#jesus man how many tags do you need

[yomi-art]

drawing in roblox spray paint is really fun (a little doodle below cut c:)

[hauntingblue]

:)

[kiyomitakada]

i am going to scream (wip rambling in the tags)

[heavndoll]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[onlyangel4]

I once again dont have any drivers in mind but pls do something with “waves of blue” by majid jordan🥺 thank you!!!!

waves of blue. ls2. smau.

fans have noticed that logan does not seems like he is enjoying his job anymore. but when his girlfriend joins him for the first time they realise that she is all he needs to be happy.

author's note: guys isn't it insane how much abigail cowen's real boyfriend looks like logan it actually blew my mind ngl

faceclaim: abigail cowen

f1lover

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 45,8273 others

f1lover: logan has been having such a bad season and you can literally see the light drained out of his eyes, he just always looks so deflated and it makes me so sad. i just want to give him a hug.

view all 1,175 comments

user1: i know y/n is really busy with work but he just looks like someone who needs a hug from his girlfriend

user2: he has not been happy ever since the beginning of the season

user3: everytime they pan to him he is frowning and it makes me so sad, especially since we now know he probably won't be back next year

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, y/ninsta, oscarpiastri and 879,374 others

tagged: y/ninsta

logansargeant: had the best summer break back in miami with my girl. back to work in the netherlands this weekend.

view all 4,582 comments

y/ninsta: still can't believe i actually managed to get two weeks of summer break off this year

logansargeant: honestly i'm so grateful you did love, i had the best time with you

user4: this is the most american summer break post ever

user5: the only pictures i see logan actually smiling are the ones where he is with y/n

user6: caption makes it seems like he really doesn't want to go back to work

f1updates

liked by user7, user8, user9 and 78,283 others

f1updates: logan sargeant had a horrible crash during fp3, it is very unlikely that the car will be ready before the qualifying session, therefore he will be starting at the back of the grid. this is the beginning of yet another disappointing weekend for the american driver.

view all 1,329 comments

user7: oh logan, why is it always you?

user8: no longer he seems to hate his job now

user9: i'm so glad that he is okay that could have been really bad

user10: as much as i joke about wanting to be a wag i genuinely don't know how y/n does it, watching the man you love get in these dangerous situations and not being able to hold him afterwards would be so awful

y/ninsta posted a story

written: as many of you know i am a vet tech and i was on the night shift today, 8pm to 8am, logan's crash happened just before i finished my shift, i have spoken to him and he is okay, i just wanted to pop on here to kindly ask that you stop sending me pictures of my boyfriend's horrific crash asking for my opinion on it, i do not want to constantly see that when i open my messages, thank you loves now it is time for me to go to bed

logansargeantupdates

written: another race weekend more sad content of logan

logansargeant posted a story

written: look who happened to pick me up from the netherlands

y/ninsta posted a story tagging logansargeant

written: just watched my first in person practice session and jesus christ those cars are fast

logansargeant posted a story

written: p16 tomorrow, so close to q2 but we move, me and this girl are going to go have a nap

logansargeant posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: my girl's first race weekend

f1updates posted two stories

story one written: the smile

story two: the reason for the smile

y/ninsta posted a story

written: here we go

f1updates posted a story

written: logan finished p16 but he is the happiest we have ever seen him, he ran down the pit lane to find y/n after the race and they shared such a happy loving embrace. seems like this american boy just needed his american girl

y/ninsta

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, iamrebeccad and 283,834 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/ninsta: my first ever race weekend ! and i am so proud of my boy i love you so much logan and i can't wait to attend more races even if my heart can't take it

view all 4,585 comments

logansargeant: i loved having you by my side this weekend my love

y/ninsta: there is nowhere else i would rather be

lilymhe: it was so nice to have you in the paddock

y/ninsta: thank you for telling me what was going on when i had to shut my eyes

user11: they have only been to one race together and they are already my fav couple

user12: logan perks up whenever you are about it is the sweetest thing ever

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[darthannie]

Hi! Can I request Tommy Shelby who loves to spoil his gf and she has a hard time accepting it all but he reassures her in a very loving and protective way (hope you get what I mean lol) thank you! :')

a/n: This is short but I hope I did your idea justice! I just want to see him smile 😭

grand gestures

Thomas Shelby x f!reader

Warnings: Tommy being happy and in love, Tommy’s love language is gift-giving I don’t make the rules, kissing

You had been seeing Thomas Shelby for a while now and he was absolutely smitten. You have never met a man who doted on you as much as he did. Under his hardened exterior was a man longing to love and be loved.

On a particularly cold evening, you arrived home to a surprise. On your bed lay a beautiful new coat you had seen in the shops while out with Tommy. You must have stared at it in the window a little too long. He took that as a sign that you wanted it. You hadn’t even thought to go in and check the price tag, let alone purchase it. 

Tommy knew you weren’t used to receiving many gifts so he made it his personal mission to make you comfortable with it. He’d started with a gold bracelet. 

You had gasped when he took it out of the small box. “Tommy, you can’t. This is too much.”

“It’s not. Nothing is too much when it comes to you.” It was almost threatening. It sounded like a warning when he said it. It was foolish to underestimate how much you meant to him.

After the bracelet, he began giving you gifts periodically, even things you didn’t need or want. It was difficult for you to understand why he even bothered to give you all those things. Any other woman would welcome new dresses and jewels with open arms. Instead, you just felt like you didn’t deserve it. 

You stared at the coat on your bed. Its fur collar was sure to keep you warm, you thought. The gold buttons going down one side shone in the dim light of your bedroom. You held it up and gawked at it. You rubbed your face into the fur and smiled. You didn’t notice, but Tommy was standing in the doorway. 

“Why don’t you try it on?” His voice made you jump and you dropped the coat, putting your hands over your heart.

“Jesus, Tommy!” You sighed and laughed. He had been making a habit of being at your home before you were. He usually made himself known somehow, but tonight he decided to be a bit of a prankster. 

“Sorry, love, couldn’t help it.” He chuckled, walked towards you, and pulled you in for a kiss. He always kissed you like it was the last time he would be able to. 

He pulled away, “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Tommy, but” you looked down at the item of clothing, “you really didn’t have to. Really, you never have to.” You looked back at him and his arms were crossed, his head cocked to the right. He sighed and put his hands on your arms, caressing them. 

Looking into your eyes he asked, “Do you love me?”

You replied slightly irritated “I’ve never loved a man more, Tommy, and you know that. I just- I’m not used to you spoiling me like this.”

“If you’re gonna be my girl, you gonna have to get used to it, love. Now, are you my girl?” He was deadly serious. He was never controlling, but you were his and his alone. He wanted to make sure you understood that.

You looked him in the eye. “Yes. I am.”

His hands held your waist as he pulled you in closer. He kissed you passionately. A small moan escaped. It was intoxicating. After a few moments, you pulled away for air. He put his forehead against yours and gave you a chaste kiss. 

“You are worth more than anything I could ever give you. I wish I could give you the world,” he smirked, “the coat is the best I can do for now.”

You smiled softly at him. It would take some more work on your part but you knew that he did it because he cared.

“Thank you, Tommy. I love you.” You gave him a quick kiss. 

He pulled away with a smile and said, “I love you, too.”

He reached over to your bed and grabbed the new coat, holding it up for you. You quickly took off your old one and he helped you put your arms through the sleeves of the new one. The inside of the coat felt just as luxurious as the exterior. The fur brushing your neck was comforting and warmed your skin. You stood in front of a full-length mirror and took in your reflection. Tommy stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your body, holding you flush against him. You turned your head to make eye contact with him.

He whispered, “You look beautiful, my love.”

You had hearts in your eyes, “You make me beautiful, Tommy.”

[pedrospatch]

not a thing

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

part ii

summary: You and Joel had a private moment while Ellie was asleep. Or so you’d thought she was asleep.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. implied smut, but no actual smut. grumpy Joel, Ellie is a little shit.

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: nervous to write for TLOU but still giving it a shot! poor Ellie for being subjected to what i am about to subject her to lol. Edit: holy shit, i did not expect this to get much attention. thank you all sm for reading, liking and reblogging!

It had been an incredibly stupid thing to do.

So, so, so fucking stupid.

You knew that.

And Joel knew that.

You two were supposed to have been standing watch.

Not to mention, there had been a teenaged girl sleeping close by, just mere fucking yards away from the two of you had been—

Jesus Christ.

Dammit, you and Joel fucking knew better than to be this goddamn stupid.

Careless.

But neither of you could help yourselves.

It had been several weeks—actually, it had been several months since you two had been able to steal a private moment for yourselves. That moment would have been missed had you not somehow woken up in the middle of the night, only to find Joel wide awake, his rifle in hand as he stood watch while you and Ellie had slept. You’d offered to take his place for a few hours so he could get some rest too, but instead, a few minutes and many, many desperate, feverish kisses later, the two of you found yourselves on the other side of Bill’s old white and blue Chevrolet pickup truck, Joel’s jeans unzipped and your own jeans pulled down around your knees along with your underwear. He’d had you bent over, but still standing at a point where you could peek over the bed of the truck so that you could somehow keep a watchful eye out in between the moments of mind-numbing pleasure—both for any signs of potential danger and also for Ellie, who was passed out, curled up into a little ball in her sleeping bag and completely unaware of what her two reluctant protectors were doing behind the vehicle right next to her.

Your bottom lip was busted, bruised from biting down on it so hard.

The deal had been no noise, not even a single whimper, although you couldn’t remember how well either of you had stuck to that rule in the heat of the moment. It had been a quick fuck, just enough to give you and Joel some much needed relief from all of those pent up stresses and frustrations you two were carrying on your shoulders since Ellie had entered your lives just the week before. And just like back in the Boston QZ, Joel said nothing to you once it was over and done with.

It never hurt your feelings. It was just how things were.

It was some sort of twisted, fucked up unspoken pact the two of you had. 

Joel Miller fucked you, and then he just pretended like nothing ever happened, not until the next time he found himself buried inside of you.

It’s not like you expected Joel to return your feelings.

Hell, you weren’t even sure the man knew how to feel anything but anger, bitterness, and violence. 

Afterwards, Joel took you up on your offer to keep watch and slept for a couple of hours until sunrise came and had you both moving, packing up the truck and getting ready to continue the long drive ahead to Wyoming.

“She’s been oddly quiet,” Joel mumbled to you as he packed up the remnants of the small campsite into the bed of the pickup truck. “Go check on her.”

Obediently, you nodded and dropped the sleeping bag in your hands before turning away and walking over to where Ellie was sitting cross legged on the ground, her fingers mindlessly fiddling with a small, broken tree branch on the ground. “Hey,” you offered her a small smile. “It’s almost time to get going. You doing alright over here?”

She looked up at you and gave you a small nod. “Yeah. Just cold as fuck since we can’t have a fucking fire going,” she said, tossing a tiny glare over in Joel’s direction. “But other than that? I’m just fucking peachy.”

You chuckled and shrugged out of your worn out, brown windbreaker jacket. You draped it over Ellie’s shoulders before taking a seat beside her on the ground. She may have been a thorn in Joel’s side—then again, who wasn’t a thorn in Joel Miller’s side—but you’d warmed up to her fairly quickly. A lot quicker than your partner, anyway. He was still a work in progress.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Ellie nodded, clutching your jacket close. “Kinda,” she shrugged her small shoulders. “The ground was really hard and uncomfortable. I woke up a couple of times throughout the night and had trouble falling back asleep.”

Your smile faded ever so slightly. “Oh? You did?”

Noticing the sudden change in your demeanor, a small smirk crossed the girl’s face. “I knew you and McGrumps over there were a thing.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva as you nervously sputtered out, “W-What the hell are you talking about?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow at you, shooting you a knowing look as her smirk widened.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Ellie had caught you and Joel while you two were—fucking?

Mortified did not even come close to cutting it.

“Oh god,” You muttered, your face on fire. 

“I really hope you two are being smart and using protection,” she added teasingly. “What’s that saying? Wrap it before you tap it?”

“Ellie!” You hissed, glancing over your shoulder. Joel went about his business and it was times like these where you were actually thankful that his hearing wasn’t what it used to be. You turned back to her and quickly started trying to explain yourself. “Ellie, I don’t know what you think you saw but—”

“Oh, it was too dark to see anything. I heard you guys.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Back behind the truck.” She paused, thoroughly enjoying every single moment of complete and utter discomfort she was causing you. “You know, if that’s gonna keep happening, I’m really gonna need you guys to find me a Walkman with some headphones. Noise cancelling headphones, please and thank you.”

You dropped your head into your hands and anxiously rubbed your face with your palms. “Fuck. I’m really sorry, Ellie,” Was all that you could say.

What else could you say?

Sorry you had to hear me getting fucked by my partner while you were laying just feet away in your sleeping bag?

“Sorry for what? For not being able to keep it in your pants?” Ellie giggled, slapping your knee with her hand in an attempt to get you to lighten up. “I get it. Nature. Hormones. Biology and shit.”

You lifted your face from your hands. “Joel can’t know,” You warned her. “Or he won’t be able to look you or me in the eye ever again.”

Ellie groaned in exaggeration, throwing her head back. “Aw, come on! I really wanted to see him squirm.”

“Me squirming should be fucking enough you little shit,” You laughed, shoving her playfully with your elbow. Once both of your giggles had subsided, in a more serious tone, you told her, “And for the record, we are not a thing.”

Ellie stared at you in disbelief. “Get out of here, you lying sack of shit! You totally are!”

“I know it’s hard to understand. But just because two people—” You trailed off, trying to choose your words carefully. It was more often than not that you had to remind yourself that despite what Ellie had been through and all she had seen, she was still fourteen. A fucking child.

“Bump uglies?” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

You sighed. “Jesus Christ, please don’t ever fucking say that out loud again.” You paused briefly, running a hand through your hair. “But yes. Just because two people do what he and I were doing, that doesn’t mean anything. For a lot of people, it can be quite meaningless actually. It does not mean they are a thing. Me and Joel? Not a thing. Understood?”

Ellie blinked. “That’s probably the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Even before last night, I knew you two were a thing. Whether either of you admit it or not. I can tell.”

You knew better than to play into what she was saying, but the sheer curiosity got the better of you.

What had Ellie noticed about you and Joel?

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her chest. “I dunno. The way you look at him. The way he looks at you. He’s a guy who doesn’t seem to give a shit about too many things or too many people. But I know he does give a shit about you. He cares about you. Even if he might have a shitty ass way of showing it.”

You glanced back over at Joel and then back at Ellie, confused.

“And you can deny it all you want. But if there’s one thing that stone cold asshole cares about, it’s definitely you,” Ellie stated firmly.

Your mouth fell open slightly, unsure what to say to her.

“What the hell are you two yappin’ about over there?” Joel called, looking over his shoulder.

“Nothing!” Ellie practically sang, causing him to roll his eyes and turn his attention back to his task.

“Well then, get off your asses and let’s get a fuckin’ move on. Ain’t got time to waste.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 65

part 1 | part 64 | ao3

cw: angst, weed

Eddie reaches out then stops, hand hovering just above Steve’s knee, something like panic in the tremor of his wrist. “Steve, for real, man, please let me—”

“No, you for real, man.” Seriously? Man? As if there aren't so many more important things to discuss right now. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and pinches his nose, the voice of an old swim coach ringing in his ear. Game time, Harrington, c’mon, where’s your head?

“Look,” Steve sighs, fingers clenching around his shin. “We can talk about... this," he gestures between the two of them, "later. Let’s just— Important stuff only for right now, okay?” 

Eddie’s breath shakes when he answers. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Good.” 

This is somehow worse than silence.

Steve shakes his head, tries to focus through the fog of awkward energy. Important things. Important.

Like, how about ‘what were you doing with a pretty girl in my fucking trailer?’ for starters, or maybe—

Oh, fuck. 

Steve looks sharply at Eddie. “Why were you asking if I was real?”

Eddie stares back in silence, eyes huge, bottom lip trembling as Steve presses into his space; drops his voice, brings a hand up to wrap around Eddie’s arm — just above his elbow, soft leather and warm muscle shivering under the touch. God. Please. Not him, too. “Eddie. Did you— did you see something? Are you…?”

