#like my brother has. a right to be wrong i guess.

[keighthundred]

"Did you see that tweet about how Amy Dallon did nothing wrong? Listen, chat, no disrespect, but a lotta you guys out there don't know what the hell you're saying. Nothing wrong? Brother, everybody does something wrong at least once in their lives. That's called the human fucking condition, it's how we as a society learn self improvement and develop the life skills necessary for modern survival. Now I get that statistically most of you are like, age 24-29 zoomer-millenials who can't even talk to a girl without m-m-mumbling under your breaths, but come the fuck on! I'm not saying I don't understand the idea of simping for a fictional character, don't get me wrong—but guys, have some self respect. The girl literally sexually assaulted her sister. Like at some point you gotta admit that's indefensible, right? There's a difference between, like, tax evasion and, y'know, rape, right? There are degrees to wrongness. Wha—'source'? Brother, I don't know, ask the fucking Babylonians. You think Hammurabi didn't know the difference between theft and turning your sister into an amorphous blob of tits and genitalia? We had this shit figured out two thousand years ago, and your ass is on X the everything app pretending that all things are equal, like come the fuck on. 'Minus two', 'Minus two', 'wish she did that to me'? Chat, is this what we're into now? Like as a society, this is where we're at now? Incest is the new kink du jour? All that mommy/daddy fetish stuff has really caught up to us, huh? 'Minus two', 'minus two'—chat, what the fuck are you talking about? Sorry I didn't get the memo that incest was cool now, I guess my next Christmas get-together is just gonna be really awkward. Catch me bringing lube and Folgers coffee to the next family function, right chat?"

[peterm4rker]

(𐙚⋆.˚) ghost of you

🕸🕷✮⋆ [taeyong x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 1.8k w. death, mention of drunk driving, grief, alcohol consumption, lmk if you find any more! angst ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

hey siri! play "ghost of you" by the 5 seconds of summer

january 27th, 2025 - 6:48pm

hey baby, i've been trying to reach you but i'm guessing you fell asleep... anyways, i have to go now, but i'll call you tomorrow, same time as always… i love you and i miss you more than i could even express. you’re my everything, remember that always… i’ll talk to you soon, okay? i'm dying to hear your voice… i love you so much, rest well my love.

january 28th, 2025 - 7:02am

yn? please answer me… your mom just called and i- this is some type of sick joke, isn't it? i refuse to believe it, i know you're just asleep, you’ll call me tomorrow, right? please, i just… i need to hear your voice again, i need to know you’re safe. i love you, baby, please be okay, please, please be okay.

january 29th, 2025 - 6:37pm

doyoung called me yesterday. uhm, when the phone rang i thought it was you for a second, i even saw your name on the screen… i guess not sleeping does that to a person. he told me he went to see your mom at your house and that he didn’t want to believe it either… we all love you so much, you know, and we miss you even though you’re barely gone... i’m going to my superipr’s office today, i need to go home to see you one last time… i love you, you’re forever my everything and i hope you know that.

january 30th, 2025 - 6:34pm

hey, baby. i got back home last night… everything is just the way you left it. i can still feel you here, i couldn’t even move to your side of the bed. there's a half drunk coffee cup on the table, it has your lipstick on it still… am i wrong for not wanting to wash it yet? i know it’s a little disgusting, but i can't get rid of it, not yet at least… anyways, i’m going to your brother’s house today to check up on him, your mom says he wont talk to anyone… i hope he’ll talk to me. i love you, baby, i miss you.

february 3rd, 2025 - 6:39pm

i dreamt of you last night, it was the first time i’ve gotten more than a single hour of sleep since you… since you left. you were there like you have been ever since i met you in that practice room so long ago. you remember that, right? when you dropped hyuck off and i spilled my soda on you? yeah, we were back there. you told me not to worry, that everything is fine. it felt different than it did before, though, because you were crying and holding my face like you do when you try to make things better… nothing is fine, yn. you’re gone, and a world without you simply cannot be anything but fucking awful. 

february 3rd, 2025 - 6:45pm

oh, and i forgot. i went to see hyuck but i didn’t get him to talk… he was on your childhood bed, the one with the pink covers… he hasn’t gotten out of your room for anything but the bathroom, so your parents are very worried. i’m gonna try to make it better, okay? i’ll help him because i know it’s destroying you to watch this from up there… i love you, always.

