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daiku-hokage · 1 day ago

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Snack Time

Synopsis: You're in your second trimester of pregnancy and hormones are kicking in. Cravings hit hard but even harder for Sylus.

Sylus x fem reader

A/N: A mix of fluff and smut. The ramp up to the smut takes a sec but I promise it is there. This is my first ever fic so thoughts are appreciated <3

Tags: fluff, smut pregnancy, after care, comfort

There is no predicting how the outcome of these things go. Morning sickness and active nausea to specific scents overwhelmed you for the first month.

While you had a knack for snacking, recent food cravings transformed your snack supply into a bizarre territory. Mangoes dipped in peanut butter, guacamole with Cheerios and Hot Cheetos in instant ramen was even a surprise delicacy to you. Sylus found it amusing but admitted it’s not in his ball park to participate in exploring these foods alongside you. To keep up with the increasing abstract demands he had Luke and Kieran doing daily food shopping to your personal pantry.

“Your turn today, the Miss is gonna need a restock on cucumbers, queso and lets see…Ah! Hot Cheetos flavored mac and cheese” Luke read from a handwritten note.

“Sweet Lord, I don’t know how Boss still kisses her as she is right now, last week she was eating pickles dipped in spinach artichoke dip. You can’t tell me the wind from her breath or ass isn’t gnarly as hell by now” Kieran shivered with his hands rubbing along his sides.

“Hey man, that's Boss’s baby growing inside of her, just be happy she hasn’t had a craving for the blood of his enemies as of yet” Luke retorted.

“That’s true…Oh! But if she does that means less work and more days off for us!”

Both twins high fiving each other.

The second month your body was slowly taking on a new form with new weight along your thighs, hips and of course your belly. Constantly becoming annoyed at how the expansion of your stomach protested against every item in your wardrobe aside from sweatpants. Your breasts were soon following suit as you began to notice a bit more pinching on your sides when putting on your bra.

The third month however leads you down a far more complex path to navigate, not as simple as avoiding aromas or obtaining more maternal sized clothing. Oh no it was a consistent wave of horniness taking every aspect of you hostage. In reading further online you came across some articles discussing how pregnancy often sparked changes in levels of libido for women. Hormone level changes could cause either a sharp increase or decrease but there was no information available on how to regulate it. You weren’t the type to accept no as an answer though. Back at the hunter association you inquired by the water cooler with Tara.

“I heard from Meredith when she was pregnant it was non-stop, she said the hormones had her on top of her husband like he was a pogostick for weeks.” Whispering the details to your ear as to not reveal your colleagues details to those passing by.

“Are you serious?! Oh man this is so damn annoying, is there really nothing to calm this down. I feel like it's just one thing after the other. After patrolling my feet ache; I take 4 snack breaks just to avoid feeling like I'm going to faint from hunger. Now my body wants to go at it like a damn rodeo show, who decides this shit!” you say while blowing hot air and squeezing your water bottle in hopes of releasing some frustration.

“The whole thing is a journey, I get it, but hey chin up! It’s not forever and in a few months you’ll be back to normal”. In the meantime maybe…ya know lean on your husband a bit more if you know what I mean.” Tara trailed off in her words so you could catch her drift.

Your eyebrows contorted toward each other. “I-I’m not incapable of it, obviously as you can see” waving your hand over your stomach. “It’s feeling more like a burden that I can’t stand the idea of. He is already doing so much to keep up with me and the baby. Body aches/nausea/morning sickness, food cravings, new wardrobe, doctors appointment, all on his already busy schedule. To suddenly jump on him when he has a moment of rest because I can’t keep it in my pants, feels greedy.” You sighed lazily leaning against the wall in a sense of defeat.

“Well to be honest, him not keeping it in his pants is ssoortttaa of how you both got here in the first place.”

You blew raspberries and giggled at her response “Good point there” *

“Listen the way you talk about Sy, I can tell you want more alone time to care for your new ‘urges’. It wouldn’t be difficult to add to his to-do list. Just communicate with him what’s going on and quit beating yourself up about it”

You released a deep sigh and dropped your arms to your sides. “Tis very sound advice, thanks Tara.”

The convo you had with Tara stuck with you and her outlook made sense when you reflect the past few months.

Sylus the man that he is, was always of no complaint to you in your transition through pregnancy thus far. When the morning sickness came he was at your side holding your hair back with one hand and fresh tea prepared in the other. At times when you had sudden craving for the most odd of food combinations he had three more chefs hired to be ready for your request at all times of the day.

Accompanying you to purchase a new wardrobe to compliment your new curves was of a delight to his spirit. He spoiled you with high end attire and quality fabric that in any other circumstance you would protest was far too expensive and unnecessary. This new sex drive on the other hand meant more than what his black card was capable of correcting, it meant him and all of him.

The thoughts sweeping your mind were embarrassing to your consciousness. The sight of the simplest of actions had you driving up a wall.

One evening he had returned with a haul of baby items and decor for the new nursery. He easily could have gotten Luke, Kieran or any of the other employees at the estate to manage organizing the space but he insisted on doing it himself.

While on a snack run you noticed him lifting and pushing around heavy furniture across the room. A bit of sweat building above his collarbone down to his chest. Not in his usual classy work attire but a work out tank and joggers. You stopped in your tracks at the door watching him cutting boxes open with a knife and his bicep flexing in the motions. You began to fall into a daze as you imagined the bicep around your throat and his massive form towering over you from behind. The day dreaming got the best of you and you forgot the bag of chips you were holding as a few fell crumbling on the ground. Sylus turns around hearing the crinkle of your potato chips to face you.

“Snacking again I see, it might be worth me investing in surgically giving you hamster cheeks so you can store your late night snacks more efficiently and conveniently.” He joked while separating the crib pieces according to the instructions.

His words broke your fantasy and red began to flood your cheeks and ears as you subconsciously hoped he hadn’t realized the intentions behind your stare.

“What’s the matter, baby’s got your tongue?” He smirked, leaning back on his forearms giving him a more interesting view of you from below.

“If you're not going to rest, you can spend some time here with me to look at wallpaper decals. I was thinking either crow or dove feathers” He gestured for you to come closer to inquire about the sample prints he had for the wall art.

You felt your body heating up and ultimately your lower half followed suit. You didn’t want to risk where your thoughts began to wander. Not wanting to risk where your thoughts begin to wander, you stay rooted in the spot, not daring to get any closer.

“Uummm my butt is aching, I feel like laying in bed, text the vendor I’ll take a look at it later.” Racing away you hurried back to your bedroom to avoid him or risk revealing your secret symptom.

Watching you rush pass the door and further down the hall, Sylus’ mouth curved into a slight frown as his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Cupping one side of his mouth to channel his voice “Don’t fall asleep with the potato chips in your hair again darling!”

(A few days after your conversation with Tara.)

Sylus just arrived back from his Onychinus obligations ready to settle into a warm bath with you. He looked forward to you snuggling above him in his tight embrace surrounded by playful bubbles and candles. When he reached near the bathroom entry way he heard nothing, not the sound of water filling the bath or your soft spoken comments about how much bubble bath is too much bubble bath. Disappointment began to settle into his mind as he began to search for his expected company. It had become a bit of a ritual between the two of you. It was a moment for him to unwind from the demanding lifestyle of his work in N109 zone. Even more so it was a time where he could both figuratively and literally soak you in, inhaling your scent and caressing your soft plush skin. He would listen to your cute quipped stories from your day away from him, transitioning from topic to topic, he’d lose himself in you no matter how ordinary the tale. As of recently your pregnancy disturbed this special time for you both for various reasons. Early doctors appointments, random morning sickness that left you in need of care, an emotional tantrum about your weight followed by water works. Today he knew none of the above could be the case, as Mephisto had been adjusted to be more sensitive when monitoring you in his absence. No such notifications appeared to him prior to his arrival. He soon finds you on the couch in front of the fireplace sorting through paperwork from the association's human resource department. Sylus strolling into the room from behind the couch leaning forward reaches over to grab one of the papers from your hand.

You gasp from the swift movements and his sudden appearance behind you.

“Hey! You just get home and start stealing my things, rude much” Turning your head toward him with a glare for claiming your document.

“I’d say it was a cheap fee for not finding my adoring partner surrounded by her favorite vanilla scented bubbles upon my arrival.” He teased holding the paper above your head.

A bit of guilt began to pour into you, you hadn’t forgotten about it, you were avoiding facing your Sylus fever until you built up the courage to talk to him properly about it. You had been running so many scenarios in your mind on how to go about approaching the topic without sounding pathetic. Still you didn’t want to make him feel rejected considering you both had been missing out on this intimate time more frequently than anticipated in the past few weeks. Regardless you had to keep your guard up until you discerned a path you were comfortable with.

“Oh you know I got so distracted with reviewing some reports I lost track of time, silly me. Not to mention my feet are so achy today from messing around with Mephisto yesterday I thought I would take a breather here first and wait for you to get back.” You gave a slight smile attempting to play off your lie the best you could. Sylus was typically not one to fall for your fibs and had a hunch you were keeping away from the truth for another reason. He’d play along momentarily while he uncovered what he really wanted to know.

“Such a dedicated woman to her craft, I should have you coaching more of my henchmen in your ways. Care if I take a seat here to rub away these pestering aches while I review–” He paused to take a moment to glance at the paper and quickly scanned the content. It was a notice from the association alleviating you from engaging in patrols until after delivering your baby and completing your maternal leave for recovery. While scanning the document he took a seat on the couch and grasped your feet into his palms, slowly engaging the knots in your muscles with care.

“Seems like the association is taking proper measures as you enter the second trimester, good. Saves me time from having to negotiate with your superiors.”

Since the start of your pregnancy Sylus had been insisting on you working remotely. You protested suggesting you were still capable of combat for at least two months into your first trimester. While not easy with your various symptoms you felt obligated to your duty as a hunter. *Out of respect for you he agreed but on his own “Sylus like terms” which basically consisted of Luke and Kieran following you each day to ensure your safety. You understood and respected the association's policy, deep down you knew the protection of your womb was of the utmost priority at the moment. However, going in person to the office just to file paperwork at least meant some sort of down time from your mind constantly racing about how to undo Sylus’ clothes with your teeth. Working at home meant not only encountering him at all times of the day but being at your peak of sexual frustration. Smelling his scent, staring at the clock wondering when he would be back home, glancing at your esteemed bed envisioning how many positions you could manage in your new size. You were spiraling.

“I know you have been wanting me to start working from home but still it feels odd.” Your words felt stubborn to agree with you as he worked your feet and you pictured having his massage service every morning.

“What’s the issue here again, kitten?” He applied a bit more pressure to your heel and locked eyes with you.

“I just feel like I’ll be bored working from home ya know” You were clenching your swollen stomach avoiding eye contact with your husband in hopes his crimson eyes wouldn’t capture the true intentions behind your disapproval.

“Boredom, really, when here you have access to the horse stable, personal theater, shooting range and a botanical garden? You fear lack of entertainment?” Sylus snarked back sarcastically while circling the pressure between the soles of your feet and your ankles.

“Well it's not like everything is here, like my favorite coffee shop…and the bakery! They are right next to the office, I’d miss them during the day” you were scrambling for any avenue you could to redirect the conversation in your favor.

“Hhmmm oh you don’t say, as for coffee, it is restricted from your usual consumption currently until after our child’s arrival, last I checked. As for this esteemed bakery, I’m aware of your sweet tooth and attraction to decorative goods. Hence the recent new hire from overseas that is award winning and nationally recognized for her pastries on call at the estate. I’m sure her work excels far above, oh what was it called, donny’s dough(nuts)” Sylus retorts in confidence.

Your brow flinched with nervousness by his usual directness and clear points. You recoil your feet from his grasp and tuck them beneath yourself.

“Hey don’t discredit donny’s ‘ the donut holes 10 for 3 deal’ those got me through a lot of late night reports with Tara at the office I’ll have you know” Puffing your cheeks and arms crossed hoping to amplify your defense.

Annoyance begins to creep unto Sylus expression. “ something is not adding up here, while I am fully aware of the new physical and emotional changes sweetie, I can’t help to notice your reluctance around me as of recent”

-Crap, he’s on to me- You shout to yourself mentally.

He slides over closing the distance between you both on the couch, reaching over he places his calloused hands on your thigh. You recoil a bit hoping he doesn’t notice the attention your eyes have on his body and attempting to conceal your thoughts from his intense gaze.

“See that right there, it’s as if my presence discomforts you these days, actually scurrying away from me like a frightened kitten. You have even gone out of your way to prevent me from seeing you for our typical morning baths. I have to say love, if I were not the handsome man that I am, I’d think you’ve become disgusted of me”

“What?! Of course not, the complete opposite!” You gasp a sharp breath at the realization of your words.

“Oh the opposite you say” He reaches over, placing his large hands around your shoulder and other wrapping around under your knees pulling you into his lap.

“Enlighten me then darling, to what crime did I commit to owe scarcity in your recent lack of affection” Snuggling his face into the dips of your neck with a heavy inhale of your scent.

“I do all in my power to comfort you during this journey honey and without a need for recognition but here my loving wife leaves her devoted husband, for donut holes, surely I’m more valuable to you than that”

His words trace over you like a knife ready to pierce you at your vitals. The dam withholding your hormonal waves has now cracked at his swift vulnerability. You are one sudden move away from cracking under the pressure.

He begins to rub your thighs in a circular motion running up and down between them and your round belly. Lowering his face to your stomach he whispers “you hear that kids, your dear papa may have lost your mother to donny the baker, how cruel your mother can be” Sylus pouts in a mocking tone, followed by a pepper of kisses on your stomach nearing dangerously close to your chest.

“Dramatics are un-befitting of you” you scoff.

“Oh sweetie, trust me I can take it to ten if need be. Would you like to test it out or care to share with the rest of the family what’s really going on here” His tone low and rough, he craved an end to your avoidance.

You froze, his crimson eyes piercing into you like he could read your thoughts. You could feel the red rushing to your cheeks and ears. Your eyes dart between his hands and lips in turmoil between your body's wants and ego's pride.

“Talk” His voice stern, the dam has failed.

“I..didn’t know how to voice it but…as of recently I’ve been facing some new pregnancy symptoms” you whispered delicately beneath your breath, avoiding eye contact and pressing your index fingers against one another like a child confessing in a principal office.

“Go on, what are these symptoms, is it emotional or physical discomfort? I'm all ears, I’m here for you.” Sylus stares intensely in anticipation of your words.

“Well…I-I’d say a mix..I have been feeling more determined lately”

Sylus eyebrows raised, unclear by where your confession is trailing towards.

“Darling I can speak several languages as you know but pussyfooting is not a dialect I have explored, so do us both a favor and be straightforward will you”

“I want to have sex with you” You responded sharply. There you unraveled before him, nothing to hold back and with that your efforts tossed to the flames.

Pure confusion flooded Sylus’ face. “Sex, you mean the same art form that I, your husband, engaged with you to -placing both hands on your belly- make them, that sex yes. Surely, Linkon educational system covered basic reproductive health.”

“I know how I got pregnant, dummy! What I mean is, I can’t stop thinking about having sex with you. One moment I am folding your clothes and the next I’m inhaling your scent through your underwear ready to ride myself out on the corners of our bed. Even you massaging my feet here I’ve been on edge holding myself back to not pounce on you like an animal. I feel so embarrassed by how often it keeps happening. I’ve been using work at the association to keep from being at home and facing my frustrations….I just feel like such a horny teenager” Just like that your previous efforts to script your confession had dissolved like paper in water. You bury your face in your hands muzzling your last few words fighting back an urge to tear up amidst your confession.

Sylus pauses and gives a brief exhale before speaking. He wraps his arm tighter around you, he removes your hand from hiding, raising your chin to meet his eyes directly.

“Sweetie, since you tested positive on your pregnancy test I could not have been more overjoyed. Despite the challenges we both anticipated ahead I took time to take each with care with you in mind. That includes holding myself back as well.”

You let out a small gasp and dwell on his words. “What do you mean by, holding back”

Sylus sighs, staring at the ceiling and back down while pinching between the bridge of his nose.

“At some point in your first trimester you began to…glow in a way I can’t quite put into words. You have and will always be a beauty in my eyes but as your belly began to swell, the way you talk, the way you lay in bed at night, put on dresses with more thought out movements. I found myself capturing each moment and desire building up to take you to bed and ravish you. Your cravings for more hardy foods and bizarre snacks is noticeable filling in various areas in your form, each one taunting me.” He gripped your sides to emphasize himself.

“Why taunting, why haven’t you made a move?” You exclaimed back quickly, eager to decode his words.

“Similar to you I don’t want to be perceived as a selfish inconsiderate male. To expect sex from you in this new state and at a higher frequency than usual made me feel…greedy. The last thing I would want is your perception of me as a monster hungry only for your body.”

Your chest rises in a quick breath at the realization at what you both were hiding from each other. The pure irony that you both shared a similar guilt of harboring the sin of greed to one another. Now all of a sudden your coy plans to avoid your lover seem pathetically irrational. Had you voiced yourself more freely, this entire misunderstanding could have been avoided.

You cuff Sylus face in your hands and pull him in for a passionate, long yearned for, kiss. A muzzled grunt from him leaks into your throat as you deepen the connection with your tongue and pull him in closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. His large hands straddle your waist driven to join you closer to him while being mindful of the noticeable bump between you both.

Your faces twist and turn, searching to take in as much of each other as possible, grunts and moans filling the atmosphere with each intentional movement. The tension in your lower sexes elevates to dangerous levels making your desires palpable. You both break free for a moment for air, leaning your foreheads against each other for balance and exhaling rhythmically in sync with each other.

“Your playing a dangerous game here kitten, as I am right now with you, I don’t know how well I can hold back, it’s been 94 days, 3 hours and 12 minutes counting since I’ve last had you, I might go mad”

You lay your hand on his chest and lean your lips near his ear.

“I’m ready to clock in Boss, please take good care of me”

Sylus’ crimson eyes dilate and his body swiftly picks you up bridal style with no hesitation taking large strides to your bed covered in black silk sheets. Like holding a delicate jewel he places you in the center and hovers over you with your hands cupping his cheeks.

He bends over just a hair thickness away from your lips

“I hope you saved your strength, we are likely to be working overtime tonight” He spoke with a growl coated in his throat from his desire and painted with a devilish grin ready to sink his teeth into you.

You caress his cheeks and flash him an endearing smile “Lucky for you I’m such a well rounded and dedicated hunter, a master of her craft.” You lick his lips playfully to toy with him and set him a blaze. You were ready to have all of your built up passions flood the space around. It had been a considerable time for your track records since you last laid together. Those numbers meant nothing to you at this moment though. The time wasted circling each other in this tense dance was no longer of your concern. What mattered was just you and him diving into one another after denying each other for such an extended period. The thought did interrupt your impulse suddenly as you realized the new challenge of love making with the extra weight on you. Could you manage the same performance you were quite well versed in prior to now. A fear of not seeming as sexy creeped into the back of your throat as your eyes soon become glossy with incoming tears. Sylus immediately catches wind in the sudden shift of your expression.

“Sweetie, what has suddenly gotten a hold of you. It's ok don’t cry, I’m here, talk to me baby.” He sweeps his thumb across your eyes to momentarily hold back the tears threatening to escape.

“I-*sniff* what if I don’t feel as good to you, what if you don’t enjoy me as much because of the change” Your voice cracking a bit trying to keep from breaking out into a cry beneath him.

Sylus lifts you onto his lap with your legs straddled around his hips, he places a soft kiss on your cheek and wipes away any loose tears. Locking eyes with you in a deep tone Sylus whispers over your lips “Addiction isn’t nearly close enough to describing how I yearn for you. Each moment I get to hold you in my arms I fall under a trance and I am a captive vulnerable to your will. Never has it ever crossed my mind that your beauty has been tarnished in any way as you are now than from the day my soul found yours. The sinner that I am can only hope to never desanctify the sacred temple of my goddess. Despite my unholy nature you took in my seed willingly and all of the strife that comes to bearing our proof of existence. I’m unworthy but nonetheless greedy to be your exclusive and devoted worshipper. Darling, believe me when I say my vows remain true, there is no love purer than mine.”

Your heart skips a beat as you clench onto his words wishing you could etch them into your mind forever so as to never doubt him again. All of the insecurity you felt prior melts away and a sense of longing overtakes you once more as you crash your lips into his. Your tongues dance and lips lock both competing for the upper hand over the other. Roughly inhaling and exhaling through his nose, Sylus tries to keep up with your demand as his body’s need for air becomes a balancing act on the scales of your passion.

Sylus’ hands run over your back and soon find their way to gripping your ass and pressing your lower half to grind on his hardening member. The sensation of feeling his hardness deepens your arousal and you hunger for more. Moans escape from your mouth as you capture his cheeks in your hands. You bite on his lower lip sucking on it while pulling away to draw in his thirst for you, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. In a series of huffs you speak lustfully “Don’t you dare hold back on me.” Before there is even a second to pass at the end of your plea Sylus pushes you down onto the bed with force from a deep throated kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in desperation and deepen the connection. His hands find the collar of your silk nightgown and in a swift move he tears it right down the middle completely in half to expose all of you to him. You gasp in his throat and pull away for a moment to witness the small display of his strength exclaiming

“Sylus! Tha-”

Cutting you off mid sentence speaking gruffly he responds “I promise to buy you a hundred more replacements.”

Wasting no time he pushes your breast up and lowers his tongue to your nipple. He makes playful circles lubricating the peaks before intaking the entire plush mounds into his mouth to suck on. His other hand twists and tugs on the other triggering a loud moan from you. He alternates between your breasts making sure to provide each with equal attention. The wetness in between your legs spreads seeping through the fabrics of your panties.

“Oh–fuck, Sylus I—”

In the middle of your cry he sticks his index finger and middle finger into your mouth while still sucking on your nipples with rough slow flicks of his tongue. Your instincts can’t help themselves at this point and you begin to suck on his fingers curling your tongue along their length.

He pulls them out and traces them from your mouth down your neck all the way to your panties where he tucks his hand beneath the delicate fabric. He presses the two fingers on the folds of your entrance and rubs against it in circles.

“I see my beloved is eager for more”

“Sylus please I–I need yo–”

“Shhh my queen, you need not say more”

He kisses between your breast, underneath each, down your stomach slowly until he reaches your gates.

“Allow me to recite a prayer”

He places a kiss on your wet lips, from the base, he presses his tongue down with a deep long drawn out lick. He finds your clit immediately once he reaches the top, flicking it repeatedly.

You moan out loudly, one hand gripping the bed sheets and the other at his hair as you feel yourself nearing the cliff of an orgasm. The motions he takes on the clit is relentless, just when you thought he couldn’t be any more intense, he draws an S on your clit with his tongue. Your hips buck up in response but he forces you down in place on the bed with hands on your hips. Languidly he forms a Y, followed by an L, then a U, he spells his name out on your most sensitive area as your thighs tremble in response.

“Oh—oh my fucking go—”

“Sshhh that's my line, sweetheart” . Ceasing his calligraphy for a brief moment, he wraps both his thumbs at the side of your panties. He tugs them down your legs to provide himself full access to his meal. No longer hindered by any remaining clothing on you, a second wave of vigor ignites in him. Quickly returning to your clit he begins to suck on the tiny bean, chasing this new high he brings his index and middle finger to your entrance and pushes in slowly. Once inside you fully, he glides his fingers around your slick walls before pushing in and out rhythmically. The sounds of your now penetrated cunt fill the room along with a low grumble emitting from Sylus' chest, relaying his delight in your taste. You can’t hold on much longer at the onslaught he is conducting. The pleasure flows through you like a river from the stiff tongue protruding from your mouth to the tip of your curved toes digging into the mattress surface. You are so close, your thighs press on the sides of Sylus head in a begging call for climax. Sylus, familiar with your distress signal, slurps violently on your clit and raises the stakes of his penetration, slipping in a third finger. At first maintaining his initial speed now with the third digit he soon increases the pace to chase your orgasm. A ripple of heat envelopes you, your voice releases Sylus’ name in a high pitched outcry. Cum spills down Sylus’ knuckles and halts his penetration as your back arches upward. Your body collapses back down in sweet surrender to the moment you had been burning for, for months. Giving one last kiss to your clit he gradually exits your now exceptionally wet cunt.