“No,” Eddie shudders. “No, sorry, just, uh—” He shakes his head with a grimace, a shrill sound spilling out, some frantic braying thing that might have counted as a laugh if his face wasn’t doing that. “Pretty goddamn sure I’m just losing my mind after seeing the— the fucking—”

His palm floats up to the ceiling in a wobbly zig-zag, looseleaf drifting to the classroom carpet in reverse, then he clenches his fist and lets it explode open with a ‘boom,’ the sound effect ruined by another strangled laugh. “Oh, my god,” he giggles. Humorless, horrified, nervous system overwhelm. His entire arm is shaking. “Oh, shit, oh, Jesus Christ, Steve, Chrissy’s—”

“Hey.” Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s arm; waits for Eddie to take a breath, gasping and wet. “We can’t think about it, alright?”

Eddie’s voice cracks miserably. “That’s not fucking fair to her.”

“I know.” Steve loosens his hold; smooths his palm over the leather sleeve; wonders who he’s really trying to soothe. “I know. But we can’t— if what you and Dustin said is true, if it’s really some— some monster that hurt Chrissy, that’s trying to hurt us? We can’t grieve yet, okay? We can’t give him an opening to attack. We need a game plan.”      

Eddie exhales like he’s trying to mimic an owl. “Okay,” he nods eventually, slapping his thighs as he stands up. “Okay. Game plan. Yeah. Shit. Games and sports and plans and…” 

He trails off, mouth moving around mumbled gibberish as he wiggles his fingers and drums on himself, hands slipping up his torso, tongue over his top lip. He pats his front pocket. “Oh, hell yeah, baby.” Whirling to face Steve, he slips his forefinger and thumb into the narrow pouch and pulls out the Altoids tin where he keeps his pre-roll stash. “How’s this for a game plan?”

—

part 66

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[n3ptoonz]

mind writing for the Earthrealm men getting caught masturbating by the reader??👀

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to getting caught 🥩 👊🏾 by reader

warnings: suggestive; a lil steamy, i play too much (was sick and ovulating while writing this help me god), GERAS SPOTTED???

reverse roles here

Johnny Cage

Left the door open on purpose. WIDE OPEN. There he lied on his silk linens, blasting Marvin Gaye and going to town without taking his eyes off the door. Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he added a sexy ninja mime (i will never stop referencing past games) to act out him getting caught

When you "catch" him all you can do is facepalm, but it's outta love. Expect to have him let loose 50 cheesy pick up lines, dick in hand and all. Like he would still jerk it like he wasn't stuttering over his words once you took over

If you join the cheesy line fun, he may or may not cum on the spot. He loves when you're playful back. And tease him a lot. But like. Way more than he teases you. He can and will fall in love all over again (he will also bust quickly to this too. MULTIPLE times)

Raiden

This cutie pie. Snookums bbg. Blushing like a fool because you managed to overhear him utter your name multiple times in a hushed voice dripping with lust

I fully see him falling out of his bed and scrambling to pull his covers down with him just to cover his lower half. He gets even more nervous when he sees you not even attempting to leave, but instead having an inviting look on your face

Cue the comically loud gulp sound effect. His pretty brown eyes never left your figure, sitting on the hardwood floor with a painful erection between his thighs under a rather comfortable blanket. You'd have to ask if he wants help from your own lips, otherwise no sound would be in the room other than steady breathing and his heart thumping loud as hell (he says yes at the speed of light)

Smoke

Deer in headlights. One minute ago he was furiously zerkin it like there was no tomorrow, slutty sounds escaping his lips with no shame. Now he's like...oh...! You heard that..? Ahahah..

Would apologize so many times he ends up doing it in Czech. Please tell him it's okay😭In fact you'd only shut him up by telling him it was hot

Activates self indulgence beam I think...he'd be into it if you told him to finish what he started. Like sitting in a chair and watching him and he's not allowed to close his eyes- IM GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF (fic idea huehue)(if you write it before me, tag me.) But also albeit he stumbles over his words, he'd find some sort of way to ask for your help

Geras

WHAT!!! GERAS I KNOW WTF WHAT yeah he may be an immortal being but the man has his own needs. And is it even a question like...you're wondering how THAT fits in his hand like jesus christ you're going to kill someone sir (i got next)

It's nothing extravagant. He wasn't summoned by Liu Kang for a while, so he figured why not? He doesn't get much time to himself so let's crank one real quick 👀

Think of any scene from mk11 where he got "hurt" and was grunting, that's the sounds he was making and you could hear it through his door. But you thought he was hurt, so you came through the door just to be greeted by a SNAKE in his grip

Surprisingly calm...almost too calm...did he predict this? Who knows, all we know is you interrupted him and would definitely like your help. Does not shy away from this request too but that's how we like it 😈

Liu Kang

A similar incident with Geras. You overheard him while you wandered through his mansion trying to find and surprise him. So when you finally found his bedroom door and barged in, thinking he needed help, there he was dick in hand and completely unexpecting

He would try to remain calm but it would be clear as day that he was nervous. He'd quickly cover up with a pillow and give a small smile, asking if you needed anything like he wasn't shirtless and heart pumping at mach speeds

In his mind was like a static sound as he tried to focus on not getting hard again looking at you, feeling a little guilty as he couldn't help his instincts. I guess the God contract never said escaping from mortal desires! You offer to join the fun and he's like HUH...well, if you insist! (again he looks calm but is very, very excited, i promise)

Kung Lao

He had been schmeat beating after his long days of training so this isn't a new occurrence for him. But obviously, you've never walked in on him before. He was always able to get it done before he saw or met with you

Normally you rendezvous to Madam Bo's but you're like hm, why not bring him something to eat since you know he had a long day! Once you entered it didn't take you long to hear him calling your name from his room, so naturally you thought he knew you were here. But...it started to become like a chant. His voice breathy and deep (save me shaolin monk save me-) So when you check it out you find him with his head thrown back, hair messy and coated in sweat

The favoritism is leaking through the screen LMFAOOO He heard the door creak and yelped, asking why you were there so early out of breath you held the to-go bag in your hands with pure shock, immediately getting the idea to tease the shit out of him. He does it to you all the time, why not return the favor?! And he's like well?? Are you gonna help??? UH YA I WAS GETTING TO THAT😹😹

Scorpion

Kuai Liang rarely ever has the time to even talk to you, let alone talk to himself! So one of the few times he didn't think you were showing up to the temple but he had time to himself that he didn't think would last very long, he just needed to relieve his own stress real quick

Damn, he forgot he invited you to the temple since it was a slow day. You were appointed to his room by one of the recruits and sang his name, opening the door to the sound of squelching and panting

Your little song came to a stop at the same time of his gasp; eyes locked on yours. He wanted to smile, and drop everything to greet you like the situation wasn't what it was, but before he could even begin to hide himself you calmly close the door and watch his demeanor quickly switch to smug...it's gonna be a long day for the both of you😮‍💨

Sub-Zero

I'm using the same scenario from my first bi-han fic bc i said so, bite me!

He was avoiding you because he couldn't control himself around you any longer. The more he thought about you and how you pissed him off to great lengths before has him wanting to do terrible...terrible things (shoutout loki)(i've never seen loki) but he must suffice with pleasuring himself to the thought of you, the way your voice rang in his head, and how hot you looked patching up his injuries

When you caught him oh he was so sexually frustrated he couldn't think straight, panically pulling you into his room dick swinging and all. The scowl on his face didn't match the pink blush that was starting to form at how you looked at him. Why you were at his door is the least of his concerns, if you don't help him take care of this right now he might lose his mind 🥹

Kenshi Takahashi

He wasn't supposed to be last but I accidentally clicked on a tumblr notification and lost my notes on him so. LETS TRY THIS SHIT AGAIN.

When you caught him he was so so embarrassed. Don't let the calm and hot and sexy demeanor fool you, when it came to you it's like he's a clone; unrecognizable. He was stuttering and trying to justify whatever you just saw but then also asks why you showed up unannounced

You explain he said to come around this time a few days ago to spend some time together, and now he was mentally kicking himself bc how could he forget something so simple?! But hey, the fact that you weren't even budging, and even approaching him with a smile on your face told him all he needed to know. And who is he to say no to some help from a fine individual like you???

a/n: cranked this request out for y'all (fic might be posted today) this is a gift from me to you guys 😄 happy christmas and merry holidays to any and all cultures that do or don't celebrate during this time fr ❤️

[notjustjavierpena]

Eat

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Pussy? Eaten. Stomach? Butterflies. Hotel? Trivago.  Think this takes place short after Gush.

Summary: You tell Joel that you cannot come from getting eaten out, but he isn’t convinced. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, soft soft soft and patient joel, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, intense orgasm, pet names , bit of praise kink and body worship

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49669783

Eat

Joel has you completely naked and pinned to his bed. It’s a Saturday afternoon, sun is pining in through the curtains and heating up the room that’s already warm from your bodies being entwined. You have yet to get out of bed despite needing a shower, perhaps some food for your growling stomach, and maybe a glass of ice water from how sweaty your body is when you are in the older man’s proximity. He makes your heart pound.

He hovers over you whilst on his knees between your legs, hands on your wrists and gaze hungry as he contemplates what he wants to do with you. Your stomach drops as he asks, “Will you lemme have it? Lemme eat your pussy, princess?”

It’s not that you don’t think this is sexy. It is just that. Though, despite how many times Joel has made you come during the summer, he actually hasn’t gone down on you yet. 

He has tried a million times though, but you have always playfully pushed his head away every time he has tried to descend on your body, distracted him with a blowjob, or made him finger your cunt instead. At this point, you still haven’t told him that the reason is that you simply don’t like it. 

“Joel,” you avoid his gaze, turn your head away, “I—“

Joel hasn’t heard hesitation from you before, only the jokes that he hasn’t taken to heart. He lets go of one of your wrists, takes hold of your chin, and guides your head back so you face him again. He furrows his brow at the uncertainty in your eyes that meet his, “What’s a’ matter?”

“Nothing,” you play dumb, avoiding his curious look once more but he snaps his fingers in front of you to regain your attention. You groan at how well it works, “Why would anything be wrong? It’s just… I don’t really like it. I can’t come from it.”

Joel narrows his eyes slightly, not convinced, “Why’d you think you can’t come from it?”

“This guy I was with,” you begin and it’s Joel’s turn to look uncertain. You want to roll your eyes; doesn’t he know that he has ruined everyone else for you by now? 

“Years ago,” you add, “He told me I took too long, so maybe I just, you know, couldn’t. I didn’t want to try again.” 

Joel doesn’t get pissed at the guy or start a rant like you expect him to do (something about that boy taking this sort of experience from you and turning it into something negative). Instead, he starts laughing to the point where he needs to rest his forehead against your shoulder to calm himself because the pout you give him just makes him laugh harder. 

“What?” You push at his head in annoyance. He cannot even hold onto your other wrist anymore. 

“Took too long. Jesus,” his laughter is interrupted by a cough. You can feel his chest vibrating against your own, “He was bullshittin’ you, baby girl. What a lazy piece of shit, and what range of stupid lil’ fuckers you’ve allowed to have what’s mine.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I hate it,” you squirm underneath him at his choice of words, reaching for his hair with your hands to pull at it gently, “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“It is kinda funny,” he looks up at you through his lashes. There’s something sweet to his voice whilst his eyes darken, “Hey now. It’s just… ya said ya didn’t squirt either, and then fuckin’ wet the bed.”

You go beet red, “Joel. God.”

“I’m merely a man just tryna prove a point,” he jokes, earning a glare. Something shifts a little in the air and then he isn’t playing anymore, “Will ya lemme try? Just f’me? We can stop anytime you want.”

“I don’t know,” you sound unsure. 

“We’ll go reeeal slow,” he pushes.

“O-okay,” you say. What’s the harm in letting him try? It’s not like it is uncomfortable for you, but rather just slightly boring and awkward. 

“Okay’s not a yes, princess,” Joel crawls up to try to kiss your uncertainty away. He pecks your lips over and over again, switching not long after to pepper your face with more gentle kisses instead. They’re scattered across your cheeks, lips, nose, above your eyebrows, soft eyelids, and chin. He doesn’t let up until you giggle sweetly. 

“Yes!” You squeak and mess up his hair, “Eat some damn pussy, if it means that much to you.”

“Try to relax for me,” he instructs and pushes himself to sit up again. His eyes have darkened further, “How do you want ya legs?”

You bend your legs, planting your feet firmly on the bed and spreading yourself open enough for Joel’s broad shoulders to fit between your thighs. He doesn’t go down yet though, keeping his promise of taking things slow in case you want to stop before it gets too intense. 

His lips connect to where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing his nose firmly into you to inhale your scent. It must be nothing but sleep and sweat by now. He opens his mouth against your skin, sucks across your collarbone until he reaches your jugular notch. He dips his tongue into the dent, and licks off the sweat before murmuring, “I can feel you not relaxin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a pounding heart and you mean it, curl your toes, but he shushes you immediately. 

“No, no. This ain’t on you, baby. Tell me what I can do to make ya relax,” he pulls back to look at your face. He looks so gorgeous with the sun hitting his body like this. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper without knowing why. 

“My baby wants to hear how gorgeous she is?” He asks as he goes back to putting his mouth on your throat. You tip your head back, and he hums against you, “How perfect ‘n beautiful ‘n sexy? Perhaps a little spoiled too?”

“Mhm, yes,” you rest your hand on the back of his neck when he starts to descend. His lips trail down between your breasts, and his huge palm covers one of them whilst he sucks on the other. He is eager, cheeky enough to tug your nipple into his mouth with his teeth. You moan softly.

“Fuckin’ love your tits, Jesus, look at you,” he mumbles absentmindedly to himself before going back in. He dares to suck a light purple mark onto your skin just close enough to your nipple so that you can cover it up and keep it a secret between the two of you even if going to the lake with friends and wearing your skimpy bikini.

You groan and arch your back when he switches to the other one of your tits, cupping it still whilst lapping at your nipple. He flicks his tongue across it just when you think he might pull away, causing you to let out a long drawn-out whine. 

“You fuckin’ love that, don’t ya?” He kisses the swell of your breast, tugs a little with his hand. You close your eyes, bolts of arousal shooting up your spine again when he suckles once more. 

Slowly, you find that much of the nervousness is seeping out of your body with every kiss, lick and suck of your salty skin. It may be the time to admit that Joel knows just which buttons to push to turn you into putty. It may also be the time to admit that you are starting to get excited about what is going to happen. Nervous but excited.

“You’re so soft… like damn silk,” he admires whilst he goes lower. His nose brushes along the length of your stomach, tickling a little to the point where you shiver and let out a soft sigh. He relishes in it, “Damn, baby. Listen to that sound.”

You rake your nails across his scalp when he nips at your skin. Heat is pooling in your belly and you can feel slick drip onto the sheets, running down the cleft of your ass, “Touch my pussy, Daddy.”

Joel tenses visibly at the nickname. He grips your hip, and somehow becomes a little rougher in everything he does, “Gotta wait. Maybe your disaster college boyfriend didn’t get ya worked up enough. I definitely ain’t gonna make that mistake.”

He crawls further down, kisses open-mouthed and hot right below your belly button several times. Even places the flat of his tongue against the skin there to lick long languid stripes, “Won’t start until you beg me to kiss your little twitchin’ clit.”

“But I’m so wet,” you pout, flexing the muscles in your stomach. When you try lifting your hips to find some kind of friction, he pushes you right back down into the mattress. 

“Stop,” he warns sternly. The hand on your hip runs across your belly, teases over your mound and ghosts over your clit until you cry feebly for him, “Do you want me to just touch ya between your pretty legs?” 

“I told you I don’t like the other thing,” you reply to spite him and egg him on. He smacks one of your thighs, wiggling the flesh after. 

“Liar,” he breaks eye contact to look right down at your cunt. You are sure that he can see how you clench around nothing, clit so hard that it is exposed from underneath the hood. You are so ready for him to follow through, no matter the nervousness in your body, “The anticipation wouldn’t have you this excited if yadidn’t care. You’ll fuckin’ let Daddy live between your thighs after he’s done eating.” 