february 5th, 2025 - 6:33pm

hey, my love. i just got off the phone with my superior… he said i can stay home and we’ll issue when i can resume my service. i begged him to let me go back, you know… i need to be okay, i need to be busy so i don't think about you every second of every day; but he said i need to grieve in peace, so now i'm stuck here again. i’m staying with doyoung because every time i step foot at our house i feel like i’m dying inside, although i told him it’s because it’s closer to your parents, just in case they need me. i know he knows the truth, but i have to be strong, you know? they all lost you too. i love you, ill talk to you soon.

february 7th, 2025 - 3:56am

why did you have to leave me, yn? why did you decide to walk when you knew hyuck could take you to work? why on earth did you do that? i’m so mad, not only at you, but at everything. i’m mad because you shouldn’t have walked, i’m mad because some fucking asshole decided to drunk drive at five in the fucking afternoon. i’m mad because i wasn’t there… i should’ve been there to push you out of the way and then maybe it would be you sitting here at home feeling like nothing makes any sense anymore. you should be here, with me, dancing around the kitchen like we always did when we got drunk. now i’m dancing with a fucking ghost… i love you so much, but i’m so fucking mad at the world for making you leave me.

february 7th, 2025 - 6:47pm

hey angel… uhm, i’m sorry for this morning, i was really drunk and everything kind of came crashing down on me… i’m cleaning up right now because i left a mess when i came back. i shattered the coffee cup and your lipstick is gone, which made me cry like a fucking baby… i also found my old zeppelin shirt, the one you stole the first night you ever slept over. i remember you sent me a picture of you wearing it the day of the accident, it’s even my wallpaper still… but yeah, i miss you, baby, and i’m not mad at you.

february 20th, 2025 - 6:32pm

hi baby, sorry i haven’t reached out in so long, i’ve been busy trying to get my shit together… i talked to your brother today, i finally got him out of the house and we went to the park. we ate those coconut ice creams you liked so much and sat by fred the statue, hyuck cried the entire time. we talked about you, all the happy memories and how fucking funny you were, always cheering us up in our worst moments… we also talked about the big fight we had when he found out we were dating. remember that? he tried to fist fight me when he was 14 even though i was so much bigger than him. i guess he was right then, though. we were too young and dumb to know things like love. but I know better now, and i have loved you ever since the very first second i saw your pretty face.

march 17th, 2025 - 6:57pm

hello, baby, long time no see… i just got out of your memorial… your parents asked me to talk because neither of them can bring themselves to, so i did and i don't think i’ve ever looked as pathetic in my life… i can’t stop crying, even now that it’s long over… everyone was here, you know, even sion and them. i think you would’ve hated it, you always despised seeing people cry… i’m taking hyuck to our house tonight. he said he needs to be surrounded by you, so he’ll stay with me until we’re both better. you should see him now, how disarmed he is… it scares me a lot, what if i don’t do as good of a job at cheering him up as you would’ve? i mean, i can’t even get myself to stop feeling like i’m being crushed, how the fuck am i supposed to help him?... i don’t know, but i promise i’ll figure it out. i love you, ynnie, forever always.

april 27th, 2025 - 6:35pm

hey ynnie, i’m back here again… it’s been four months since you left, and i’m beginning to think it won’t get better. i thought i was, really, that’s why i stopped calling. but i went out with the guys today, and yuta broke down because he saw your name in his contacts… we all miss you so fucking much, yn. it feels like a huge part of life is missing without you by my side and it’s drowning me. i feel like i’m holding onto you like an anchor in the middle of the ocean, but i don’t want to let go… i don’t know how to. i miss you every single day; when i walk through the market, when i clean, when i watch tv. you’re fucking everywhere, and i don’t know how to appreciate that yet, it just makes me feel worse than i already do. still, it’s not your fault… nothing ever was and now nothing ever will be. i love you, just as much as i always have. 

may 16th, 2025 - 6:46pm

hey, my love. uhm, this will be the last message for a while, okay? i started going to the therapist, and he said it might be better for me to find another outlet than this one… i think he might be right, i don’t know what i’ll do the day this number gets reassigned… anyways, i wanted to let you know, even when i know you’re watching me from wherever you are. i love you, yn. i want you to know that even if you’re not here for me to tell you. i love you, i love you, i love you, i will never stop loving you.