“Kitten, listening to you purr like that after so long and seeing what a mess you’ve made. I’m sure this will take more than just one night to properly satisfy us both” Sylus shoots you a smug expression while licking the corner of his mouth where a stray drip of your cum lingered. Still seeing stars from your orgasm you weren’t sure at first whether to protest or encourage his next move.

“Didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to properly honor my temple.” Raising your foot to meet his hard bulge practically piercing through his dress pants, you playfully massage the tip and shaft. Your touch causes Sylus to groan. As his high relaxes from chasing your climax, his attention now directs to his rock solid cock, commanding to take control. You place your hand on his cheek to redirect his crimson gaze back to you.

“I believe an offering shall suffice.”

Sylus’ eyes dilate at your words, oh how you drove him mad. Everything about you was like a perfect symphony designed and destined just for his ears alone to indulge. He lets out a low rumbling chuckle at your decree. Raising himself above you he tears open his dress shirt stained with your essence. Pulling his dress pants off his 8-inch cock flops out in display, slapping itself against his muscular abdomen.

“Sweetheart, I just can’t hold back anymore, oh please won’t you accept my humble offering”

He grabs your ankles dragging you a few inches toward himself, he spreads your legs wide open. He takes a moment to admire the image before memorizing your dazzling features to keep securely seared into his mind for safe keeping. A drop of his precum from his tip falls on your stomach, teasing at the load he is bearing. His eyes are hungry like a predator just before making its final moves on its prey. Caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers over your drunk like expression, he breathes out heavily in anticipation.

“If for any reason you feel uncomfortable, you need to change positions or if I’m being too rough don’t you hesitate to tell me, ok darling. This moment is for us. I won’t allow you to not savor not even a second of it”

Even at the cusp of his breaking point he upholds your well-being as his highest priority. The man that Sylus is, how could you have ever had reservations of his intent.

You nod your head in response to his declaration to confirm your needs. Caressing the side of your thighs with one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to the front of your entrance. He presses the tip in, immediately it becomes soaked from the wetness you have trailing from your recent orgasm. Sylus breathes out a rugged groan and grits his teeth at the sweet familiar sensation that sends electric waves rushing through his veins.

“Do you want it, kitten?” He asks with his voice heavy with lust. Like a reflex to his question you wrap your legs around his hips with an unspoken assertion of your desire. The anticipation of him about to ravish you triggers waves of wetness drowning his tip.

As if profoundly making a binding vow he grasps your hands, intertwining his large rough fingers with yours. Without any further needs for affirmations he drives himself into your fortress. Hissing a curse under his breath at the long awaited reunion with your walls, it fit him perfectly like the heavens modeled your sex’s with precision for one another. Ecstasy washes over him like a thick midst that surrounds a waterfall. Lost in his raw arousal he grounds himself tightening your small hands in his, he plunges into you pulsating his strokes in your core like a war drum. Every collision he executes is explosive drawing you nearer to a second apex.

“Sylus fu-fuck oh oh god please please har-harder I want it harder, fuck me harder daddy”

The whine for stronger force intoxicates him and Sylus soaks in the moment of you unraveling before him like a flower in bloom. Your bidding further fueled his ambition to serve both of your insatiable hungers. Sylus releases a hand from yours to take hold of the luxury velvet headboard. Manipulating the headboard allows him to better choreograph his pounding on you. Clinching with flexing muscles, veins all along his arm project intensely. Soon the display of his might is so overt sounds of small cracks in the thick mahogany wood penetrate into the atmosphere. You both are so close.

“Ah-da-darling fu–you’re so marvelous, my gorgeous wife, matriarch over my soul, please say my name” His strength and momentum of his thrust hit their peak, sweat accumulating all over his chest, a testimony to his labor. Your free hand latches onto his shoulder followed by your nails piercing into the meat of his toned flesh.

“Mmmmmm yes Sy-Sylus, Sylus! oh god yes fucking yes yes yes yes don’t fucking stop right there, right fucking there SYLUS!” Exclaiming his name in a loud winded cry you buck your hips upward and in a moment of synchrony collide with his thrust.

Harmoniously, you baptize yourselves in each other's essence, his seed erupting in your womb like a geyser and the silk of your core outpouring down his shaft. Your thighs tremble violently at the blissful release and Sylus groans your name nearly breathless into your ear. His hand slipping from his previous intense grip on the headboard is lost and his forearms catch him so as to not collapse on your small figure. The expression of your face flushed with red painting your cheeks is dazzling, a display of your fulfillment reached. Your chest rising and falling in union with your racing heartbeat, almost all strength from your body escaped when you climaxed.

Sylus’ hand finds your cheeks and thumb swipes over your plush lips. Lowering his head he lays his lips on yours softly at first but quickly deepens in it with his tongue to satisfy any last remaining drop of lust.

“Unfortunately I’ll need to pull out of your walls now sweetheart. I’d love to partake in that bath now though, if you’ll indulge me.” He smiles at you sweetly and kisses your forehead. He pulls out of you and the collection of your cum slides out and onto the bed sheets. The departure of his member from your insides leaves you feeling empty but eager to refresh yourself.

“I gladly accept this additional offering of yours my love.” you respond, laying a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. Sylus rises up above you and off the bed, he picks you up bridal style carrying you to the large bath. You both rinse off in the standing shower. Sylus fills the bath

with all of the works creating a concoction of your favorite bubble baths and bath bombs. As the piece de resistance he lights a candle and turns off the ceiling lights allowing the candle to magnify its presence. He dips you inside the bath and follows after, placing you in between his legs he wraps around you and rubs your belly in gentle circles.

“How are we feeling now dove”

“Mmmmm incredible, it’s like all of a sudden the tension in my body has disappeared.” You hum in delight from your new found relaxation and comfort.

“Marvelous, I’m glad and pleased to be able to serve your needs so well. Perhaps now we can be in more alignment in our honesty for intimacy moving forward, yes” Lowering his head toward your ear he nibbles just above your earlobe.

“Hehe that tickles and yes honey, you can count on that. Although granted you don’t mind me as a pillow princess for the next coming months.”

“I’d have it no other way, I’m sure the baby would appreciate it as well” He spoke in a tender tone near your ear while gathering a ball of bubbles along your thigh and stomach.

Soaking in the bath felt like a long awaited curtain call to finally laying down your guards at one another. During the bath you make playful cat ears on Sylus head with the bubbles while exchanging on topics about the baby and plans to further prepare for them.

After changing the sheets Sylus big spoons you from behind, inhaling your fresh scent from the top of your hair.

“You know I would never harm you, either of you, right?” he murmurs.

“Hhmmm you know good and well how such a thing was not once a fear of mine.” You respond back promptly without hesitation. Turning over on your side to face him you press your forehead against his, tangle your legs in between his and place your hand on his chest.

“I think a good take away from this morning's exchange is that holding back because of fear won’t serve either of us. I know there are times you battle with the concept of our child viewing you as frightening. I’ve held you on several occasions when nightmares from the past strike your core. Each time they did I was here to fulfill my role too as your goddess, to purify you, banish that which attempts to corrupt your heart and soul from loving freely.” Grabbing his hand and placing it on your stomach “This child serves a purpose too, proving that your devotion is true, proving that your love truly is the purest. I’d choose no other than you to grace my womb with motherhood. You are no monster, you're mine, you are our Sylus”

His gaze softens from your words of reassurance, his crimson eyes touched with a hint of mist. Placing a kiss on your lips he slides his body down to rest his head on your belly and hands relaxed on your hips.

“I truly do adore you”

..............................................................................................................................

Epilogue

Luke and Kieran walk through the halls and pause when through the walls they hear muffled noises.

“Yes! That makes ten this week, I win again, hell yes!” Luke spits out slapping Kieran’s shoulder out of excitement.

“Uuuhhhhh how the heck do I keep losing, I’m starting to think it’s him jumping on her like a rabbit now. You sure the terms of these bets are even in the same playing field at this point!”

“Hey man, like they say, don’t hate the players hate the game, and this player just scored as Boss continues to score with Miss hunter. So pay up” Luke retorts smuggling.

“I hope she ends up with twins now and he pins you with diaper duty.”

-End-

#lads sylus #sylus #lads #love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #qin che #sylus smut #sylus fluff #pregnancy #pregnant #prefnant

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nanamisgirly · 3 days ago

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cw cheating!nanami, spit, age gap, degrading. (unprotected sex, p in v)

touching yourself in the guest room of your best friend's house was probably a terrible idea. but could anyone blame you when nanami had spent the entire day parading around shirtless, sun-kissed and glistening, those broad shoulders shifting effortlessly as he flipped burgers at the grill?

sprawled on the bed, fingers between your thighs with the vivid image of nanami. older, mature, built like he was sculpted for sin. that blonde happy trail, those veined forearms, the way his sweat-soaked shorts sat loooow on his hips...teasing the thick ridge beneath—it wasn't fair.

"n-nanami- mfghn" as two fingers played with your inside, you wished it was him. with those big hands, those tired, restrained eyes. just the thought of him kneeling between your legs, muttering about how bad this was as he spreads you open, pressing his cock against your slick folds—you nearly cum.

"fuck—n-need him," your pussy started clenching.

when suddenly, you hear a soft crack and your door shifted, just a little. and through the dim light you see a very imposing Nanami standing in the doorframe. eyes wide, watching you. but you were so lost in pleasure you continued anyway "M-Mr. n-nanami-" you used your small fingers to part your pussy lips, letting him see your glistening inside.

nanami should back down, act like he saw nothing. but it's been so long since he properly fucked. his wife doesn't even let him have sex, and if he does, it's just a plain-boring vanilla sex.

that's why his hands are on you in the speed of the light. gripping your hips, shoving you down onto the mattress, mouth against your neck. "fuck.." nanami was fast to drag out his monstrous rock-hard cock. pink tip flushing, hungry. your walls clenched around nothing. you were so ready to be stretched open by him. your back arches, in need.

"p-put in it— i-i'm prep enough." you reached for his cock and give him a few strokes. he was sooo heavy in your hand.

"goddamn." nanami doesn't wait for more. he glides his swollen tip along your drenched slit, teasing, pressing. then with a ruthless snap of his hips, he's buried deep inside of you—so deep it feels like he's rearranging your insides, stealing the breath from your lungs. you're dripping, struggling to take his sheer size. each unforgiving thrust shoves you deeper into the sheets, the bed frame creaking under the force. "p-please—more—ah!—n-need more," you grind back on him, desperate, matching his brutal rhythm, your slick making a filthy mess between you.

nanami snaps, pushing your legs up, up, up—until your knees brush your ears. he adjusts his stance, planting his feet for better leverage. he watches the way your stomach bulges with every ruthless stroke. he presses a broad palm over the swell, feeling himself inside you, grunting when you whimper. this new position was so good, feeling every thick veins grazing your inside as he goes in and out, in and out, in—

"you filthy slut," nanami spits the words against your ear, his grip bruising where he holds your thighs, dragging you back onto his cock like you're nothing more than a toy to use. "moaning my name like a desperate thing while you touch yourself. what kind of nasty little girl gets off thinking about her best friend's dad who is twice her age?" you can't even answer. you're too fucked-out, too cock-drunk. "messy fucking cunt," he growls, glancing down to where your juices drips down on his cock, his thighs sticky with your slick. "wanted me to stretch this messy little hole until you couldn't walk? fuck, I can feel you drooling around me—naaaasty." your nails claw at his shoulders, your soaked cunt clenching down, begging for more.

his fingers wrap around your throat, forcing your head up. "use your words, slut. I asked you a question."

"y-yes-" your voice cracks, high and breathless, "-wanted you so bad, w-wanted—ohhh, f-fuck—" nanami grabs your jaw, forces your mouth open, and spits straight onto your tongue. "swallow." you do—instantly, obediently—moaning as the taste of him lingers, heat searing through your veins.

"poor dump thing," his grip is bruising, pinning you down, keeping you right where he wants you—helpless and trembling, your walls fluttering wildly around the thick length. your spin arches like a bow as he says "gonna ruin you. gonna fuck you so full, you won't even remember how anyone else feels."

nanami was on the verge of loosing his mind. "you're gonna take every last drop of my cum, everything I give you." his hands seize your ass, forcing you down onto his thick base. "like a gooood slut, right?" that was probably the best pussy he's ever had. and he surely won’t stop fucking you dump any time soon.

a/n mean nanami for the win🙂‍↕️

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk kento #nanami kento smut #jjk x you

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regressionschool · 2 days ago

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Trigger [an ABDL Hypnosis Story]

The café was comfortably lively, a gentle hum of voices and the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic filling the space. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, glinting off the water glasses, and the air smelled of fresh coffee and warm pastries.

Molly sat across from Dave, stirring cream into her coffee with small, absentminded motions. She had barely touched her croissant, only nibbling at the edges while her thoughts drifted. Dave, on the other hand, was cutting into a stack of pancakes with practiced ease, unfazed by the conversation unfolding between them.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Molly said, shaking her head slightly. “Like—Emma just… lets it happen?”

Dave chewed, swallowed, and lifted his coffee cup. “It’s not really ‘letting,’ though, is it? It’s what she wants.”

Molly made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “Does she? Or is it just what he wants?”

Dave arched a brow but didn’t respond immediately. He took another bite, letting the syrup soak into the pancakes before cutting another neat square. “She seems happy. I mean, she always said she wanted something different, right?”

Molly’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Different isn’t the same as being put back into—into toddlerhood. That’s not just a ‘different lifestyle,’ Dave. It’s… regressive.”

He shrugged. “And?”

“And—” Molly exhaled sharply, setting her spoon down a little too hard. “And I just don’t get how she could want that. Like, really want it. No responsibility? No autonomy? Just being put in—” she stopped, shaking her head. “It freaks me out.”

Dave took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. He didn’t argue, didn’t tell her she was overreacting. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he let the silence sit between them for a beat before saying, “I think it freaks you out because you can’t imagine wanting it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Molly frowned. “I didn’t say it was wrong. I said it was scary.”

Dave tilted his head slightly. “Same thing, in a way.”

Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again, glaring at her croissant like it had personally offended her. She didn’t like that—when Dave did that thing where he made a point without actually making one. It left her feeling unsteady, like she had to defend herself when she wasn’t even sure what she was defending.

She pushed her plate away slightly, leaning back in her chair. “I just keep thinking about it. Like, if that can happen to Emma, could it happen to anyone? What’s the… trigger?”

Dave chuckled, shaking his head. “Molly, you say that like it’s a virus or something.”

“Well, isn’t it?” she shot back. “One day, she was just our friend Emma, and now she’s…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “She’s in nappies, Dave. Full-time. And not just that, but he makes the choices now. What she eats, what she wears, when she sleeps.”

Dave tapped his fork against his plate thoughtfully. “She let him.”

“That’s what scares me,” Molly admitted. Her voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That she let him. And she’s fine with it. More than fine. She’s… content.”

“Would it be different if she wasn’t?”

Molly blinked. “What?”

“If she was miserable,” Dave said. “If she hated it. Would you feel better?”

She scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“I think it might be,” he said, and for the first time, there was something pointed in his tone. “If she hated it, you could see it as something being done to her. But she doesn’t. So instead, you have to deal with the fact that she chose it. And that makes you uncomfortable.”

Molly crossed her arms, looking away. “It should make you uncomfortable too.”

Dave sighed and set his fork down. “I don’t know, Mol. Maybe I just don’t care as much as you do. It’s weird, yeah. But people do weird things all the time. If it makes her happy, why should it matter?”

Molly shook her head, staring out the window. Outside, people walked by with shopping bags, strollers, coffee cups in hand. Just… normal people. People who weren’t Emma.

She could almost see her in her mind—Emma, giggling, dressed in something soft and pastel, clutching a stuffed animal. Not a woman anymore. Not in the way she used to be.

Dave studied Molly for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. The tension in her shoulders, the hard set of her jaw—it was all so familiar. The same reaction he’d seen before, whenever Emma came up in conversation.

He sighed. “You know, it’s funny.”

Molly frowned. “What is?”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just a fraction. “You keep talking like you don’t understand. But I think, deep down, you do.”

She scoffed, opening her mouth to retort, but Dave cut her off with a single phrase, low and deliberate:

“Little minds don’t worry.”

Molly’s breath caught. For a second, nothing happened—just a flicker in her expression, a slight widening of her eyes. Then, like a ripple spreading across the surface of a pond, something shifted.

Her lips parted, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her fingers, which had been tense around her coffee cup, suddenly slackened, as if the very concept of holding it had become too complex. She blinked rapidly, her gaze unfocused.

“Wh—” Her voice came out small, uncertain. She shook her head, strands of hair falling into her face. “Whazza…?”

Dave sat back, watching as it unfolded.

Molly’s posture sagged, her body language morphing from sharp and guarded to something looser, more instinctual. The weight of her own thoughts—thoughts that had moments ago felt so heavy, so complicated—seemed to vanish.

Her expression flickered through confusion, then something closer to frustration. “S’fuzzy,” she mumbled, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. “Don’—I don’ get… um…”

Her tongue tripped over her own words. Concepts unraveled like loose threads, slipping through her grasp. Even the sentence she’d just started—what was it supposed to be? What was she even trying to say?

Her eyes darted to Dave, wide and almost pleading.

“Davey,” she whimpered.

He hummed. “Yeah, Mols?”

“F’eels weird,” she murmured, shifting in her seat. “Dunno—s’diff’ent. Ev’rything all… ‘spicy’.”

Dave tilted his head, amused. “Spicy?”

Molly pouted, frustrated by the word she couldn’t quite find. “Mmmm, not spicy, but—y’know! All wiggly ‘n’ tingly ‘n’ funny.”

As if on cue, she let out a sharp gasp, her hands darting down to her lap. A slow warmth spread beneath her, soaking into the fabric of her jeans, pooling against the seat.

Molly let out a breathy little whimper as the last remnants of adult thought crumbled. “Uh-oh…”

A dark patch spread beneath her, creeping outward, the undeniable hiss of her accident filling the air.

Dave chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “That’s okay, kiddo,” he said lightly. “Little girls don’t worry ‘bout things like that, remember?”

Molly blinked up at him, her bottom lip wobbling, the lingering ghost of something wrong flickering across her features before fading into soft, placid contentment.

She wasn’t an adult anymore.

She wasn’t supposed to worry.

She didn’t worry.

Dave sighed, shaking his head with a good-natured chuckle as he glanced toward the café staff. A few nearby patrons had already started whispering, their eyes darting toward the growing puddle beneath Molly’s chair. He caught the eye of a barista, offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about this," he said smoothly, his tone warm but firm, the way a responsible caretaker would explain a toddler's accident. "She’s still getting the hang of things."

The barista, a young woman with tired eyes and a sympathetic expression, only nodded. "Don’t worry about it," she murmured, though her gaze flicked toward Molly, who was now squirming in her seat, fascinated by the way the damp fabric clung to her legs.

Dave turned his attention back to her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Alright, Mols," he said gently, slipping into the comforting role she now expected of him. "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Molly only giggled, tilting her head up at him with big, unfocused eyes. "Mmmkay, Daddy," she lilted, the title slipping past her lips effortlessly, as if it had always been that way.

Dave’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but he didn't linger on it. Instead, he rose, moving around the table and helping Molly up. Her legs wobbled slightly, unsteady now that her adult coordination had slipped away.

As she stood, the full extent of her accident became clear. Her jeans were soaked, clinging to her thighs, the damp material darkened almost entirely down to her ankles. She looked down, blinking slowly at the mess, but there was no shame in her expression—only mild curiosity.

She poked a tiny finger against the wet denim. "Squishy," she declared with a giggle.

Dave grinned, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, kiddo. And that’s why we wear proper protection, huh?"

Molly giggled again, her gaze unfocused and dreamy. "Mmhmm!"

Dave led her toward the back of the café, past the staff-only sign. No one stopped them. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so confident, so sure of his authority over her. Maybe it was the way Molly so clearly wasn’t in charge of herself anymore, her small hand tucked securely into his, her posture loose and trusting.

Inside the staff restroom, a sight that would have mortified Molly just minutes ago now greeted her without a flicker of concern—

An adult-sized changing table.

Dave patted the cushioned surface. "Up you go, kiddo."

Molly obediently reached her arms up, letting him lift her onto the table without a second thought. She kicked her legs idly, her soaked jeans sticking to her skin, a little pout forming on her lips.

"Wan’ dry," she mumbled.

Dave chuckled. "That’s the plan, sweetheart."

With practiced ease, he peeled away her jeans, the damp fabric clinging for a moment before slipping free. He balled them up and set them aside, then made quick work of her sodden panties. Molly didn’t react, other than giggling as the cool air hit her bare skin.

She squirmed as he wiped her down with a warm cloth, but it wasn’t from discomfort—it was the way a toddler would squirm from tickles rather than modesty.

Then, he pulled out the final piece.

A puffy, pastel-colored Pampers—one big enough for her, decorated in soft patterns that made it impossible to mistake for anything grown-up.

Molly’s eyes widened, but not with the resistance she might have once had. No, this time, it was delight.

"Ooooooh!" she cooed, her fingers twitching eagerly.

Dave smirked. "Like it, baby?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically, reaching out to poke at the plastic shell as he unfolded it. "Is crinkly!" she giggled.

He lifted her legs effortlessly, sliding the padding beneath her before securing the tapes snugly at her waist. The thick bulk forced her legs apart slightly, and when he patted the front, she let out a soft, happy hum, wiggling against the plush comfort.

"There we go," Dave murmured, smoothing her shirt down over the top of her new, much more appropriate underwear. "All fresh."

Molly beamed up at him, wiggling her toes as she enthusiastically poked at the front of her new padding, fascinated by the way it crinkled under her touch.

"Dis is way better!" she declared, giggling as she gave the front a few experimental pats.

Dave laughed. "I thought you’d see it that way, princess."

Then, he picked up her jeans, inspecting the soaked fabric with a smirk. "Well, kiddo, looks like you’ll have to go without these for a bit."

Molly didn’t even blink.

If anything, she giggled, swinging her bare legs with delight.

The Molly from before—the one who had argued, who had frowned and questioned—was nowhere to be found.

She was just Mols now. A little girl in nothing but a crinkly diaper and her soft shirt, giggling as she prodded at the thick bulk between her legs.

#ab/dl diaper #diaper stories #ab/dl stories #regression school #ab/dl girl #wetting diaper #diaper bulge #ab/dl #diaper hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnosis

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strnilolover · 2 days ago

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٠ ࣪⭑ prince!matt has something special planned for darling

valentine’s day special!

warnings : none! this is very sweet and fluffy

valentine's day was something everyone in the castle celebrated. maids, servants, people from the town—even matts own parents.

he wasn't against this holiday at all, he loved it. and often wished he could give his love to someone too but, his parents were set on him being with someone of noble standards.

since matt never really had a reason to celebrate valentine's day, seeing as he never had anyone to celebrate the day with. he always watched other couples from a distance—how in love they looked and gifts that were bought for their significant other.

but now...now he had a reason to celebrate this day.

darling.

sure, in everyone's eyes, she was just his personal maid. but they didn't know what went on behind closed doors. all the stolen kisses, hugs and intimate affection happening right under all their noses and they had no clue.

he wanted to make this day special—even if she already knew how much she meant to him. he always wanted to remind her, that no one else had his heart except for her. not even the girl he was being forced to marry.

with his mind set and plans already put into place, matt moved swiftly through the halls that were decorated with roses and flowers. his shoes clicking against the floor as he made his way towards his bedroom where he's sure darling already was, tidying up his space or doing his laundry.

once he approached the door, his hands quietly pushed it open. slipping inside and closing it with a soft *click* behind him. sure enough, darling was standing over at his desk—tidying his mess he had made.

he smiled, watching her relaxed frame move swiftly as she did her job, which she was so incredibly good at. slowly, he moved towards her. his hands coming to wrap around her waist and pull her back flush against his chest.