“Fine,” you huff, spreading your legs further to punctuate your sentence, “Put your mouth on my pussy. Prove it.”

Joel groans at the sight of you giving in to him. He gets comfortable on the bed, legs hanging out over the edge. One arm scoops underneath you to curl around your right thigh and the other rests on top of your left. He splays his hand across your sternum, and almost automatically, you reach for it and tug at two of his fingers as if needing something to hold onto for dear life. 

“Now we talkin’,” he smirks. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt, heart almost beating out of your chest with how horny you feel. That, and the fact that what Joel is about to do to you seems to be the most intimate thing you can think of. It feels dangerous, exciting, and scary.

You put another pillow behind your back and head, so you can watch him over the top of your tits and his hand. He grumbles but waits. 

“Go,” you say with an apologetic smile, “Just wanted to see you.”

“Ain’t you adorable?” Joel gazes up at you to follow through on your wish, “Ready?”

“Just wanna come now,” you promise, “‘m just nervous. Makes me fidget.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, breath ghosting over your pussy as he lowers himself down slowly, “Makes ya toes curl too.” 

You cannot quite believe that you have Joel Miller’s face between your legs right now, and even less so believe the hungriest smile in history that he is sporting. It is enough to make you blush, letting go of Joel’s hand and reaching up to cup your face when the anticipation becomes overwhelming. You rest your pinkies in front of your mouth, palms burning from being clasped around your cheeks but it feels like you might lose it if you let go.

The simple brush of his tongue that he chooses as a starting point has you squirming on the bed. His tongue is warm and flat against you, licking how he had done it against the sensitive skin of your stomach. 

Your stomach muscles twitch. It feels… good. Better than the first time you did it. 

“Okay?” He asks in a hum, looking up at you through his lashes with genuine eyes. You nod slowly, and he lowers again to press a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. 

And then another.

And another. 

You make a noise best described as a soft sigh. 

Then he goes lower, the kisses becoming more sloppy and wet. He stops when he reaches your quivering cunt, lets out his tongue to scoop up some of the slick that has gathered and is spilling down between your cheeks. He then licks a long stripe all the way up to your clit, and laps at it like he is eating a damn ice cream cone. 

“Mhmm, tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, like heaven,” he continues with his small licks, the hand on your chest finding your left nipple. Tugs like he knows you like. 

You moan for the first time, not sure if you have repressed the urge to do so. He takes it as a sign to keep going, stiffening his tongue to run it between your folds repeatedly and eventually settling on your clit again. He flicks the tensed-up muscle against the nub, setting up a pace that suddenly causes you to whine.

“Ohh,” you swallow thickly, part your lips and breathe heavily. A muscle in the thigh that Joel is holding flexes involuntarily, and you can feel him smirk against you when he moves back to open-mouthed kisses. 

“No, go back,” you demand, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Joel pulls back instead to tease you. He removes his hand from your thigh to suck his thumb into his mouth. He makes you tremble at the sight, but even more when he circles your clit with the pad of the finger after, “You like Daddy’s tongue on your pussy, baby?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Say it,” he still draws lazy circles.

“Feels so good,” you admit finally with a groan, “You’re always right.”

“Know I am,” he kisses your inner thigh. The hand on your breast moves to rub soothingly up and down your belly, “‘bout time you realized.”

“I want you to keep going,” you say with a shy smile, blinking down at him, “Please, Daddy?”

His hands still on you, but then he reaches to place both hands on your inner thighs to spread you out a little further. You fall back into the pillow, and he sinks into you again, “Whatever baby wants, baby gets.”

You have never actually thought about how big his mouth is before. In fact, it is huge in comparison to everything about you. He is able to stretch his lips over every inch of your cunt, and he gladly does.

Your breath hitches before you let out a drawn-out moan. Joel eats you out enthusiastically; he licks, sucks, and even dips his tongue inside of you for a moment too. You can feel the world closing in on you, shrinking to nothing but the pressure that builds. 

“It’s—“ you want to say something that makes sense, because whatever you had done in the dim light of your college dormitory a few years prior was definitely not this, but there are no words that describe how overwhelming his slick tongue is, “It’s— oh God.”

You squeal pathetically as your cunt teeters on the edge of an orgasm. You try to press your thighs inwards to make the intensity go away, but Joel is so much stronger than you.

It hits you then. Fuck, it’s going to happen; you’re going to come with his mouth between your legs, and he is never going to let you live this down. This is not what you had planned. There is a little part of you that knows you would have relished in being right for once, but there’s a much bigger part that thanks the Gods that you aren’t going to live forever without coming like this. 

You close your eyes as you groan, but it makes Joel slow down, “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart, look at me.”

He sucks again, and your hands fly to his hair, but it only goes on for a second, “Ya doing so well. Does it feel good, princess?”

“You’re being mean,” you whimper, tugging at the strands of hair that you have between your fingers, “Make me come.”

Joel follows through then. He buries his nose in your mound and sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks with how much effort he puts into it. When you start thrashing on the bed, he wraps his arms around your legs and holds you tightly in place until you fall apart right below his mouth. 

You shriek as your cunt spasms. If not for Joel’s strength, you are sure that you would have accidentally kneed him in the face, because your legs lose control of themselves as if the orgasm has severed any connection to them. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” you break the swearing rule as your orgasm peaks, pushing and pulling his head away because you don’t have a clue whether you want more or less. Your back arches as Joel keeps licking through your drenched folds, you think you might have started to cry too. 

Shaking breaths echo through Joel’s bedroom as you come down. Joel has removed your hands from his head, and you have slumped into the mattress with a whimper. Nothing has ever felt more dirty. 

“Are you okay?” He asks after crawling up the bed to lay beside you. He rubs your stomach with his broad hand, and even that makes you let out a feeble sigh. 

You laugh with exhaustion, but don’t reply. 

“I do good?” He asks with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his hand over his soaked mouth and chin. 

You turn your head to look at him but then start giggling, pointing to your own nose, “You got a little… you know.”

He doesn’t get it when he wipes his hand over his nose the first time. You laugh harder due to the dopamine flowing through your system, and he grumbles, “Well help me then, kiddo.” 

When you beckon him closer, he moves without hesitation, and as you run your index finger down his nose to catch your own shiny arousal, you try to push down the feeling of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

It’s a feeling that needs to go away. You can’t possibly love Joel Miller and survive.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[clitorphosis]

AMATO AMAR PERDONA

notes: the title is taken from The Divine Comedy, Canto 5(second circle) of Inferno. Initially this was an idea I wanted to include in my other fanfiction, so I guess this can be considered as a bonus.

Priest Leon S. Kennedy x female reader | 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, light religious themes, Leon is a priest, blowjob, blasphemy kink, improper use of confessional booth, snowball kiss, semi public sex.

tags: @sprawberry

After years of fighting B.O.W, he finally sets on something calm, helping and saving people without risking his own life, but as time passes by, a bitter realization hits Leon harder than he expected; that not everyone was born for this. Maybe it is adrenaline addiction or without noticing he had found comfort in his misery at that time, but he is grateful that the routine incorporated easily into one’s life as deeds accumulate, overshadowing any thoughts about changing his life again and he didn’t have any other way other than focusing on the work.

The church is old and is not located in the best place, which tends to have windy weather. He suspected those are reasons why the building doesn’t have a lot of visitors, not like people are deeply religious nowadays either. Sometimes it feels like walls are thinner than paper, the wind brushes and whispers sweet, quiet nothings, barely audible to human ears while Leon prepares for his tasks or just lollygags during his free time. It has been said that airy currents can bring many unwanted things; pebbles, the leaves during the autumn season and the smells that disclose people’s secrets. He could never have expected it to bring a woman into his life, making it more colorful than any light arrays coming from the glass-stained windows in his church. From a small spark, a Great flame has risen.

The only thing he needed to do was to help you with your husband’s funeral, but he fucked this up. Really fucked up all this, his mind was repeating multiple times that it was his job to console you, he should have put down your little advances, but he couldn’t, deep down the urge to delve into something prohibited was stronger. The conflict between his morality and passion had died down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Your appearance was like a quick bullet going through his routine and destroying it, adding the thrill that consumed the guilt he was supposed to feel. Little touches of your fingers, while no one is looking, quickly have moved to more intimate encounters, indulging in each other’s body on the altar, under the eyes of Jesus.

Some days, even the confessional booth was filled with your voice, telling him your desires and how much you want him to fuck your brains out of your head, to make you a dumb slut in front of the son of God and there has never been a trace of shame in your words. A long time ago he deduced a devil would sound like you; with a sweet-sweet intonation describing, in the holy place and not trying to hide all details, how his cock would fill nicely your pussy. Leon’s mind didn’t help much in those cases either. It has always vividly recalled how good your moans echo against the walls of the church. Either there is no need to imagine anything he hasn’t already done in this building, every cranny has heard and the All-seeing eye has witnessed you indulging in the temptation of each other’s body. The gentle love transforms into a deadly sin, but it is better to suffer in hell together, than alone.

His cock was already hard, tucked out, stroking it with his hand while his blue eyes are set on your knelt state. He tugs your hair, pulling you closer to his aching length, pushing it against your lips. They almost envelop its head, the soft and plush skin of them on it, he keeps tracing and brushing his tip, smearing a little bit of his already leaking precum but not letting you go any further. Almost all day passed without even a light touch which is too much for him, a man like him can have a quick good time, and teasing himself was a bad decision.

“Daddy Kennedy, that’s not polite to make a lady wait” Your tongue peeks out to lick away the bitter substance on your lips, teeth bite down slightly on the lower skin after tongue retreated. His grip on your hair tightened, cracking out a smile and pushing your head closer now.

“It is ‘Father Kennedy’” his correction leaves his mouth quickly, leading to a light slap on your lips with his cock as a silent command to open your mouth. “and I still didn’t hear any holy words from this mouth”

You loll out the tongue, feeling him dragging his leaking head against the exposed wet surface, smearing and filling your tastebuds with the bitterness of his precum, which makes more saliva pool in your mouth. The man in front of you not only teases himself but you too.

“What do we say?” He inquires breathlessly, his blue orbs almost shining from intensity and heat in the dimly lightened booth. He slaps his cock on your tongue inducing a soft wet sound to escape when it connects with the flesh.

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and corrupted your man.” Your eyes keep the contact with Leon’s as the prayer leaves your mouth quickly, something you have already repeated a billion times and he is already familiar with those words, not his first time to hear from one’s lips and it wouldn’t be the last time. This is so boring in the end, repenting feverly about something you can’t help but spit on. So why not alter it? Punishment is much more tempting than forgiveness. Your lips ghost on his aching cock, movements of your tongue brush more against the tip, flicking ‘accidentally’ at it and leaving him to covet for more. “Alas, I don’t detest all my sins cause the pain of hell is more alluring than the pleasures of heaven”

“Do I need to teach you everything?” Leon’s voice breaks the silence with a rough tone after you alter the prayer. You wish he would strike you, but he doesn’t. His attention shifts, watching a string of saliva dripping along his flesh from the tip of your tongue. Your eyes are on his face, meeting his gaze and not wavering. “Don’t you have any shame in that body of yours? Carrying on your whoring so openly in front of me” There is a silence, but even with the lack of his order you can grasp what he wants right now; the grip on your hair lessens, letting you be more free in your actions. “But be not afraid, my dove, this don’t disgust me, I am here to absolve you from your sins”

You don’t need to be ordered around to know what he implies. His body shudders when your lips embrace his cock in the wet and warm sensations around him, your hand slides down with your mouth along the length until you reach the base. Leon doesn’t notice how his own palm returns its grip on your hair, his hips buck up pushing you deeper to get more from your mouth already. A greedy bastard you would call him. Deep inside guilt tries to crawl out, but your mouth around him let this bullshit disappear and focus on how your tongue flicks against the head, playing with the sensitive spot under the tip, while your hand keeps pumping along the flesh, spreading the dripping saliva with every stroke. The acolyte corrupted by a widow, he should be drowning in guilt and beg for forgiveness of the Lord, but the sight of you in between his legs reminds him that God can’t give a blowjob in the confessional booth, maybe is that what’s tempting.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned, my last confession was a year ago” Leon’s ears catch another woman’s voice, pulling him out of overflowing pleasure. This can’t be you, your mouth is busy with his cock and for a brief moment, he felt his blood hitch in his veins, at this hour usually there are no visitors, but seems this isn’t your lucky day. Your head halts its movements, keeping his cock in your warm and wet mouth, looking at him with a clear surprise. An idea sparkles in your mind, and you try to move more, to push his buttons and see him struggle cause of your doings, but his hand prevents this by giving a quick tap on the back of your head; ‘Don’t move’. A quiet sob before a trembling voice speaks up again. “I accuse myself of adultery, I have been eyeing and lusting for the man who isn’t my husband, God, I-…I am so sorry”

O the irony of the situation having someone confess the sin of lust while you are kneeling in between his legs. His hand grips harder your hair to tilt your head better so the tip rubs against the soft and velvet of your cheek, stretching it and he can feel your drool roll down, staining his pants. Leon takes a brief peek at the shadowed figure in the grilled window, trying to recollect himself. Shaky breath leaves his lips, listening to a woman’s words fill the space, his blue eyes dart down to your messy frame; trying to swallow your saliva. Leon can’t keep still himself, his hips start rolling into your mouth, enjoying the wetness of your tongue brushing along his sliding length. The pleasure makes it too hard to stay still, making him greedier for more. Your tongue flicks on his tip every time his cock moves back and forth slowly, leading his head rests against the wooden wall behind him, his half-lidded gaze keeps eye contact with you.

“Have you given into the temptation?” Leon asks. His voice feels so sensual to your ears, but they aren’t addressed to you. The poor woman whispers something, but you don’t catch her words cause your attention is mostly on the dick in your mouth.

His cock slides further, the tip rubs against the back of the throat provoking it to squeeze and tighten around him nicely and you try not to gag, not to sink too deep but your efforts are useless. His grip holds you well as he pushes you lower, highlighting his control over you right now. Drool drips more, its excess gathering at the corners of your mouth. There can be heard some noises coming from you, sending pleasant vibrations over every nerve of his body, but those wet sounds get muffled by his own heavy voice and shaky voice, trying to control it and not to get caught. This wouldn’t do anything good for his reputation.

“I can hear you rue your sin… my child, so…” he swallows hard, pausing to admire your messy state; eyes are watered, some tears roll down and your cheeks are stained with mascara, your face starts to get redder and the lack of oxygen makes you feel lightheaded, holding your breath to not mess with your gag reflex. “God is… All-forgiving..” Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth, trying to control his voice and not to groan as you swallow the excess saliva, provoking another jolt of pleasure running through his body. The warmth and how you struggle made him almost choke on the moan and forget what he was saying. If not for that lady, he would be already face fucking you without any obstacles. He swallows hard again, his tone is lower now, but there is an audible shakiness. “Repent your sins and pray to be shielded” A pause, staring at you with a darkened and burned gaze. “By the temptation of the devil… my child“

He knows well who is the devil here. His voice almost breaks in a high-pitched tone at the end of the sentence, when he rolled his hips into you, again to grind his tip into the back of your throat, his leaking tip from precum fills your taste buds again and you swallow some of the salivas, making tight walls clench around him, almost begging to cum. Personally, Leon doesn’t have the patience to keep that visitor any longer here, it gets much harder to keep his voice steady and right now his own pleasure is much more important than one’s problem. And he is nothing but a man. Hearing a mumble of prayer on the other side of the booth. His grip lessens on your hair, giving you control of your movements. You pull back, letting air to reach your lungs finally. Your lips create a strand of saliva between his dick and your glistening and swollen lips, inhaling greedily for air, while his mouth is covered by palm, trying to not groan which threatens to crawl out from his lips cause of the messy sight in front of him. His struggle is like an addiction, you can’t stay away from him right now, your lips return to pepper his cock with kisses, making him twitch in the hot air of narrow space and you sink down with your mouth, sucking on the tip while hand returns to pump his length, watching him struggling not to moan. Too bad he got lucky, the other voice ceased to exist, leaving him with you.

