as he sits beside you on the balcony. cherish every little moment you would spend with him. treasure the small gifts and the almond tofu you would make for him.

and yet why was it that such a familiar hand was touching his own gloved one when he finally drove his jade spear through the illusion’s chest.

it was only then the illuminated bird noticed.

there was no second ‘illusion’. there was no need to fight against the voice that called out to him. for it was you. for it was the one person he cherished the most. for it was his beloved that was now bleeding out, blood tainting the tips of his spear, warm hand covering his own gloved one. warmth that was so quickly fading away.

his beloved… that he killed.

taking his spear out, xiao moved quickly to catch your falling body. the warmth that your hug gives him, the comfort he feels now being replaced by the warmth of your blood.

“no. no no no no, h-hang on. i’ll get you to liyue harbor” what was he saying? it was no use. he had already pierced your heart straight through, there was no hope for you. but xiao wanted there to be one. xiao wanted you to stay alive so he can confess to you. xiao wanted you to live, wanted to taste your hand made almond tofu again, wanted to put flowers in your hair.

xiao wanted to spend his tomorrows with you.

“don’t. we both know i won’t make it” your voice calls out. weak, hoarse, tired. you were bleeding. eyes dull, losing life, losing it’s shine. you were dying and it was all his fault.

“please… please don’t go” the yaksha didn’t knew he was crying until his tears landed on your face. even when bleeding out, even when dying, you still smiled. and by the archons, you were still beautiful even as you lay dying in his arms.

“please don’t go. i love you too much to let you go…” the yaksha sniffled, sobs coming out as he holds you in his arms.

it was just like how you two would lay on the rooftops of wangshu inn. watching the stars, the cloud move by, pointing out the shapes as you two enjoy each other’s presence.

except the warmth that came from your body was now the warmth of your blood gushing out, staining his clothes. the smile you used to give him now dead, stoic, almost like a puppet’s forced smile. the bright shine of life that was once in your perfect [color], dull like a matted blood.

“i wanted to spend my tomorrows with you…”

#nobu.writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #xiao x reader #xiao x reader angst #xiao angst #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #and yes i quoted trigun

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phinkslave · 2 months

Note

haii , may I request yandere!sukuna X gender-neutral reader with the prompt 30 and 34 ? :3 -🎀

No Where to go

30. “I’m bigger, faster, stronger, do you really wanna do this right now?”

34. “Watch your tone.”

Okay guys i think im getting the hang of tumblr, once again any feedback is appreciated 💞. btw requests like this is fine ofcc, but i hope that in future requests, if you guys could please be a bit more specific, like idk if you want smut in this fic or not n so on so forgive me 😓💔. but anyway enjoyyy. (this writing stuff is lwk so hard)

warnings: detailed violence, described gore, implied oral sex, (yandere?) sukuna, degrading, language

Sukuna, The King of Curses, was also known as a heartless king. Mainly known for showing no mercy, killing without a second thought, no remorse or regret ever seen in his eyes. Choosing people to be his slave, choosing people to work for him, to slave around for him. Everyday these people would be killed, no one would be spared. Though y/n changed that.

__________________________________________

Today was the day. Today was the selection. Shibuya has been taken over by King Sukuna for about 3 months now, all hope lost. Each week he picks around 50 more people to serve him as he kills them so often. It seems to never be enough, and whatever he wants he gets. The only person to ever be tolerated by him was his loyal dog, Uraume, mainly known to be cooking Sukuna all his meals. She’s also the only one who calls King Sukuna, Master Sukuna. The only one he’ll ever truly trust.

“Do you wish for your death?.” It’s Uraume.

Her voice bringing me out of my thoughts, i quickly look around me seeing everyone in my single filed line has been bowed down as I remain standing. If looks could kill…i’d be dead.

“Forgive me Lady Uraume! I wasn’t thinking.” Quickly getting on the floor to pay my respects. My life is on the line.

“Hmph. You weaklings never do. If it was up to me, I would already have killed you. You’d clearly be of no use.” She continued to walk down your line, carefully observing everyone. Creating different piles, specified of either people of old age or ones who have disabilities. Who knew such a calm tone could make you tremble more than any angry voice could. Oh how I wish I was strong. I hate being weak…. .

After around 10 more minutes, with someone even being yelled at for apparently looking up for only 5 seconds, everyone was ordered to stand and we were being led to a huge building. As we walked, the groups of old people were pleading for their lives as everyone knew what was about to happen to them, i couldn’t help but shut out their depressing cries. This was all too much, we need help. Walking, everyone’s shackles connected to the person in front and the person behind. Controlling our pace, controlling our movement. Surely for how much longer can we really continue without dying? The closer you got to the building, the more you felt the amount of cursed energy pile up. I can’t do this. I would rather die than even enter the cursed energy fully. Not everyone could feel it since most of them are normal people, but us sorcerers, we couldn’t help but tremble. Knowing what was awaiting us.