"darling." he murmured, pressing his face in the space where her shoulder and neck met, his lips peppering light kissed along her skin. she smiled softly, her arms coming up to wrap around his own. "matt." she greeted in return, turning her head slightly to allow him more room.

matt didn't linger on her neck for long, giving a few more pecks before pulling away and turning her around in his grasp. when his head tipped down, eyes landing on her face, he couldn't help but to smile more. "i have some things planned for us today, my love." he said, pulling her even closer to him.

darlings brows furrowed. "plans? what plans?" she asked softly, her own head tipping up to look into his eyes. matt smirked, flashing her his teeth. it was hard to keep things from her—but he wanted this to be special.

slowly he pulled away, unwrapping his arms from around her to reach down and grab her hands. "you'll see, darling." he whispered, already beginning to walk backwards, tugging her along. but she stopped. "matt, i still have—“

"shh, your work can wait until later. i'm not taking no for an answer." he said, cutting her words off, continuing to tug her backwards and this time she followed—giving up on trying to argue with him. when they reached the door, he let her hands go, opening the wooden doors and turning his head to look at her.

"follow me, baby."

darling thought she knew the palace like the back of her hands—but obviously not. she walked right beside matt, her brows furrowing and eyes wide with curiosity.

“matt, where are you taking me?” she asked, reaching her hand up to tug on his sleeve to get his attention. matt just smiled, looking at her out the corner of his eyes. “you’ll see darling. we’re almost there.” and he quickly grabbed her hands, smirking before bolting down the hall.

darling stumbled over her feet before settling into a sprint with him. she laughed, the sound mingling with matt’s own. “matt!” she giggled, holding his hand tighter as she continued to run with him.

he peered at her over his shoulder, smiling and laughing as he tugged her along. eventually, they made it to their destination—slipping in through the doors quickly. darling’s chest rose and fell rapidly, quickly trying to catch her breath from running.

eventually when her breathing evened out, she straightened, peering around the unfamiliar room that she was standing in. a grand mirror stood in front of her—so many fabrics and clothing lining the room. she was speechless.

“matt? where..where are we?” she asks, turning to look at him, watching as he talked to a female she didn’t even notice. darling stood there, watching as matt got a last word in before turning his attention to her.

matt smiled at her, walking over to stand behind her. his hands coming up to her shoulders, slowly moving his fingers into the tenseness of her back. “this is for you. go follow her and you’ll see.” he whispered against her ear, moving a hand up to brush her hair to the side—pressing a kiss to her neck.

darling has never worn something as luxurious as she is right now. not even at the ball she attended with him one time.

she stood before the grand mirror—the lady she followed a bit ago had her draped in the most stunning gown she had ever laid eyes on. the fabric was a soft blue, flowing like water over her body, cinching at the waist before cascading into an elegant skirt. delicate beading across her chest and following down to the fabric covering her thighs.

her hands slowly smoothed over her own body, her eyes not believing what she was seeing. she looked beautiful. no—stunning.

matt stood behind her, watching her expression closely, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle at the dress she had on. he had spent weeks planning this, ensuring that every detail was perfect. that everything was perfect just for her—for his girl.

darling caught matt’s gaze in the mirror, smiling as she picked up the bottom softly and turned herself around to face him. “you- what is this for?” she asked, her face was flushed—she felt nervous being in something so expensive.

matt just grinned, bringing a hand up and beckoning her forward. “c’mere, i have something else for you darling.” he said, and she raised a brow, now noticing one of his hands behind his back. she took a tentative step forward, making sure to not trip over her own feet in the heels she was wearing before walking over to stand in front of him.

“this-“ he started, pulling out a delicate tiara from behind his back. darling gasped, watching the way the jewels hit the lighting in the room. he reached out, placing the tiara on top of her head gently. “-this is for you, my love.”

darling’s breath hitched as his fingers lingering in her hair for just a moment too long. finally dropping his hands, he grabbed her waist, spinning her around toward the mirror. even if she was away from it—she could see the beauty of the accessory that was placed on her.

“matt…” she whispered, her own hands coming up to gently graze the shape of the tiara. matt rested his chin against her shoulder, watching as she took herself in. “do y’like it darling?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the skin her dress showed off. “look so beautiful—like a queen. my queen.”

darlings chest tightened at his words, her fingers still ghosting over the delicate tiara as she met matt’s gaze in the mirror. he looked so proud, so full of adoration that it made her heart thump against her chest rapidly. slowly, she turned in his hold, resting her hands lightly against his chest. “I don’t even know what to say…” she whispered, overwhelmed by the effort he had put into all of this—for her.

matt just smiled, brushing his knuckles against her cheek before leaning down to kiss her softly. she reciprocated, her hands tightening against the fabric of his clothes before he pulled away. gently, he took her hand, intertwining their fingers and giving a gentle tug like he did earlier. “come on, there’s one more surprise,” he said softly.

darling followed without hesitation, the flowing fabric of her dress whispering around her ankles as matt led her through the winding halls. when they reached a side entrance she had never seen before, matt pushed open the door, and the moment they stepped outside, a crisp breeze greeted them, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked pastries and rich, decadent chocolate.

darlings eyes widened as she took in their destination—a quaint, tucked-away bakery, the windows glowing warmly against the cool evening air. a string of fairy lights adorned the entrance, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone path leading to the door.

“matt…” she breathed, turning to look at him.

he grinned, slipping his hand from hers and resting them on her waist. “let’s get inside darling, alright?” and she beamed, nodding her head excitedly as she practically began to sprint to the entrance, dragging matt.

matt chuckled, gripping her hips tightly as they approached the doors, holding her still. she gave a quiet whine, turning to look at matt as if he just took away a delicious treat from her—and he basically did. “darling, it’s okay, let me just-“ he muttered, moving to stand in front of her as his hand grabbed the door handle, opening the door for her.

the moment they stepped inside, a wave of warmth wrapped around them, accompanied by the heavenly aroma of sugar and spice. the bakery was empty—save for a soft-spoken woman behind the counter who greeted matt with a knowing smile. clearly, he had arranged this in advance.

candles flickered on a private table set for two near a fireplace, a delicate bouquet of roses resting in the center. a plate of heart-shaped pastries and a pot of tea awaited them. darling turned to matt, her voice hushed. “you… you did all of this?”

matt smiled as he brushed his fingers against hers, lacing them together. “of course I did. you deserve the best, darling.”her heart melted as she lowered her gaze, letting him guide her to her seat. and slowly, matt reached for a small pastry and held it up to her lips, his expression softening.

“try it. I made sure they put extra honey in it—just how you like.” he stated, holding the soft treat to her mouth. darling’s eyes softened as she took a bite, the sweetness of the pastry nothing compared to the love in Matt’s gaze. she swallowed, shaking her head in awe.

“this is the best valentine’s day ever.”

a/n : listen ik it’s a month late…im sorry forgive me. but here’s some prince matt FINALLY!

183 notes · View notes

oldsoul007 · 1 day ago

Text

stuck here like me

joel miller x reader

summary: After twenty years apart, you and Joel reunite in Jackson, but while he spent decades surviving, you built a life without him—one he can only look at from the outside before walking away in silence.

a/n: angsttttttyyyyy, some fluff, takes place when joel and ellie make it back to jackson to live there, let me know if you want a part two because I reached the limit hehe, enjoy ;)

joel miller masterlist

I spot Tommy before he even makes it up the path.

I know that walk—slow, deliberate, like he’s carrying something heavy and trying to figure out how to put it down. It’s the same way he used to walk when we lost people, back when grief was a daily visitor we learned to live with.

He doesn’t come out this way often. Not unless it’s important.

The ranch is a little ways from town, far enough that most folks don’t bother making the trip unless they’ve got a reason. Tommy’s got a reason.

I wipe my hands on my jeans and step off the porch as he slows to a stop by the fence. He swings off his horse, and I meet him halfway.

“Hey, stranger,” I say, brushing the dust off my hands. Tommy’s mouth twitches into something close to a smile. “Y/n.”

I step into him easily, arms wrapping around his shoulders. He hugs me like it’s nothing, like it’s second nature—and maybe it is, after all this time. After everything.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out here today,” I say as I pull back.

“Yeah, well. Thought I’d check in on you.” His eyes flick toward the house. “Been a while.”

“Two weeks, Tommy. You’re slacking.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, the corner of his mouth tilting up. But the lightness doesn’t stick. His gaze drops to the ground, hands sliding to his hips.

I don’t notice at first. My mind’s already moving, still caught in the easy rhythm of conversation.

“Well, the kids were just talking about you the other day,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans. “They wanna hang with Uncle Tommy soon—take the horses out maybe, or—”

I trail off when I see the way he’s looking at me. “What’s wrong?”

His mouth pulls tight. The lightness in his eyes fades into something heavier.

“We got some new folks in town,” he says carefully. My stomach tightens. “Yeah?”

Tommy hesitates—just for a second—but it’s enough.

“It’s Joel,” he says finally.

My breath catches.

I stare at him, feeling like I’ve misheard. But I haven’t. I know it in the way Tommy looks at me—soft and steady, like he’s bracing himself for impact.

Joel.

My Joel.

The world tilts under my feet.

I hear him, but my body won’t catch up. My breath locks in my chest. I shake my head, staring at Tommy like I can will the words away. “No,” I say, too quiet. “That’s not—”

Tommy’s expression softens. “It’s him, y/n.”

“He’s not alone,” Tommy had added, his voice soft. “Got a little girl with him.”

Something deep inside me clenches so tight it hurts. My vision blurs at the edges, and for a second, I feel untethered—like if I don’t hold on to something, I might just float away.

He’s alive, and he’s here, in Jackson, in the same place as me, breathing the same air, walking the same streets.

For the first time in twenty years.

I don’t realize my hands are shaking until Tommy steps closer and grips my arm. “Hey,” he says gently. “I know this is a lot.”

I nod, but it’s automatic. My throat feels tight, my chest too full.

Tommy hesitates, like he’s not sure if he should say more. But in the end, he just squeezes my arm once before letting go. “You okay?”

No. But I don’t say that.

Tommy shifts his weight, the heel of his boot scuffing against the dirt. “He asked about you.”

My heart jolts painfully against my ribs. “What did you say?”

“Told him you’re doing fine.”

I press my lips together, nodding.

Tommy watches me closely. His eyes soften. “Y/n—”

“I’m fine.” My voice is too quick, too thin.

Tommy’s mouth twitches like he’s about to say something else, but in the end, he just sighs.

“You don’t have to see him,” he says quietly. “If you don’t want to.”

I swallow hard. “I know.”

Tommy hesitates for a second longer, like he’s waiting for me to crack. When I don’t, he steps back toward his horse and grips the reins.

“I’ll be around,” he says.

I nod. “Alright.”

He swings back into the saddle. His eyes linger on me a beat longer before he clicks his tongue and guides the horse down the path. I stand there, arms crossed against the chill, watching him disappear toward the tree line.

The breeze shifts through the dry grass, brushing over the porch steps. I hear the faint sound of the horses in the stables, the quiet creak of the weathered barn door swinging in the wind.

Joel is in Jackson. And he asked about me.

I head back toward the house, the screen door creaking under my hand as I push it open. My hand is still on the doorframe when I pause, looking out toward the horizon.

I know this land better than I know myself. The stables, the hills beyond the creek, the trails that lead into the woods. I’ve walked them a hundred times.

But now it feels different.

Like maybe there’s a ghost in these hills.

—

I don’t see him. Not at first.

“He’s not alone,” Tommy had added, his voice soft. “Got a little girl with him.”

A little girl.

That’s what pulled me toward town, even when I knew I should stay put. I didn’t even remember leaving the ranch, but somehow I was here now, standing just outside the square, breath hitching in my throat as my eyes caught him.

Joel.

He was talking to Tommy, his back to me, but I knew him like I’d seen him just yesterday. Broader now, a little more gray in his hair, his shoulders tense beneath his worn jacket.

And next to him—there she was. The girl. Maybe fourteen. Freckles, wild brown hair, arms crossed over her chest with the kind of defiance only a kid could wear so comfortably. Joel stood close to her, protective. Always protective.

My chest squeezed.

I should leave. I should turn around, go back to my house, pretend this moment never happened. But I don’t.

I stayed frozen there, my boots planted firmly in the dirt. I could’ve turned back. Maybe I should have. But then Joel shifted, like he felt me, and when he turned—

His lips part slightly, like he wants to say my name but can’t. His face flickers through a thousand things at once—shock, disbelief, something deeper, something broken. His hands twitch at his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to reach for me or run.

The world shrinks to just the two of us.

His face… the years were carved into him like stone. Deep lines at the corners of his eyes, at the crease of his mouth. But those eyes—they hadn’t changed. Dark brown, the same way they used to soften when he looked at me.

“Y/n.”

It wasn’t a question. Just my name, rough and low and familiar.

My breath hitched. His eyes swept over me like he was trying to take me apart, piece by piece. My knees locked to keep from swaying under the weight of it.

I took a step toward him, then another. Joel didn’t move at first—he just stared, his eyes sharp and dark. And then his jaw tightened, and he crossed the distance between us in three long strides.

And then his arms were around me.

I stumbled into him, my hands pressing against his back as his arms locked tight around me, one hand curling at the back of my head. My breath hitched as his chin dropped against my shoulder.

“Hey,” I whispered against him.

He breathed out, his chest rising and falling hard beneath my hands. His arms stayed locked around me, one hand splayed against my back like he was grounding himself. My fingers curled into his jacket.

We stood there too long. Longer than anyone would call just a casual hug. But neither of us let go. His heart thudded against mine. My eyes burned.

Finally, Joel’s hand slid from the back of my head, brushing down my hair. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands framing my arms. His eyes softened, but there was something sharp in them. Something guarded.

Joel’s jaw tensed. His hands flexed around my arms, but he didn’t let go. “Tommy said you knew.”

“I did.” My breath hitched. “I just… I didn’t know if you’d want to see me after all this time.”

Joel’s eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything. His gaze flicked over my face, searching, and then his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure me out.

A small voice broke the silence.

“Uh… hi?”

Joel’s head turned toward the girl standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. She was watching us with open suspicion, one eyebrow raised.

Joel’s hand dropped from my arm. His posture shifted slightly, more guarded now, his protective instinct flaring up the way it always did when Sarah was nearby. My stomach squeezed painfully at the thought.

Joel’s gaze lingered on me for half a second longer before he spoke.

“Ellie,” he said. His voice was steadier now. “This is y/n.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “You know each other?”

Joel’s gaze sharpened. His mouth twitched like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We know each other.”

Ellie’s eyes slid toward me. “How?”

Joel hesitated. His jaw flexed. “It’s… complicated.”

Ellie snorted. “Figured.”

Joel’s hand dragged down his face, weariness etched into the lines of his face. His eyes met mine again, dark and searching.

I glanced toward Ellie, then back at him. “She yours?”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly. His mouth parted like the question had caught him off guard. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “She’s not mine.”

Ellie made a face.

Joel shot her a look. Ellie just shrugged.

“She’s… with me,” Joel said after a beat, his voice low. “Been taking care of her.”

My heart twisted painfully.

“She’s lucky to have you,” I said softly.

Joel’s jaw tightened. His eyes lingered on mine for a long moment. “I don’t know about that.”

Ellie made a scoffing noise. “Yeah, well, I’m still alive, so he’s doing something right.”

Joel’s gaze sharpened toward her. “Ellie.”

She held up her hands, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

Joel’s eyes softened just a fraction as he looked at her. My chest squeezed at the sight. That protectiveness—that quiet steadiness—it was still there. Still Joel.

Joel’s eyes slid back toward me.

I hesitated. My hand twitched toward my chest—toward the thin gold band on my finger—but I stopped myself before it could catch his eye.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said quietly.

Joel’s eyes softened, something flickering beneath the guarded expression. “Yeah.” His voice was low. “Me too.”

Ellie shifted impatiently.

“Yall should get settled,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Jackson’s a good place. Safe.”

Joel watches me a second longer, his jaw tight, like there’s something he wants to argue, something he wants to say. But instead, he nods.

I turn before I do something stupid—like let my heart remember what it was like to be his.

I avoid him after that.

It’s not easy. Jackson isn’t a big place, and people talk. I hear his name in passing, see glimpses of him from a distance—helping with patrols, talking with Maria, fixing up some old building with Tommy. The girl, Ellie, is always nearby, a shadow at his side. She reminds me of Sarah in some ways, the way she carries herself, the sharpness in her eyes.

But I don’t go near him.

I don’t trust myself to.

The hug was a mistake. I should have turned and walked away the moment I saw him, but I didn’t. I let myself feel something I buried a long time ago, something I had no right to hold onto anymore. And Joel… Joel felt it, too. I could tell in the way he held me, in the way he didn’t want to let go.

I can’t let it happen again.

So I stay away.

I stick to my routines, my family, my home. I keep my head down, and for a while, it works. Until it doesn’t.

—

It happens a week later.

I’m standing near the garden beds in the middle of town, hands resting on the edge of a planter as Maria talks. The smell of soil and cold air hangs between us.

“So, we’ll need someone to cover the north patrol this week,” Maria says, arms crossed over her chest. “Could use someone who knows the area.”

I glance toward the street where my kids are playing with a couple of the other town kids. Their laughter cuts through the crisp air, sharp and clear.

“I don’t know, Maria,” I say, quiet but steady.

Maria’s gaze follows mine. “They’re old enough now,” she says, voice soft. “You know they’ll be fine.”

My stomach knots. I know that. But it doesn’t make it easier.

“You’ve done your part,” Maria says. “Hell, you’ve done more than your part. But Jackson’s safer with you out there.”

I’m opening my mouth to respond when I feel it—someone watching me.

It’s not loud or obvious. Just a shift in the air, the way my skin prickles under the weight of a gaze I know too well.

I turn toward the street, and there he is.

Joel stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, broad shoulders tense beneath the worn canvas of his coat. His face is unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes are heavy and sharp, searching me for something I’m not ready to give.

Maria’s gaze flicks toward him, then back to me. Her expression sharpens. “Think about it,” she says, tone clipped. Then she gives Joel a look before stepping away.

I don’t move until she’s gone. Then I force myself to turn toward him fully. “Hey.”

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Been tryin’ to find you.”

I shift my hands to my jacket pockets. “Been busy.”

Joel’s eyes narrow slightly. “Yeah,” he says, but there’s doubt in his voice. “Guess I just thought… after all this time… you might wanna talk.”

My gaze flickers toward my kids again. I force myself to keep my expression even.

“There’s not much to say.”

Joel tilts his head, studying me with that quiet intensity that always made it hard to breathe. “That why you been avoidin’ me?”

My chest tightens, but I keep my face neutral. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

His brows lift slightly. “Right.”

The weight of his gaze is unbearable. I glance toward the street again, toward the sound of my kids’ voices, and it feels like I’m standing on the edge of something sharp.

Because I have a husband. A family. A life.

But Joel doesn’t know that. And I don’t tell him.

Because the moment I say it out loud, the moment I name it, everything between us will become real again. He’ll look at me the way I know he will—like I’ve slipped through his fingers all over again.

So I don’t say anything. I just shove my hands deeper into my pockets and shift my weight. “I should go.”

Joel watches me, his jaw tightening. His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Guess you should.”

I turn and walk away before I do something stupid.

Before I tell him the truth.

I try to keep my distance after that. I really do.

But Joel has never been the type to let things go.

—

The next time I see him, it’s late. The town is quiet, the sky thick with stars. I’ve just finished putting my kids to bed when I step outside for air, wrapping my arms around myself as I breathe in the cold. The past week has been suffocating—knowing Joel is here, knowing I can’t let myself get close.

And yet, somehow, he still finds me.

I hear the scuff of boots before I see him.

“You always did like the quiet,” he says, voice low and rough.

I turn, and there he is—leaning against the wooden railing of my porch, arms crossed. He looks older in the moonlight, more worn than he did all those years ago. But he’s still Joel. That part of him hasn’t changed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, but my voice lacks any real conviction.

Joel huffs a soft breath. “Yeah, well… got the feelin’ you weren’t gonna come find me.”

I sigh, pressing my hands to my face before letting them fall. “Joel—”

“Just talk to me, y/n.” His voice is quiet but firm. “You can’t just—see me again after twenty years, hug me like that, and then disappear.”

I close my eyes briefly, willing the lump in my throat to go away. When I look at him again, his face is softer—like he’s pleading, like he’s just as lost as I am in all of this.

I sink down onto the porch steps. For a moment, I think he’ll leave, but instead, Joel exhales and eases down beside me. We sit in silence, the night stretching wide around us.

“Didn’t think I’d ever find you again,” he admits after a while. His voice is lower now, almost hesitant. “Hell, didn’t think there was anything left worth findin’.”

I swallow hard, staring at my hands. “I stopped wondering a long time ago,” I say quietly. “Had to. Didn’t see the point in hoping for something that wasn’t gonna happen.”

Joel nods slowly, like he understands. Like he lived through the same kind of grief. “Guess I shoulda known you’d make it,” he says. “Always were tough.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “I wasn’t tough, Joel.”

“You were,” he insists. “You are. You… You saved me more times than I can count, you know that?”

I glance at him, startled. “Joel—”

“You did,” he says again, voice thick. “Even when you didn’t know it.” He exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “After Sarah… I wasn’t sure I was gonna keep goin’. Didn’t see the point. But you—” He pauses, shakes his head like he’s searching for the right words. “You kept me human. Kept me from bein’—”

The kind of man he became.

He doesn’t say it, but I hear it anyway.

I blink back the burn in my eyes and look away. “I should’ve been there,” I whisper. “I should’ve—”

“No.” Joel’s voice is firm. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, y/n.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing against the ache in my chest. “I still think about her.”

Joel’s breath shudders. “Me too.”

The silence that follows is heavier than the last. I stare out at the town, at the flickering lights in the distance, at the life I built. A life Joel was never supposed to be part of again.

“I miss her,” I admit.

Joel nods, his voice barely audible. “Me too.”

We sit like that for a while, side by side, ghosts between us.

I know I should end this here, should get up and go inside before I let myself get too close again. But I don’t.

Because for the first time in twenty years, I don’t feel so alone.

—

Joel doesn’t show up at my house again right away.

For a while, things stay the same—I see him in passing, hear his name spoken in town, feel his presence like a shadow I can’t shake. We don’t talk about that night on the porch. Maybe we both know it’s better that way.

So when I open my front door one evening and find him standing on my porch, I’m not surprised.

I am, however, completely unprepared.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

I grip the doorframe like it might hold me upright. “Joel.”

His gaze drifts past me, into the house, and I know he’s taking it all in—the warmth of the fire, the sound of laughter from the other room, the smell of dinner lingering in the air. A home. A life. One that isn’t his.

One that never could be.

“You gonna invite me in?” he asks after a moment, his voice light, but there’s something beneath it, something heavier.

I hesitate, just for a second, before stepping aside. “Yeah. Come in.”

Joel moves past me, slow, his eyes sweeping over everything—the framed drawings on the wall, the worn blankets draped over the couch, the little boots by the door. His jaw tightens. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his hands curl into fists before he forces them loose again.

He’s seeing everything he never had. Everything he lost.

And then—

“Daddy, look!”

I freeze.

Joel does, too.

My son barrels into the room, waving a wooden toy in the air, and runs straight into the arms of the man who walks in after him—my husband.