“That’s how you pray, sweet dove” Leon teases, the corners of his lip tugging up into a smirk. You hum, sending another wave of pleasure. Another flick and he feels his balls tighten, his cock throbbing in your mouth and his fingers return to your hair, taking control of your movements back into his hands. “Such a good little thing, fuck…” Leon mumbles, feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He chases the rising pleasure in his body, his hips bucking to meet your face. Deepening thrusts, his head grinds against your throat. Another low moan escapes his lips. “Sucking so well, God made you for this, right?”

All he can see is your messy face, sloppily taking him so well, Leon is so focused on you and your mouth, his orgasm approaches quicker than he expected. His body shudders and with the last thrust his cock throbs for the last time and spurts out a load of cum, filling your mouth. His legs feel numb, and with a heavy gaze he is watching your mouth fill with his fluid so well. Leon’s mind is still under the influence of his orgasm and the post-nut clarity doesn’t hit him, so he doesn’t register how you get up so quickly, your hand lays on his stubbled cheek to pull him into a kiss. Mouth opened kiss. Your tongue doesn’t shy to intrude into his mouth, sloppily kissing him and passing the warm, slightly sticky, and salty substance into his mouth. His own cum. His taste. It fills his mouth and a moan crawls out against your lips. He pulled you tightly against his body, kissing you back harder, tongue probing and sliding against each other, playing and mixing his cum with your salivas. His Adam’s apple bobs and he swallowed it, the devil cocktail, feeling hot underneath his collar. Leon pulls back from a kiss, a string of fluids connects your lips, and if there was more time, he would fuck you on some of the wooden pews or better, on the altar. Alas, all he can do right now is to reach for your mouth to trace along the swollen and wet flesh of your lower lip. Not like his are better right now, he can still taste himself on the tip of his tongue.

“The god has freed you from your sins” he whispers, still panting heavily and his gaze is intently observing you with a deep, burning desire.

“Amen, Father” you respond.

[kiyomitakada]

i know its a classic. possibly cliche already. but i do wonder about Tumblr In The Death Note Universe probably more than i should

2 notes

💅 toxicbff Follow

if i see one more post attributing kira's powers to ~supernatural powers~ instead of the obvious fact that the cia is doing a coup I'm going to start giving You the heart attacks

💅 toxicbff

of course i saw the news how does that not prove my point further

the idea that all the police around the world could be mobilized by one single person is ridiculous (just look at this list of how many civilian militia there are globally)

heart attack victims don't seize the way "lind l tailor" did

i don't know how to tell you that You Can't Kill People Just By Knowing Their Name And Face because this is Real Life and not the newest grimdark marvel villain

people need to stop being scared of the ~bogeyman in the closet~ and wake up to the fact that usamerica is trying to take over the goddamned world

💅 toxicbff

im going to kill you all and nuke this website

#sayonara you weeaboo shits

2,925 notes

👾 lets-go-geeks Follow

DO TRUMP NEXT

🕵🏾‍♀️ penny-penelope Follow

LIKES TO CHARGE REBLOGS TO CAST

16,375 notes

❤️‍🔥 lovesickened Follow

i know its stupid but im so fucking scared for my brother i heard that seven people died this week at the prison he's in and iinjust dont kenow what to do ihate him for ehat he did to mom but i never wanted him to die

#vent tw #delete later

0 notes

🏎 fastandyurious Follow

if i get a single more comment about why i don't tag "genderbend" on my kiratective fics i'm going to blow up the entire building. we don't know EITHER of their genders. why don't YOU tag your mediocre yaoi genderbend instead

🔆 sparkling-world Follow

…OP, you realize the news reports all consistently use "he," right?

🏎 fastandyurious

of course i do???? just because you see something on the news doesn't mean you have to believe it?????? they don't have any information on kira yet but i'm supposed to believe the fbi knows their gender already??????? also kira is literally a fucking girl's name my classmate in elementary school was called kira

🔆 sparkling-world

Kira comes from the Japanese romanization for "killer," it isn't gendered whatsoever.

Also, evidence shows the majority of serial killers are male, so I'd argue that the statistics favor the fujoshis here.

🏎 fastandyurious

well evidence shows that female serial killers are just more fun to write about and I'd argue that you're ignoring my fucking POINT which is that we DON'T KNOW KIRA'S GENDER and if people don't want to read lesbian kiratective they can FUCK OFF MY BLOG

🥚 i-offer-eggman Follow

I offer you an Eggman in these trying times.

🔮 I-stands-for-le-gay Follow

@lashitpostcalligrapher yo can i get "the statistics favor the fujoshis" on my tombstone

#fandom: kira rpf #ship: kiral #never heard it called kiratective before… #also uh. prayer circle for op's classmate lmaoooo

2,107 notes

💃🏻 modelingmadness Follow

BOYCOTT EIGHTEEN MAGAZINE

THEY ALLOW KIRA-SUPPORTING MODELS AND ARE COMPLICIT IN THIS MASSACRE

SOURCES HERE AND HERE (TRIGGER WARNING: KIRA DISCUSSION)

PUSH BACK AGAINST HEART ATTACKS

🧚🏽‍♂️ harubaru Follow

golly gee ^_^ suddenly i feel like taking to the high seas in a way that the eighteen company cant get profit from. oh no ! who left this link here

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

thanks for the link but jesus fucking christ man what happened to free speech. misa-misa's parents were killed by a burglar who kira punished. did you all expect her to just sit there, look pretty, and say nothing about it?

you people only like models when they're nice pictures for you to consume. you only like them two-dimensional and smiling and hot. the second a woman actually speaks her mind she's thrown to the wolves

💃🏻 modelingmadness

DID YOU NOT SEE MY BANNER YOU PIECE OF SHIT

#BLOCKED

140 notes

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

lol. lmao even

#they blocked me but whatever #official eighteen site just said misamisa wont be in the next issue #(eighteen sucks but i kind of want to use it more out of spite now) #so much for apologism huh? #god. i feel sick. #hasn't she been through enough.

1 note

🥷🏻 kira-imagines Follow

Imagine you're going home after a long day. Suddenly there's a sound. "Huh? Whose there" you ask, dropping your keys on the floor. Then you feel it. A knife pressing in your neck.

"Don't move kitten" Kira purrs behind you. "You're all mine now…"

#kiraxreader #kiraxoc #kira #kira rpf #kira investigation #kira fucker #kira fudger #kira lover #kira haters dont touch #kira haters please touch #kira supporters please touch #l

5,733 notes

asahi-the-student-deactivated201

Hello, everyone! My little sister told me about this microblogging platform (I admit, I'm a Twitter refugee) and that many of you are discussing the Kira investigation on here. I'm really interested in hearing what your thoughts are!

💋 sunny-sayu Follow

let the record show he lasted like. a day

#i think it was the imagines that did him in #bro is so sensitive :p

15 notes

kiyomitakada

the world could be beautiful

[ @deathnotetober day 14: trigger ]

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 8

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo 

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers, Giggles, Alcohol Consumption, Some Angst

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

There was something so weirdly liberating about showering naked. I know, I know, that’s how people do it, but listen, taking a shower, a genuine one, a real one with plenty of soap and shampoo and a razor and some gentle exfoliating and then with nicely scented lotion spread all over your skin -- all without the worry of someone walking in on you? You felt kind of as if you had died and gone to heaven. This heaven had warm water and it cascaded down your spine and washed away nearly every bit of tension you had felt in your body only moments before. Nearly.

It wasn’t as if the possibility of him walking in here and witnessing you in the shower was entirely gone, but you knew he wouldn’t. You knew, deep down inside where you knew all of the facts about all of the things you knew, you knew that he absolutely would not dare. He had made some silly rule with himself about not having sex without being in a committed relationship and unless he was about to walk into this bathroom and have his way with you, which he wasn’t, then you knew you were unequivocally, entirely, completely alone in here to do whatever it was you needed to do. 

And you had to, that man had gotten you so worked up you couldn’t even lather your skin up without feeling the need for some sort of a release -- you felt the need deep down inside of your abdomen, deep inside of your veins, deep inside of your bones. You couldn’t even remember a time when another human being had left you in such a state. 

The release you sought came to you too quickly. You longed for the clarity of mind that would follow but even after, even actual minutes after, you could still feel that unimaginable longing whenever you remembered the way he kissed you. 

Again and again, his face slipped into your mind. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, and the things he did to you with them. His chin resting just over your belly button, his nose that nuzzled into you, the long and deep inhales he took of you, the hot breaths that flooded, and his eyes, his fucking eyes, his eyes that looked at you but felt like they did so much more than just look; his eyes that took the air straight from your lungs, his eyes that inundated and flooded, destroyed and rebirthed. You felt absolutely insane. He hadn’t even fucked you and you felt absolutely insane. 

The reflection of yourself in the aged, clouded-over mirror had you looking positively glowing. You looked radiant all clean and smooth and naked and the flush you saw in your skin, particularly the natural rose color in your face had you giggling like a mad-woman all by your lonesome. 

He would be cooking dinner for you. Would he be starting it already? You absentmindedly wondered about the timing of it all. You had no idea what he would be making; you weren’t even sure if you’d really be able to taste anything as distracted as your mind felt. But you were going to eat it all because he was making it for you.

Him. He. That soft and kind, sort of, that charming and funny, kind of, the gentle and not at all supercritical or hypersensitive, the itty bitty tiny bit of a rat, even less of a bastard, your sweetest, most infuriatingly competitive, probably a work-a-holic, very likely sarcastic to a fault, the conservative and traditional man who -- maybe, hopefully, God you were praying right now, a man who believed in equality for both sexes and even maybe, Dear Baby Jesus please let him also believe in a woman’s right to make decisions for her own body -- Oh God you had to stop --

Him. Kyungsoo. Doh Kyungsoo -- your Darling? Ehh. Your Pookie maybe? Your sweet baboo? Little cinnamon roll baby wrapped up tight in mama’s swaddling cloth, Jesus Christ. Maybe not that far. Maybe it wasn’t an orgasm that you needed but a tranquilizer. 

Your…something. Yours? Well, he was something. You knew that for a fact, at least. 

That man was certainly something. The jury was still out on literally all of the rest of it.

So you were clean and you felt pretty. You had slipped on the plainest underwear and bra you happened to bring along with you. It wasn’t as if that man would be seeing any of it, and you weren’t doing it in the way that one would wash their car knowing it would increase the chances of rain that day. You were certain in the way he had resisted the sex with you in the most ironclad of ways, despite his body being ready, despite your body being ready and willing, this man was not going to see your underwear. You were also not going to pressure him into anything either. You put on the comfy set. They were for you only. 

Your dinner wear was another story. This was your first real date with Kyungsoo. You should look the part.

You’d packed two evening dresses for this trip and your favorite was a sexy little cocktail dress that fit you like a glove. It had the perfect neckline that complimented your rack. It had a silhouette that made you look at least five times hotter than you thought you actually might be and it had, above all else, a skirt that was too difficult to accidentally push up any higher than mid-thigh. No, no. This was the kind of dress that required complete removal for sexy times. If you were removing it alone, or putting it on as you were right now, it required near-contortionist-level skills to get the zipper up all the way, and taking it off required equal effort. There would be plenty of grunting, some embarrassing moans, and lots of huffing and puffing. All sounds that did not invite sex, well, not unless they were happening during, which they would not be. There would be no accidental oops my dress slipped up too high, oops this counter top is just perfect for my thighs to part and for your hips to slip, and oops there’s a penis inside of me. No. None of those shenanigans would happen in this dress. This dress would be your chastity belt. You would not let him down. Also, it was red. 

Your two-hour respite back to the bunks to shower and lie down turned into a shower, shave, moisturize, fragrance, then dress, coif, preen, pluck, and make-up session, and after settling on a soft and delicate make-up look as opposed to, say, a sexy, fierce look, mostly because you were running out of time and also you figured it was probably best to keep yourself far away from the dominatrix end of the spectrum for the sake of everyone involved. You did not once lie down, as you had so promised you would. You felt entirely too wound up for any sort of lengthy pauses that might lead to lengthy daydreams. 

You were out the door nearly exactly 2 hours from the moment you had stepped inside and you found yourself creeping as silently as the heels allowed down the dark hallway toward that blue door, placing a now, nervous and somewhat trembling hand on the doorknob lightly as you suddenly contemplated every single choice you had made back in front of that bathroom mirror. 

What if you were overdressed? You knew you’d be overdressed, this was a cocktail dress without a cocktail party in sight. This was a cobweb-covered, dusty, and dank emergency storm shelter at least 200 years past its heyday. You’d already done the makeup though. You'd already done the hair and you’d even spritzed the faintest of spritzes of your favorite scent in tiny, inoffensive spots like your inner wrists, directly behind your earlobes without overpowering your neck too much, and the tiniest dab between your breasts. 

What if you were too early? What if his 2-hour time frame wasn’t an exact science? Would you wander in there and interrupt his cooking too soon, fluster him, and make him drop a saute pan or burn a flatbread? Would your arrival at the 2-hour mark down to the second freak him out somehow?

Did men find extreme punctuality in a woman attractive or off putting? You wished you had your phone on you for a quick reddit search. 

You removed your hand from the door knob and you crossed your hands behind your back, taking a step backward and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. You should give it a few minutes. You were counting inside of your head now, doing little head nods as you counted. Five minutes should be plenty. You didn’t want to seem too eager. Maybe you should give it ten. Ten minutes could be the new 15-minute buffer most people factored into their daily schedules when figuring out what time to leave for an appointment in the morning. 

You’d lost count of the seconds after a few rounds of 60 and you had to start all over around the four-minute mark. 

At maybe eight minutes you put your hand on the doorknob again, just holding onto it lightly and counting inside your head like a weirdo, and forty seconds into the ninth minute you heard a shuffling sound on the other side of the door a second before you felt that doorknob turning in your hand. 

You gasped out loud in surprise as the door swung open and nearly hit you and there was a similar gasping sound that came from the other side of the door as someone quickly stopped its forward motion with a hand gripped tightly around the edge of the solid metal door. 

His head peaked around the side and you quickly closed up your gaping mouth, doing your best to hide the surprised look in your eyes.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said, “here you are.” 

You pulled your lips into a smile that probably looked too tense and it took only a few moments for your gaze to wander a bit over him. He had changed. He had done his hair in some sort of inhumanely attractive upward and back hairstyle with some light product and he was wearing a pretty navy blue color that complemented his skin. The shorts and plain t-shirt were gone and he was wearing jeans and Converse on his feet that looked so effortlessly cool with the outfit you were certain he’d walked out of one of your dreams featuring the sexy boy next door who had stolen your heart. 

“I was going to come and look for you,” he said softly and you widened your eyes some, waving them around the space in front of you that you occupied with a change of the smile on your face. His focus was on your face at first and you knew you had to respond to him. 

“You found me,” you said with just a little bit more embarrassment than you would have liked. You had to pull your lips in between your teeth to conceal the nervous perma-smile and you caught the light drift of his eyes as he noticed the effort you’d put into your look tonight.  

You got a straightening of his shoulders and a hardly concealed throat clearing. He was blinking, swallowing, and his face lifted, not quite pulling his eyes all the way away from you in this dress. 

“W-Wow, uhh--,” he bit down on the inside of his lip as he stepped aside at last to allow you enough room to enter this kitchen without brushing up against the length of his body as you did it. “S-Sorry, I only packed jeans. You look,” He was nodding once, then twice and you felt suddenly too nervous for this talk, “beautiful,” he whispered at last, finishing his compliment so you could finally nod your head, so you could finally let out the smile you’d been fighting the whole time, so you could open your own lips to speak. 

You used your hands, lightly waving them over the length of him without touching him anywhere, of course.

“I like the jeans. And the hair. And the shirt. And the shoes. You’ve got a real ‘college heartthrob that all the girls are not-so-secretly in love with,’ you know, ‘rolled-up notes slipped into your locker from many secret admirers,’ and, ‘nasty fights in the girl’s bathroom because they all want you but your true love is music,’ kind of thing going on,” you said with a lift of an eyebrow and a playfulness in your voice that happened sometimes when you were really flustered and trying to fill in any potential silence with ridiculous nervous chatter. 