january 27th, 2026 - 6:48pm

hey, ynnie… it’s been a while, huh? i know you’re probably scolding me from up there for calling this number again after so long, but i need you to understand me on this one. i don’t call with hopes that you’ll answer anymore, i gave up on that a long time ago… i found other ways to talk to you, and i’m sure you know that because i’ve seen the way your star flickers sometimes when i go talk to you every night. everything is better, as you know. haechan is back on his feet, he’s touring again with dream… he’s shining again, and i know it’s because you’re right by his side… your parents are better too, your dad is smiling again. everybody's learning how to live without you, even though we hate it so much… anyways, it’s very fitting that you sent that new dance coach today, she kind of reminds me of you. the boy’s said the same thing, too. still, she’s not you. and i know that’s not fair, no one could ever be you or even close… but still, it makes me miss you even more... dancing is starting to make me happy again, though my feet don't dance like they did with you... well, this turned into a pretty long message, i’m sorry for that, i’ll leave you to it and talk to you tonight, okay? i love you so much, rest well my love.

★ blue's corner ;; hey... im sorry ! i wanted to start the year with something special, and taeyong is the answer to everything in my life... i'm also forever in love with 5sos and this song in particular so i hope you enjoyed !! ★ taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @morkiee @astrasng @taroddori ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @roseraris

© peterm4rker, 2025

[dark-frosted-heart]

Tailor-made Love Story - Keith Howell Part 2/4

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

After I set Emma down like she asked, she curtsied before the rest of the adults.

(Where did you learn that? How cute)

It looked like a majority of the nobles were satisfied by the little lady’s greeting. However, there was one, who had supported the king’s younger brother, that frowned.

Noble who supported uncle: How thoughtless of you to bring a child to the meeting. It’s making me doubt how suitable you are to be our next king.

(Still hard on me like usual)

(Not that I didn’t expect it…)

Emma: Big brother Keith…

Keith: It’s alright.

I smiled at Emma when she worriedly said my name and held her hand.

(While I’m used to this, but this must be scary for a child)

(Still, Emma did her best with remaining courteous while facing the cold stare)

(I won’t let anyone hurt this child’s feelings anymore)

I pulled her behind me.

Keith: My apologies for bringing her along without giving notice. However, there were circumstances that made this necessary. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again, so just this once, let this go.

Noble who supported uncle: But—

Noble: Hey now, it’s fine. Luckily we’re not discussing anything confidential today. Since we have this lovely young lady with us, our discussion should go peacefully.

Noble who supported uncle: …

Keith: Thank you.

Though he didn’t look satisfied, he decided not to press any further after being appeased by the other nobles.

When the meeting started, Emma sat on my lap and drew so that she wouldn’t be in the way of the meeting.

Emma: …

(She seems a bit down after what happened earlier)

(Guess she was bothered by it in the end)

My heart ached at the sight of her looking sadder than before the meeting began.

(I’m sorry that a child has to worry about this)

(Once I’m done with my official duties, I’ll do something to make Emma happy)

--

As we headed toward my next duty after the meeting, Emma paused in her step.

Keith: What’s wrong?

I knelt down to her level, but for some reason, she wouldn’t look at me.

Emma: I’m tired…I wanna go back to the room and rest.

Keith: I see. Sorry I didn’t notice.

(The meeting earlier must’ve been boring)

(Even though I promised that I wouldn’t leave her alone, I might’ve pushed her too far)

Keith: Then let’s go back to the room. I’ll have Liam get you a snack. Is it alright if you wait while you eat? I’ll come play with you after I’m done with work.

(Now that I think about it, I remember a servant telling me about how she has a younger sister back home)

(I’ll ask her to play with Emma until I’m back)

When I got up and started toward my room, Emma stayed put for some reason.

Keith: Emma?

Emma: …

Keith: What’s wrong? Are you perhaps not feeling well…

Emma let go of my hand and took a step back.

Emma: Big brother has work, right? I’ll go back myself.

(What’s gotten into her all of a sudden?)

(She’ll get lost all by herself)

Worried, I took a step closer, but then she took another step back.

Emma: Do your best, big brother Keith!

Keith: Ah!

She waved and ran off with a smile. But the smile on her face somehow felt sad, which stirred something within my chest.

(I really can’t do this alone)

I decided to secretly follow her so that she wouldn’t notice me.

--

Like I expected, Emma ended up lost outside of the castle after wandering around the halls.

Emma: Where…am I?

(I should call out to her)

Emma: …No…I gotta pull myself together… If I don’t behave while he’s working, then…big brother Keith will be mad again.

(...That’s what’s been on her mind?)

(Emma really is so kind)

The sight of Emma crying made my chest ache. I couldn’t stand leaving her alone anymore so I pretended to be passing by when I called out to her.