I feel the air shift before I even turn to look at Joel.

Because I know what he’s seeing.

My husband laughs, ruffling our son’s hair, his smile easy, warm. He’s kind, steady, everything I needed when the world felt like too much. He doesn’t hesitate when he lifts our son into his arms, doesn’t flinch when our boy clings to him, laughing.

Joel watches it all, silent.

I force myself to breathe.

“Y/n?” My husband looks up, finally noticing Joel. His brow furrows. “Who’s this?”

I swallow hard, ignoring the way my hands feel unsteady at my sides. “This is Joel,” I say carefully. “An old friend.”

Joel’s face doesn’t change. He just nods, his voice even when he says, “Nice place you got here.”

My husband nods back. “Thanks. Been a long time since y/n had any old friends show up.” He chuckles, bouncing our son once before setting him down. “She doesn’t talk much about the past.”

I feel Joel’s eyes flick to me. I don’t look at him.

“That so?” he murmurs.

My husband claps a hand on Joel’s shoulder, always friendly, always welcoming. “You should stay for dinner. We’ve got plenty.”

Joel doesn’t move for a long moment. I wonder if he’s going to refuse, if he’s going to say something, if he’s going to—

But then, he just shakes his head, offering the smallest of smiles. “No, I should get going, just wanted to stop by.”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and there’s something in his eyes I can’t name. Something deep, something that aches.

I wonder if he’s thinking about all the things he never got. A home. A family. A son who runs into his arms without fear. A wife who waits at the door, smiling when he comes home.

Joel’s gaze lingers for a second longer before he steps back toward the door. “I’ll see you around, Y/n.”

And then he’s gone.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my chest tight, my heart unsteady.

I don’t go after him.

Because I know—just as well as he does—some things aren’t meant to be spoken out loud.

—

I hadn’t been on patrol in years.

Maria had asked—no, begged me, really—about a dozen times to come back on the rotation. My kids were older now, the ranch wasn’t as demanding, and I wasn’t getting any younger. She said it would be good for me to get back out there. Said I’d be helping the community.

But every time she asked, I just found an excuse. I didn’t want to leave my family behind, didn’t want to risk being away from them for too long. They were my everything, my anchor.

But eventually, I relented. Maria practically wore me down. And so, here I was, gearing up for a patrol, reluctantly pulling my vest on and checking my gear.

I watched my three kids in the living room, the boys, already getting into some roughhousing, while my little girl, sat on the couch, clutching her stuffed bunny. She was so small, so fragile, even after all this time.

She was sensing the shift in the air, stood up and waddled over to me. Her little hands reached for my legs, and she looked up at me with wide, uncertain eyes. “Mama, I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice small but heart-wrenching.

My heart clenched in my chest as I bent down to scoop her up, holding her tight against me. “I know, sweetie,” I murmured, kissing her forehead. “But I have to go. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

I kissed her forehead, whispering, “Be good for Daddy.”

My boys, still half-distracted by their wrestling, looked up.

My husband stepped into the room just then, his eyes soft as he walked over to me. Without a word, he pulled me into a kiss, brief but full of unspoken feelings.

“Come back safe,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against mine for a moment.

“I will,” I said again, pulling away, my heart aching.

I turned to leave, one last look at my kids as they waved from the door.

“Be safe, Mama!” They shouted.

“I will, I promise,” I called back before heading out the door.

They waved from the window, and I waved back, trying to smile. My oldest hand was resting on my youngest little head, her face pressed against the glass.

—

“I’ll be fine,” I said to myself, as much as anyone else, as I checked my rifle. It wasn’t the patrol I minded—it was the thought of facing things I didn’t want to face again.

Jackson’s streets were quieter than usual as people prepared for the oncoming winter, most already taking refuge inside their homes. My boots crunched against the snow as I made my way to the stables, where the patrols usually gathered.

I should’ve known something was off when I saw Maria standing there, looking tense as she talked to a familiar figure. Joel.

Great.

My stomach twisted into knots when I saw him.

Joel was standing by one of the horses, adjusting the straps on his gear. He looked different—harder, with a rougher edge than I remembered. His eyes had the same weight to them, the same depth, but his body was broader, more solid, like he’d taken years of wear and tear and only gotten tougher.

Maria caught sight of me and gave a small wave. “Hey, y/n, thanks for doing this. Joel’s new at patrol. Thought you could show him around the area.”

I nodded curtly. “Sure. No problem.”

Joel turned at the sound of my voice, his eyes locking onto mine almost immediately. There was no surprise there, no flicker of recognition at the moment. It was as if he was already expecting me to show up, though his expression softened just a bit when our eyes met.

“Y/n,” Joel said, his voice as rough as I remembered.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to say, or if I even wanted to speak. The tension between us still hung in the air like an unspoken apology, the years that had passed only thickening it.

Maria handed me a map and some supplies before giving us both a nod. “I’ll leave you two to it. Just make sure to stick to the area. Stay close to town.”

I barely acknowledged her as she walked off, my attention already on the horse I’d need to ride. I kept my gaze trained forward, refusing to meet Joel’s eyes again.

Joel mounted his horse first, adjusting his gear, the weight of his gaze lingering on me.

“You gonna teach me the ropes, or what?” he asked, his voice quieter this time.

“Just stay close and follow my lead,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, but the underlying edge was there.

We started riding in silence, the snow crunching beneath the hooves of our horses as we made our way toward the outskirts of Jackson. My stomach was in knots, the quiet between us stretching longer than it should. The past twenty years felt like a lifetime, and every inch of space between us seemed to weigh a ton.

Finally, as we rounded a bend, Joel spoke. His voice was calm, but I could hear the tightness in it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shake my head, exhausted. “Tell you what, Joel?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” His voice hardened, just a bit, with the question. “Why didn’t you tell me you had kids?”

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not like this. The words were already there—sitting on the tip of my tongue—but I forced myself to swallow them.

“It wasn’t your business,” I said, more sharply than I meant to.

Joel’s jaw clenched, and I could see the way his hand tightened on the reins. “It wasn’t my business?” His voice was low but raw. “You think I wouldn’t care? You think I wouldn’t want to know what happened to you?”

I could feel his eyes on me, and I kept my gaze straight ahead. “It’s not like that, Joel.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, his voice thick with frustration. “You didn’t think I deserved to know? Or you just didn’t want me to know the truth? That you went off and got a family, while I…” His voice trailed off for a second, and I could see the way his fingers flexed around the reins, his knuckles white.

“You know what happened to me,” I said quietly, the sharpness in my voice slipping just enough for my vulnerability to bleed through. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want you to know.”

Joel’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but his frustration didn’t subside. “You think I wouldn’t have wanted to be there for you? To help you?”

I shook my head, my breath catching in my throat. “I didn’t need your help, Joel. I needed to move on. I needed something… something normal.”

He scoffed, clearly frustrated, his gaze turning cold. “Normal? Is that why you couldn’t tell me? Because you were so busy trying to create some perfect little life that didn’t include me?”

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped, finally turning to face him. “You don’t get to throw that in my face. You don’t get to act like I owe you some explanation for how I lived my life. You left. You disappeared.”

His face hardened, his lips pressed tight as if he were holding something back. “You think I wanted to disappear? I didn’t have a choice, y/n. None of us did.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. “I couldn’t just wait around. I couldn’t just stand still while my world kept falling apart.”

Joel opened his mouth to say something, but I turned away, refusing to let him see how close I was to breaking.

“I don’t need your forgiveness, Joel,” I said softly. “I just need you to understand that I did what I had to do.”

There was a long, painful silence as Joel rode beside me. I could feel his gaze on the back of my head, but I didn’t dare look at him.

“Yeah,” Joel said after a while, his voice quiet. “I get it.”

But we both knew it wasn’t that simple.

—

The gates creaked open as we approached, the familiar faces of the patrol guards nodding at us. Maria waved from the guard post, her smile genuine, but I could tell she could sense something was off. She always had that way about her.

“Y/n! Joel! Good to see you back in one piece,” Maria said, her voice bright but laced with concern.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I said, forcing a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “No problems out there.”

Joel, on the other hand, didn’t even glance at Maria. He just gave a small grunt and walked past her, disappearing into the gates without another word.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead as I followed behind. The weight of everything was crushing, but I didn’t want anyone to see it. Not now. Not in front of Jackson.

Inside the gates, everything was calm—too calm for what had just happened. The kids were playing in the streets, some people were talking, others were tending to the animals or making their way home. It was a normal evening in Jackson, and I should have felt relieved to be back in the safety of the settlement, but all I could think about was Joel’s words. His accusations. His anger.

And the way he’d looked at me before we left, like I was some stranger he couldn’t even recognize anymore.

I walked past a few familiar faces, nodding and greeting people, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. He wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay. But I had to pretend. For everyone else.

“Y/n,” Tommy’s voice called from behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see him walking toward me, his face lighting up when he saw me. “Hey,” I said with a forced smile, trying to push the weight of the argument and the silence from my shoulders. “Everything okay here?”

Tommy grinned. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just got back from the stables. We’ve got a new batch of supplies in from the west side. How about you? How was the patrol?”

I didn’t want to talk about it, but I couldn’t avoid it. “It was fine,” I said quickly, trying to make it sound like it had been just another patrol. “We got into a bit of a scuffle, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push. “You sure? You don’t look like you’re fine.”

I forced a smile again, brushing off his concern. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “Alright. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

I nodded, stepping away as I tried to make my way toward home. I couldn’t help but glance over at the direction where Joel had disappeared, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But there was nothing. The world was moving on, and I was stuck in this mess of old feelings and unspoken words.

I wanted to make everything okay. I wanted to fix things, to make it feel like it used to. But I knew it wasn’t that simple.

Joel wasn’t the same anymore, and neither was I.

But for now, all I could do was put on the mask and pretend. Pretend everything was okay.

Because there was no other choice.

Days pass. I avoid him. I shouldn’t, but I do.

I have a life now. A family. I can’t just let Joel drag me back into the past.

—

20 years ago

The kitchen was warm, filled with the smell of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan. I moved around the counter, chopping vegetables, the soft sound of the knife cutting through them mixing with the low hum of the oven. The evening light was fading outside, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.

Sarah in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, doing her homework or reading—something that kept her distracted. Her laughter occasionally bubbled up as she talked to me from across the room. She didn’t mind the quiet either.

I loved these quiet nights—just the simple rhythm of cooking dinner, the familiar routine. It made everything feel right, grounded. As I stirred the pot, I could hear the soft creak of the floorboards behind me, the sound of someone moving closer. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The familiar weight of his presence, the warmth in the air, was enough.

And then, just as I added the last of the spices, I felt his arms slip around me from behind, pulling me in close. His chin rested on my shoulder, and for a moment, everything stopped. The knife in my hand was forgotten as I leaned back into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re making my favorite,” he murmured, his voice low, warm with affection. His breath brushed against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

I smiled softly, glancing over my shoulder at him.

He tightened his hold a little, like he wanted to pull me into him more. His lips brushed my neck in a soft kiss, lingering for a moment. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of him flood over me, savoring the comfort of this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” he whispered, the words so quiet they almost seemed like a secret just between us.

I felt my heart tug at the simple honesty in his voice. The world outside, everything that had happened, seemed to fade away in that moment, leaving only this—us—together in the quiet of the kitchen.

“I hope not,” I whispered back, turning in his arms, our faces only inches apart. Joel’s eyes softened, the weight of everything we’d been through settling between us, but in that moment, there was nothing else but the peace we’d found here, together.

With a small, quiet smile, he leaned down and kissed me, his lips soft and sure. It was gentle, but it carried the weight of all the things we didn’t need to say. Just us. Just this.

And in that instant, I realized that no matter what else happened, I’d always hold on to this. This small, perfect moment. Just Joel and me, in a kitchen full of the smell of dinner and the quiet hum of life moving on.

—

We were careful. Cordial. Friendly, even, in that way people are when they have too much history and not enough words. We saw each other in passing, at the stables, at town meetings, in the market. He kept to himself most of the time, but I saw how he watched over Ellie, how he was trying, even if he didn’t always know how.

And then there were the moments that caught me off guard.

Like when I’d be in the town square, helping my husband with the livestock trade, and I’d glance up to find Joel watching from a distance. His eyes would flick from me to my husband, to my kids, to the life I had built without him. He never said anything about it, never let his expression betray anything more than quiet observation, but I knew him too well.

I knew what he wasn’t saying.

And maybe that was why, on a cool evening, I found myself walking up to his house with a basket in my hands.

It wasn’t much. Just a small batch of cookies, warm from the oven, the kind I used to make for him before.

I hesitated outside his door. It was stupid, really. He might not even remember. But before I could overthink it, I knocked.

The door creaked open a moment later, and Joel blinked at me, looking more surprised than anything. “Y/n.”

I lifted the basket slightly. “Brought something for you and Ellie.”

Joel glanced down, and for the first time in a long time, something like warmth flickered in his eyes.

“You remember,” he said quietly.

I huffed out a small, nervous laugh. “Hard to forget how you used to hoard these things like they were gold.”

Joel shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Still are.”

Something in my chest ached. This—this easy familiarity, this old rhythm of knowing each other—was dangerous. It made me remember too much.

Before I could linger too long in it, there was a noise from inside.

“Who’s at the door?” Ellie’s voice called out.

Joel sighed, stepping back and nodding for me to come in.

I hesitated.

And then I did.

The house was simple but warm—lived in. A fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of old wood and leather filling the space. Ellie sat on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, whittling something in her hands. She glanced up as I entered, brows raising.

“Hey,” she said, studying me like I was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet.

“Hey,” I replied, setting the basket down on the small table near the couch. “Brought you something.”

Ellie perked up instantly, setting her whittling knife down and leaning forward. “Wait. Are those—” She lifted the cloth covering the cookies, eyes widening. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Joel exhaled, shaking his head. “Manners, kid.”

Ellie ignored him completely, already stuffing a cookie in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Okay, these are so much better than the ones they make in town.”

I smirked. “Well, I was always better at baking than Joel, so that tracks.”

Joel let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “I didn’t bake.”

“Exactly,” I said with a grin.

Ellie perked up at that, something sparking behind her eyes. “Wait, wait, wait—you knew Joel before all this?”

Joel stiffened slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just waited, watching me.

I hummed, tilting my head. “Oh, yeah. Way before.” Ellie’s brows shot up. “How far back?”

I glanced at Joel, but his expression was unreadable. “Before the outbreak,” I admitted.

Ellie’s mouth fell open slightly. “Whoa. So, like, you knew young Joel?”

I bit back a laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t say young—he was already an old man in spirit.”

Ellie choked on her cookie, grinning. “Oh my god. I knew it.” Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus.”

Ellie ignored him, leaning forward like I’d just promised her the juiciest gossip of all time. “Okay, What was he like?”

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… well, he was stubborn—”

“Big shock,” Ellie deadpanned.

“—and bossy,” I added.

“Still checks out.”

“And,” I drawled, smirking at Joel, “he thought he was so cool, but really, he was just a huge dork.”

Joel groaned, shaking his head. “Y/n.”

I grinned. “What? You were! Always muttering under your breath, acting all broody—” I turned back to Ellie. “You know, I once caught him singing to himself while he was fixing his truck?”

Ellie’s face lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, nodding solemnly. “And not just any song. It was some cheesy ‘80s ballad, and he was really into it.”

Ellie clutched her stomach, laughing. “Joel, is this true?”

Joel sighed heavily, like he was reconsidering his entire existence.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice like I was sharing a secret. “And he used to smile all the time. Like, actual, real smiles.”

Ellie’s laughter slowed as she blinked at me. “Seriously?”

Joel went quiet.

I felt my own smile falter, something heavier settling between us.

I cleared my throat, forcing some lightness back into my voice. “Yeah. He was a good man.”

Ellie looked between us again, clearly picking up on something, but thankfully, she didn’t push.

Instead, she sat back, munching on another cookie. “Huh. You know, I think I like you.”

Joel shook his head, exhaling sharply. “Lord help me.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

For a second, it was easy—too easy—to pretend like things weren’t broken. That Joel and I weren’t standing on opposite sides of something too wide to cross.

—

I should’ve known better than to let my guard down.

That night at Joel’s, sitting with Ellie, laughing, letting the past slip off my tongue like it wasn’t still a wound—it was a mistake. A stupid, reckless mistake. Because now I can’t stop remembering.

The way Joel used to smile at me like I was his whole world.

The way I used to look at him like he was mine.

The way we used to belong to each other before everything fell apart.

And now we live in the same town, breathing the same air, orbiting around each other like ghosts of the past we never buried.

I do my best to avoid him.

I keep myself busy—taking care of the kids, helping my husband on the farm, working in the stables. It’s easy to pretend when my hands are full, when my days are long, when I fall into bed too exhausted to think.

But Joel doesn’t make it easy.

I see him everywhere. Walking through town, talking to Tommy, riding out for patrol. I feel his eyes on me when I pass him on the street, when I’m at the market, when I’m laughing with my kids. And every damn time, I pretend I don’t notice.

But then, some nights, I slip.

Like tonight.

It’s late—spring air thick and cool, the sky stretched wide and star-freckled above Jackson. I’m at the stables, brushing down one of the horses, the rhythmic strokes lulling me into a quiet, distant place.

I don’t hear him at first. Not until his voice cuts through the quiet.

“You always did love the stables.”

I freeze. My heart lurches painfully, betraying me before I can shove the feeling down.

Slowly, I turn.

Joel stands a few feet away, holding a saddle in one hand, the other resting against the wooden stall. His eyes are dark in the dim lantern light, watching me like he’s trying to read the parts of me I keep hidden.

I swallow. “And you always loved sneaking up on me.” His lips twitch like he wants to smile—but doesn’t.

He steps closer, setting the saddle down on the nearby bench. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

He nods, but his gaze flicks over me, like he doesn’t believe me. Like he still knows me well enough to see through the cracks.

Silence settles between us, heavy with things we don’t say.

I turned toward him, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. His eyes flicked down immediately, and I realized too late what I’d done.

The scar.

It stretched over my shoulder, pale against my skin even in the dim light. My husband always told me it had faded, but I knew better. It was still there. A reminder.

Joel went still.

His gaze darkened, brows pulling together, and before I could say anything, his fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should.

“What happened?” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

I swallowed. “Joel—”

“Y/n.”

I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening around the brush in my hand. “It was years ago.”

Joel didn’t say anything, just waited.

I turned away, running a hand down the horse’s mane, grounding myself before I spoke.

“It was before Jackson,” I murmured. “Bandits found our camp. We fought back. I—” I swallowed. “I got lucky.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “That ain’t lucky.” I forced a small smile. “I survived.”

Something in his expression shifted, something deep and unspoken. He took a slow step forward, his hand hesitating before it finally reached out.

His fingers barely grazed the scar, the lightest touch, but it sent a shiver through me.

I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve stepped back, laughed it off, said something to make it less. But I didn’t.

Because his touch was careful. Reverent. Like he was mourning something he never even knew he lost.

Joel swallowed thickly, his voice quieter now. “Did he take care of you?”

I knew who he meant.

“Yes,” I whispered. Joel nodded, but something in his eyes was raw, something heavy pressing between us.

We stood there for a long moment, neither of us moving, his fingers still hovering just barely over my skin. The air between us felt thick, charged with something we weren’t supposed to name.

Then, just as quickly, Joel pulled back. I cleared my throat, stepping away. “You should get some rest.” Joel exhaled, like he was letting something go. “Yeah.”

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away. I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand over my shoulder—where his touch still burned.

—

It had been a few months since Joel and Ellie settled into Jackson. Things were… good, mostly. Better than I expected, considering everything. Joel and I had found a rhythm again—not quite the way it used to be, but close. Close enough that some days it felt easy to slip into old habits.

He’d come by the stables when I was working, make some dry comment about how I hadn’t changed, and I’d roll my eyes and give it right back to him. He’d show up at my house sometimes, too—usually under the pretense of asking about patrols or Jackson’s defenses—but he’d stay longer than necessary, and we’d find ourselves talking about things that had nothing to do with Jackson. Things like Sarah. Things like the life we almost had.

And it was fine. It was safe. It was a line we both knew better than to cross.

Until today.

We’d just gotten back from a longer patrol—a rough one. A couple of clickers had gotten too close to the perimeter, and Joel had gotten clipped. Nothing serious, but he was pissed. His shirt was torn at the sleeve, dried blood crusting the fabric. He wouldn’t stop flexing his shoulder like he was trying to work the soreness out, and it was starting to grate on me.

“You should’ve let me handle it,” I muttered, brushing down my horse as Joel stood nearby, watching me with that same hard look he always wore after a fight.

“Yeah, and let you get yourself killed?” Joel scoffed. “Not a chance.” I rolled my eyes. “I had it under control.”

“Yeah, sure,” Joel bit out, shaking his head. “Looked real under control from where I was standing.”

I spun toward him, frustration bubbling over. “God, Joel, why do you always have to make it a thing?”

“Because it is a thing!” His voice rose, sharp and cutting. “You think I’m just supposed to stand there and watch you throw yourself into danger?”

“That’s how patrol works, Joel. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

Joel’s jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. His eyes were sharp and dark, cutting right through me.

“Yeah? And where the hell was your husband while you were out here risking your life?”

I froze. My hand stilled on the horse’s reins, my breath catching in my chest. Slowly, I turned toward him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Joel took a step closer, his shoulders tense, his eyes burning into mine. “It means you’ve got a whole family waiting for you back home, y/n. And yet here you are, out on patrol, risking your life every damn day.” His voice was low, rough, like he was trying to hold it together but barely managing. “Why the hell are you still doing this?”

I shook my head, trying to laugh it off. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

“Don’t I?” Joel’s voice sharpened. “Because last I checked, we’ve been doing this together for months now. And I don’t see him coming out here with you. I don’t see him keeping you safe.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not his job.”

“It should be.” His eyes flashed. I felt the heat rising to my face. “What are you even trying to say, Joel?”

Joel’s face twisted into something complicated—anger and hurt and longing all wrapped up together. He shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. “You know what I’m saying.”

“No, I don’t,” I shot back, my heart pounding. “So why don’t you just say it?”

Joel’s mouth curled into something bitter. “Fine,” he bit out. “Your husband—he got everything I wanted.”

The words hit me like a gut punch.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes burning into mine. “You think it’s easy for me? Watching you with him? Watching you with your kids?” His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply. “You built a life with him. A whole life. A family.” His jaw flexed, his voice trembling. “And it should’ve been me.”

My mouth went dry. My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it.

“You think I don’t think about it?” Joel’s voice dropped, low and raw now. “About how different things could’ve been if you’d stayed? If I had pulled myself together and told you how I felt before you left?” His eyes darkened. “But I didn’t. And now I get to watch him have the life that I should’ve had with you.”

My chest squeezed painfully. “Joel—”

“No.” He cut me off, his eyes hard. “I need to say this. You think it didn’t kill me? Knowing that you moved on? That you built a life with someone else?” His breath hitched, his eyes sharp with something almost desperate. “That you had his kids?”

I blinked, feeling the sting of tears that I refused to let fall.

“I’m happy for you,” Joel said, but his voice sounded anything but. “Really. You deserve to be happy. But don’t stand here and act like it doesn’t kill me every time I see him put his arm around you. Every time your kid calls him ‘Dad.’” He took another step toward me, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body. “It should’ve been me, y/n. It was supposed to be me.”

My throat tightened. “Joel, you don’t get to say that.”

“Why not?” His voice sharpened again. “Because it’s true?”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “Because it’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes searched mine, desperate, angry. “Tell me you’ve never thought about it. Tell me you’ve never looked at him and wondered if it should’ve been me instead.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Joel’s eyes were sharp, his breath shallow. “Yeah,” he said bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”

We stood there in the cold barn, the sound of the horses shifting restlessly around us, the storm still lingering in the distance. I didn’t know what to say. What the hell could I say to that?