Of course, saying way too much as usual; you could not help the word vomit. You were too nervous and not really able to fully look at him despite the vivid imaginary story you’d just attached to the outfit he was wearing. Instead, you wandered through the space, busying yourself with looking around the kitchen that it seemed he had cleared out some. The mattresses were all gone. There went yet another surface for the sex that would not happen. 

The lights were different, some of the switches on the wall were off and you saw that he’d set up about as good a table setting as he could with the limited supplies in this place. There was a tablecloth, which you thought might be a flat sheet from one of the bunk beds, there were two place settings with wine glasses and cutlery and you could even hear the faint notes of some classical music playing from somewhere in the kitchen. 

He had been silently following you through the journey and when you’d finally worked up any real nerve and risked a look over at him, he was leaning ever so slightly against the countertop with both of his hands laid flat on its surface. His eyes were closed up and he wore on his face the smallest, nearly imperceivable smile that, had you not had the last 48 hours or so’s worth of direct observation of this man’s face, you might have missed. When he lifted his head, there was an inhale and he brought his focus up and around the ceiling above his head once before all of that trapped oxygen slowly exited through his mouth. 

“Umm,” he said, “Thanks.” His eyes touched yours for a tenth of a second. “I think,” he squinted his eyes, lifted a hand lightly, and waved his rounded fingertips in the air for a moment, “I think -- that was a compliment, right? Not just a made-for-TV movie you were writing just now?” He was nervous. You could see it in the pinkness in his cheeks and the way his eyes refused to sink down into yours for longer than it took to keep track of your location. 

His nerves brought a smile to your face and you laughed lightly and covered your mouth with your fingertips, “Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, it’s a compliment. You look nice. Very nice.”

You could hear the nerves in your response and like a gentleman, so very unlike himself actually, he did not call attention to it. Instead, he spun on his feet and headed toward the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. He was fumbling with the foil on top and he was digging through a drawer for the corkscrew and speaking rather quickly at the same time. “Do you want a drink? I think we should both have a drink.” And you’d never seen someone make such quick work of one of those stubborn contraptions. 

You were nodding, because, yes please, and thank God. You were moving to the table to grab both of the wine glasses and he was meeting you halfway with the open bottle poised and ready to pour you giggled just a little bit when his flighty eyes touched yours and he giggled just a little bit too. He poured each of the glasses halfway full with the dark red liquid. The bottle was set down with a thud and his fingertips brushed lightly against yours when he grabbed one of the glasses, and to your absolute devastation, the most beautiful and disarming smile landed lightly on his face when you gave his glass the smallest clink with a tip of your own. 

“Should we toast?” you lifted your eyebrows with the echo of the clink still hovering in the air and his glass was already touching his bottom lip. He pulled it away for a second and his eyes were wider now. 

“I -- uhh, kind of just want to drink it,” his smile returned and you laughed out loud placing a hand on his arm to keep him from lifting it any closer to his lips. 

“Fine, say something,” he caved and his glass was back down closer to your lifted one. 

“Well now I can't think of anything,” you frowned and his lips closed up, a ripple of movement flowed through his face but you were thinking hard, trying to find something fitting to say in this situation. He waited patiently and when you gasped and smiled his eyebrows lifted expectantly. 

“Oh, I got it,” you lifted the glass with a renewed confidence in your voice, “To ‘No Sex Tonight,’” you said with a wide smile, and his eyes with lifted eyebrows above them widened even further. He was pulling his lips in between his teeth, biting lightly, and making no effort to toast with you. He wasn’t opening his mouth to say the toast. You leaned your glass into his and lifted your head, shaking it and wiggling your eyebrows just a little so he could say it too. 

“To--,” you began again, encouraging him to say the toast. 

“To No Sex,” he said with his eyes slipping away from your face as he glanced around the room.

“Tonight,” you added and you clinked the glasses together again, making the satisfying sound and ignoring the fact that he didn’t say the last word of your toast out loud but you did take his mouthing the word ‘tonight’ as acceptable behavior. 

His glass was lifted and he was draining the contents, lifting his palm to rub over the surface of his lips when was finished swallowing you took a pretty good bit of your wine into your mouth and swallowed it down, using your tongue to catch any drops of the red that may have remained. 

You’d smelled the food when you first came in. With the taste of this wine on your tongue though your nose was picking up on something that you thought might pair very well with this choice. The more you could smell the hungrier you felt. 

“It smells delicious in here.” 

“Oh, it’s ready if we are,” He set his glass down and rounded the kitchen counter to move toward the stove which had lights on it to indicate that something was still hot and bubbling in the various pots and pans you could see. 

“You can,” he had begun to grab the handles of the pans but quickly left them behind to return to where you leaned against this counter and his hand was out, pointing you toward the table setting. “You can sit here,” he followed you closely behind as you were ushered toward the spot, and before you had a chance to reach for the chair his swift hand reached first. You looked up into his pink face briefly and then simply sat down. The man was buzzing around you, bringing the wine bottle over to you for a quick refill, doing the same for his own glass which he took one more sip of before he sat it down and you watched as he left the table to go back to the stove. There were movements and sounds and clanks and clatters and soon he was returning with two small shallow bowls. 

“So I,” he was already speaking before he had arrived at the table, “umm, didn’t really want to go too wild tonight. I’m not a fan of hyper-trendy gastronomics; not everything has to be deconstructed. Food can just be constructed. Plus your stomach has been hurting so I’ve gone for a more modern comfort vibe, umm--.” 

You looked down at the pretty yellow-colored soup he’d placed in front of you with the contrasting swirl of white in the center. There was a side of some crusty bread that looked a bit like he might have baked too and that might have explained the yeasty smell you’d caught when you first walked into the room. He extended his hand with a palm up toward the dish he’d just given you. Then he clasped his hands together silently and he lingered, specifically not sitting down on his own side to enjoy his own starter. 

“We have a browned butter, butternut squash, and apple bisque to start. It’s warm and soothing. Sweet and savory, kind of thing.” You really had never heard him speak this fast; saying quite so much. Honestly, it was filling you with bubbly giggles that you had to swallow back down. This side of him was captivating to witness. He was clearly so passionate about food that hearing him talk about it felt like having a gossip session with your bestie and being so pulled into their words that you gasped in surprise or shock or horror with each new twist. You found yourself watching his face closely as he spoke and wishing he wouldn’t stop. He talked quite a bit with his hands and you caught the smallest line of red color on his pinky finger. His hands moved too quickly for examination. He had already moved to his seat and was sitting down watching you with those hands fisted lightly in front of his face. 

You lifted the soup spoon and dipped it lightly into the center of the swirl, catching some of both of the pretty colors of this thick soup and the first taste on your tongue had your eyes widening in genuine surprise. You hadn’t at all expected the depth of flavor in this. You’d kind of just expected something quite like that time you tried squash baby food on a dare but when you actually swallowed a mouthful you could taste something delightfully nutty on your tongue, something undeniably savory yet with a sweetness that went so well with the flavors. The bread, when dipped into it added a contrast in texture and you looked up into his expectant face with a tiny, but thoroughly impressed expression written in your eyes. 

He hadn’t even had any of his yet. He just sat there and watched you with a very well-concealed smile behind his hands.

“Are you kidding me Doh Kyungsoo?” you said between spoonfuls and that smile widened as he bit down on his bottom lip and lifted a single eyebrow over his eye, the ‘exterior’ one, “Why the hell is this so good? It should just taste like squash but, how in the world?”

You heard the slow exhale from his lungs and he lifted his glass to hide his self-satisfied smile behind it. You heard the smallest giggle from him and he dipped his own spoon into his bowl for a small taste. 

More than just being delicious it felt nice inside of your stomach. Something about his choice of vegetables, specifically nothing acidic or spicy, nothing too harsh at all but downright comforting as it warmed you from the inside. He had really made this with only you in mind. You could feel it inside, both figuratively and literally. Your stomach felt soothed with each mouthful. You reached the bottom with the smallest frown of disappointment that it was over. 

Still, you were thankful that he’d only given you a reasonable amount of this soup. You were sure if you had unrestricted access to the pot on the stove you would eat too much of it and pop. As it was now, you’d finished the entire thing and he was already standing and reaching down for your bowl to clear it away. 

He hardly touched his. You wondered if he’d just made this for you and if it wasn’t exactly his favorite. Maybe he’d sampled too much of it while he was cooking it. 

He was busy in the kitchen again. When he returned it was time for the entree and he had a wider smile right off the bat. Clearly, your enjoyment of the soup had gotten rid of any of the nerves from earlier. Or maybe it was the wine that did it. 

“Our entree tonight is braised, brown sugar, balsamic short ribs on top of, uhh, a gouda polenta,” he was placing the dish in front of you, pointing a finger at the different elements on yet another beautifully plated dish of food. 

“Mushrooms instead of spinach, which I think you don't care for,” he pulled his lips tight and winced lightly as he said it with a slight upward inflection of his voice, “and I would normally do scallions on top, but you picked them off of the fish yesterday, so we have safe and harmless, microgreens instead.”

You looked across the table at him, a hand laid just over the bare skin on your chest and a genuinely surprised expression on your face. How he even knew about the spinach thing you had no idea. 

“Did you change the recipe for me?”

“Of course,” he said, looking down at the dish in front of him and picking up his fork, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

He asked it like you were the one dropping bombshells here. 

“How did you know I hate spinach?” you took the first bite of meat with a scoop of polenta and made sure to grab some mushrooms too and you honestly felt like you could just die tonight, even without ever having sex with this man, as long as you could eat this dish from start to finish you swear to God you’d die with a big smile on your face. 

Kyungsoo was chewing and swallowing, grabbing a sip of wine from his glass to clear his throat enough for a response. 

“Oh uhh,” he wiped at his mouth with a napkin, “Claire’s birthday dinner at Bella Mia,” he said with an odd air of finality. 

You lifted your head, mouth too full of food to speak, but after a quick swallow you leaned further, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Bella Mia, that was,” you were racing through your memory, “last year?” 

His eyes dropped to the food in front of him. After a few seconds of silence he was nodding his head lightly and he lifted a tiny bit of polenta into his mouth with the tip of his fork. You went silent as you watched him and after a few seconds, his eyes looked back up into yours. He reached for the wine again, taking a small sip and you were still watching without speaking.

“How do you remember that?” you had to ask it. You simply couldn’t comprehend how one interaction at a restaurant a year ago could have led to him remembering that you didn’t like spinach. You didn't even remember the spinach from that night. You’d never order a dish with spinach in the description, not intentionally. 

“I just do,” he answered and his lips hung open. You were shaking your head, still not quite getting it and he inhaled a long and deep breath, closed his eyes up, and opened his mouth to speak. 

“You asked the waiter if it was possible to take the spinach out of the Spinach Lemon Ricotta Ravioli as if that isn’t the most insane request in the history of Italian food. It’s literally the first ingredient in the name of that dish.” 

You had a mouthful of food and you made a face. You had no memory of this event, but honestly, it sounded like something you might do. You swallowed and you were fighting your smile. A small giggle escaped and you reached for the wine. 

“I need you to understand that at those kinds of high-end restaurants, staff will come in before the sun even comes up to make the fresh pasta, the dough, the filling, the sauces are all prepped and made, some of these things cook for hours. There will be chefs arriving at 4am just to make things like the filling for your Spinach Lemon Ricotta Ravioli and you,” his words paused and his mouth froze as his eyebrows lifted and he shook his head, closing his eyes, his hand was lifted and he motioned in your direction. 

You took another bite of food, thoroughly entertained by whatever you had done that he was he was complaining about, 

“You,” he inhaled a deep breath, “pretty little troublemaker, so fucking cute,” the casually thrown-in compliment stopped your chewing and you felt a warmth in your cheeks but he wasn’t finished, “came in, smiling sweetly and asks this poor kid who survives on your tips if he is willing to go back into that kitchen, which, is like a warzone during peak hours and ask some type-A asshole to remove the Spinach from the 4am prepped and assembled Spinach Lemon Ricotta Ravioli.”

You were laughing. You covered your mouth and you threw your head back with it. His own smile was wide and he watched the laughter move through you until it settled and you were able to nod your head with the smallest shrug as a response. You had no defense. You must have done that at the time and he was right, you didn’t like spinach and would usually avoid it if you could. 

He settled into a soft silence and his smile was gone but his eyes were on you. “I asked Claire for your number that night.” 

It felt like a shock to hear this next part. You hadn’t known this. Claire had never told you. You searched his face for truth and leaned closer to him. 

“You have my number?” 

He nodded his head, closing his eyes lightly and licking his lips. His bottom lip was pink from the wine.

“You never used it,” you remarked and the head nodding didn’t stop. He made no claims to the opposite. 

“I didn’t use it.” 

“Why not?” 

He looked at you with a little bite of his teeth together that you saw through his parted lips. You heard the little hiss of air that escaped. 

“You scare the shit out of me.” It came out as a whisper and you pulled your face back, unable to quite believe that entirely. He didn’t act like someone who was even the least bit intimidated by you. There was nothing scary about you at all. You couldn’t even kill a spider, the thing you hated the most in the world. How in the world were you scary?

“I do?” you were shaking your head and he was nodding his head. “Still? But Kyungsoo, I’m just--” 

“Still do,” his lips formed an O shape and he spoke over whatever denial you were about to voice about how very un-scary you actually were. So what if you were sarcastic and kind of mean and temperamental at times and yelled at him and called him mean names. It didn’t make any sense. None of that was scary. 

“But, why?” 

You lost his eyes when you asked for the reason. He looked down at the table, lifting his half-finished plate and looking over at your empty plate, he simply stood up and grabbed both of them, taking them both over to that kitchen sink where you heard the sounds of water running. He was running too.

He’d gone out of his way to avoid it. You didn’t have it in you to find out the potentially terrible truths about how he really saw you, not tonight. You were having a nice dinner and a nice date with him. You’d both been laughing and giggling and the food was so delicious and felt so nice inside of your stomach, the last thing you wanted was to ruin it by pushing him to answer something he didn’t want to answer. What you always hated the most was being pushed into something you didn’t want to do and you owed him the courtesy of respecting the things he didn’t want to do. 

You wouldn't push.

The wine bottle on the counter was empty. You’d lifted it and shook it with a little frown on your lips. You could see Kyungsoo’s strong back as he moved at the sink and you slipped behind him to reach the fridge where you’d seen him pull the wine bottle from. You were pretty sure you’d seen a few more bottles in there. 

The sound of the fridge door opening pulled his attention away from the dishes he was washing and he angled his torso in your direction with his wet hands still under the running water.

“I’ll get it,” he said quickly and he was rinsing and reaching for a towel. 

“I got it,” you said. You already had the bottle on the counter and you had removed the foil to expose the cork. You were holding the corkscrew above the bottle, pointing it downward with the smallest push. Nothing really happened. You lifted the little arms up and down, noticing how the fat screw moved up and down too. It looked like a joyful little man with a spring for legs.

Kyungsoo was standing behind you, you felt the warmth of him at your back. His arms reached around you and you watched him grip your hand that held the corkscrew, his other hand landed over your other hand and he pulled you up so you were holding the neck of the bottle. It felt exactly like when you were his puppet and he used your body to cook a meal. Except he stood so much closer to you now. No witnesses were watching you both touch each other and you could feel so much more of his body behind you. His hand pressed yours down, corkscrew in hand and he was turning it as he pushed hard. Your wandering eyes watched the flex of his muscles in his forearm.. 

You felt a little bit dizzy and you could feel the effects of his closeness behind you. Your eyes drifted closed and you leaned against him. Letting your head fall back just a little bit so you could feel the weight of his head resting against your own. A low sound escaped your mouth and his breath caught audibly in his throat. His hand that was turning the corkscrew stopped its progress and he froze in place for three whole seconds before you caught the clench of his arm muscles. You’d long abandoned opening the bottle and your hand that had been so busy working had drifted up to just over your shoulder where his face was. You felt the smoothness of his cheek, the firmness in his tense jaw and when you turned your face into him, he hardly gave you any space at all for the spin within his arms and while you’d managed it you were standing so close to him that every bit of his skin was magnified. He seemed to be purposely avoiding your eyes even as you dipped your head to catch them. 