__________________________________________

Approaching a large Hikone, giant double doors opened at once, energy flooding out, as I felt mine somewhat fade. This power? This amount?? How is this possible???

“Attention insects!” Uraumes voice boomed. Sucks she has a hideous personality, she’s actually really pretty. “You are now entering the presence of your Lord. King Sukuna. From here on out, you have no purpose in life. Your only purpose is to serve him, to accommodate all his needs. If he says to bring him an item, you will! If he says to end your life, whether with your bare hands or with a sword provided to you, you will! And with no hesitation. Now, pay your respects!” By the time Uraume was done, i along with everyone else was already on the floor, ‘paying their respects’.

“Look at me.” His voice, caused every single nerve that ran down ur back twitch. Everyone looked up, though no one dared to look into his eyes, some immediately crying and begging for their lives.

I look up. There he is. Some stupid smug grin on his face. He enjoys killing. He enjoys being a monster. He enjoys tormenting the weak.

“All of those who just spoke without my permission. Step up. Now.” Four people slowly stood up, their knees almost giving in. “Are u trying to fool me? Do you think I am some idiot? I have many eyes for fucks sake. Stand up.” Two more people stood, but as much as they tried to stay up, they kept falling.

Before you could even blink, all of their heads popped, their bodies falling on top of the still bowing people. Their blood splattered on your face. No one dared to move, no one dared to speak. I kept my position, wide eyed, feeling the blood droplets going down my cheek. I didn’t dare to lift my hand and wipe it from dripping down my lips.

“Disgusting brats, ruined my scarf. Uraume.”

“Yes Master Sukuna.”

“Get me a new scarf, and..” this time he spoke to us, “…take that side of the room. All you pathetic people. Stand up and follow her now.” They stood up, trembling, lining up behind Uraume. The shackles that once connected you all was suddenly just gone.

A man accidentally fell while standing up.

*POP*

His head……

__________________________________________

Everyone stayed bowing, no one dared to move. it’s been atleast 15 minutes since uraume has left and you just assumed that he was waiting on her to come back. Your back was aching. your wouldn’t risk your life just cuz of some back pain though, your stronger then that.

“Did it go smoothly Uraume?” Sukuna said with no care in his voice. Like he didn’t just murder 6 people in a heartbeat.

In total you would say there was about 37 people. Originally there was around 60 but canceling the elders, and the disabled….as well as the just killed people. Your numbers were going down.

“Yes Master Sukuna. We are checking for every health condition. For only the best possible is worthy to be at your service.” She said bowing to him.

“Good.” and for the first time in what felt forever, he turned his attention back towards you guys. “Stand up.” Everyone doing so as quickly as possible.

“Uruame. My scarf?”

“My apologies Master Sukuna. For i haven’t forgotten but they are making you one as we speak. I couldn’t have just given you an ordinary one, you deserve only the one of a kinds.”

“alright alright….now. Shall we begin.”

“As you wish dear Master.” As she said this, she blew into her hand, forming a long sharp rod of thick ice. Sort of like a katana. “As well known, your lord deserves only the best. We cannot have any of you weak species that aren’t physically appealing, at his service. For those of you who don’t please my master. Your death is awaiting you. Master Sukuna, I await your orders.”

“Everyone stand up straight and look at me.” After not even a few seconds he already pointed at someone, and in the same second his throat was pierced. His gasps for air terrified you all. “Hideous one he was.”

A girl spoke up, “Please, any mercy we beg—!”

Her throat was slit.

“Master Sukuna didn’t give you permission to speak.” Uraume said, venom lacing her tone.

Sukuna chuckled, “it’s a shame, she would have lived.”

__________________________________________

The next few minutes were torture. Each second felt like my death was next. For some reason I wasn’t as scared as the other people. Maybe because I had experience with this curse stuff, but it still didn’t make sense. Down to only 6 people now. Geez……he’s picky for someone who can quite literally have anyone he wants.

“Uruame. That’s all. Take them out of my sight and put them to work.” As he said this I looked up, accidentally meeting one of his four eyes, I looked down as soon as I realized. Praying he didn’t notice. “Take them all….and leave them.”

Now. Now you had some fear kicking in. Taking all his cursed energy in again, coming to the understanding of what his true power is once again.

“As you wish. Follow along.” She exited the room. Leaving you and Sukuna alone.

The room was dark, had some bright red ominous glow everywhere. The blood of the now dead bodies making everything darker. You were beneath a set of around 25 stairs, as Sukuna was in a huge throne at the top. Resting comfortably with his head in one of his four arms. You were standing there awkwardly. Standing in silence looking down, unsure of what to do. Dreading each coming second, each coming second facing the possibility of joining your once fellow friends on the floor.

“Why don’t your eyes meet mine as they did before?” He said, trying to imitate a voice of someone who’s actually interested. He’s toying with you. What a pathetic jerk. You immediately remembered, ‘when spoken to answer’, you had about 20 seconds to respond or he’d get upset. You immediately began to think.