Joel’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hand flexing at his side like he was barely holding himself together. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I could feel was the weight of what he’d just said sitting between us like a live wire, burning and dangerous.

Joel shook his head, his eyes dark. “You don’t have to say anything. I already know.” Then he turned, his hand running through his hair as he started toward the barn doors.

“Joel,” I said, my voice strained. He stopped, his back to me.

“I…” I trailed off, not even knowing what I wanted to say.

Joel sighed, his shoulders sinking. Without looking at me, he said, “I’ll see you around, y/n.”

Then he walked out, leaving me standing there, heart racing, head spinning, wondering how the hell we were supposed to come back from this.

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defmaybe · 2 days ago

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Wrecked (Deluxe Expanded Edition): Bonus Track - Sakura

LE SSERAFIM's Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

900 words

Base album

Bonus Track - Yunjin

“It’s cute, seeing you getting all desperate like this.”

She’s still in the same clothes as before. Black top. Thin strap. Jeans. Hell, even her cap is still on. The only difference is that, now, she has a strap cock hanging on her waist.

“I–I–”

She takes a step towards you—so menacing, so terrifying—and you can’t help but step backwards instinctively, just only for you to realize that you’re at the door.

Then she takes another step.

And another.

Another.

You tremble. Until she reaches you, just a hot breath away from each other. The grim reaper is here to collect your soul.

She leans towards you, finger drawing circles on your sternum. “Do you really think I’m just going to let you leave without saying goodbye? I’m hurt, to be honest, haven’t properly welcomed you yet,” Sakura says, pouting, feigning sadness on her face.

Your heart races, legs shaking with dread. Your breathing quickens. There’s no fight. There’s no flight. Just you, hands tied up, and Miyawaki Sakura, pressing her finger into your chest hard enough to make you whimper.

“Plus, that’s not a good look at all—a man like you, trying to run away from me.”

With ease, she suddenly flips your body around, making you face the door. She grabs your tied-up arms and puts them up in the air.

“You look better being a submissive little slut like this,” she whispers into your ear, and that just makes you shiver.

She then reaches around, unbuttoning your jeans from behind in a practiced motion, unzipping without any mercy, before pulling them down hastily. Only your boxers are the barrier between your ass and her dildo. You’re doomed.

Utterly. Fucking. Doomed.

You feel her hand caressing on your ass cheeks gently, making you tremble in fear, whimpering like a terrified dog. She then gives them a smack. You whine helplessly like a cheap slut. It hurts, but there’s something else that’s coursing through you that you’re too ashamed to admit. Surprise? Excitement? Pleasure?

Reaching forward, she gets a touch of your cock, all rock hard—a cruel betrayal. How could your body do this, turning its back against you right now? Her hand digs under your waistband, fingers playing with your length—tapping on it in a rhythm, but not quite enveloping it in the warmth of her hand.

“I thought you didn’t want this,” Sakura coos, swiping her thumb on the leaking slit, spreading your precum on your cockhead. “Thought you didn’t wanna have your tight little ass spread out by my cock.”

Then she grabs it, grabbing your cock, enveloping it in the warmth of her hand. Sakura tightens her grip around the length, making you wince in pain. And before you know it, she starts to stroke you—up and down. You tremble as she tries to milk you for all you’re worth with her hand. Fuck, you’re feeling so much like a slut right now.

“Bet you wanna feel my cock splitting that tight boycunt so fucking bad,” Sakura coos, letting go of your cock and running her hand around your waist. You feel even more vulnerable than when she grabbed your length. She grips on your cheeks with her hands, spreading them apart before letting them jiggle softly in your boxers as she lets go. “Bet you’ll moan like a slut when I spread you open.”

Then she pulls back, leaving you standing with your throbbing cock in your underwear as she steps away from you. You feel like you can breathe with freedom again—freed, decompressed.

But as you try to find some reprieve, you hear the sound of a bottle open from behind, then a squeeze, then some ugly, wet noise. You look back to find her lathering her plastic dildo with lube, smearing it, coating it. Her cock is going to split you open, and you’re going to take all of it.

“Just the standard procedure,” Sakura says, so nonchalantly. As she finishes lathering her cock with clear, slick lube, she presses her body onto yours. Her cock is pressed up against your covered cheeks. The sensation alone just makes you quiver.

She then angles her shaft, making the tip of her cock graze your asshole. The coldness of the lube is making you shiver. Your body strains against the door, and you’re already moaning like a slut. Her daisies scent wafts into your nose, such a contradiction to her hard cock against your ass.

“Is this ass virgin, huh?” she quips, grinning wickedly, dragging your boxers down your thick legs.

You stammer, voice all trembling in terror, “I’ve–I’ve fucked women before!” and you hear a laugh—an evil, sinister laugh. Your lower body becomes bare, a dick pressed on your ass.

“That’s not what I’m asking, slut.” She lathers your cheeks with the lube on her cock, head pressing against your snug hole. “My question is, have you ever taken a cock up your ass before?”

You suck in the air through your teeth under the weight bearing down upon you—her cock between your cheeks, her absolute dominance over you. It’s just too much for you.

“I’m–I’m a virgin, Sakura,” you reply, shaken. You’ve never taken anything up your ass before.

And Sakura is going to change that.

—

#sakura #le sserafim #sakura smut #le sserafim smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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oneoftheextras · 3 days ago

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lockjaw | j.t six

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 8k

chapter warnings: tension, almost fight, fluff

proof-read by my girl: @madschiavelique

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord for updates

“Hello! What can I get for you both today?” the barista beamed at you both, her smile radiating the warmth of genuine welcome.

She handed you both a laminated menu which you took, but Jayce hesitated slightly before he accepted the double-sided paper, not quite enjoying the feeling of the plastic against his skin.

“Oh, hello!” you greeted her back and let out a long “Uhhh,” of thought. You’d been so concerned about whether this café was suitable that you hadn’t even thought about what you wanted to eat.

You glanced up from the menu and saw that Jayce was having as much trouble as you. “If you would like a moment to decide that’s okay!” the barista continued her kind smile, “Just find a table and come up to the counter when you’re ready.”

Jayce moved the menu towards you and pointed to the drink he wanted and you nodded, “I think we’ll need a minute for food but drinks are good to go,” you spoke to the barista but your eyes flitted to Jayce, awaiting his nod of confirmation, which he provided.

You gave her your drink orders and paid, then walked through the small cafe looking for somewhere cosy for the two of you to sit.

Considering it wasn’t that big of a building, there were quite a few tables for its potential customers - small circular tables with only two chairs for intimate exchanges, ranging to large booths for a gathering of people, the options were overwhelming.

“Where do you want to sit?” you whispered to Jayce as if it were a secret between the two of you, the pressure of wanting to make this outing perfect making you recede within yourself. As if all your confidence had been used in the previous confrontation.

Jayce shrugged and glanced down at you with a tilted head, his expression changing slightly when he saw your shy demeanour. He surveyed the room for a second and then started walking towards a four person table by a wall of bookshelves, peeking over his shoulder to make sure you were following him; you were.

He pulled out two of the chairs on one side, giving you the option of which of the two you wanted to sit on, before walking to the other side and sitting in the one he’d chosen for himself.

Whilst the chairs themselves were aged and made of hardwood, the owners had arranged an assortment of cushions and pillows on top of them to make the surfaces more comfortable for longer stays. You picked up the pillow from the chair you didn’t sit on and put it behind your back, sighing with the relief that it brought.

Jayce didn’t seem that bothered by the hardness of his seat as he pulled the plush cushion out from under his body and presented it to you. You laughed gently and shook your head, “Two is enough for me, but thank you,”, at your words, he placed it on top of the seat next to him and gently pushed it down as if he were telling it to stay put.

There was a beat of silence between you, the only noise being the busy ambiance of the people around you. The subtle ‘Psst’ of the coffee machine nozzle blowing out fresh steam. The clattering and clinking of cups and cutlery. It was just enough to keep the awkwardness away from your table.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you apologised, finally breaking the silence between you. Jayce gazed up at you, his forehead wrinkled at the raise of his eyebrows and his ears bounced at the sound of your voice; his head still tilted downwards as he inspected the menu but his attention was now on you.

His eyes searched yours, possibly looking for where your sentence was going. “In the other cafe-” you clarified, even though you didn’t need to, Jayce knew what you were talking about, “-I didn’t think it through properly, and I should’ve checked beforehand to make sure it was okay for you,” your eyes lost contact with his, the guilt you were feeling forcing you to look anywhere but him.

“I just didn’t expect it from them,” you pulled the sleeve of your top up over your knuckles and played with the fabric, “I’ve been going there since I’ve lived here and they’ve never been like that with anyone,” you knew you were rambling but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

You cleared your throat, you were unintentionally making excuses for them, and they didn’t deserve that. Jayce didn’t deserve that.

“They were assholes to you, I’m sorry,” you said firmly and regained your confidence enough to look back at him. It was as though his eyes had never shifted from when you’d started talking; he studied your expressions as you spoke as if he was going to have a test on it later that day.

You felt visually dissected by him, and you could tell he was searching for something specific beneath the word vomit that was being expelled from your mouth, but you didn’t know what.

He blinked slowly at you and you felt a wave of reassurance flitter over you, but before you could verbally dig yourself deeper into this apology hole the barista appeared at the end of your table.

“Got those drinks for you!” She put the two mugs down on the table with such delicacy that the ceramic clicking against the wood was almost inaudible. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she left again with a happy “Enjoy!”.

Then it was back to the silence. Even though you’d already apologised, and everything in your gut told you not to linger on the subject and to move on, your heart couldn’t let it go.

The urge to bring it up again teetered on the edge of your tongue and you weren’t sure if you could balance it well enough for it not to topple over and fall out of your mouth.

His attention had returned to the laminated menu, reading every item with a curious intensity. There was a perfect excuse to change the subject onto what he wanted to eat, if he liked the music that was playing, or even if he was warm enough where you were sitting, but the roots of guilt were too deep into you that you felt like you needed to rip them out before the infestation was incurable.

“Why did you leave?” You asked before you could stop yourself and his body stopped moving at the mention of the situation, as though the thought of it turned him into a statue like a memory-medusa.

His vision went from the menu, to you, to the table, then back to you again.

He put the menu back down on the surface and laced his fingers together in front of him, seemingly in thought.

You should’ve left it alone, moved on with the afternoon and allowed him peace, but you were being selfish. The need to remove this guilt off of your shoulders had overpowered the conscious thought to let him move on, and that only pushed the stone of anxiety deeper into your stomach.

“It doesn’t matter, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you quickly tried to erase the question ever coming out of your mouth, but no matter how hard you inhaled, the words wouldn’t go back into your body.

You read the menu in front of you with such forced focus that you weren’t actually reading the words on the page, the same thoughts swirling around in your mind and overpowering any cognitive ability you had left to take in the letters and form any coherent sentences.

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see his fingers unwrap themselves from each other and his arms lift from the table. You locked your eye line onto the menu, actively ignoring what he was doing, feeling as if you had done enough damage for one day.

After a few moments he tapped the table and slid a napkin over to you, the white square landing diagonally over the text you were pretending to read. In black ink, the word ‘Safer’ was scribbled - parts of the tissue had ripped from the force of the pen tip, but it was legible.

You took the napkin in your hands, holding it delicately as if it would rip apart if you moved too quickly. “Safer?” you read it aloud and returned your gaze to him. His eyes flicked to the napkin and then to your face, nodding once.

“As in, it’s safer here?” you queried, the tight knot in your chest and your incessant need to overthink apparently making you forget the question you’d asked him.

He closed his eyes and exhaled with, what you regarded to be, annoyance. His shoulders relaxed as he opened them again and jutted his chin towards the exit. “Outside? Do you want to leave?” your heart sunk at the prospect that you’d only made the situation worse, making two mistakes in one day.

He shook his head side to side, his brown locks mimicking the motion in front of his forehead. No. He tapped the napkin twice with the ballpoint of the pen, harder than he had before and widened his eyes with his mouth slightly agape like he was mentally repeating what he was trying to say but the wavelength wasn’t reaching you. Your brain was too full of everything you’d done wrong today.

“I-” you started, looking down at the word and back to him as if viewing it another time would somehow rearrange the letters into a way that would form the sentence he was trying so hard to get to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your eyebrows raised with sympathy from their previous state of confusion.

He reached forward quickly and spun the napkin back towards him, clicking the pen with his thumb and starting to scrawl more words onto the fragile surface. One letter in and you watched the delicate fabric tear from the force he was pressing down, making it completely unusable.

The hand that was holding the tissue in place swiftly scrunched it up in his palm, the same hand coming to massage his nose with frustration. His shoulders rose with a deep inhale, he held it for a second, then pushed it out of his nose as a way to calm down.

A minute of you watching him rub the indent between his eyes with his index finger and thumb felt like hours. Multiple times you had opened your mouth to say something but closed it again, not being able to find any words that would comfort anyone but yourself.

The usual comfortable silence between you was tainted with tension you didn’t know how to relieve. The pangs of nostalgia picked at your heart with involuntary memories of weaponised silent treatment.

But Jayce wasn’t him. It wasn’t like that with him, his silence was not a battle against you but one within himself and you needed to be patient with him.

“It’s okay,” you finally said, and he opened his eyes to meet yours again, his fingers still connected to the bridge of his nose. A cautious smile strained onto your lips, “I’m sorry I pushed, and I’m too much of an idiot to understand,” the second part of your sentence was supposed to have humour to it, but the moment it left your lips his frown deepened. He shook his head at your self-deprecating remark, clearly not liking the way you were speaking about yourself, but he softened his gaze and lowered his hand.

“We can talk about something else if you want?” you spoke with a new gentleness, trying to navigate the situation properly. You didn’t wait for him to answer before you threw another question at him, “Have you decided on what you want to eat?”.

Jayce stares at you and blinks as if he’s trying to keep up with the barrage of questions coming his way. He lowers his head to the menu again and exhales out of his nose twice in a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips.

He appreciated how hard you were trying to make him comfortable, it made the thrums of his own frustrations fizzle out into a calmness he wasn’t yet used to.

He laced two of his fingers through the handle of his mug and sipped his drink, reeling back for a moment as the hot liquid burned his top lip unexpectedly. His tongue ran over the sensitive flesh to soothe it as he looked down at the foam like it had done it intentionally.

As if watching him sip his coffee made you remember that you too had a drink, you mimicked his movements, lifting your cup to your mouth and blowing on the top layer of foam, not wanting to make the same mistake he did.

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, he turned the menu with his other hand and pointed at what he wanted.

A loud grumble sounded from across the table, Jayce’s stomach seemingly agreeing with his choice. “You must be so hungry, I’m sorry!”, you said as you collected the menus off of the table and stood, the legs of the chair audibly creaking against the floor from the speed your thighs had pushed it backwards.

“I’ll go order the food and I’ll be right back,” you tapped the table twice with your knuckles and headed for the counter.

You stared at the words on the page, repeating what Jayce wanted over and over in your mind as you stood behind an older man. He was taking his time querying all the different syrup flavours that they had to offer.

You didn’t mind waiting. It gave you a moment of reprieve to catch your breath and slow your thoughts. Jayce was patient, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d pushed that patience to its limit already, and this was your first real day together.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you woke up tomorrow morning and he was nowhere to be found with how badly today had gone. Your chest cramped at the thought.

“Hi, are you ready to order?” The barista’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hi, um, yes!” You stepped forward and put your hands, and the menu’s against the counter, relaying what Jayce wanted and then your own choice.

You were pretty sure you’d remembered his order correctly, you prayed you had.

“Great, we’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready,” she finished scribbling on her notepad and punctuated it with a full stop, “You’re number six,” she handed you a wooden spoon with the number six drawn onto the convex side with black sharpie.

You took the spoon and started to turn when you spotted a pile of whiteboards and pens behind the partition that separated customers and staff.

“Excuse me?” You called out to her as she reached through the gantry, a hand - who’s owner you couldn’t see - took the paper slip containing your food order from her fingers.

She twisted her head around to you, giving you her attention once more, her face expectant and awaiting your question.

“Are those whiteboards for customers?” You asked, the inquiry feeling a bit silly now that you’d heard your own voice make it audible. “It’s just-“ you continued, over-explaining yourself again “-Your companion is mute?” She finished your question for you with an expression of understanding and sympathy.

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed, a little taken aback that she knew what you were going to say before you could vocalise it, “That’s why we have them!” She grabbed one of the whiteboards and individually picked up a black, blue and red marker.

As she handed them to you, she must have noticed your surprised expression, or it was extremely obvious that you were out of your depth as she started to explain in more detail.

“It’s common for our hybrid friends to choose not to speak, most of them have been through a lot, it takes time for them to re-find their voice,” there was a sad but hopeful lint to her words, as if she’d experienced it personally.

The implication that Jayce may speak one day made your heart thump an extra time. You’d heard him chuckle and clear his throat multiple times, so you knew he had the itinerary needed, but hearing someone else say it filled you with optimism.

“Although, not all of them do,” her interjection dampened your internal celebration. She must have seen the excitement on your face and not wanted to give you false hope, “My nana had a hybrid who never spoke a word to her for her whole life, but she was the funniest person she knew, apparently.”

Whilst you wanted to stay and chat to the young girl, you glanced over your shoulder to make sure Jayce was still content while he waited for you.

He was sat sideways in his chair, one arm on the backrest and the other on the table as he observed his surroundings in more detail. You could spare a few minutes to maybe learn something that might help you make him more comfortable.

“She never spoke to her?” You asked, encouraging her to continue her story, “Not a word! All their communication was written,” she grabbed a cloth and started to wipe down the nozzles of the coffee machine as she spoke.

“My nana is the one who opened this place around 30 years ago, I think? And she was adamant we have enough whiteboards and pens for every table, that’s what mom said anyway,” she grinned as she retold the memory. It was nice to know this was a family owned business of people who genuinely cared for hybrids.

She dropped the cloth onto the counter, “I won’t keep you from your afternoon, but if you want more info about hybrids we have a couple of books,” she pointed to the bookshelves by the table Jayce had chosen.

“Is it that obvious I’m new to this?” You laughed and rubbed your elbow with your hand, the girl raised her hand and made a pinching motion with her fingers, “A teensie bit,” she played along with your humour.

“But it’s okay, we all start somewhere! You’ve made it harder for yourself by starting with such a large breed, but if the connection’s there, that’s all that matters!” She reassured you, the cadence of her voice carrying that of someone much over than she seemed.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at her with gratitude and left her to her job, returning back to Jayce.

Waiting for the food to arrive was much less awkward than before you’d ordered. Whatever tension you were feeling you’d seemingly left somewhere on the journey between your table and the counter.

The two of you sat in silence, taking turns to sip your drinks and take in your surroundings.

Jayce’s attention was on the ceiling where there was an intricate painting of ivy vines and leaves intermingling with, what you presumed to be, fake ivy pinned to the same surface. It gave the interior a more at-home-in-nature type of vibe.

Meanwhile, you were observing him. The way his curious eyes followed the trail of greens and ambers from the corner of the room to the expanse of the ceiling above you. The way his throat bounced with every swallow of his coffee, and his lips turned up into a satisfied and content smile.

His side profile was angular; the slope of his nose just after the slightly raised dorsum emphasised the tip nicely - it would wrinkle intermittently whenever a new scent found its way to his nostrils. His rounded lips, although scarred with harsh lines, were outlined almost-perfectly by his coarse beard.

The strands of hair from his moustache were beginning to peak over a bit too much, and you realised he would probably need to shave soon if he didn’t want to be eating it with his food.

As if he knew you were analysing the shape of his mouth, his lips parted slightly as he continued to admire the artwork above him, giving you a glimpse of the canines that you’d seen in different context this morning.

You couldn’t help but wonder what his voice sounded like. It wasn’t something you could rush, nor could you hold onto the expectation that you would hear it. But you could still wonder nonetheless.

Would it hold the same soft, patient, gentleness that you’d seen in his eyes?

Before your thoughts could take you any further, your plates were set down in front of you and you began to eat.

You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were until the first morsel of food connected with your tongue, your tummy immediately grumbling as if you weren’t actively feeding it.

He ate faster than you, and you realised he had the same sensation. The last time either of you ate was last night, and you were most certain that he hadn’t gotten proper rest.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to eat, I shouldn’t have dragged you around town,” you covered your mouth as you spoke to make sure no stray food flew at him despite having an empty mouth.

While he chewed the last few bites of his meal, he reached for the whiteboard marker and popped off the lid, scribbling on the board’s surface much easier than he had the napkin.

‘Stop apologising’ he’d written in hurried handwriting. You read it as you swallowed your mouthful, your instinct was to say sorry again but as you opened your mouth to do so he gave you a scolding look.

He didn’t need to write it down for you to understand he was saying ‘Don’t you dare’.

“I do that a lot, don’t I?”, he closed his eyes and nodded as he put the last piece of his food into his mouth and savoured the flavour. He didn’t seem annoyed, but you made a mental note to not say it as much.

“Okay, I’m never going to apologise to you again,” you joked, trying to fight the curl of your lips, but his raised eyebrow made you crack.

It was nice, sitting there with him. Comfortable.

When you’d finally caught up to him and cleared your plate, he picked it up and slid it on top of his, placing them both towards the end of the table so the server could retrieve them easier.

It was moments like these that you forgot what his file said about him. Feral tendencies and behavioural trouble seemed like the furthest thing from his repertoire.

Instead, he replaced where your plates had been with the whiteboard, rubbing out where he’d chastised you with the same napkin he’d ripped earlier and drew two horizontal lines and two vertical lines over the top of them.

As you were tipping the last of your drink into your mouth to wash down your food, you hummed excitedly as you recognised what he was doing. Tic-tac-toe.

He picked up all three of the pens and presented them to you with a gaze that said ‘Choose your weapon’, for this battle, you chose blue. He put the black pen down, having selected red as his sword for this tournament.

He gestured to you to start and you realised he was letting you go first. You twirled the pen between your fingers as you looked over the whiteboard, trying to decide which space to put your circle in.

“It’s been years since I’ve played this,” you recalled as you observed the grid. From your memory, going first almost always guaranteed a win because the other player would always be on the defensive, trying to counter the first player’s moves, it seemed like he was almost doing you a favour by letting you begin.

With an air of confidence, you put your blue circle in the top middle box. Before your pen had even lifted from the board he’d put his cross in the top right box, next to yours, with two swipes of the pen.

You narrowed your eyes with a sly smile, and he returned your expression with a raised eyebrow. Oh, it was going to be that type of game.

You had learned your lesson by underestimating him previously, but you wouldn’t make that same mistake again. Readjusting your posture so your elbows were on the table and your back an unhealthy arch, you inspected the board.

The circle and cross next to each other stared back at you as your brain mentally drew all the different moves you could make, he would be the one blocking your victory after all.

He watched you think. The way you chewed your bottom lip and your eyes darted to each square then back to the scribbles already on the board, the light crease in between your eyebrows whenever you reached a conclusion where he would win, and the subsequent shake of your head to erase the invisible game you were playing with him in his head.

He liked seeing you serious about a game, it sent a rush of adrenaline through him, finding a worthy opponent was difficult.

He could probably guess where your next circle was going to go just by how often your eyes locked onto the square, and he was already planning his own measures to stop you succeeding. He was correct in his assumption when he followed your pen to the middle left box.

You hoped your tactic would work - cutting off the middle box of the left and top so he wouldn’t be able to predict where you were going to go next, and so he couldn’t win on those lines.

He would surely take the bottom left so you couldn’t complete a trio on the left column and leaving the middle box unprotected for your taking - then you would have the option of winning horizontally or vertically.

The red pen drifted towards the left corner and you couldn’t help the grin that started to creep its way onto your face, soon victory would be yours.

Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he swiped two lines in the bottom right corner.

Your smile dropped, your plan had failed. But then your mouth parted as your eyes finally relayed the information you were seeing to your brain, the middle right box was blank and he was one move away from winning.

Promptly, you drew your circle in the space, blocking his pesky red cross from triumphing over you. Although you hadn’t given yourself time to think about your move, it was the only one you could make that wouldn’t end the game immediately.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his throat and causing you to glance up at him. His lips were parted and his tongue caressed the tip of his fang for a moment before resting back in his mouth, the glint in his eye was almost identical to the one he had once his food had arrived. Hungry and ready to pounce.

You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your throat, the few microseconds it took for him to raise his pen building the suspense of your fate in a way that made your heart race.

You’d lost. Even though the game was still in motion, you could tell by his eager expression that he had you exactly where he wanted you. With threads of hope that you could still turn this around, but he was three steps ahead of you on a hill you couldn’t see over.

Eventually, he slowly drew his red cross in the centre square. Ironic, you thought you were being clever by not taking that one to begin with, but now it was your downfall.

The tip of his pen was still against the whiteboard when he raised his eyes to lock with yours, his golden irises held anticipation but not for how the game was going to conclude. No, he knew that from your first move, it was more so for your reaction. He wanted to consume your realisation of your defeat, and drink in the helplessness of knowing that whatever move you made, he had won.

You blinked rapidly, breaking the eye contact with him and taking in your situation. It took you a moment to register what had happened, but then you saw it. The only spaces blank were the top left, and the bottom and middle left - he could win with either the top or bottom left by making a diagonal red trio.

When you’d understood you’d lost you thought it was just by one space, but knowing that he had a selection of ways that he could claim his victory made you comprehend exactly who your opponent was.

One square would’ve been an honourable loss. However, the way he’d not only given you an advantage by going first, but so swiftly pulled that advantage out from under you and given it to himself was nothing short of impeccable.

“You win,” you straightened your back and spoke softly, starting to put your pen down in defeat. He tutted and you didn’t need to see his face to know that he was telling you the game wasn’t over yet. To surrender so close to the end would be to rip his reward from him.

Your fingers hadn’t left the pen yet and you’d already conceded to his wishes, drawing a lazy circle in the bottom corner and securing his success.

He folded his arms on the table in front of him and watched you pull your pen away hesitantly, as if the longer you took the longer you could live in the moment where you hadn’t lost.

The hand that was holding his pen came up to rest on his face as he tapped his cheekbone in mock deep thought, he smirked smugly as his eyes went from the whiteboard to your face, his lids slightly hooded but you could still see the gold of his irises piercing you with indiscernible contemplation.

He’d already won, so why was he dragging it out? You squirmed in your seat under the pressure of his gaze, and you saw his smile deepen. Ah, that was why.

Deciding that he’d tortured you enough, he put his cross in the top left box and drew a diagonal line through his three territories, signalling him as the winner.

You exhaled deeply and leaned back in your chair, examining the board to try and figure out where you went wrong, how he’d so quickly gotten the upper hand on you, but you were coming up blank.

He erased the whiteboard and re-drew the grid and you were all too happy to try and even the score.

The rest of the games were draws. As much as you wanted to win, the mixture of overthinking his moves and second-guessing your own meant that, no matter how hard you tried, he beat you. But the flash of his teeth and curl of his lips made it worthwhile - you didn’t mind losing if it made him happy.

You tapped your phone screen, having noticed that the cafe was starting to quieten down with empty seats, it was getting late. “I think they’re closing soon,” you said with regret, watching him wipe the previous game off of the board with the napkin, “Is there anything else you want?” you asked as you stood from your chair.

He thought for a moment and shook his head as he continued to clean up the board and put the pens on top of it in a neat line.

You picked it up and put your hand over the pens so they wouldn’t roll off as you walked and returned it back to the counter. You began to turn back around to the table and make your exit when you saw a cupcake in the bakery cabinet, vanilla sponge with a little bit of frosting and a strawberry, cut in half, nestled on top.

Immediately you asked the barista for it, you remembered in Jayce’s file that he liked strawberries and his favourite type of cake was vanilla - although, the document did state that vanilla was the only flavour they were able to get him to try in the short span of time he was there, but at least you knew he didn’t hate it.

You paid and she passed the treat to you on a little ceramic plate, you held it like it was the most precious thing in the world; this was your cargo to carry to its destination. However, as you slowly spun to return to Jayce, your shoulder collided with someone walking quickly behind you.

A sudden gasp left your lips as the cupcake wobbled but remained standing, and you gazed up at the moving target you’d accidentally hit. Another canine hybrid. His hair was a gradient of black to white from the roots to the ends, but with no uniform pattern, light grey being the dominant colour you could see - emphasised by the pointed grey ears sticking out from the wavy mess. A husky, if you had to guess. “I’m-”, “I’m so sorry!” you both spoke at the same time, but you were the one to finish your sentence first. He regarded you with icy blue irises, slightly obscured by the playful but curious hood of his lids.

“It’s fine, shit happens,” he shrugged with one shoulder, ironically the one you’d collided with, his voice was melodic with a slight raspiness to certain words. If this had been the first hybrid you ever encountered you would’ve never second-guessed if they could speak.

Internally, you scolded yourself. Automatically assuming that every hybrid was incapable of dialogue because they were different from you is not what they deserved.

Whilst you were in thought, you must’ve been staring at his shoulder because his hand came up to grab it dramatically, “I mean, ah!-” he bent his knees to dip as if he’d just been hit, “-I think it might be broken, you really did a number on me!”

There wasn’t a single drop of sincerity in his voice or his features as he scrunched up his face and grit his teeth in faux pain, the bridge and nose piercing bobbing with the sudden contraction of the muscle.

He opened one of his eyes to see your reaction, his face still a performance of agony, and his bottom lip pouted as if it took a lot of concentration not to break his character.

Then you laughed, hesitantly at first, but when he joined you it flowed easily.

You thought an awkward silence was going to follow, but his voice filled your ears again. “I haven’t seen you here before, first time?” he lowered his hand and his genuine tone returned.

You nodded, “Yeah, only found out about this place today. It’s nice!” you glanced around the cafe as if you were seeing it for the first time again, mainly to avoid his eye contact. Whilst he had a comforting aura about him, the light blue of his eyes felt like they were boring into your very soul.

“Well, I don’t get to come here often, but I’ll certainly remember a face like yours,” he wasn’t subtle in his compliment, but if there was any doubt of the intention of his words, the mischievous one-sided grin would’ve been all the evidence you needed.

You exhaled out of your nose as a bashful laugh escaped you. Despite his forward nature, this man was charming, you could tell he wasn’t serious in his advances but his playfulness was a breath of fresh air.

The man’s eyes trailed behind you and up, his smile remaining but his eyes lost their joyful lint. You turned your head to glance behind you but felt a tug on the back of your sweater, pulling you backwards and making you take a few steps back.

Jayce moved one step forward, placing half of his body in front of yours and between you and your new acquaintance.

The atmosphere shifted in a bubble around the three of you, the rest of the cafe unaffected by the unspoken argument between blue and golden gazes.

You didn’t need to see Jayce’s face to know his features were hard and apprehensive as he stared down at him, you could tell by the way he adjusted his shoulders. The smaller man tilted his head to the side, chin raising and back straightening to try and make himself look bigger.

It was like watching two peacocks bristling their feathers at each other. You reached your hand out to touch Jayce’s bicep but refrained from making contact, afraid that it might make the situation worse, “Jayce, it’s okay. He’s friendly,” you spoke softly but strongly. Maybe sounding confident would put him at ease that you weren’t in danger.

Jayce’s ear twitched towards you, hearing your words but his body language didn’t change. “No harm meant, big guy,” the husky reinforced your statement with his own, but folded his arms over his chest defensively. You swore you caught a glimpse of redness on his knuckles, but it could’ve been from the cold weather.

The tension in the air wasn’t fading and you could feel that both of them weren’t willing to back down anytime soon.

“Jayce, stop!” you called his name, this time not shouting but firmly and direct as an attempt to get his attention away from his potential opponent. “Listen to her,” the younger man jutted his chin towards you without his eyes leaving Jayce.

You flicked a stare towards your new friend, a gaze that told him that he wasn’t helping the situation, but before you could vocalise your thoughts to him a man came jogging towards the three of you.

“Abraxas!” His voice carried a command that you could never dream of speaking to Jayce with. Once he was level with you all he looked between the two hybrids, “Is he causing trouble?” The man panted, clearly out of breath from his speedy approach.

The husky - who must have been Abraxas - turned his head to the man with offense, unravelling his arms from his chest and extended his arms out either side of him with annoyance, “I didn’t do anything! We were chatting and this guy-” he raised his arm to gesture at Jayce but his sentence was cut off by the man’s hand pushing against his chest sharply to make him stand behind him.

You noticed how Abraxas’ ears drooped slightly at the action, but it had done the job of silencing him.

“He always does this,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “These bigger canines are hard to control sometimes, you turn your back for one second and they’re starting fights,” he spoke with a cadence of comradery with you, as if he was talking to someone who would mutually understand.

But it made you think. If Jayce got out of hand, would you stand a chance at calming him down?

Your gaze drifted back to the side of Jayce’s face as you cautiously stepped in front of him again so you could converse with the man. The fabric of your sweater was still pinched between his fingers and you felt the resistance of his gentle tug once he’d deemed you were close enough.

“It was all a big misunderstanding,” you explained, trying to portray with your voice how silly this whole altercation was. “At least your one is quiet, I can’t get him to shut up most days,” he chuckled, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Abraxas, who seemed just as offended as before at the comment.

“I’m Henry, by the way,” the man extended his hand for you to shake and you resisted the urge to check with Jayce before you shook it and gave him your name. “Us canine owners have gotta stick together,” there was a noticeable crease beside his eyes when he spoke, showing his age. “Well, this is actually our first day together,” you corrected him and gestured to Jayce, who was still tense. “Ah!” Henry glanced between the two of you as if he had secret information of events you were yet to experience, “They can be a handful, but looks like you’ve got a good one,” his eyes trailed over Jayce as if he was examining him.

“This is Jayce,” you introduced him, missing the side eye that Jayce gave you as you freely offered up his name to this stranger, “Nice to meet you Jayce, sorry about the trouble,” Henry extended his hand for him to take as well, but you weren’t surprised when it was left hanging in the air.

“Well,” Henry dropped his hand and turned back to you, “I wish you luck! I’d offer you my number as a support line, but I wouldn’t want to impose!”, “Yes, please, that would be great!” you waited for him to finish speaking before you interjected with your acceptance out of politeness.

The truth was, after the events of today, this was going to be hard. You didn’t want to keep making mistakes that would backtrack any progress the two of you were making. The man took out his phone and passed it to you so you could input your number, “I’m very new to this, so any help is appreciated,” you gave him his phone back once you were done and felt your own phone vibrate with a text after he’d typed you a quick message. “You’ve certainly made a bold choice for your first hybrid,” his eyebrows jumped as his eyes lifted from his phone and to Jayce, again looking him up and down, “Any questions, shoot me a text.”

He said his goodbye and made his exit, grabbing the sleeve of Abraxas’ jacket and forcing him to walk with him, you could hear the muttering of scolding fade with them.

Jayce seemed to relax when it was just the two of you again. You thought about doing the same thing Henry had done and reprimand him for almost starting a fight, but the sympathetic expression he held told you that he already knew.

“I got you a cupcake,” you changed the subject and his features softened as he regarded the plate you’d been holding in your hand the entire time, “I hope you like it.”

He took the cupcake off of the plate, picking the strawberry off of the frosting and holding it in his palm. He bit into the sponge, almost eating the whole thing in one go, and you held your breath with anticipation.

His tongue wiped away any traces of the frosting that had attached themselves to his moustache and he hummed whilst nodding his head, showing his enjoyment. You let out your breath.

“Are you okay to eat it while we walk? I think they’re closing,” you twisted your head to see the members of staff wiping down tables and putting the chairs on top. Jayce didn’t give you an answer, but started walking towards the door instead.

The evening air was much colder than when you’d arrived, the sun having set a few hours ago and the only illumination you had was the streetlamps.

Jayce had finished his cupcake before you’d even caught up to him outside. He picked up one half of the strawberry and placed it into his mouth, the red berry seeming no bigger than a small candy in his palm as he presented the other half to you. You shook your head, “No, I got it for you,” but he moved his hand closer to you, insistent on you having it. You reached up and hesitantly took the strawberry half between your index finger and thumb, the tips of your skin gently brushing against his palm; it was warm, really warm, with a roughness to it that you didn’t want to question.

Placing it into your mouth, you chewed with a thankful smile as he licked the part of his hand where the sticky residue of the fruit had leaked and brushed his hands off against each other.

“Shall we go get some snacks for home?” you said once you’d swallowed, the word ‘home’ seeming foreign to say to someone other than yourself, reminding yourself that it was now his home too.

His nod certified your next plan of action and you led him to the closest store you knew would be open. He stayed close to you as you roamed the aisles, picking up what snacks you wanted and encouraging him to do the same. As you approached the register you passed the stationary section and an idea came to you. It would be impossible for you to pick something up without Jayce noticing, so as casually as you could, you picked up a sketchbook and a metal tin of drawing pencils. You remembered how interested he was in the artist earlier and wondered if he wanted to try it himself.

By his unchanged expression, you assumed he didn’t notice, or thought it was for you.

You paid and continued your walk back to your apartment, the inky black night sky now hung fully above you, it really was getting late. There was too much light pollution in town, all the neon signs of bars and restaurants, with the bright street lamps, meant that any attempt at observing the stars would be pointless.

Has Jayce ever seen the stars? You thought to yourself. He must have, from his years of not having a roof over his head. But had he ever stargazed without the fear of what the dawn brought? You made a mental note to yourself to take him further out of town one day to do just that, maybe even camping?

You were so deep into your mental to-do list that you barely noticed when Jayce had stopped walking. His head was tilted towards the high rooftops of the tall buildings, drinking in the LED lights that you’d seen so many times since winter hit.

You shuffled next to him and stuffed your hands into your pockets to protect them from the chill, taking in the bright white snowflakes and tinsel that draped from roof to roof. In some sense of it, this was probably the equivalent of Jayce seeing the stars for the first time, under different conditions.

To you, it was a simple and repetitive thing that the council organised every year, but to him it was the first time seeing the festive lights. You thought about how it must feel, to have a moment of wonder so late in your life, one that you had taken for granted as a child, but a glance at his face answered your question.

The pulsing glow radiated in the glossy surface of his eyes, as if the stars themselves had nestled into them to twinkle and shine, recognising another celestial body. The soft hue of the whites, green and reds reflected against his skin, illuminating him like he too was a celebration to be marvelled at.

It astounded you how anyone could treat this man so poorly. His features were so full of longing and affection that he wasn’t yet ready to share with another living person, an adoration that begged to be allowed to the surface. But the festive lights were an exception, they couldn’t hurt him.

You opened your mouth to usher him along, to mutter a quiet “Let’s go home,” but you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt this moment.

So, you patiently waited for him until he was ready. Viewing the lights you’d seen in various different places throughout your life, they were always similar designs, but this time through a new lens. Appreciating them from a new perspective, the perspective of Jayce.

lockjaw:

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#lockjaw #oneoftheextras #fanfic #arcane fanfic #jayce x reader #slow burn #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #puppy jayce #puppy jayce talis x reader #hybrid puppy jayce #hybrid puppy jayce x reader #a/b/o #alpha jayce #alpha jayce x reader #hybrid au #hybrid!jayce x reader #hybrid oc #lockjaw hybrid oc

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fixated-cookies · 2 days ago

Note

different anon but imagine pure vanilla (bonus if awakened) and reader ganging up on shadow milk for revenge :) giving the jester a taste of his own medicine

Awaken pure vanilla...drools

that man is so gentle, it is hard to believe that even when he's jealous he's still compassionate. in fact is kinda poetic in a way, Shadow Milk Cookie, the one who always desires control, being put in the exact position he’s put others in? Now that’s a show worth watching. also, this is a reference from my previous post

WARNING- Smut, cuckolding

Pure Vanilla, normally so forgiving, so gentle, even in his jealousy, he doesn’t act cruelly. But he can be merciless in kindness. This is what makes is dangerous for Shadow Milk, no matter how much he squirms, or taunts "You can do better than that!" while he seethes in jealousy, Pure Vanilla simply smiles. A soft, knowing smile as he gently turns the tables. And you? Oh, you’re right there alongside Pure Vanilla. Feeding into his calm dominance, playing along so sweetly that it drives Shadow Milk up the wall. Kissing him and loving up on him like you're basically getting your marriage consummated right in front of him. Holding hands while he ruts into your wet tightness creates a frustration and envious feeling with shadow milk's souljam. two against one. So unfair, isn’t it?

This isn’t how the game is supposed to go. He is supposed to be the one orchestrating the scene, pulling the strings, controlling the script! But now? Now, he’s nothing more than a bitter spectator to your little performance with Pure Vanilla, and it burns...and makes his cock ache, just a little

He doesn't even need to gloat about it. his gentle touches, his soothing voice, the way he hums in contentment as you dote on him, riding him into your own ecstasy with your sweet and lovely moans and mewls. He knows Shadow Milk is watching, knows it’s tearing him apart, and yet he remains as warm and kind as ever. "Oh, Shadow Milk," he murmurs with that infuriatingly gentle tone, looking at him over your shoulder while he rubs your back. His hand strokes your back in slow, tender motions, guiding you, cherishing you, worshiping you as you gasp and tremble in his grasp. Nothing like the harsh fuck Shadow Milk put you through earlier...

Shadow Milk glares at him, biting his lip as he sits restrained in the very same chair, as punishment. He sees you glance at you glance at him over your shoulder, grinding yourself onto his length, you lock eyes at him while giving him a slight flustered smirk, Pure Vanilla moans, deep and unrestrained, his hands gripping your waist with the kind of reverence that only makes Shadow Milk seethe more. you teasing little—! "Surely, you're not jealous?" Pure Vanilla's voice interrupt his thoughts. its not an accusation, its an observation. And oh, does that make his jam boil.

It’s not fair.

His lips curl into a snarl, but his breath stutters, his mask slipping—just for a second. You just keep going. Keep smiling. Keep taunting him without a single word, driving him up the walls with nothing more than your movements and your gaze. tugs at his restraints, hard, his breath coming in uneven puffs. He should look away, should focus on breaking free, should think of some grand, poetic way to turn the tables—but he can’t.

Not when the show is this good.

I need them both to destroy my cunt so bad!

#shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #crk #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie smut #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla cookie smut #pure vanilla cookie x reader #smut

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holybibly · 21 hours ago

Text

Unholy thoughts of the day, my sugar bunnies: You're stuck in traffic and your lovely secretary finds the perfect way to pass the time. Or Seonghwa desperately wants to feel you under his tongue and won't miss the opportunity when you're alone in the car on the way to a business meeting.

'M-m-miss...' Seonghwa begins hesitantly, stuttering slightly when you don't pay attention to him, too busy with your phone. 'Miss... Will you allow me to please you? "Please, Miss, I promise I won't disappoint you..." He almost whimpers as he looks up at you through his long, fluttering eyelashes, his eyes wide and pleading. 'Please...'

Instead of answering, you silently spread your beautiful legs for him, carelessly showing him your luscious pussy, barely covered by your tiny silk panties. The sight of your plump, sweet cunt makes his mouth water, and Seonghwa can barely control himself as he impatiently slides from his seat to the floor of the car and buries his incredibly beautiful face in your warm, inviting crotch.

Hwa nuzzles your soft pussy hungrily, almost purring with pleasure; his smooth, honey-golden skin tingling with heat under the stuffy fabric of his designer shirt as the hot knot of arousal tightens further in his lower abdomen.

"Try not to be too messy, Secretary Park. We have some important meetings planned today, and I need to look neat." You warn him as you take a second to look away from your phone and look down at Seonghwa. He absently blinks a few times, trying to focus on your words, but it's so hard when you tangle your elegant fingers in the thick silkiness of his soft black hair and your long, sharp nails lightly scratch the sensitive skin of his scalp, causing him to let out a long, hot moan, the sound muffled by the soft, damp fabric of your dainty panties.

'Mmm... I'll try, Miss...' That's all he can say before burying his face completely in your cunt and taking a deep breath of your rich, creamy aroma. Your panties are already so damp, and he moves even closer to you, sticking his long, warm tongue out of his mouth and greedily licking a long, wide strip of silk.

You shudder at this tender, yet so incredibly dirty caress, feeling how the delicate, soft folds of your pretty cunt getting stickier and wetter by the second.

Your soft, melodious sounds soothe his ears, his beautiful, big cock already so hard and throbbing, oozing embarrassingly large amounts of pre-cum and demanding attention as he continues to lick your panties, oblivious to the world around him.

Your secretary continues to lick your panties until they are completely soaked with a mixture of his saliva and your mucus before he takes them off. In another situation, he would have taken enough time to suck on your dirty panties or rub them on his face, but you told him not to make a mess, so Seonghwa modestly tucks them into his trouser pocket, hoping to play with them later.

Your plump labia are all sticky and glistening with your honeyed mucus, and Songhwa cleans them with his mouth before doing anything else. His hot, heavy breath blows over your folds and your swollen, sensitive clit, sending little jolts of excitatory electricity all over your body.

To make it more comfortable for him to lick you, you put one of your legs on his shoulder and fully relax into the soft leather seat of the car. For a moment, your secretary pulls away from your pussy to look at you. Transparent, viscous strands of your sugary goo stretch from your folds to his plump, sensual lips, and Hwa runs the tip of his tongue over his fuckable mouth, making sure not to miss a drop of this exquisite treat.

Seonghwa looks at you with heavy siren eyes full of adoration and lust, hoping you'll compliment him on how well he's servicing your gorgeous pussy, but you're still completely focused on your phone, and that makes him even more horny. Almost painfully horny. Your complete indifference makes Seonghwa want to give you the most incredible pleasure. He wants to take you to heaven with his tongue.

‘Am I doing well, miss?’ Seonghwa's voice sounded panting and pathetically slutty.

'Mmm, yes...go on...' You moo indifferently in response and continue to scroll through your social media feed.

Your answer doesn't satisfy Seonghwa, and he lets out a soft sob before he forcefully digs his long, elegant fingers into your juicy, thick thighs, and the sudden sting of pain almost makes you scream. Hwa pulls you against him in an almost aggressive manner until his hot, wet mouth is fully pressed against your pussy.

Now Hwa really starts to lick you, greedily lapping at your cunt as if it were the sweetest dessert in the world.

It makes you breathe harder and squirt more of your sweet, sticky juices onto his tongue, stimulating Seonghwa even more. He licks you absolutely randomly, without any particular rhythm or system. Hwa teasing your folds with the tip of his soft, warm tongue slides over your little mound, sucks your thin, hypersensitive skin into his mouth, and smacks his plump lips on your labia and little hole before slipping his skilful, long tongue into it and greedily caressing the slippery, warm walls of your cunt. But at the same time, he completely avoids your eager clit.

Seonghwa wants to break your indifference, and he'll never do that if he makes you come too quickly. No, he wants you to grab his hair harder and start using him as your personal sex toy; he wants you to moan and shower him with praise until your sweet juices squirt all over his face and make him cum untouched.

Your secretary continues to desperately pleasure you with his mouth and tongue as you continue to stubbornly resist his passionate caresses until Hwa inserts one of his long, slender fingers inside you and presses it against the soft, sensitive spot inside your pussy.

You gasp loudly, and Seonghwa smiles slyly, finally getting the reaction he wants, and finally wraps his gorgeous, plump lips around your swollen clit, only to begin sucking on it aggressively.

'Ohhhh, Seonghwa...' You exhale in awe as you pull Seonghwa's hair roughly, making him whimper pitifully and sending vibrations straight to your heated core.