Keith: There you are, Emma.

Emma: …!

Emma’s shoulders jolted in surprise and she turned away to wipe her tears.

Emma: Why are you here, big brother Keith? You have work so you shouldn’t follow me!

Keith: Ah.

Without looking at me, she ran off to hide her tears.

(Now what do I do?)

(She’ll keep running away if I go after her…)

Gardener: Oh, Prince Keith? What are you doing here at this hour?

Keith: Ah, you came at the right time. I have a favor to ask.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 37

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Sins Of The Flesh

Notes: If It's too much, skip to the bottom part past the ~~~~~

!!!Special Warning for this chapter: Smut: Oral F/M recieving. Manual Stimulation F/M recieving. Scent-kink (yup). Some spicy talk.!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  37/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your mind came to a stop and took seconds to even try to find a response to that brave confession. He was so clearly nervous to speak of this, so worried he had blundered and ruined all.

Your response came, albeit delayed, “I was waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me.”

He pushed the question out, “Is it common to think of it often?”

There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Did he truly fear there was something wrong with him for feeling desire?

Your hand caressed his chest. “More common than people might confess to. What has been going through your thoughts?”

Two seconds passed before he leaned in and quietly told what had been filling his daily thoughts. “I want to make you come undone, to see you like that again… Quivering from pleasure, my name rolling off of your tongue when you moan. The scent of your wetness putting me at your mercy.”

“You can smell…” You had forgotten how to breath normally, suddenly feeling far warmer, heart racing. Were your legs trembling or was it your heart beating so hard it shook your bones?

His stubble grazed your cheek while he whispered the confirmation that his heightened sense of smell was that strong. “Yes. I can.”

The scent was enticing and hit a deep instinct within him. He would never forget it, even just the memory of it shot lust into his being.

It had you flustered. “I’m not… not right now.”

He was boldly suggestive. “You could be.”

That bawdy comment left you speechless, almost did a small stunned laugh escape you but you covered your mouth to muffle it. His cheeks tinted a bit at his own bold comment. Still, you could read the mischief from his eyes and quickly tried to get out of his reach. That ended with with him wrapping you into his arms and pulling your back against his chest. The laugh escaped you, no matter how much he tried to hush you before it would wake half the inn.

“Shhh.” he chuckled, just a hint of hidden embarrassment in his tone again. “The walls are thin here.”

“I’m sorry.” you snorted another, quieter, laugh. “I am guessing that means you are not comfortable enough to bed me here, where others could hear it?”

It made him nervous to even think of copulating where others could possibly hear. That bed looked anything but quiet, it had seen a lot of use in it’s lifetime. He would be nervous enough as it is.

“Not here.” He proposed a solution, “Another way? As we were in Gramaire.”

You turned in his arms to face him. “You want me to help you seek your relief tonight?”

He would not deny himself of it tonight. “Let me learn it all, teach me all the ways.”

“Well then…” your hands grazed down over his chest to his abdomen. “Come here and let me make sure you are not aching anymore.”

That touch of innocence still in him made it irresistible not to make him a ruin by tending to his carnal needs. His breathing instantly quickened when you started to kiss him whilst reaching down for his groin. He was letting it happen, trusting that you knew what you were doing. You had never been this forward while touching him, rubbing him lightly through the fabric of his trousers. He held on tight, leaning into your form as he snaked a hand into the back of your hair. A slow deep kiss was gifted upon your lips and they parted when his tongue asked for access. He let you guide him and taste him, a lesson that was done with the utmost attention. He let out pleasant sounds the longer you caressed his groin.

You smirked against his lips. “It seems like I got your attention.”

He gave you a rougher scolding kiss for that jest, but you broke your lips free from his.

It was better to ask openly so it would not startle him. “Would you like my mouth on you?”

He blinked, confused at what that meant considering your mouth was on him just a second ago before you stole it away again.

A brush of your hand over his groin again. “On you.”

It clicked right away then, he didn’t fully know how to respond.

He had heard of this, of course he had. But he did not know the details of it. Yet, the idea that you were proposing to use your mouth on him had piqued his interest.

His thumb touched your lips. “Your mouth…”

You watched his reaction carefully. “Have you heard of it?”

He gave a slight nod. “The paladins made comments of the sort.”

You gently rubbed him a bit more. “May I?”

The more he was stimulated, the more eager he grew for friction. He put a hand over yours and kept it on his groin, a signal to keep going that he wouldn’t have dared to give earlier.