“Stop it,” he whispered and you smiled when his eyes drifted down to look into yours. 

“Why’d you take it away? I was doing it.”

“You weren’t doing shit,” he said with an undercurrent of humor. Behind you, he worked. He didn’t even strain with the effort, not even grunting or making any sounds to indicate that it was even a little bit difficult for him. He just effortlessly pulled the cork out behind your back. He lifted the corkscrew up with the cork still threaded through the spring. You turned to look at it, lifting an eyebrow to see the result of his efforts and he used both of his hands to lift the little arms up and down. It wiggled in his fingers.

“You were making it dance. That’s all you were doing.” 

He was gripping the bottle and walking away from you, doing the cutest little sidestep in the middle of his journey toward the table. You knew, just as you had been, that he’d been a bit affected by the closeness with you just now. 

Soon you had a glass filled with wine in your hand and you had this handsome man’s face back at your side. He was sipping and his eyes were still just a little bit too evasive in a way that put the smallest pout on your lips. You had an inclination that you were being just a little bit bad, but it was only a little bit. You hadn’t even kissed him earlier. You hadn’t touched him with your hands that much, very little actually, he was the one who had put his hands on you, he was the one who wrapped his arms around you and coated your back with his body and even placed his feet just within the same tile you occupied on the floor in front of that countertop. There was no reason why he needed to be stingy with his looks, just because maybe you’d imagined kissing him just now. 

After a few moments, he spoke.

“Did you like it?” 

You lifted your eyebrows and tilted your head, pulling the wine glass down from your lips. You swallowed and lifted your eyes to contemplate what exactly you were being asked. The fantasies about kissing his lips? Yes, you did like those. The closeness to his body? You craved more. Kyungsoo watched your thinking face and you caught the movement of his hand as he raised it up to your face, taking his thumb and lightly running it over your bottom lip. You could feel the moisture he pulled away there; a drop of wine he had wiped from your mouth for you. 

“Yes,” you said in a whisper and his eyes narrowed as he looked away from you for a second.

“You did?” he lifted a single eyebrow, turned from you again, and smiled into the wine glass.

“You finished it. You must have liked it. More so than the fish last night, I think.” 

“Oh, the food,” you giggled and took another sip, leaning lightly against the kitchen counter to keep your balance stable through the laughter. “Yes, the food was amazing, Kyungsoo.”

He was looking at your silly reaction with a widening of his smile. “Of course the food, what did you think I was talking about?” This man was cute when he giggled.

“I liked the fish too. It was probably the best fish I’ve ever tasted.” When your words were out his head was shaking back and forth but that smile stayed put on his pretty face. 

“You sat there, painstakingly picking off every single little bit of scallion you could find on the top of that thing. Do you have any idea how tiny I cut those? Some of them were microscopic and you wouldn't even take a bite until you’d gotten everyone.”

“They weren’t that small. I’m very good with picking things out of my food that I don't want to eat, I have excellent chopsticks skills.” 

“And I have excellent knife skills. I was just waiting for you to try it. And then when you did, you didn’t even say anything. A few bites, not even a head nod. Not even a smile. Do you know what that does to a man?” 

You reached forward and gripped the hand that was flying around in front of him as he talked and his eyes fell down to where you held onto him. You lifted his hand and moved your fingers so that you held on tight to his pinky finger, the one with the very obvious fresh knife slice on it. 

“Knife skills? Kyungsoo, you didn't even cut yourself when you were blindfolded. What is this?” you had a teasing giggle on your lips and his mouth opened once and closed back up again, clearly not expecting you to see the evidence of the small mistake he had made with the knife as he cooked dinner tonight. 

“I had you then,” he said through a rough inhale of air into his lungs and he looked away from you again, sipping on the glass of wine, draining nearly the rest of the glass.

It was a good thing he claimed to have a high alcohol tolerance because you had never made such claims and you both were working through these bottles pretty quickly. 

He was exhaling and he was closing his eyes, shaking his head back and forth and a rough laugh broke through.

“Do you know when the last time I cut myself during prep was?” His eyes were wild now, the smile sheepish and telling, “It’s probably been five -- ten years. I don't mess up, but you--” he inhaled again and stopped speaking for a second. 

“You.” you heard him repeat it. You, the source of all of his problems. Somehow you couldn’t find any reason to be offended. “You had me all fucked up.” 

“I did?” your smile was genuine. You were definitely flattered by this little confession of his. “Do you want me to put a bandaid on it?” You frowned down, not meaning the pity on your face one bit, “blow on it, maybe.” Your lips formed into a tiny ‘o’ shape and you exhaled a slow breath through your lips, lifting his hand up so his wounded pinky was positioned right in front of your lips. You felt too out of control again. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt this giddy. Or the last time you’d flirted this intensely with a man who flat-out refused to have you but definitely wanted you as badly as you did him. 

It was while you held his hand that a thought came back to you. A call-back to before the kiss, before the man pulled you into him and hugged you so tightly, burrowing his face against your belly. Long before you’d even known the depths of his actual feelings for you and your mind sharpened to that thought so intently that your eyes widened with the realization. You were speaking to him before you had a chance to really think about the words you were saying. Although with the wine, you probably wouldn’t have made very many adjustments before you just started blabbing.

“Kyungsoo,” your eyes were wide and you shook his hand within yours. His attention was grabbed in an instant just because of the urgency you had in your voice. You really hadn’t even considered it at all at the time, but now, “Kyungsoo! You could have had sex!” 

You said it with such shock in your voice and his wide eyes flattened and he narrowed them at you, watching your face for a long time as you simply nodded your head in excitement. He very carefully removed his hand from within yours while you were distracted.

“Scrabble, you could have spelled out ‘sex’! You had an ‘X’ Kyungsoo, an ‘X’, that is ten points! It would have sat on the triple letter score, that would have been,” You were counting in your head, lifting a finger to do little mental tabulations, “33 points! Why did you play ‘see’ when you could have had ‘sex’?”

There was something happening on his face. It wasn’t the face of a man who’d had such a grand revelation dropped right into his lap but his eyes were closing up, he was exhaling a very long breath and seemed to go on forever and he was shaking his head very shallowly as he did it. Why wasn’t he excited? He would have stood a chance against you. You frowned lightly at his disappointing reaction. 

“Don't you,” he was speaking. It was coming out slowly. There was some sort of attitude in between his words, “think,” he bit down on his lip and inhaled again, “Don't you think I thought about ‘sex’?”

“I thought about it. ‘Sex’ was the first thing I thought of. The very first thing, before anything else. ‘Sex’ was there --- in my head -- the whole time.” This was a revelation to you. Why didn’t he use it if he had already considered it? Why did he play such a shitty word when he could have had a good one worth a lot of points. 

“I couldn’t play ‘sex.’” He said it with a hand wave into the air in front of him. It felt very final of him to do. “Not with you.” he added with a widening of his eyes and his eyebrows lifted. He seemed just a little bit too worked up for this discussion about Scrabble. “Anyone else, yes, fine. It literally doesn’t matter. But not with you.” 

“Why not with me?” It was inconceivable. He was the most competitive person you had ever met in your entire life and he wanted you to believe that he wouldn’t do anything he possibly could to beat you? Sure 33 points didn’t come close to your 50 but still, he was never going to catch up to you with a measly 5 point word. It sounded a little bit like he wanted to lose. Like he threw in the towel and threw the game. 

“Because I like you -- like that,” He spoke quite abruptly and whatever protests you had planned got caught within your open mouth. 

“Like sex. Like, really, really like you. Like you make me feel fucking crazy, you make me fuck up while cooking, something I don't do.”

“Like I think about you constantly and I want to see you and be near you and hear your laugh and feed you. I want you to think of me and I want you to kiss me. Like it actually scares the shit out of me, how much I like you. Because…because--,” He rubbed a hand roughly through his hair, abandoning this thought.  

“So, no. I couldn’t play ‘sex.’ Not with you.”

You felt too stunned to move. You’d long since closed up your surprised mouth but you stood there looking at this man who had just confessed quite a lot to you and then he had closed up his eyes, lifted his hand to cover his eyes as he tilted his head back. You could see his eyes come open again and he looked up into the ceiling with about as much regret written all over his face as you’d ever seen. 

“Oh,” you managed. It was tiny and yet he heard it and his head sank down, pink cheeks, bright red ears --  all of him. You lifted your wine glass, with the little bit you still had left, slipped a very careful hand down to rest it under his hand holding his own glass, and lifted it just a bit higher, quite surprised that he hadn’t dropped it or spilled the last few drops during his passionate speech about how much he likes you and how absolutely head over heels he was for you and how he would rather lose at something than admit just how badly he wants you; and with the smallest little tilt of your hand you hit the rim of your glass against his, letting the sound of that glass clinking note ring out clearly in the silent space between you both. 

“To ‘No Sex Tonight,’” you whispered into the opening of your wine glass and you lifted it, draining the last of its contents, as you simultaneously lifted the hand that sat below his wine glass until it reached his lips and you felt him give in, raising the glass and swallowing what was left. 

The silence between the two of you withstood. Neither of you said anything after the stupid toast and you cleared your throat actually beginning to feel quite desperate for something to fill in this silence. You almost couldn’t breathe in here. 

“You didn’t seem to eat much,” you had to speak, even if the words were just a flimsy subject change. You had actually been interested in his odd behavior with the amazing food he had spent two hours preparing. 

“Oh,” he said with a wave of his hand and a head shake, “I’m uhh, kind of sick of my own cooking.” he even had the audacity to make a face that had a tinge of disgust. You threw your face back and away from him, lifting your hand to cover your chest in absolute disbelief. 

“You what?” your question betrayed the absolute disbelief you felt. 

“I mean, I just can’t. Especially something that takes a long time to cook. If I’ve been smelling something for hours, sometimes it just overstays its welcome. I can’t really explain it.” 

You tried to remember seeing him eating before and he did in fact seem to pick at his fish and not really eat it with the same vigor that you had devoured your filet with. But then again you remembered him with the eggs benedict. He had cleared that dish completely; you saw the empty plate and all. 

“But you ate all of the eggs this morning.” 

“Oh, you made that. I liked that,” he said with a hand wave. He was again, refilling his glass of wine and tipping the bottle opening to do the same for yours. 

You were shaking your head, remembering how heavy of a hand he had in that dish, how vigorously he was shaking your hand to get that hollandaise sauce to reach the correct state of emulsification, and how hard it was to keep up with him as he did it. 

“Kyungsoo, you just held my hands, you made it.”

“No way, That was you. I just touched you a little and showed you what to do. I helped very little in that, you did most of it. You did great. The tomatoes were a little,” he held up his index finger and thumb, “large, but I actually liked how they felt to bite into. I think I’ll start adjusting my cutting every now and then and just fucking go for it like you did.”

“Rustic, you know?” He was teasing you, you could feel it in the soft smile that had landed on his lips and you scoffed out a quick laugh. 

You reached out a hand to swat at his chest and he giggled, seeing you coming he reached up to grab ahold of your hand, keeping your palm flat against his chest for a few moments. 

“Do you have room?” His question was vague and of course, your mind had been focused on feeling that steady rhythm of his heart beating below the thin fabric of this shirt he was wearing. Below your palm, you could feel the firmness in his chest muscles and it took you longer than it should have to acknowledge that he spoke to you. 

“Dessert?” You knew he couldn’t have been asking if you had room in your bed for him tonight because yes, yes, a thousand yes’s, he could fit beside you and inside of you and — he was nodding his head, “did you make dessert too?” you asked.

“Something very simple. We only had eggs and milk here. Crème brûlée.”

You felt the sudden excitement. It was one of your favorites! Not just because it was delicious but you absolutely loved cracking it with the spoon. You were smiling and nodding and you lifted up your hand, moving it up and down a little as if you held a spoon. 

“Ooo, can I do the cracking?” 

He laughed once while heading to the fridge and pulling it open. 

“Yeah, let me torch it.” He pulled out two ramekins and made quick work of sprinkling sugar on top of each of them. Then he had fire. You watched him hold the fire and you were standing right beside him holding two teaspoons held up in front of your face and you watched and you waited with wide-eyed excitement. The sugar that he had sprinkled slowly began to change color and it melted and bubbled and you leaned over his shoulder to watch it.

The second the torch was off you leaned forward with a spoon outstretched.

“Wait, wait,” he was laughing harder, “you need to wait a few seconds.”

He touched very lightly on top of the toasted sugar and nodded his head twice, “Okay, go.” 

You reached forward and smacked it hard. The first crack was the absolute best and you tapped the spoon again a few more times, delighted with the satisfaction you felt inside. You kept cracking until there was no more cracking to be had and he was holding his belly with laughter as he watched you do it. You felt like a child at Christmas time.

When you pulled your face back up and looked at him you had only one question for him. He was already giggling and shaking his head with his eyes closed.

“Kyungsoo,” you whined. He was nodding his head already, answering the question he already knew you were going to ask, “Kyungsoo are you going to crack yours? Can I crack yours?” You had your hands lifted into a begging posture and your spoon was still lifted, with bits of sugar from the first one still stuck to it.

 “You can,” he giggled and nodded again and you wasted no time, not willing to risk that he might change his mind and regret giving you cracking permission; you hit just as hard, cracking it all over until it was completely shattered and all of the cracking was finished. You pulled your face up and smiled widely. 

Kyungsoo had reached for a spoon and was dipping it into the pudding, lifting up a small bit and bringing it up to your mouth. You opened your lips and accepted the bite. Of course, it was delicious. It was sweet and creamy and expertly set. The bits of torched sugar on top added a pleasant crunch. He was dipping his spoon and taking a bite from the same ramekin as you had tried and you looked down at the other dessert, dipping your spoon and pushing another mouthful into his surprised mouth. He pulled it in, chewing and swallowing and the back and forth continued for a few more minutes until both dishes were completely empty and you simply couldn’t handle any more food tonight. You felt thoroughly done. You felt insane with the giddiness, struggling to come up with a single flaw no matter how hard you thought about it. Maybe the only regret you felt inside of your heart could be just how well-behaved you had been all night long. You hadn’t once done anything that might lead to forbidden sex that he definitely didn't want and as you watched his face, he definitely looked content to lean against this countertop and simply exist beside you in your presence. 

He had said that, after all. That he wanted to be near you. To hear your laughter, to feed you. 

“Kyungsoo,” you called his attention and he turned his face to you, still a little bit rosy from all the laughter but much calmer now that the wild excitement you were feeling had faded some. His eyebrows lifted and his eyes roamed around your face with the tiny hum that left his chest. You held your breath and closed your eyes. 

“Do you want to be together -- with me -- in a relationship?” As soon as it was out, you felt a surge of nerves flood through your stomach. The effect was so strong and instantaneous and he seemed completely frozen in place, his eyes were still on your face and only the smallest tick of his head was his only movement. His smile and all traces of that happiness were gone in an instant. He just stared at you with a completely caught-off-guard expression in his eyes and his mouth motionless and silent.

And he stayed that way for the four, five, six deep breaths that you took, not moving a muscle and definitely not answering your question with a loud, definite, ear-bursting yes. In fact the longer his silence went on and on, there came a moment in his silence where you could no longer look at him. You had to look away and you closed your eyes up tight when you heard the inhale and the exhale that came from his lungs, but absolutely no words came out of him. Nothing. He said nothing. 

You exhaled a small scoff of disbelief.

This question came too soon. You were an idiot. He liked you, sure but that didn’t mean he was ready for anything serious with you. He wasn’t even ready to give into the most basic human act of sex without being absolutely completely sure he was committed to someone and that they were committed to him. There had been a reason he hadn’t ever asked you for any sort of commitment. Not only did he not want the sex, but he didn’t want you, not really, not like that. He had told you twice about how scared he was of you. Was this why he had stood you up that night? Was this the reason why he had been so hesitant to get close to you for so long? 

You shook your head and lifted your face, opening your eyes and pushing the smile to your face. You sold it so well. He was looking down at the countertop, absentmindedly picking up grains of sugar with his fingertip, moving all that had spilled into the smallest pile and you could see the conflict written all over his face. 