Your hips jerk under his tutelage, rocking slightly as you begin to rub your cunt all over his face until your juices splash into his eager mouth and run down his chin.

It takes you a few minutes to recover from your orgasm, as Seonghwa continues to kiss and lick you, almost driving you to overstimulation.

When you finally come to your senses and roughly pull his impossibly handsome face away from your pussy, Seonghwa looks absolutely fucked. His eyes are unfocused, your slime is glistening all over his face, and his beautiful, sweet lips are reddened and swollen.

You flick your tongue in irritation and run your fingers through his dishevelled hair, taking out a few unruly strands out of his face before you speak.

'I told you not to make a mess, Secretary Park."

'But how can I, Miss? You're too delicious for me to resist with." He looks up at you, smiling drunkenly and squirming slightly in his seat, and that's when you notice a large wet spot on his crotch. Seonghwa has come in his trousers without even touching himself.

"What should I do with you now, baby?" You ask affectionately, stroking his cheek while Hwa presses his face against your thigh and purrs softly.

"I don't know, maybe cancel all your appointments and keep fucking me." He lets out an airy chuckle and leaves light, weightless kisses on your skin.

Seonghwa vaguely notices that the car is moving again, and he can't help but wonder when that happened, but it doesn't matter anyway. Not when he hears you tell your second secretary that your workday is over for today.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader

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jobean12-blog · 21 hours ago

Text

My Hero

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: ~1K

Summary: Joel comes home from work and no matter how many times he does you’re always the happiest to see him-domestic fluff

Author’s Note: @lizette50 shared the pic below with me and even though it’s from Freaky Tales I thought of husband!Joel bc the wedding ring and overall look works AND RING! Haha always gets me! Thanks my friend for fueling my addictions. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: fluff, kisses, sexiness, domestic fluffs, a spider…

The sun dips low in the sky, dusting you in a golden hue as the quiet of dusk settles in the house.

“Darlin?” He whispers, watching as you stir on the couch, the blanket falling from your shoulder.

Your bare skin, like always, looks soft and inviting and he wrestles back a groan.

“What time is it?” You ask as you stretch your legs out.

“Lil’ after seven.”

He slowly approaches and the closer he gets the more goosebumps appear on the slope of your neck, highlighted by the setting sun.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you hold his gaze from under your lashes.

Awareness.

You’re always so fucking aware of him.

He reaches the couch and stands over you, leaning down slightly to trace the curve of your shoulder.

You sit up and he wraps a gentle hand around your throat, lifting your eyes to his with a brush of his thumb just under your chin.

“What did you do all day without me?” He asks.

“Miss you.”

Your hands lift to his belt buckle and with quick ministrations you have it open and the zipper of his jeans pulled down.

He hums and slides his hand from your throat, down to your breast to massage the softness.

When he falls to the couch you move onto his lap and he drags his lips slowly across yours.

“Oh yeah?” He simpers, smiling against your mouth.

Your breathy response is swallowed by his hard kiss, his fingers splaying and sliding along your skin to tug you closer.

Your head falls back to expose your neck and at the drag of his beard along your skin you moan out his name and rock your hips.

With the tilt of your head and your gaze upward you catch sight of something hanging from the ceiling.

At first it looks like a string of dust but when it starts to wiggle and climb you go still and your body tenses.

“Angel?” He asks, immediately removing his mouth from your skin, concern clouding his features.

“Joel.”

“Yeah…?”

“There’s a GIGANTIC spider hanging from the ceiling. Oh my god.”

He chuckles, his nose a soft bump against yours when he whispers, “ain’t nothin�� to fret about.”

You shake your head, tightly gripping the front of his flannel.

“No. Nope. You have to do something!”

He pauses with his lips hovering above yours.

“Now angel?”

“Right now!”

With a pained sigh he lifts you off him and stands, walking toward the door to grab one of his large boots.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice rising to a frantic tone.

“Takin’ care of the spider.”

“You can’t kill it!”

He turns to you with a look of disbelief.

“Then what do you want me to do with it? Walk him outside and put him in the garden?”

You swallow and look back at the spider then to Joel.

“Yes please.”

His eyes narrow.

“You ain’t jokin’ darlin’.”

You crawl to the edge of the couch and grab his hips.

“Just put him outside somewhere safe!”

He stares down at you, jaw set in a hard line before his expression softens and he purses his lips.

“Fine.”

He sets down the boot and lifts onto his toes, his open jeans sliding further down his hips to reveal the dark trail of hair below his belly button.

You reach out and trace your fingertips through it, making him wiggle.

“Darlin,” he warns.

You refrain but your eyes never leave the spot, lips wet and parted.

“I can feel you starin’,” he says through a smile.

“Just staying focused on something other than the spider.”

His large hands are delicate as he wraps a thick finger around the silken strand and pulls it off the ceiling.

With sure movements-while also careful not to bring the arachnid too close to you- he heads toward the door.

You get up in a rush and skirt around him to open it. He walks outside and to the garden, bending down to gently set the spider inside a potted plant.

When he stands and turns to you, his pants still undone but a soft smile on his face, you’re overcome with love, rushing out to fall into his arms.

“You’re my hero,” you whisper into his chest.

“Love you angel,” he murmurs. “And that little cockblocker better be happy now.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #husband!joel miller #husband!joel #husband!joel x wife!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #tlou

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karikarasuno · 3 days ago

Text

part one | part two | part three | part four

law is a grown man. with a hard job. a tiring one. exhausting even.

so he shouldn’t be embarrassed that he fell asleep on your couch watching your favorite movie like an old fucking man. nor should he be embarrassed that you woke him up mid snore with sleepy eyes and an amused grin.

“you sleeping over, sleepyhead or should i send you home?”

his mouth is dry and he’s comfortably full. and was having the best dreamless sleep. the best sleep he’s had in a while, really.

“I should go home,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from lack of use. he stretches and his spine cracks. you chuckle and smack him on the shoulder lightly before standing up and holding out your hands to help him up. he slaps his palms against yours, doing most of the work getting up but putting enough weight on you so that you think you’re helping.

“i guess this is goodbye,” you say, fingers toying with law’s expectantly. but law is still a little high. and more than a little sleepy. so when he looks back at this moment he can’t help but cringe.

he should have kissed you. you wanted him to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you. but he hugged you instead. one-armed and a touch awkward.

“oh! ok,” you muffle it into his hoodie, but he doesn’t remember responding. not until the next morning when he’s showering away the grogginess before work.

oh, he’s an idiot.

so yeah maybe over the last few days he’s been avoiding you. but he also has been busy. he had multiple surgeries. all very difficult to do. all successful. he shouldn’t beat himself over a kiss. or lack thereof.

he hasn’t been home for more than an hour before there’s a knock on his door. he's expecting company so he doesn't think twice before swinging the door open. but he expects cora to be standing there or even his sister. neither of which are taking up the space in front of his open door. instead you stand there with your hands on your hips and a very determined look on your face.

"you're avoiding me," you say rather bluntly. no hi or hello or how are you doing.

"i'm not," he argues, even though he is.

"you totally are," you point an accusatory finger at him, but he can't tell if you're actually upset with him or not.

"no, i've been busy this week," he shrugs trying his hardest to be nonchalant.

"oh so this has nothing to do with us making out in my kitchen or the fact that you thanked me for it when you left?"

he cringes again. what possessed him to thank you he'd never know. all he knows is that he's slightly mortified that he did. so fine, he's been avoiding you.

"you know, we don't have to make this weird," you continue, talking animatedly with your hands. "i mean we were really starting to become friends so if us kissing made things awkward then we don't have to do it anymore."

anymore. as if the two of you have been kissing this whole time.

"like really, we can forget it ever happened. but if the kiss was bad and that's why you're ignoring me just lie because then i'd have to start avoiding you and it will turn into this whole fucking thing."

he never realized how much you rambled. words are falling from your lips so quickly that he can only get the gist of what you're saying, but even that registers as ridiculous to him. of course the kiss wasn't bad.

"if you didn't like that kiss it would be such a huge blow to my ego because if i'm being honest that was such a great kiss for me, but if you hated it-"

"stop," he interrupts because at no point does it sound like you're going to run out of air. "i didn't hate the kiss. it was a good kiss."

"so then why...?"

"just come inside," he says, annoyed that his ac is being wasted by the open door.

and he doesn't register the way your eyes widen and your jaw drops when he closes the door behind you and pushes you against it. he's just trying to gather his thoughts. he's not trying to make a move. not really anyway. but with his hand splayed out across your stomach and your back firmly against the wood, he notices that you've finally stopped talking.

he sighs with relief.

"i don't regret what we did. i just have been feeling weird about what i said," he admits, almost wishing that he didn't.

"it was sweet," you grin, head tilting to the side.

"it was..." he trails off, electing not to even finish the sentence. "anyway i enjoyed the kiss so you can stop freaking out over it."

"how much?" your grin is growing smug and he hates how attractive he finds it.

"what?"

"how much did you enjoy the kiss?" now your grin is absolutely shit-eating.

"enough to do it again," he confesses. he sees the way your eyes light up, hell he feels the way your excitement builds when you adjust beneath his hand. the hand that he should’ve moved but decided subconsciously not to because he also enjoys the way you feel against him.

“so what are you waiting for then?” your heads cocks to the side and you look up at him with flirty eyes as your tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

“is that what you want?” he steps closer to you, his socked feet touching the toe of your shoes. his hand presses more firmly against your stomach and he watches the way your head thuds against his door.

everything was normal two seconds ago. there was no heat in his home. no tension pulling his muscles taut. but now he’s drawn to you in unexplainable ways. he’s going to kiss you. he has the choice but the way you’re looking at him makes him question if the decision really was ever his.

“come on then,” you whisper, hands sliding up his arms until your hands lock behind his neck, “kiss me.”

you don’t tug him down. you try to but law decides its easier to lift you off the floor so that you come nose to nose with each other. he likes the way you gasp when he uses his body to press you against the door again. he especially likes the way he can feel the exhale of your shock tickle his lips.

“fine,” he says just before his lips meet yours. he remembers kissing you the first time but because of his high everything was a little muddy. the memory tinged with just a bit of fog. like an overcast day.

this kiss though is going to be seared into his mind. you whimper when he kisses you. did you do that last time?

your hands are so insistent as you tug him closer. his tongue is already in your mouth so he doesn’t know how much closer he can really be. but you’re kinda desperate. for him.

it makes his head reel. and when you tug on his hair, the pressure on his scalp makes him groan. fuck, he really wants you. how you could ever think he didn’t like kissing you was beyond him. he’s already hard for christ’s sake.

“we should go to my room.” he hopes you agree. prays for it. because if you keep kissing him like this his knees will eventually give out.

“ok,” you respond with your lips still touching his. “i’d like that.”

he knows you expect him to put you down with the way your legs start to unhook from around him, but he tightens his hold on your hips. reluctant to let you go.

it’s been a while since law was able to touch and be touched like this. so the idea of letting you go now, when you were already so willing to be in his arms, will actually devastate him. a feeling he will have to reevaluate later.

instead he carries you off to his bedroom, not giving you the time or space to look around. not that there’s much to see given how painfully boring his home is. he’s a victim of millennial grey.

he tosses you onto his bed and he watches you bounce slightly before he’s climbing over you. his lips find your neck where he starts to place open mouthed kisses across sensitive skin. you arch into him and he really likes the way your breasts press into him as you do.

“you have a four poster bed?” the question rattles in his brain uselessly until he pulls away to see you gazing up at his bed frame.

“yeah… it was my parents before they decided to upgrade their bedroom furniture,” he says like it’s obvious before moving back down to kiss your neck again, this time trailing wet kisses across your collarbone.

“it would be so pretty if you draped those white thin curtains over it. you know the ones?”

he’s growing frustrated when he looks back up at you and you’re still looking at frame. almost as if you’re already envisioning it.

he tilts your head back towards him by pressing his pointer finger to your chin. your eyes slide over to him and he can tell you’re a little dazed. but he’s not sure if it’s because of him or his fucking bed frame.

“can you focus?” he grits out, eyes glaring into yours. you blink up at him, lips stretching into a salacious smile.

“on you?” you ask, very clearly knowing the answer but taunting him anyway.

“on me, exactly.” but law refuses to wait for an answer from you. he’s hard and his hands are finally on you and he can still taste the remnants of cranberry juice on your tongue. you’re driving him crazy.

he kisses you hard with purpose. the purpose to mostly shut you up. but to also keep your attention on him. he craves your attention. maybe he’s deprived.

none of it matters though because you whine into his mouth when he sucks your tongue. your hands come up to fist his t-shirt and your hips start seeking friction against the thigh he placed between your legs.

his hands push your top over your breasts, the fabric bunching beneath your chin, and exposing the poor excuse of a bra you have on. it’s just thin lace that does nothing to conceal how hard your nipples are. but it still decorates your chest in a way that has him salivating.

law dips his head down to press a kiss to your sternum, dragging his lips across your chest until his lips hover over one of your nipples. you wiggle relentlessly when he doesn’t do anything, instead he rests his nose against the top of your breast and he inhales the smell of your skin.

“don’t tease me,” you complain, nails dragging through his hair in an attempt to get him to do something.

“i’m not teasing,” he replies, his lips ghosting over your hard peak and smiling to himself when your hips stutter where you’re grinding against his leg.

“you are,” you whine, and when he glances up at you your head is thrown back and you’re trying to take measured breaths through your mouth. good, he needs you focused only on him.

“no,” his lips wrap around your nipple and you moan out so pretty for him. his dick twitches.

“i’m savoring,” he emphasizes before sucking your nipple into his mouth and dampening the transparent fabric with his spit. you moan out his name and his skin goosebumps at the sound. he’s thought of this more times than he’d care to admit but it dulls in comparison to the reality.

you’re clingy. and he short circuits at the realization. for all your quippy little comments and playful mocking you have little to no resolve right now. you’re putty in his hands. and your body is positively begging for him not to stop.

“law,” your voice is wispy and distant. your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted and you want him. need him. he can just tell.

he moves down your body and your hands follow. always touching him. he can’t get enough. he takes off your shoes rougher than he intends but you’re eager. so eager you start working your pants down your thighs.

“it matches,” he exhales after you kick off your pants and try reaching for him again.

“huh?” you scoot closer to the edge of the mattress where he’s standing, seeking him out again. his hand drifts between your thighs, fingers carefully dragging across your covered center. the lace of your panties is the same as your bra. the hair on his arms bristle when it occurs to him that you did this on purpose.

your hand finds his shirt, intent on pulling him towards you again, but instead he drops to his knees. law spreads your legs wide, massaging your thighs as he tosses your calves over his shoulders.

he kisses the inside of each knee, luxuriating in the feel of your skin against his lips. it really has been too long. when he looks up at you, you’re propped on your elbows staring down at him. your pupils are blown out and your shirt is still tucked beneath your chin and you look so expectant.

he doesn’t miss the way your hands ball up his comforter as he kisses down your thighs. or the way you bite your lip when his breath fans over your pussy.

law’s grip tightens on your thighs the closer his lips get to tasting you. he’s trying so hard to be normal but he finds it difficult when he can see how wet you are through your panties.

he slips his fingers beneath the edge of your underwear, sliding it off to the side. he groans at the sight. unintentionally. he takes two fingers and spreads you apart, the contact has your hips rolling into him.

you’re so responsive. especially when he dips two fingers into your entrance and drags your slick over your clit. he does that a few more times, watching as you clench around nothing every time he pulls them out.

“you say you’re not a tease,” you start, whispering because your voice is all breath at this point, “but it’s really starting to feel like you’re lying.”

he chuckles against your inner thigh, entertained. “i’d apologize but this view is too pretty not to appreciate.”

“i think you’d appreciate it better if you actually did something,” you breathe, voicing ticking up with impatience.

“and what would that something be?” he asks, fingertips resting at your entrance but refusing to go in further. he’s having fun. more fun than he’s had in a long time.

“something like this,” you say, reaching between your own thighs to move his fingers out of the way. it’s the last thing he expects you to do. to finger yourself right in front of his face. but he stares as you pump your fingers in and out with practice. they’re considerably smaller than his yet you still roll your hips as you meet each gentle thrust. you still moan in relief. you still sigh his name.

“move,” now he’s the impatient one. he can’t bear the sight anymore. he needs to satisfy you. so badly he swears his skin starts vibrating.

he removes your hand like it’s nothing, slipping your fingers into his mouth to clean them off. you gasp in surprise but he’s not really thinking anymore. it’s all just instinct.

he licks between your folds, groaning at your taste. you’re so wet, impossibly so. his eyes fall shut and he truly does savor you. he swallows you down over and over, his lips wrapping around your clit as your hips begin to circle.

“oh, law, you’re so good at that,” your hand finds his hair and a moan of surprise slinks up his throat at your praise. he needs to hear you say it again.

law returns his fingers to you. not toying with you this time. he hooks his fingers exactly the way you did a few moments ago. and you cry out, fingers curling in his hair.

“mmm just like that.” you’re still propped up on your elbows but your chin is resting against your chest and you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch him. your voice is soft and whiny and your movements start to become frantic.

“shit shit shit.” he’s pretty sure he’s leaking into his boxers. he speeds up and your noises increase in response.

your mouth is absolutely filthy. you beg and swear and ramble. it washes over him in waves, molten lust coursing through his veins.

“m’gonna cum, oh my-.” you collapse onto his bed as you come around his fingers and into his mouth. your thighs snap around his head and it muffles your pleas. but he doesn’t stop. not until he feels you go boneless around him. your walls the only thing still tremoring around his fingers as your breaths leave your lungs in satisfied wheezes.

he’s so hard it hurts, yet seeing you like this almost makes him feel like he got off too. he kisses his way back up your body. his lips soaked in your orgasm.

your hands are weak and shaky as you loop your fingers through his belt loops. somehow still wanting more from him.

“let’s take a second,” he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you as he pecks your neck and cheek.

he would stay in this syrupy afterglow with you forever. he could keep you in these sheets for hours. that’s what he wants. it’s what he craves. but just like everything in his life nothing is ever convenient.

“kiss me again,” you plead.

but his lips never touch yours. there’s three loud knocks on his door. cora’s voice slips through the cracks.

“no,” he jumps off of you, searching his pockets for his phone. “fuck, i forgot my siblings were coming over.”

“what?!” you recover quickly, covering yourself with your hands as if you got caught by them. “that’s not something you forget!”

you’re scolding him. “you distracted me!” he retaliates and your mouth opens and then promptly shuts.

“that’s fair,” you ultimately reply.

he pulls his phone from his back pocket and opens his doorbell camera app.

“why are my parents here?” his voice is cold, drenched in his shock.

“oh my god, i cannot meet your parents like this! your brother was one thing,” you shuffle off the bed and onto the floor. “what do we do?”

“get dressed,” he tosses you your pants as he quickly adjusts himself in his. “i just have to think of something to say.”

“i came over for a cup of sugar?” you offer as you stick your legs into bottoms.

“ok no,” he rolls his eyes, “firstly that doesn’t happen in real life-,”

“it totally does.”

“and second, they’re never gonna believe that.”

“why not?” and you pout.

“because the likelihood of me owning sugar is very low,” he answers tearing his eyes away from your bottom lip. you’re starting to become a real problem for him.

“jeez, no smoking, no sugar. what are you? Mormon?” you try to fix your hair but you only kind of make it worse.

“yes,” he says, monotone and staring blankly at you.

“really?”

“no.” he laughs to himself.

“jerk,” you push him but not hard enough for him to budge.

“let’s just go,” he tries to tug you out of his room once your decent.

“no way, i am just gonna sneak out the back and cut across our lawns.”

“you can’t be serious.” he doesn’t see the problem.

“law, i refuse to meet your entire freaking family in pajamas and having just come all over your face. you really expect me to greet your mom like that?!”

well now that he thinks about it. he can still smell you on his face. and all he can think about when he looks at you is how pretty you look freshly fucked. maybe you should sneak out the back.

“i’m too old for this shit,” he shakes his head and unlocks the sliding glass door in his bedroom.

“i promise I’ll make it up to you.” you lean up to kiss him chastely but not wasting much time before you slip out the door and dart across his lanai.

the doorbell rings out loud and sharp. he doesn’t have the time to watch you go unfortunately.

“one second!” he yells out running to his bathroom to splash water on his face and wash his hands before jogging to the front door.

“what took you so long?” cora eyes him like he knows exactly what took him so long. but that’s impossible. his brother is just a menace.

“i was in the bathroom,” he lies. his sister bullies her way inside first, headphones on and texting furiously. next his parents walk in holding bags for dinner. it looks like enough food to feed ten families if he’s being honest.

“hi, sweetie.” his mom taps his cheek with her hand and he internally cringes.

“son,” his dad nods and claps him on the shoulder.

cora lingers though. he sizes law up before stepping over the threshold, leaning in close as he says “i saw her run out the back.”

law side eyes him, but says nothing.

“you scoundrel.”

#they will never have sex if i have anything to do with it #just kidding #this was fun tho #lots of dialogue #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #shortnspicy🌶️

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littelovelunette · 2 days ago

Note

Can you write a story where Vi got reader pregnant and but before they find out she is pregnant she thinks she just had the flu (this is how I found out… but I’m not talented enough to project it in writing and I don’t wanna use AI so could you please!)

Not Flu, Is It?

Vi x Pregnant!Reader

It's been a few days you were woken early in the mornings with a wave of nausea.

You shrugged it off, it was flu season and given your terribe and weak immune system, you were sure you'd just caught flu.

And so was Vi, she was helping you through it with flu treatments and medication too.

Goodness, was Vi so worried for you.

Ome of those days, you were laid next to Vi who was stroking your hair lovingly before suddenly, her expression changed, one of confusion, "Baby, did you get your period this month?"

"No," you looked up, your voice weak from the constant throwing up and sickness, "I think not, everything's been so hectic I just lost track of it."

"Throwing up, missed period, tummy ache," Vi listed off all your symptoms, hands running down your back in a soothing manner, "Even an idiot could've reasoned you might just be pregnant."

"I am?" You mumbled, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

"We can't be so sure like that, I'll go run down to the store and get you some tests, okay?" Vi tilted your head up so you could meet her gaze, you gave her a small smile and a nod.

"Mm..." You stared at her as if waiting for her to add something to her last words, puppy eyed gaze lingering on Vi.

"... And some chocolates, I got you," Vi gave you a reassuring squeeze before she got up, keys jingling and jacket rustling as she quickly got herself ready.

Once Vi was decently dressed she gave your a forehead kiss, "Call me if you need anything, I won't be gone long."

You grinned weakly and nodded, "Ba-bye."

A little while later, Vi returned with the pregnancy tests and the door clicked open, "Hey, babe, I'm back," she said, her voice wavering from nervousness as she walked inside the shared apartment.

She set the tests down, "So," she looked at you, "Do you wanna just take them now? Or..."

You got up, grabbing one test up, "Should I take two at once? It would be safer in case I get a false," you said, reading the instructions on the box.

"Sounds 'bout right, just— I never had to do I don't know," Vi said awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

You giggled before picking up two tests and disappearing in the bathroom.

"I'll still be here if you need me," Vi quickly added, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door.

"Peeing on a stick shouldn't be that hard, right?" You called from the bathroom. Vi would've replied before she heard you do exactly what you said. That knocked the words down her throat.

"Y—...eah," Vi managed.

A little bit later, you put the tests on the bathroom counter waiting according to what the box said, "After 15 minutes it'll show," you told Vi.

Vi nodded and held your hand, "You nervous?"

"Of course I am, I never thought of being a mother until now and suddenly now that I think about it— you're gonna call me crazy but— I'm sorta' praying I am pregnant," you looked up at her, "Does that make me crazy?"