He wanted this, he needed this. His body was heating up, his hips grew restless, that pleasant pressure was building in his lower self. And then there was the view of you in that chemise that had instantly caused a heat to spread into his abdomen. He needed this. He needed you.

You reassured him, “I want to try that for you. I promise I will be careful.”

He could still hardly believe what was being offered. “You will do such an act for me?”

You couldn’t help but sound a little daring. “Do you think you can handle it?”

He loved that coy smile. Loved the spark of mischief in your eyes. He needed to be confident… he wanted to be confident…

He took on that dare without hesitation. “Kneel down.”

Your eyes had widened at the request. The haze of lust in his own as he looked at you made it so easy to oblige. Still, there was a sudden change in his demeanor that you hadn’t really expected, an increase of confidence you thought would take a while for him to get. You knelt down on the ground and looked up at him, putting a hand on his thigh. An array of things had their presence in his eyes, intrigue and desire, firmness and gentleness. It was the darkened gaze he bestowed on you that made you nervous.

He cupped your cheek, making you look up at him, he touched your bottom lip, pushing the tip of his thumb against your mouth a bit. “Show me?”

You could sense that he was trying to be more confident, he was hiding his self-consciousness under the mask of it.

His thumb slid gingerly into your mouth. You realized he wanted to feel an example of what he could expect, gently you sucked on his digit to give him an idea. It didn’t last long, he withdrew his thumb and graced over your lips with it. He knew you had seen how his trousers were restraining him, like this you were at the perfect height to notice. He looked around himself for a moment, making the decision before your very eyes.

“Do you want me to still your ache?” Your question made his attention snap down to your face again.

He cupped the side of your head, thumb caressing your cheek. “Yes.”

That was all you needed to hear to start working at his trousers. His gaze constantly moved from you, to all that was around him.

Any fear of blundering faded to the back of his mind. All that truly mattered was the woman on her knees, willing to grant him this generous act. He was safe in your hands, he trusted you.

Before you freed him from his restraints, you rubbed him through the fabric of his trousers, warming him up further. He closed his eyes, his forehead creased at the carnal frustration it build up in him. It lasted a while, you loved to see how pent up he got. When softly kneading at him he drew in sharp breaths, his mouth opened just a little.

You slowly freed him, placing one light kiss on the tip, teasing by breathing hotly on him. A length and girth that would surely be interesting to get more acquainted with. Your mouth enclosed around him and he let out a very relieved sound.

“So warm…” The comment fell out of him as he shuddered.

Hot. Wet. All around his aching member that needed little encouragement to be at full hardness. The sensation of it was one thing, but to know that the one he loved was tending to him was what send his mind into a daze. An act of worship he did not believe himself to be worthy of, and still you made him feel like he was.

With a hand on his hip, you began to work on stilling his ache. His fingers scratched softly at your scalp, he let you set the pace and how much you took of him.

You could hear him struggle to take air into his lungs properly and spoke soothing words, “Breathe, Lancelot.”

He took the advice, doing his best to take in deep breaths. You tested and searched for what and how he liked it. He would not last long, you could tell. He was careful, holding control over his hips as they instinctively wanted to move forward into the sensation. The sounds he tried to swallow down, the squeezing of his hand on your shoulder, the changing of his breaths, it all came to an end sooner then he might have wanted it too. A warning was given by him, but you were determined to let him experience it fully, swallowing what you could when he spilled. A low shaking moan ran through his lungs into the air. He was trembling, using your shoulder for support to keep himself standing. The stimulation of your mouth had stopped, you held his hips to ensure he was steady. He stretched his neck, tilting his head back, quietly catching his breath. The walls were thin and he was trying his very best to keep any noise down. While letting him come down from his height of pleasure, you admired him for a moment discreetly and then gently stored him back into his trousers. He was caressing your head, pads of his fingers massaging your scalp in gratitude.

You enjoyed the feeling of it. “Good?”

He could only hum, still overwhelmed by what had rushed through his body. You got off of the ground and began to undo the belts that held his jerkin closed. He was quick to tilt his head down again and look at what you were doing.

“You’re staying here, right?” You saw him nod. “Good. Then let’s get you prepared for bed.”

He could barely keep track of his thoughts. “My weapons.”

Oh, that was right. Taking that jerkin of without taking of the belts first would not be simple. But you had thought that loosening up the jerkin would help him with his breathing.

“Sorry.” You started at the belts. “I thought opening your jerkin would help you breathe better after that.”