“Forgive me my King. For I was not thinking.” Fuck. I just risked my life saying that. Geez i’m so stupid. If Uraume said that made her wanna kill me, why wouldn’t he..

“Well. You better start. This is the only warning you’ll get. Do i make myself clear? What is your name?”

“I understand my King. I am forever grateful. I am only known as the lords slave from here on out my king.” you tested your luck, bowing down.

“Pathetic. Don’t humiliate yourself. it’s pretty obvious you are trying to kiss my ass. i don’t appreciate it. hmmm. If you weren’t so amusing, i would have snapped your neck by now. Look at me.”

You looked up, he had a crazy look in his eyes.

“come up these stairs.”

You had half a minute to think. You could run, and be killed, or you can go up the stairs and be killed. What to do what to do what to do. Fuck, there was no right answer. Even if you ran right now, where would you go? He would catch you before you could even turn around fully……you slowly made your way up the stairs. Finally reaching him, staying a few steps below to stay humbled.

“If you do not listen to my exact orders next time. I will kill you. I said to come up these stairs, or do you have some sort of hearing issue?”

“My apologies…” you mumbled.

“Now tell me, do you feel the fullness of my energy?” He said all proud and cocky.

“I….I do my King.”

“Yet. You still dared to look me in the eyes. Out of the three months I have taken over. You are the only person who has yet to do that. How dare you?” His voice becoming dangerous in his last sentence.

“M-….My king….I am afraid i do not unders-“

-SLAP-

He slapped you. He slapped your right cheek. The hit was so hard you felt your right ear begin to ring. You were shocked.

“Hmm..no tears? Tough one huh. The average human specie would have had been knocked out by now.”

Feeling encouraged by his words you stood up, still holding your now red cheek though….”Thank you sincerely my lord. Your words mean a lot.”

-SLAP-

“what made you think you could speak?”

“…”

Next thing you know, he lifted his index finger and tapped your belly. That simple act causing so much force throughout your body, you fell at the bottom of the stairs. This time, your wrist broke. Sukuna stood up.

“You dare not answer me. You little brat, speak only when spoken to! How do you not know that much. Maybe I should end you. Worthless piece of crap.” Sukuna made his way down the stairs. A little confused himself but he didn’t show it. If you were anyone else by now he would have had them gone, but you. The constant fluctuation of fear and confidence in your eyes made him want to know more about you.

__________________________________________

He was making his way down. Fuck! I hate being weak so much. I have no time to think. This is it, i’ll be damned if my last words were me kissing ass to this monster.

“….fuck you…” you said almost non-audible. But of course if anyone could hear that, it would be Sukuna.

He stopped in his tracks. “excuse me..?”

“I said fuck you!” His pace to you became faster, “Your just a sick son of a bi—!”

His hands wrapped around your neck, not letting the full word come out. “Watch your tone. Do you not fear for your life?” He started laughing. “Maybe I will just watch the life leave your body, hmm?” he said smiling, his face extremely close to yours. He then let out an exaggerated sigh, “relax, I’m bigger, faster, stronger, do you really wanna do this right now? For your pathetic state can’t fight me right now. you don’t ever seem to use that tiny brain of yours do you?”

Your hands scratching and slapping any bit of skin it could come in contact with, clearly showing your resistance being futile.

“Though, i can’t kill you yet.” His lands leaving your neck, allowing you to drop and gasp for air like a fish out of water. He looked down at you, “To bad, deal with me longer. I enjoy this. Been a while since someone had the guts to face me.”

He sighed, “I will give you a couple of minutes to rest. Then after that we will spar. If you land one hit on me, i shall let you leave and live as u please. If you can not….lets just say i’ll give you pain. For i don’t know why you think you are so worthy of speaking to me however you like.”

You were just listening as you tried to control your breath. “I refuse to be your play thing. Kill me now.”

He scratched his head, “Well now that that you said that, i don’t wanna kill you.” He boomed laughter, “I really like you, your a few hierarchies below Uraume, but that’s still a lot.” His expression became one of a cold killers all of a sudden. “Now, stand.”

You thought for a second. “My king…if i may….”

“Hmm, all quiet now are we? just a second ago you were using such filthy language. For such a beautiful face like yours, your mouth should know nothing but decency. What is it you please to say?”

“King Sukuna…my wrist is in immense pain, i am at a big enough disadvantage already. For i don’t think it will do me any good sparring with a broken wrist, i need more then a few minutes my king.”

“Fine. As you wish. Heal or don’t, my order of our fight has been decided.”

He stared at you a little longer. He stared at you, making you feel nasty, making you feel gross. He walked up to you and started pushing you down on your knees by your shoulders. You felt his eyes roam your body.

“I will heal your wrist. But first, you need to be punished for that naughty little mouth of yours…”

“please….“

“Let’s make this quick. Gonna teach you a lesson yeah?”

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