"No, of course not," Vi said reassuringly, rubbing circles on the back of your hand, "I respect whatever choice you make, it's your body," she smiled, "But of course I am happier that you choose to keep the child if you are pregnant."

You giggled and leaned against her body, "Because I'll finally be able to hold something over your head—"

"How? You're short as fuck," Vi looked down at you as if to exaggerate her point.

"Not that, you idiot!" You shoved her playfully, "I meant, I'll be able to say 'I gave birth to your child' whenever we fight and I get to use the labour hours to my advantage," you smirked, glancing at the test.

"Oh, you are evil," Vi said, also averting her gaze to the test.

"Only the finest."

The moment 15 minutes were over, you checked the tests and sure enough, it read positive.

You looked at Vi, who was already teary eyed, she picked you up bridal style and just squeezed you close like she'd merge herself with you.

"Oh my goodness," Vi whispered staring at the tests, "We're gonna be parents."

"Mhm," you giggled, leaning your head against Vi's chest, "Meaning you're gonna be doing whatever I tell you to because I call the shots."

"Got it, ma'am," Vi said with mock obedience making you roll your eyes.

"Y'know what— p-put me down, I think I'm feeling super pukey," you said and Vi quickly let you down, you opened your mouth to say something but shook your head, turning back to the toilet and retching.

"Well, you can start being a diva maybe after the morning sickness is over," Vi held your hair back, a small smile on her lips.

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fireheartpages · 3 days ago

Text

my boy | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader

masterlist

word count: 4.9k

summary: the three times bodhi called you his, and the first time you called him mine.

notes: second person pov with a femreader. canon typical violence. no use of y/n. written in past tense bc by the time i realized it was too late! human beings are flawed by nature. turned out a lil angstier and longer than i intended. onyx storm fucked me up so bad and i missed him. the scene that inspired this whole thing got cut so do with that what you will. set during iron flame. in my head this is bodhi and baby from toml but you don’t have to read that to read this. just a lil drabble. also bringing back headers bc my fics need a little sparkle. proofread after three glasses of wine.

Your face stung.

"I'm sorry," Bodhi said quickly, hand jerking back. "I know, I just—"

"It's fine." You swallowed hard and shut your eyes, like maybe if you didn't see the bloodied cloth with antiseptic on it, it would hurt less.

"That flier did a real number on you," he said quietly, and you felt the warmth of his hand settle on your cheek, before the cool bite against the wound.

"Those challenges are bullshit," you ground out.

There was a heavy sigh, and then the touch lightened. You opened your eyes to see he had moved his hand away, setting the rag down. "I think you need to see a mender."

You shook your head. "It's a scratch. Put an adhesive on it."

"There's a lot of swelling," he said, waves of concern radiating off of him. "What if there's a fracture?"

"I will heal," you snap.

You watch as his eyes flare with surprise, and he quickly masks the hurt. You sigh, shoulders slouching.

"I'm sorry." You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling him closer. "I'll be okay, Bo. Seriously."

"Let me go get Brennan," he said gently. "Just to check—"

"I really don't want you to," you said, pleaded, and he seemed to relent. "None of us can have preferential treatment."

"It's not preferential treatment if you need it," he whispered, gingerly placing a bandage across your cheekbone.

"It was an ill-timed punch," you said. "I'll live."

You met his gaze as he pulled back, and he seemed to search you, looking for something you couldn't name. He sighed, looking down.

“Your hands?”

Your head snapped up, and you quickly tucked your hands away, forcing yourself to stop picking at the peeling skin. Wrapping them for sparring always made it a little bit worse.

“It’s fine.”

He only sighed and pulled your wrists gently, tugging them until he could see the splitting on your palms, between your fingers. He reached for the extra salve you kept next to his bedside, and gently began to message it into the skin there, taking extra care where it had split and where it was the thinnest. "Not all fliers are so bad. Syrena is really nice, if you ever get the chance to meet her."

"I like Maren," you supplied, studying the lines of his face. The delicate hook of his nose, the arch of his upper lip, the slope of his cheekbones. "Her best friend is a real piece of work, though."

Bodhi laughed at that, exchanging out your hands. "Yeah, Catriona is... a lot."

"That's one way to say it," you mumbled. You sucked in a deep breath—and wince. A hand went to your ribs.

Bodhi’s head snapped up, a furrow between his strong brows, and he abandoned his task, instead cradling your side with one hand and your face in another. Concern laced in his features. "You didn't say your ribs were hurting."

"I didn't realize they were," you answered. "Got me better than I thought, I guess."

He shook his head. "Let me—"

"No." You cut him a glare, but there wasn’t much menace behind it. "I'll be okay. I just need... sleep, probably."

"Let's get in bed."

You screwed up your nose. "We still have half a day of classes."

"Fuck that," he said sincerely. "My girl is hurt."

You arched a brow. "Your girl?"

He flashed a sheepish smile, ducking his head as his curls fell over his temple. "Sorry, I just... liked the way it sounded."

You sucked in a breath. Suddenly, there was too little space between you. "You still have half a day of classes."

"There is literally nothing I care about less," he said earnestly. "Let me lay down with you. Please."

You glanced at the bed, the black blanket covering it looking like the most inviting thing you'd ever seen. You sighed. "I'm fine. We should go."

"Baby," he said, and you liked the way it sounded. You always liked the way it sounded.

“We probably shouldn’t walk back together,” you said, reaching for your flight jacket. You winced as you tried to pull it over yourself.

A hand on your shoulder stopped you, and Bodhi gently spun you around to face him. “This is about the ‘my girl’ comment,” he said, and pinned you with a look that made all the fight leave your body.

“No,” you said, and it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t sure if it was the truth. You sighed. “I just don’t want people to get any ideas.”

He stepped back. “You don’t wanna be seen with me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you said quickly. “You’re talented, and you’re in leadership, and I’m a year below you. With everything between us and the fliers now, someone’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

His shoulders slumped. “You don’t want someone saying you slept your way to safety.”

You nodded, looking down, because it was suddenly impossible to meet his eye. Your cheeks heated. "I can fend for myself."

“Okay,” he said, taking a step closer. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your gaze until you were forced to look at him. You expected sadness, hurt, disappointment even, but all you found was mirth. “Sure. I like a good secret anyways. Makes it more fun.”

You couldn’t have even tried to fight the smile as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was delicate at first, gently exploring, sensing what you would give him. But you had learned a long time ago that there wasn’t a lot you wouldn’t do for the boy in front of you.

Your hands found the nape of your neck, twisting into the curls there, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

He broke the kiss only for a moment. “Can it still stay a secret, and we stay in bed for the rest of the day?”

“Someone’s gonna notice we’re both missing,” you say, barely more than a whisper against his cheek.

He brushed his nose against yours. “My cousin owns the place. I think we can get away with it.”

You giggled, nodding as he pulled you back. He sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly framing you between his thighs and looked up at you reverently. His lips were glossy from your kiss, eyes half lidded, and you breath caught in your throat at the sight of him gazing up at you. He smiled lazily.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and you couldn’t help but think the same about him.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

You had to stop finding yourself in these situations.

The same flier that had challenged you was in front of you and spitting mad. You weren’t even sure what it was about this time, but his shouting had drawn a crowd. Your cheek hadn’t even fully healed yet, and now you had another split lip. Courtesy of this asshole.

You couldn’t even remember his name if you tried. Something with an A? Ash, maybe? It didn’t really matter, once he started swinging. He was a first year, and unused to the fighting style of riders, but by Dunne if he wasn’t giving you a run for your money.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Violet and Sawyer come up behind you, thankful for the back up. Sawyer immediately tried to shove him off you, but was quickly gifted a darkening bruise around his eye.

“What the hell is your problem?” That voice belonged to Ridoc, and you weren’t even sure when he had gotten there. More people pushed around you, until you were surrounded by what looked like your entire section.

Including Bodhi.

“I thought you riders lived and died by your stupid Codex!” the flier spat.

“Our stupid codex says also says I can kill you if I feel like it, so maybe watch where you put your hands,” you snapped, and you feel someone brush at your shoulder.

But not before the flier’s fist landed square in your jaw.

Damn, he must have remembered where he hit you the first time, because the pain is blinding for a moment. The edges of your vision darkened, and you stumbled into a strong, familiar chest. An arm wrapped around you, and you’re shoved to the side. You felt the vibrato of his words in his chest, as if the anger was a palpable thing.

“Touch my girl again and you’ll lose the fucking hand—”

“Bodhi!” you snapped, turning to him with blazing eyes, because now he’d really done it.

Fuck, you practically felt the surprise radiating off of half of the people surrounding you—and there were a lot of people gathered for the show.

The anger in your morphed into something else—something new, something more volatile. Now, you were pissed at this flier, and ready to throttle Bodhi. Gods, you just had this fucking conversation. What did he think he was doing saying shit like that—

“Getting out of a fight because you’re warming leadership’s bed is a lot blow, even for a rider,” the flier said, and you saw red.

More shouting erupted. Bodhi nor anyone remaining soul had even a hope of catching you before you threw the next punch at the flier. It made its mark, landing so hard he stumbled back. Blood immediately sprayed from his nose, and you were too pissed off to care. You shoved the hands grabbing you off, ready to lay into the kid again, but a familiar figure pushed through. Rhiannon got in between the three of you, holding a hand up and sending Bodhi one of the nastiest glares you thought you’d ever seen her produce.

“Am I seriously breaking up fights between other cadets and my Section Leader?” Rhiannon hissed, and Bodhi faltered for a moment, looking to her, then to you, then back to the flier. “This is ridiculous. Go find something else to do with your spare time. Asper, you’re a first year. Pick on someone your own size if you want a chance to win the fight.”

“That’s—”

“I’m not finished.” She turned to you and Bodhi, opening her mouth to say something before shaking her head. “You two… I’m just disappointed. A second year and a Section Leader? Get yourselves under control before you embarrass me any further.” She looked back to Asper, who was still seething at you and Bodhi. “Go find something more productive to do with your time before I find something for you. You won’t like my pick, I promise.”

The flier scoffed. “You’re not even my squad leader.”

Another flier in brown leathers with a mop of brunette hair piled on top of her head appeared behind him. She wore a frown and looked utterly annoyed. “No, but I am.” She grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him away from your trio, but not before Asper managed to send a parting glare over his shoulder.

Rhiannon shipped to the two of you, eyes blazing. “Seriously?” she asked, and there was no part of you that wanted to respond. “He’s a first year.”

“He started it!” you protested, and immediately shrunk back. Wrong move.

Rhiannon shot Bodhi a glare. “You’re a Section Leader. You should have been the one to finish it.”

She marched away without a second glance, leaving the last part unsaid. That if you were any other second year, in any other situation, it wouldn’t have escalated the way it did.

A snort came from behind you. You turned and shot Ridoc a glare, but it didn’t deter him from opening his mouth.

“Didn’t know you guys were public like that.”

Four pairs of eyes turned on him.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

You were pissed, and everyone around you knew it. Including, no other than the object of your chagrin.

"I just don't understand why you're mad at him," Saywer said for what felt like the millionth time, and you groaned at the history book in front of you.

"I do get it," Ridoc supplied from where he was seated next to Sawyer, the pair of them across from you at the study table you had snagged in the library. You were supposed to be working on assignments. The boys in front of you had, however, taken it upon themselves to lecture you your love life. Ridoc hadn't even opened the book in front of him. "I just think you're over-reacting."

"Bad choice of words," you warn, shooting him a scalding glare. He remained unperturbed.

"Sure," he continued. "But you know what I mean. Things are different now. Aretia isn't Basgiath. The rules are looser—"

"Hold on," Sawyer interjected.

"I mean, just look at Riorson and Vi," Ridoc continued. "Everyone knows they're together. And he's a lieutenant."

"We are not Xaden and Violet," you said, exasperated. "The point is that I didn't want to shout it from the roof tops. Because look what happens when you do!"

"The fliers hate us," Saywer supplied helpfully. "Your relationship status really has nothing to do with that. They would have chosen one thing or another to be picking fights about anyway."

"Besides, with Violet here, you and Durran are the least of their problems," Ridoc finished.

"You're still missing the point," you said, shaking your head.

"Explain it to me like I'm five, then," Ridoc said, attention focused on you. He had his arms crossed over his textbook. This study session was a damn lost cause.

"She's been doing that," Sawyer mumbled. He looked up to you, then behind you, and his eyes went wide. Ridoc glanced behind you as well, and you almost turned to look—you assumed it was Jesinia. Sawyer had been downright smitten lately, but there was the audible smack of Ridoc hitting his friend under the table. He shook his head.

"Ignore him," Ridoc said, attention turned back to you. "Continue."

You sighed, resigning yourself to the torture of having to explain this bullshit out loud. You had to admit, though. Having people to talk about it all with helped, even if it made you feel more and more like an idiot.

"Yeah, there's the fact that anyone who knows about..." You cringed. "…our situation is going to assume I'm sleeping with him for safety. Or power. Or whatever the hell they think. And that's annoying, because it's a mark on my character. But it also degrades what we have. And so we had that conversation, and I set a boundary, and then the second things get hairy, he crosses it. He makes both of us look like an ass. Makes me look like I can't protect myself without him there. If it had gotten out some other way, I couldn't have handled it. I've never been afraid of the gossip mill. But saying we're together and him overstepping and trying to fight my battles or me are two completely different things."

Ridoc nodded sagely. Sawyer just glanced behind you with wide eyes.

"Baby," and, oh, you know that voice.

You spun around, standing quickly as your pulse skyrocketed. Bodhi was behind you, looking for all the world like you had just kicked his puppy. Or maybe he was the kicked puppy. You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You whipped back to Ridoc. The bastard had a shit-easting grin on his face.

"You did that on purpose," you accused.

He just shrugged. "Wanted to make this all easier on you."

Sawyer smacked him upside his head.

You turned back to Bodhi, ready to say something, but all you could was shake your head.

"I didn't know," he said, and he took a step towards you. You took one back.

His face crumbled, and it was the sort of things a playwright put in a tragedy. Your chest nearly caved in at the sight of his fallen expression, and something broke inside you. Cracked right in two, and you knew then and there that the only glue capable of putting it together again was him.

"You just assumed," you said softly.

He sucked in a sharp breath, nodding. He was no longer looking at you. "Can we talk? Please?"

You grabbed your book from the table, sending Ridoc one last parting glare. You shook your head as you stepped towards him. "I'll see you tonight."

You made for the exit of the library, and when you rounded the corner, you had assumed he had let you go. That you'd made it all the way out.

"Wait, please."

You slowly spun around to see him there.

"I don't like watching my girl walk away upset," he said, low, quiet, and intimate. Private, just for you.

You sucked in a shaky breath. You held out a hand to the library door, as if you could motion at all of your thoughts and feelings and emotions like they were tangible things. "You heard what I said, I guess."

Bodhi nodded, and this time, when he stepped towards you, you didn't step away. "I'm sorry. Gods, I am so, so—"

"Can we talk about this later?" you asked, voice thick.

Bodhi's brow had a deep burrow, and it was clear he wanted to object, but he didn't. He instead shut his mouth, and nodded.

"I'll see you tonight," you said.

And like a fool, you walked away from him.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

There’s not much time for relaxing anymore. No more weekends, no more free time, and certainly no more parties. Leaning to fight venin is hard work.

But every once in a while, someone makes it happen. Leave it to a bunch of bored, pent-up twenty-somethings to find a stash and have a party. The alcohol wasn’t good, by any means, but it was making your head foggy, and you had nothing to do until, like, noon the next day. You were practically free.

It was the best you had felt in a long while. Everything was a little hazy around the edges, and you had trouble staying perfectly still now. There was a makeshift bar at the dais of the room where everyone took meals, and you had ventured up to get yourself a drink. And one for… Shit. You were not supposed to return empty handed. You just weren’t sure how many not empty handed you should be returning with.

When you stumble, there are strong hands on your hips, steadying you. Strong hands that settled much too low to be casual, but you are much too far gone to have reprimanded him. Or, noticed, or cared that much.

“Careful,” Bodhi said, and it was low in your ear, a little more sensual than it should have been.

But then he stood a respectable distance away from you. And through your alcohol-induced haze, he looked so good. You knew, distantly, that you were still pretty annoyed with him. But his leathers were casually undone at the top, just enough to be a tease. His hair was mussed, black curls that fell in a way that should be messy but instead just drove you insane. Like, this should be against the codex. Just looking at him made you want to leave. Made you want to be back in his room, showing your appreciation, giving him your own apology with your mouth.

“I think Violet’s drunk,” Bodhi said, and his gaze was somewhere beyond you.

You frowned. “We’re all drunk.”

Bodhi cocked his head. “I think she’s a little more drunk.”

You nodded sagely. Fair enough.

“I’m gonna go make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Or, at least, makes it to Xaden okay.”

You nodded again, and he departed with a smile that made you giggle like a damn school girl. He was so aware of the effect he had on you. He just chose not to care.

Or maybe, he was finally respecting the line in the sand you had drawn.

“All alone in a room full of people who could kill you? Where's your body guard?” a voice asked.

You turn, and it’s Asper. The fuck ass flier that beat you up, like, twice now. What the hell—

“What do you want?” You tried for venom, but it came out a bit more slurred than you would have liked. Too round about the edges, too loose.

“I know we settled our differences,” Asper said, and he held up a hand. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Then what do you want?” you repeated, and it was a little whiny this time. Fuck. Great.

“You know you’re gorgeous, right?” It was the last thing you had expected to have come out of his stupid mouth.

No way this fucker was hitting on you.

“What?” you snapped. Wisely.

“You’re smart. Clearly good in combat,” Asper said. Like that was an answer. “And you’re beautiful.” He leaned in, like the two of you were sharing a secret. “You could do so much better than the dragon feed around here.”

You were picked by a dragon through.

“He’s flirting,” said a voice. Your dragon. Thank you. As if that wasn’t painfully obvious enough. You go to say that down the bond, but you can’t find the right channel. Shocair grumbled. “I heard it.”

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” you said, “I’m not interested.”

“I think you are,” Asper said. He stepped closer. He put his hand on yours.

“My boy’s gonna get real angry if you keep fucking trying your luck,” you snapped.

“Your boy?” he asked, and he was laughing. The asshole was laughing.

You yanked your hand back, and reveled at the look on his face. Anything to wipe that smug grin off his face. “Yeah. My boy.”

Asper rolled his eyes, and for a moment, you had a vision of punching him. Of clocking him square in the jaw, sending blood flying. Your words were a lot steadier than you felt. As soon as you stood up, the world spun. But then there was a hand at your waist, and everything straightened out. Gods, you knew him by touch alone, knew him even through the haze of alcohol. You could be deprived of every sense you have, and still know his presence by memory. He was ingrained in you.

“You heard her,” Bodhi said, low and dangerous and angry and—fuck, really really hot. “She’s not interested. And she shouldn’t need to threaten you with senior leadership to get you to fuck off, Asper.”

The flier scoffed. “I don’t think she’s talking about her section leader.”

Bodhi stepped around you, and shoved him. Hard. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a section leader or her fucking husband. When a woman says no, she means it.”

Asper held his hands up in surrender, turning a deep shade of red and finally walking away. But not before throwing glare back to Bodhi.

When he turned around to you, finally, your cheeks were hot, your breathing choppy. You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Fuck, you hadn’t realized he would over hear you. Hadn’t realized what kind of effect his words would have on you.

Possessive Bodhi was one thing. When he would leave bruises all over your chest and neck, knowing when you stripped your leathers for sparring, they would be visible. When he keeps his hand in the small of your back for a little too long in formation. When he cleans your wounds and punches fliers and calls you his girl.

But protective Bodhi? You were fighting to stay upright.

He knew you knew how to fight your own fights. You were a decent fighter and could fly circles around rider and flier alike. If someone had an issue, or someone started something, you were good on the follow through. That first fight, or the second when he interfered weren’t about anything other than making it known to everyone else that you were together.

When the end factor was nothing less than a name in front of yours, of his girl tacked onto everything, you were chagrined. When the end factor was keeping you safe, was making sure you had arms to fall into at night? All bets were off.

“Are you okay?” Bodhi asked, a deep furrow finding home between his brow.

You couldn’t catch your breath. Gods above, the way he was looking at you—

“I didn’t know you were there,” you answered.

"I didn't mean to overstep," he said quickly, averting his gaze.

"You didn't," you replied, and suddenly, your eyes were watering. You swallowed around the knot in your throat. "I'm being an asshole."

His head snapped up, and you weren't sure if it was your words or the emotion in your voice that brought the panicked look to the set of his brow, the line of his lips. "No, baby, no—"

"I got overwhelmed," you barrel on. "I got scared, and worried, and I I feel like I'm punishing you for it."

Bodhi shook his head frantically, carefully stepping towards you like you were a scared animal he was trying to approach. "You set a boundary," he said. "I could never fault you for that."

You tried to nod, but instead the tears started to slip out. God, this had to be the alcohol. You were not a crier.

Gingerly, Bodhi's hands were on the sides of your face, thumbs brushing away the escaped tears. "Is this okay?" he whispered.

"All of it is okay," you said meekly. "I was holding onto an idolized version of what I wanted in my head. But people know now, and the world isn't ending."

He laughed, pulling you into him. Your head rested on his chest, right at the perfect angle for him to tuck you under his chin. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and it felt like coming home.

"I never meant to push your boundaries, and I'm so sorry I ever did," he said into your hair. "I know exactly what you're capable of. I don't want you to ever think I'm going to willfully underestimate you."

"I know," you whisper into the fabric of his shirt, and the it occurred to you just how many people were around you. You had just made about a big fuss about the levels of PDA you were willing to accept. And now, here you were. You pulled back. "Can we go back to your room?"

He nodded firmly, eyes raking down your body. "Yes," he said. But he didn't move. "How much have you had to drink?"

You considered for a moment, tilting your head. "Not too much to have not been able to coherently have this conversation, but enough to want to ask you for a kiss right now."

He smirked. Damn infuriating smirk. Gods above, he was beautiful. "A kiss? What, just to tide you over?

"Yeah," you replied, not even bothering to hide how desperate you well and truly were. Your entire body had started to hum.

He leaned in, his head tilted to fit against you. He stopped, his lips a breath away from yours. "In front of all these people?"

"Everyone knows by now. Gossip mill in this place is honestly rather impressive," you said. "Besides, if anyone says anything, I'll just send you after them." You pouted. "I don't even like sparring. I'm no good at it."

He'd leaned in even closer, practically speaking into your mouth. "I can teach you."

"Every time you try to teach me to spar better, I end up pinned underneath you and we end up rushing back to your room. You have absolutely no pure intentions when it comes to sparring. Will you kiss me now?"

He didn't say anything else. Just pressed a smile against your lips. It sent sparks down your spine, and you couldn't help the way you sucked in a breath. It was entirely involuntary, the way your body bowed into him, like you're magnetized in your very core to his.

The kiss was gentle at first, just the press of his lips against yours, but then you opened your mouth, pushing back into him, and his tongue ran along your bottom lip. Your knees nearly gave out.

"Your room," you said, and it was a plea down to its very roots.

Bodhi practically dragged you out of the hall. The trip back to the residential wing was a blur. He kept stopping to kiss you, to run his hands along your waist, up the nape of your neck just to watch you shiver. Finally, and with great effort, the pair of you made it up the corridor and to his room.

He shoved open the door, and snaked an arm around your waist, pressing you into the wall next to it, just inside his room. His lips trailed up your neck, and you nearly whimpered at the contact.

When he pulled away to look at you, his eyes were heavy and lidded, low and dark. So full of adoration and yearning that your chest felt weird. Like it was rearranging so that if you wanted to slot Bodhi's beating heart in next to your own, you could.

"Your boy, huh?" he asked, voice husky.

You smiled, carding your fingers through his hair. "My boy."

Bodhi kicked the door shut behind him, and ascended on you.

#emmmaswrites #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran x y/n #fourth wing #the empyrean

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