A small boyish smile. “It is not the leather that caused it.”

You could hear the approval laced in his voice and evaded his gaze. The belts came off and you hanged them on the foot of the bed. He took off his cloak, handing it to you to place it there as well. By the time you turned around he was behind you and your elbow bumped into him.

He gingerly collected your hands and put them back on the belts of the jerkin. “Now then…”

A quiet giggle escaped you at that. Of course you obliged and worked through the belts, taking of the jerkin. He took the leather from your hands and tossed it onto the bed. Determination set in his eyes, his breathing was calm and deep. He took you by the elbow and gently steered you to sit down on the bed right in front of him.

Your curiosity grew instantly. “What now?”

His gaze had fallen right into the neck of your chemise for a second too long, then he knelt down in front of you. “What that woman said to me. You heard it?”

Your mood threatened to turn at the memory. “I heard.”

“It did make me think of it.” he said.

You hoped you had misheard. “Pardon?”

It took him a second to understand his blunder. “I did not mean-” Panic set into his eyes. “Not with her!”

Your eyes were widened, a sigh of relief fell out. “Gods… my heart.”

He sighed at his ill-choice of words. “Let me explain myself to you.”

His fingers grazed your bare ankles, suspicious because they had been covered by the chemise. He trailed up his hand, curving it around your lower leg, moving it so that the hem of your chemise was riding up.

You gripped the edge of the bed in anticipation. “Lancelot?”

He hinted at what was coursing through his thoughts, “There is only one that I wish to kiss the way that woman alluded to.”

“The only one you would kiss like that…?” you processed.

His question fell out so quick, “Will you let me?”

The fact that he did not ask if that was what you wanted, but instead asked permission, told that he had an unspoken interest for it. His sense of smell was more attuned than yours, had he already picked up on the change in your scent? Was that why he was interested?

“Yes.” you answered.

The chemise was lifted higher, to your thighs. He brushed his bottom lip over your knee, kissing it warmly. He got closer and you instinctively opened your legs to make room for him. It was hard not to feel self-conscious and vulnerable with him between your legs. An intimate and fragile moment that displayed trust. Feeling him touch your bare skin was awakening the ache for him. He moved slowly, mouth never truly lifting from your skin as he tended to it. His fingers teased at your thighs not long before his mouth arrived there. An oddly ticklish sensation ran through you, having him so close and intimate made you want to keep the chemise where it was for coverage. He moved your hand out of the way when it went for the chemise and began to kiss your upper leg, squeezing the back of it in his hand. A whimper fled your lips when his mouth touched your inner thigh, the way he trailed his lips had changed. He kneaded at your soft flesh and slid his hand up to stop just before reaching your rear. Gods, you struggled not to feel self-conscious when he explored you with such vigour. You decided to lay back on the bed, he made you scoot your hips closer to the edge.

A content sigh. “Your mouth is warm.”

His caressed the back of your thigh. “I have yet to correct an imbalance.”

You melted into the feeling of him touching you. “And that means?”

His thumbs dared to push the hem of the chemise further up your thighs. “You have put yourself on your knees and gave me pleasure. I will not rest tonight until I hear my wife moan.” His hand traveled up, under the chemise and right where it needed to be to start that task. “We have more time than we had in Gramaire, dawn is not our enemy. I will take my time with you tonight.”

The scent if your arousal was present and warned him long before he got near it. One day he would catch the scent and grow hard in the most inconvenient time, he just knew it. He saw you tilt your head back on the bed when he grazed his thumb through your wetness, searching and finding the right spot you had taught him to focus on. He couldn’t stop kneading at your thigh, but held back from doing the same with your rear. There was time, time to warm you, time to learn what brought pleasure. The scent of you filled his lungs, he withdrew his hand only for a moment, to take in the scent, to taste your arousal off of his fingers. Was it strange to taste it? Perhaps. But that one taste was enough to know that he wanted to taste it right from the source.

He returned to manually stimulating you whilst his mouth traveled up your thighs. Too engulfed in the sensation, you did not fully realize his intent until his hot breath had replaced his fingers. The first touch of his mouth had you jolt in surprise, and him holding you in place by the hip. He kissed you, using his bottom lip to taste your arousal. The warm breath on you mixed with the lack of friction was torment. He did not know, you could not expected him to just know.

You needed to tell him, to ask for what you wanted. “Lancelot?”

A very content sounding, “Hmm?”

It took courage to say it. “It would feel very good if you used your tongue or fingers while you do that.”