“Sorry,” you whispered because you were sorry to him. Sorry that you had to say such an abrupt thing when he obviously wasn’t ready for anything like that. Sorry that you couldn’t be the solution to all of his worries and problems in his life. Sorry that you actually caused a few more problems for him than you meant to. You watched him, catching the drift of his eyes as he looked halfway up but he never pulled his attention completely up to you. “I understand,” you said a little bit louder. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, Kyungsoo. It was amazing. You are amazing.” 

You had to leave though. You simply could not stand it here, in this atmosphere you had created with your enormous leaps. Why you simply could not control yourself, you had never been able to figure out. The worst part about you, the thing you absolutely hated the most was your flimsy self-control. It had gotten you fired when you lashed out at that bitch who baited you daily. It had led to you lashing out in anger at friends in the past. At Kyungsoo when you’d felt that he’d done you wrong. You hated everything about yourself right now. You always leaped first and asked questions later. It was the worst. You were the worst. 

You tapped twice on the back of his hand, a small farewell, literally the only thing you could do besides the flimsy apology and you spun on your heels, taking very swift steps out of the kitchen, through the blue door that slammed with a heavy noise on your way through it, down the darkened hallway passed the room with the bunks and further down until you reached a dead end. There was only a big exit door here. It blurred around the edges with the tears that filled your eyes. This was the way out of this place for good. 

The rain had stopped long ago and you pushed the door open, reaching the edge of the front patio and its steep steps. You sat down on the top step wishing and praying to the heavens above that the rain could start again soon because you were desperate for something to hide the tears that streamed down your face. 

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

[morning-star-joy]

pining and anticipation (Sub!Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Post-Outbreak, Sub!Joel x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joel have been longing for each other for months. When the tension finally seems to be about to break, you realize that the strong, tough man isn't as dominant as you would have thought.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit Smut: face sitting, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, creampie, dom/sub themes, Sub!Joel, praise kink, yes ma'am kink, orgasm denial kinda? Pet names: Joel calls Reader sweetheart, darlin', baby; Reader calls Joel cowboy, baby, sweetie, good boy. Arguments, Mutual Pining, Language

Wordcount: 4.8k

A/N: Forgive the bit of exposition! Also only gave this one readthrough before posting at 12:45 am so forgive any grammar issues too!

Joel x Reader masterlist

You knew Joel Miller was a complicated man, but that would never stop you from longing for him.

Besides, you weren’t the easiest person to be around either. Both of you were stubborn, and many of your discussions ended up in disagreements—nothing too heated, usually just differing opinions on how to handle situations that arose around the settlement.

Then came the day you may have pushed him a little too far, earning his rage by risking your life for him on a patrol. You had scraped by from the skin of your teeth, escaping being cornered by a group of Stalkers with skill and, honestly, more than a fair amount of luck.

Back at the safehouse afterwards, once Joel had made sure you weren’t too badly injured, any brief glimpse of concern for you that made your pining for him increase tenfold faded as his face morphed into thinly veiled rage.

“The fuck were you thinking?” he had snapped, grabbing your shoulders firmly, and your shock quickly shifted into a glare up at him.

“The fuck was I thinking?” you replied angrily, shrugging his hands off your shoulders before pointing a finger up at him. “The fuck were you doing, Joel? Heading in alone like that. Those Stalkers would have torn your head off.”

“They almost tore yours off,” Joel nearly snarled the words, pacing away from you as he ran his hands through his hair.

What ensued was a real argument, unlike any you had had before, emotions running high and tension ramping up until Joel interrupted you with a loud explosion of, “Jesus Christ, I can’t lose—”

You froze at the confession that nearly slipped past his lips, eyes wide as your heart raced in your chest, even as Joel quickly shut himself up when he realized what he was about to say.

His eyes were as wide as yours before he quickly closed his gaze off, brushing past you out of the safehouse, towards the horses with a mumble of, “We should head back. Need to get your injury looked at.”

During the days that passed after that, you didn’t catch so much of a glimpse of the surly survivor.

Left on your lonesome, you were doomed to repeat the words he had almost spoken over and over, wondering how differently things may be between you now if he had just fucking said them.

Because, Jesus, you wanted him to say them. You wanted it, wanted him, for so long that sometimes it felt like you could hardly breathe around him.

Yes, you got onto each other’s nerves more days than not. And, yes, you had both said some pretty nasty things to each other after that patrol that left you with a new scar on your hip.

But for all of his stoicism and emotional issues, for all your heated discussions and pointed glares, you had found yourself longing to see what…other ways you could explore this tension that had been building between you for months.

What you were not aware of, was how deeply Joel was longing for you, too.

It was something more than a pure physical desire, something that he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

When you were around, Joel felt at ease. Yes, you irritated each other, but somehow you were still able to bring Joel a sense of safety he thought had long since slipped from his grasp.

Just hearing your voice was soothing, healing to his damaged soul. Just seeing your face was calming, putting him at what was almost peace, or as close to it as he could get.

Really, Joel just had it so fucking bad for you, and if you wanted him half as badly, he would gladly let you do whatever you wanted with him.

He stood there now on the edge of your property, days after your most heated discussion, after you had scared him nearly half to death by risking your life. And for what? For him? No, no fucking way. He couldn’t lose you, especially not for the sake of his own survival.

Joel thought back then to how he had almost admitted to that fact: the knowledge in his soul that he couldn’t lose you, lest he be torn apart.

He had just barely stopped himself from admitting it then. But after not seeing you for days, after missing your face and aching to have you near him again, he was almost at the breaking point of just fucking saying it, if only to have you argue with him again about it.

If anything, he just wanted to see you. He just had to see you.

And there you were, sitting on your front porch, sipping coffee from a mug as you stargazed, like you weren’t even more captivating than those multitude of lights in the night sky.

Joel took one step forward across your lawn.

Stopped.

Took a step back.

What did he say? What the fuck could he say? How do you tell someone that you’ve been thinking of them day and night for months?

Dying to have them, dying to feel them.

Because, fuck, he wanted your body just as much as he wanted you.

Joel shook his head, snapping himself out of it as he repeated the same process.

Step forward. Stop. Step back.

Eventually, he must have shifted in some way that caught your attention, and your head lifted, glancing up from your mug towards where he still loitered on the edge of your property.

When you saw Joel there, you froze, brows furrowing as it took you a moment to realize it was him.

And when you did know exactly who was standing there, your mug nearly slipped from your grip, but you held onto it tighter, almost like you were trying to absorb courage from the warmth of the mug that seeped into your palms as you called out softly, “Hey there, Miller.”

Joel’s head tilted, but you couldn’t see his face, shrouded in darkness from where he stood as he replied quietly, “Hey.”

You waited for him to come closer, to step into the light so you could see him.

After a few moments, he did take a few steps closer, before stopping and taking one step back.

How fucking classic of him.

“So, what?” you started, scoffing under your breath as you raised your mug towards him to gesture towards where he was still hiding half in the shadows. “You gonna come here and just stand there?”

Joel didn’t respond. Unmoving, not speaking, and concern sparked through your body like a wildfire as you leaned forward, brows furrowed.

“Joel?” you said softly, placing your cup down on the small table next to your chair, rising from your seat to walk towards the porch railing.

At this angle, you could actually see part of Joel’s expression.

And when you saw his eyes, and the uncertainty, the pain, the fucking longing in them, your breath caught in your throat.

Then you were already down the porch steps, walking swiftly across the lawn to throw your arms around him and pull him down into a tight hug.

Joel’s arms wrapped around you quickly, holding you close without a hint of the doubt he had just been showing, and you sighed softly, placing your hand on the back of his head as his face rested on your shoulder.

“Oh, Joel…” you whispered, eyes shutting as you hoped you could offer him some kind of comfort to whatever he was torturing himself over.

There was no way for you to know that you somehow were making him feel so at ease, while also increasing that self-inflicted torture, that pining for you, by tenfold.

Your hand stroked his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades in a soothing manner as your other hand found his hair, fingers running through his curls as you murmured sweet words to him.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, closing your eyes as you sank into the embrace. Part of you had a feeling he was still beating himself up over the close call on patrol, and you whispered, “I’m here, Joel. I’m always here.”

After a moment, you heard his deep voice rumble next to your ear as he replied, “I know.”

Joel pulled back then, glancing over your face with that look of longing still in his eyes, and your heart ached with equal longing for him as he gently placed a hand on your face.

But when he gave you a smile, even though it was small and weak, you returned it without a second thought, your own hand reaching up to rest over his as you sank into the touch.

Emotions were hard for you, the same way they were difficult for Joel. Neither of you were all that good at expressing your emotions.

And so you let your hand drop, glancing away from him in a way that made his own hand fall from your face as you asked quietly, “Do you want to come inside?” 

You glanced over his tired face, the bags under his eyes, and added, “I have coffee on the stove, if you want some.”

A soft laugh left Joel’s lips, the sound of it making your heart race, and he replied softly, “Yeah. Coffee sounds real nice right about now.”

Your smile brightened at that, and you couldn’t help but wink as you teased, “Knew you couldn’t turn down a hot cup of coffee.”

Turning, you led the way back up your porch to your front door, only stopping to pick your own mug back up before bringing Joel inside.

In the kitchen, you were in the midst of pouring him his coffee when his next words hit you out of nowhere, nearly making you drop the pitcher, “I missed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide before you softened at the words he said so surely, so warmly.

The fight you had after that patrol was stupid. He had been scared that you got hurt, and that it had been to keep him safe. And you had been angry, determined to do what it took to protect him.

Days had gone by without you speaking to each other, feeling regret for your argument.

Now all you wanted was to tell him exactly how you felt.

And so you did. 

“I missed you too, Joel,” you murmured, giving him another smile as you passed the mug to him.

Your fingers brushed over his, and your heart rate jumped before accelerating, suddenly feeling hot all over by how his gaze darkened at your touch while he watched you over the rim of the mug.

“It’s far too quiet when you’re not around,” he drawled slowly, and you huffed out a quiet laugh, crossing your arms over your chest as you glanced away.

With your gaze averted, you didn’t notice the way Joel’s eyes were drawn to the collar of your tank top, noting how the fabric dipped to show your cleavage, pressed together from your arms, the sight sending arousal shooting straight to his cock.

But when you looked back, even though Joel’s eyes had lifted from your chest, you still caught the way his pupils were dilated.

Your head tilted, glancing over his face, noting the way he sucked in a breath just from the way you were analyzing him closely. Eyes dancing down his form briefly, you quickly noticed the bulge that was already forming in his jeans, and desire pooled between your legs just at the sight of it.

Biting your lip, you looked back up at Joel, watching as he cleared his throat and shifted, gripping the handle of the mug tighter as he looked at you in a way that almost said he was anticipating something.

Anticipating you?

Interesting.

“Really?” you asked, smiling at him as you took a step closer towards him. “You really missed little ol’ me, Miller?”

Joel’s breath escaped him in a heavy exhale, his dark eyelashes fluttering as you stepped closer and he found himself whispering earnestly, “Really.”

“Careful with the flattery, cowboy,” you hummed, stepping up right in front of him to fix the collar of his flannel where it had gotten messed up during your hug earlier. “I may think you wanna kiss me or something.”

You bit your lip at the boldness of your comment, avoiding his eyes as your cheeks flushed at the words you spoke.

But you were starting to get a strong feeling, standing here with him like this, and when you felt his chest begin to rise and fall faster under the warmth of your palm now resting on it…

Gotcha.

“Well,” Joel said slowly, and you glanced back up at him, watching as he licked his lips slowly, his gaze on your own as they parted while he murmured, “Maybe I do.”

Heart racing, a large smile slowly curled onto your lips, and your hand moved to rest on his shoulder as you leaned in closer.

“Oh yeah?” you hummed, blatantly, shamelessly flirting now as you continued to watch him closely for his reactions that were slowly helping you put the pieces together on just what this strong, stoic man wanted you to do to him. “How would you want to kiss me, Joel? Describe it to me.”

Joel bit his lips now, his mind spinning at your flirtatious words, and he slowly set the mug down before reaching for your hip at your demand—demand. Fuck, he was a goner.

“Well, darlin’...” Joel whispered as he tugged you closer a bit with the large hand that covered your hip. “First, I’d pull you in real close."

You hummed, your pussy now throbbing with a need to have his hands or mouth on it, completely fucked by the way he was looking at you, like you were…everything.

“Would you hold my waist, then?” you asked, glancing down to where his hand rested on your hip before looking back up at him through your eyelashes. “Or my hair?”

“Your waist, your hair…” Joel murmured, his hand stroking along your hip and up your side before he lifted it to run through your hair, a sigh slipping past his lips before he whispered, “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

“Anything?” you whispered, your breathing becoming heavier just from the heat of the moment, the tension that kept growing between you.

You wondered how long it would take before it broke.

“And would you stop there?” you asked quietly, deciding to test the waters, to take a leap to see if you really could satisfy that ache in your core that he was causing. “At a kiss? Or would you want…more?”

Joel faltered then, eyes wide as his fingers nearly became tangled in your hair before he grabbed the strands tighter, drawing a quiet moan from your throat that elicited a low groan from him in turn.

“More,” he murmured breathlessly, head tilting down as he stared at your lips as they began to tilt up into a smirk.

“Where would you want me, Joel?” you asked breathlessly, deciding to play your game with him for a little longer. “Against the wall?”

You let your voice get low, husky, your panties so damp with your desire at this point as Joel breathed heavily, hot breaths falling against your lips as your faces naturally moved closer as you continued to tease him, “Or would you want me in my bed, Joel? On top of you, or below?”

“On top,” Joel murmured without a second thought, that fucking Southern drawl a low rasp now, and you shivered at the sound of it, at the hints of his submission that you had been picking up on, that were now becoming even more clear to you.

A moan got caught in the back of your throat as he admitted he wanted you on top, lips parting with need.

“I bet you’d like that, huh?” you whispered seductively, tilting your head back and leaning up so your lips brushed against his jaw, humming at the feeling of his scruff there. “You’d like seeing me like that. I bet the thought gets you all hot, hm, Joel?”

He groaned again at your words—a low, delicious sound that made you want to sit him right at your kitchen table so you could suck his dick until he was seeing stars, right then and there.

“It does,” Joel admitted, his voice almost one of defeat, but also of pure, unadulterated lust as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough to feel his erection through your pants, and your head tilted back, lips parting as you rolled your hips against his, revering in the moan your movements pulled from the back of his throat.

You shivered at his moan, feeling yourself get so fucking wet you were sure your pussy could take his entire cock in one stroke now, your body growing hot as you leaned back down to kiss his neck a few times before biting down softly, lapping your tongue against the mark before whispering, “Do you like me marking you, Joel? Do you like me claiming you? Making you mine?”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed at your bite, his large hands grabbing your hips tightly, directing them up against his erection, creating friction that made you both moan as he whispered desperately, “Oh God, yes. Yes, I’d do anything, baby. Everything for you.”

“Joel,” you gasped, pulling your face back, unable to resist him anymore, giving up on your teasing as you grabbed his face and leaned up to kiss him.

It was hard and passionate, desperate even, your lips moving together as if you couldn’t get enough of each other as you kissed for the first time, with a hunger you didn’t think either of you had truly experienced for anybody else in a long time.

“Joel,” you gasped his name again, hands grabbing at every part of him, like you were trying to take him in all at once, but it wasn’t enough.

Too many clothes, they needed to come off, now.

“Come on,” you murmured in between passionate kisses, tugging him after you towards your bedroom. “Let’s make your fantasy a reality, cowboy.”

“Sweet God,” you heard Joel whisper behind you, hand gripping yours tightly as you led the way. “Yes, please, ma’am.”

You whimpered at that slip of ma’am, unable to resist murmuring a “good boy” at the sound of it as you turned back around once in your bedroom, pulling him right back into your arms at the sound of his unabashed, low moan at your praise.

Tugging at his clothes, it didn’t take long until they were covering your floor, leaving him completely undressed with his red, leaking cock slapping against his stomach with the push of his boxers down.