It was as if he had been waiting for permission, he did not hesitate. He was tasting you slowly, tongue moving carefully where your ache was building. He had a hand on your lower abdomen, a signal to stay as you were.

“I should have done this in Gramaire…” he mumbled to himself, quietly groaning in contentment.

“Yes…” you agreed. He moved a little, just right, and you couldn’t prevent the request from spilling out of you. “Kiss me there…”

He had not a single objection.

Finally he could taste it, he could fill his lungs with the scent that made desire tighten his abdomen. He had grazed his nose over it, then did as you had requested of him.

You didn’t think he would be so eager, but he was quick to engage in the task. He gave one tug at your hips to get you even closer. On his knees he served you, letting his hands wander over your most intimate places. You laid down on the sheets, grasping at them to get a hold on something until he reached out and laced a hand with yours.

He did enjoy hearing the set of orders that spilled from your lips. ‘Right there’, ‘stay’, ‘keep going’. He loved how you tried not to clench his head between your thighs at the sensation his actions evoked in you. The sound of his name falling from you now was all the encouragement and reward he needed. And his favorite thing to hear was undoubtedly ‘Please, don’t stop’, a request he happily obliged to. His body was powerless against the stimuli his mind received like this. He was hardening again and just enjoyed the warm pleasurable pressure that build in his groin.

You whimpered when unable to moan too loud. “Please.”

He hushed you. “Shh… let it come to you, Sweetheart.”

Manually he continued to urge you to your release. A few circling motions of his thumb and the tightness in your core was reaching it’s peak. He knew you were close and started to slide his index finger through the wetness, grazing over your entrance in a teasing manner. It was what caused your unraveling to hit. You squirmed, trying to muffle your moans in the sheets while he kept stimulating you until the last shock went through your body.

Your eyed were still pressed shut when you felt the bed dip, he crawled onto the bed and hovered above you. You were still dazed when he lowered himself unto you and began to shower your neck and collarbone with the attention of his lips.

He scolded himself for briefly considering this inn a proper place to consummate his marriage. But he could not help thinking about being between those warm thighs, in those loving arms and sinking himself inside the mess he had just made. A selfish fantasy, a bad place and time. It would not aid his performance in the future if he were heard or caught like this in the midst of the act.

His fierce display of affection prolonged the feeling running through you. And then when he moved against you a little, you became aware that his body had recovered from tending to him earlier, his hardness was against your leg. You moved further back onto the bed to be comfortable and he followed that movement.

“You’re hard again.” you commented softly.

His teeth grazed your jaw gently before he sucked at the skin there. “I cannot help it.”

Again his hand disappeared under your chemise, this time not slow but right to where he intended for it. It felt so natural to continue. You were still sensitive and told him to start slow again, he obliged. You loved the intimate embrace, the slow kissing, the weight of him on you. Your lips were pampering his neck and jaw. It all build up to the second chase for pleasure. After only minutes to recover, he was back to the task of pleasing you. You had snaked your hand into his trousers to palm him, slowly stroking him while he did the same to you. But it was the feeling of his fingers grazing at your entrance that forced a gasp out, you could feel him use your wetness for lubrication on them, and your body reacted with anticipation.

He locked eyes with you. “May I feel you?”

You needed no explanation when he grazed at you again. “Yes.”

He watched your reaction. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Only after you nodded did he proceed. His index finger breached what had been forbidden for him for so long, your back arched. He slid his digit inside with care, inch by inch, feeling you writhe in response to it. The angle of it felt good, and it was an overwhelming feeling to finally feel a part of him so connected with you.

He stroked slowly inside, feeling your arousal coat him to the knuckles. Feeling you writhe restlessly under him. He could see you try to keep your moans to a low volume.

He announced his middle finger, the wetness made it easy to join his digits together into your warmth. You had put your free hand over your mouth to keep yourself from letting everything in the vicinity hear how heated he had made you. When he leaned in closer, you grabbed him firmly and pulled him to your lips. With a demanding kiss you let him know what you desired. The more he noticed your lewd responses, the less he held back. He moved his digits in a steady pace, pumping them at the angle you so craved and in return you pumped him in the same rhythm.

He leaned in, breathing into your ear. “Does that feel good?”

“Hm hm.” You were a mess.

“Good.” He smirked against your ear. “You become so wet for me…”

How could he still make you flustered while doing this? Why was it so titillating to hear how heavy and deep his voice had gotten?