You moaned at the sight of it, large and hard, just for you. Throbbing and ready to spill inside of you, but you weren’t going to let him get off that easy.

Pushing him back onto the bed, you watched him with half-lidded eyes as you murmured, “Lay back and watch, baby.”

You watched Joel settle back against your pillows at your words, loving how his cock twitched, needing to be touched, to be satisfied, as he watched you make a show of undressing for him.

Your hands slid over your skin as it became bare for his eyes, teasing and squeezing yourself in just the right places that would accentuate your natural curves and make yourself feel good, biting your lip at every groan that left Joel’s throat as he watched you. You stared at the swollen head of his cock as you brushed your thumbs over your nipples and moaned for him, clenching your thighs together as he whimpered at the sight of you stimulating yourself.

“What was that, Joel?” you murmured as you heard him mutter something under his breath, some kind of sound of approval, as you let your panties fall to the floor, stepping out of them before crawling up onto the bed.

You hooked your legs around his waist, hovering above him so your pussy wasn’t touching him, but letting him see how soaking wet you were, how ready to be filled by him you were, as his head tilted back against the pillows with another whimper as you demanded, “Use your words, sweetie.”

Joel’s eyes flickered all over your body, as if he couldn’t decide what to settle on, what part of you deserved the most worship, until finally he whispered in a rasp, “Perfect. Fucking perfect. You’re a goddamn goddess, darlin.”

You laughed softly, eyes bright with warm amusement at his words.

“What a pretty mouth,” you whispered, teasing his cursing before leaning down to kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth. “I want to taste every moan you make, baby. Keep making those sounds for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel nearly whined his submission, and you kissed him harder, faster, before pushing him back down even further against the pillows.

“Get comfortable, Miller,” you instructed as you began to pull yourself even higher up his body. “Want to sit on your face.”

“Oh fuck,” Joel whispered, eyes wide with lust, his hands grabbing your hips—not directing your movements, but following them as he leaned back, and you situated your pussy above his face. “Yes, oh God. Fucking yes, sweetheart.”

You hovered above him, teasing him with your dripping folds inches above his mouth, watching with pleasure as he parted his lips, tongue darting out to try and taste you, but you leaned your hips up and away from him.

After a few more times of teasing him like this, Joel whimpered, fingertips pressing into your thighs with desperation as he whispered roughly, “Please, darlin’. Let me taste you, I’m dying for your sweet pussy.”

You whined, biting down hard on your lip as you grabbed his hair, tugging it to make his head tilt back, forcing him to make eye contact with you as you ordered, “No touching yourself, Miller. You hear me? You’re gonna cum inside me. I’m gonna take every last drop of you. No touching yourself.”

Joel’s hips were thrusting weakly into the air at your words, desperate for friction, but he nodded, eyes wide and completely submissive as he rasped, “Yes, ma’am. Anything. Anything for you.”

You nodded, whispering “good boy” before finally lowering yourself, still using your hand in Joel’s hair to direct him towards your pussy so he could drag his tongue along your folds for the first time.

He moaned at the same time you did, your head tilting back as his tongue traced that path again, and again, lost in the taste of you as you slowly seated yourself fully on his face.

You whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair at the feeling of his face pressed completely to your pussy, the strong slope of his nose bumping against your clit making you gasp, toes curling as he repeated the motion while his tongue slipped past your folds and inside of you.

Joel fucked you with his tongue, rapidly picking up the pace as he grabbed your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his nose rubbing against your clit until you were shamelessly riding his face, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you whimpered your way through the build of pleasure.

If Joel was having a hard time breathing, he didn’t let you know, holding you tight against his face as his tongue delved into you again and again, stroking along your walls and pulling increasingly louder and obscene noises from your throat while his nose stimulated your bundle of nerves until you were coming against his face for the first time.

Your toes curled, vision blurring at the intensity of the orgasm, hips gyrating to rub yourself all over his mouth while you rode out the high, soaking his facial hair with your release until he had to pull back with a gasp.

“Joel—”

“More,” Joel panted, readjusting his grip on you, taking a few more deep breaths before pulling you right back onto his face, making you gasp, hips jerking forward as his skillful tongue quickly brought you reeling from the end of one orgasm right into the next.

You lost count of how many times Joel made you come like that, unable to tell one orgasm from the next as he muttered “more, more, I need more,” until you were pulling him away from your pussy with your hand in his hair, slipping off of him with a satisfied, lazy grin as you saw the evidence of your orgasms all over his face.

“That’s enough, baby,” you whispered, shaking your head at the brief concern on Joel’s face, placing your hand on your chest to reassure him before you added, “Wanna make you feel good too. You’ve been such a good boy for me, Joel, you deserve a reward.”

Joel’s chest was rising and falling with heavy pants as you moved back down it, lowering yourself to rub your pussy that was soaked from your desire and his saliva over his throbbing cock, eliciting moans from both of your throats at the contact.

“Jesus,” Joel whispered, head tilting back, mouth falling open just from the feeling of you grinding your wet cunt against his cock. “I—fucking hell, darlin’, not gonna last long if you keep teasing me like that.”

You planned to finally show Joel mercy, wanting to make him cum so hard that he’d forget anything other than your name, but you couldn’t resist replying huskily, “You’re gonna come when I tell you to, Joel. Understood?”

Joel whimpered, and you pulled your hips away from him slightly, causing his hips to lift in a desperate attempt to chase you, fingernails digging into the soft skin of your thighs as you repeated, “Understood, Joel?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” he gasped, nodding desperately as he looked down at you as your hand found his cock, bringing the head of it to push past your folds as he rambled, “Yes, please, I’ll do anything, whatever you—fuck!”

The last word was a snarl, Joel’s head tilting back against the pillow, hips lifting from the mattress as you completely sunk yourself down onto him in one go. His skilled pussy eating had left you more than ready, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock completely filling you up, letting yourself adjust to the size of him as he whispered to himself, words that sounded like he was trying to stop himself from coming now just from the feeling of being inside of you.

You slowly began to roll your hips, testing his reaction, and when he didn’t immediately burst, you lifted yourself up, letting his cock nearly slip all the way out of you before coming back down, drawing a harsh moan from his throat as his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“Lord have mercy,” Joel murmured under his breath, watching the way your breasts bounced with your movements as you rode him, slowly at first, then faster, hands finding his chest for leverage as you leaned forward, moving your hips to take him in and out, in and out, listening with satisfaction as he began to pray to you instead of any god.

Your name left his lips, over and over, in whimpers and pleas for release as you rode him harder, and you sighed in affection as you realized that even now, when he began to buck up into you to meet your movements, he was keeping himself from coming because you hadn’t given him permission yet.

Leaning down, you brushed your lips over Joel’s, whispering your new command against his mouth, “Come for me, Joel. Fill me up.”

With a cry of your name, Joel’s hands on your hips brought you down roughly to meet his hard thrusts once, twice, before his cock was pulsing deep inside of you, emptying himself into you as his dark eyes glazed over in complete release.

When his eyes regained a bit more clarity, and his cock began to soften inside of you, your hand stroked down his sweaty face, letting him slip out of you as you lifted yourself off of him, but not without giving him a long, deep kiss.

Falling onto your back beside him, you stared up at the ceiling, blissed out from your multiple orgasms and the satisfaction of feeling the intensity of his, the evidence of which was leaking out of your pussy and staining your thighs as you giggled to yourself.

“What?” Joel rasped, his eyes focusing on the side of your face, and you shook your head, turning to meet his gaze with a grin.

“Never would have pegged the big, tough Joel Miller for being a total sub, is all,” you teased, and Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes at your comment, even as a deep blush settled onto his face at the truth of it.

“Shut up.”

[nsharks]

white bandages (the process of healing) | simon "ghost" riley

part 2 to this fic. I will very likely have a part 3 to wrap things up. —tags: tw blood, ghost + therapy, mild angst, fluff too —running out of pictures to use of this man so this is an edit by @ave661

Fluorescent light falls over an unmasked face. It highlights every ridge of every scar, his shorn stubble, his pale skin. When was the last time Simon Riley took a good look in the mirror? He can't remember— there are many things he works hard to avoid, and his own name is scribbled at the top of the list.

That first night without you, he finds himself in front of the mirror and half expects to see a ghost staring back at him. A corpse, maybe.

But, instead, he sees a man who lives and breathes. A man whose need for sleep is evident in the grey blotches under his eyes. A man whose eyes are anything but empty.

I feel nothing.

No—a ghost feels nothing. A ghost would've been able to forget how you looked at him, your eyes wide with the same fear he used to stare at his old man in. But Simon is not a ghost, and he remembers the fresh images with a pain that starts in his ribs and works its way to the pit of his stomach. Burning. It is a pain so unfamiliar that he doesn't know what to do with it—

—so he seeks a pain that he does know.

Pain that bursts in his hand the moment it meets the mirror. Pain accompanied by the splintering of glass as he hits the mirror over and over, and not once does he make a sound or cry or anything of the sort. He just breathes heavily and, once the mirror is not much of a mirror anymore, he looks at his hand and sees the bits of glass and the blood, and - fucking hell - it does nothing to mask what he feels in his chest.

"Jesus Christ."

He sighs.

His breathing slowly begins to settle.

And then he gets out the medical kit he keeps in the cabinet, sits with it on his bed, and carefully picks out the glass from his hand.

He knows how to take care of this wound. Knows exactly what to do to fix it.

But there are some things Ghost— Simon— doesn't know how to fix; wounds that are far too deep for him to reach. And as he wraps his hand up with some gauze, he remembers what you'd said to him earlier that day, so damn caring and gentle, even in your desire to get away from him:

I think you need help. You deserve it, Simon.

------

You loved the snow.

One time, you made Simon build a snowman with you. Well— it was more like you building the snowman while he watched and critiqued it. Your snowman looks like he's seen some rough shit, pet. Jesus, where is his smile? You had pouted through your laughter, nudging his shoulder. You can't judge him for not smiling, Si. Just like I don't judge you for it.

Of course, you ended up with a handful of snow in your hair for that one.

Quite the mouth on you today, huh?

And then he was rolling his eyes and lifting up his mask to kiss you as your hands combed out the ice from your hair, and you swore you felt him smiling against your lips— but you could never know for sure.

You loved that snowy day with him.

But now—

Now you're not sure if you're so happy about the snow you wake up to.

It's been a week of space. Work has been your main distraction, and you know you need to get the fallen snow off your windshield before you can make it there today.

But when you walk out into the white morning with a coat slipped over your pajamas, you find that your car is already being cleared off by a familiar silhouette with broad shoulders and a black, winter coat.

The cold squeezes your chest. Your heartbeat is swallowed up.

Seven days ago, you had begged him for space. Seven days ago, you left his place with defeat thick in your veins.

Today, you're not sure what you feel as you simply stand there for a moment. Your cheeks bitten to pink by the air and your arms crossed over your body. You watch him draw the brush over the hood, so easily, with one hand stuffed in his pocket, but then his eyes are drifting up— up until they land on where you stand a few meters away, and your fingertips dig into the palms of your hands.

He's the first one to speak. A man of few words who leans the brush against your car and utters a simple:

"Hey."

"Hey," you clear your throat, "Um, why are you doing this?”

He takes a step closer to you, but only one. A tentative step that keeps a good gap between your bodies, where faint flakes of snow fill the space.

“I know we are havin’ space right now," he murmurs. Gentle, murky eyes hold your stare. He slips the hidden hand out from his pocket, only for a short moment, to brush off the snow from his other hand, and you spot the flash of white bandages before it disappears into his coat again.

"But I also know you're workin' today so I thought I'd just... make your morning easier.”

"Thanks," your eyes drift to the ground. "But I don't know— I'm not sure if I'm ready..."

"S'okay," he says, gruff yet incredibly careful, a tiptoe over what lays damaged. "I'm not askin' anything of you, alright?"

“Alright,” you say quietly before your eyes drift to his pocket. “What happened to your hand?”

You’re not sure why you are asking him, and you doubt if the truth will even leave his lips. Wounds— over a year with him, and you’d witnessed plenty. Wounds that you only ever found out about when your fingers would graze under his shirt as he fucked you, and you’d carefully ask what happened as you both lay there breathless. Nothin’ worth telling you about, was his usual answer.

But today, with a peppering of snow on his mask and a sigh pooling from his breath, he tells you earnestly, “Broke my bloody mirror, is what happened.”

“What?”

“Look— it’s not important, yeah? There’s somethin’ else… somethin' else I wanted to tell you before you go to work, and I don’t expect anythin’ from you, but I just thought I should tell you.”

“I— okay,” you blink rapidly, still hung up on the mirror part. But you nod your head and shift your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to listen to what he wants to tell you because maybe your heart is beginning to thump firm, expectant beats against your ribs, and maybe there are flakes of hope peppering the defeat in your chest, just like the snow that dusts Simon’s shoulders.

But what Simon has to tell you feels like pebbles in his mouth. He’s not good with words; his failure with them seven days ago is a testament to that. These pebbles sit behind his teeth for a lingering moment, before he finds the strength to push them out between the cracks.

(Perhaps, it’s all your patience and care for even the darkest parts of him that has finally given him this strength.)

“I talked to someone yesterday,” he tells you.

He exhales immediately.

You’re not sure if you’ve heard him correctly at first - there is no way? - but the words hang in the cold air as he stares at you with lowered brows, studying the expression on your face, and your lips part open like a bloody koi fish because this is not at all what you expected him to say.

“Really?” you finally breathe, a lilt of relief catching at the end. “You did?”

“Get it free through the military,” he mumbles with a nod, clearing his throat. “Thought a lot about what you said, yeah?”

Numbly, you sputter again, “You did?” But then you shake your head and rub your arms, “Sorry, I mean— that’s so good to hear, Simon. That’s just… How was it?”

“Bloody difficult,” he admits in a mumble, and only you, the person closest to him these days, are able to detect the minor tremor in his voice. “But - fuck - I’m gonna keep doin’ it.”

“Maybe it’ll get easier,” you tell him, drawing an arm over your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m… really proud of you.”

You’re not even fully aware of your crying— no, you’re too focused on the sudden warmth that floods your chest because it is now you realize that if there is no worse feeling than watching someone you care for refuse to help themselves, then there is also no better feeling than hearing that help is something they are finally seeking.

And you care about Simon.

You have for so long, even when the agreement was just sex. Even when you'd flinched away. Even when you spent a week distracting yourself from thoughts of him.

This agreement you shared had turned into care. And you care, you care, you care. You care so much that you forget about the space you'd begged him for in this moment that you rush over to him, closing the cold and hesitant gap as your arms wrap around his neck and your forehead presses into his coat.

But the body against you is stiff and unmoving.

Your smile of relief turns into something apologetic and confused when two strong hands gently push you away.

You peer up at him.

"Don't think that's a good idea, pet."

"What?" you exhale, frowning.

He puts his hands back into his pockets. "I've hurt you, yeah?"

"I know, but—"

"I never want to do that again," he murmurs firmly. "Need some more time before I can make that promise to you."

Your heart sinks and floats and tries to swim through everything you feel. You can't discern all the feelings— there's so much. A flood. He's looking down at you as if you are the most fragile thing and as if, even by just getting too close, he might frighten you again.

"More space, then?" you whisper, stepping back.

Where you'd been the one to start it, now you are the one disappointed by it.

The short nod he gives is confirmation, but before you can get too down about it, he allows this: his good hand reaching out to grab yours. He kisses your knuckles with warm, masked lips.

"I care about you," he murmurs against your hand. "So goddamn much."

"I care about you, too."

"I know," and he lowers your hand, carefully rubbing the back of it. "Wanna be the kind of man you deserve. But I need to—" and his bandaged hand lifts up to tap a finger against his temple, "Need to sort through all the shit in here, yeah?"

"Okay," you whisper, nod, and sniffle. "They'll help you with it. You just have to let them in, Simon."

But he doesn't have anything to say to that— his source of words is a bit depleted. This week has drained him in every way possible, visible to you in the bags under his eyes. A squeeze of your hand is the last thing he has to offer before he lets it go, and then he is off to finish clearing your car.

(Although, you already know you will have a hard time getting to work on time this morning.)