“Gods.” A moan fled your lips, you pressed them shut.

His thumb began to circle against you again, his fingers sinking deeper into you. “Not ‘Gods’,” he tsked with a smirk, “You know my name. Use it.”

You grabbed hold on his shoulder when feeling your peak nearing. “Lancelot- I’m…”

He hushed you and you couldn’t believe how that slight arrogance was making you even more heated.

“Are you imagining it is my cock?” His whisper was right into your ear, followed by the admission. “I am.”

You locked eyes with him, watching him let his gaze travel down your body and back up again. The sound of his fingers sinking themselves inside was making your cheeks burn.

But he enjoyed it all, the sound, the feeling and the mess you became as a result. “Stroke me a little faster, Sweetheart.”

You gave a nod and changed the pace of your hand, his previous release was what now made it easier for him to hold back longer.

He could tell that his words had a positive effect on you. Interesting.

“One day I will have you.” he purred into your ear with confidence. “I promise I will have you.”

It was pushing you right to the edge. “Lancelot…”

He continued to arouse you further, “It will be my cock, and not my fingers, coated in your slickness.”

You were whimpering, clenching around his fingers every few seconds already. “Lancelot, please…”

The calmness in his voice was astounding, as if he was truly trying to get an answer out to learn more about it, “Is this what I need to do for you? Sink myself into you, feel your hold on me…” His fingers sank deep then withdrew, only to insert quicker than expected to the knuckles. “Would you fit around me?”

You could only nod, a desperate noise forced it’s way out.

“Yes?” He thumb circled over you a few times, then he pumped his fingers again. He lowered himself, supporting his weight on his elbow, feeling your chests meet in their desperate efforts for air. The closeness took it to another height. Your knees moved to clench his hips. Unbelievable that he was using this moment to draw out answers and information. Ridiculous how well it worked to bring you close to unraveling, just because you loved to hear how intrigued he was growing towards it. Feeling him move against you with each pump of his fingers worked wonders to imagine it was indeed his cock. He was starting to breathe harder, he was close too.

“Moan for me, Little Ember. Let me hear you.” he spoke into your ear.

It was bringing you the verge of despair, the feeling inside had gotten so strong you couldn’t lay still. Moaning came effortlessly.

He hushed again, “Shh… Let it come.”

He lured the height of pleasure out of you with each stroke of his fingers, gaze gliding of your hazy eyes and over your heaving chest.

“Faster…” his eyes fell shut. “Please…”

You tightened your hold on him, pumping him, feeling him swell and throb.

He brushed his lips to your temple and it was the last thing your body needed for the coil to snap inside. Your release hit hard, a cry forced it’s way out, and the feeling did not dissipate quickly because he chose to kiss the moans of relief right off of your lips to silence them. Your fingers had to be digging into his shoulders, he relished in it. You couldn’t help but clench his hips between your thighs as the feeling coursed through your being. He lowered himself, took over from your hold on him and for the first time in his life he was able to break free of the mental barrier he had when it came to handling himself. He moaned into your shoulder and only needed to stroke himself a few times before spilling unto your thighs. Your name fell as a moan from his lips as he stroked every last drop of him out. All was quiet when he laid his head down against your shoulder while both enjoyed the afterglow. You played with his hair, feeling your eyelids getting heavier. There was always tomorrow to wash up, it was far too comfortable to get out of bed again.

“What did you do to me… gods…” your fingers were entangled in his sleeve.

His answer was a forbidden thought spilling from his mind. “Anything you want…”

Everything was entangled, the sheets, you and him. The moon’s light was on his hair, the mark of the Church had long since been overgrown by it, and you noticed that he must have cut it not long ago with how the ends looked. Had he used a dagger to do so? It was fascinating to start noticing things that could be so easily missed.

“You cut your hair?” you spoke softly.

“I have to. It grows quickly.” his voice was as quiet as yours.

Your heart had calmed down. He moved away just long enough to take of his shirt and simply put it on the end of the bed. He laid down, facing you and hooked an arm around your form to keep you close. His breathing was calm and deep, those hooded eyes had grown weary.

It was a whisper. “Your stubble and mustache never seem to grow.”

He struggled to keep his eyes open. “I prefer to keep it this way. Did they bother you when I…?”

“Not at all.” you smiled.

He was glad to hear it. “Old habit, to have it like this. Father Carden wanted all to be presentable. I was one of the few that was.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how ‘presentable’ he looked now. “I believe that. It’s no wonder those women were staring at you, you’re very handsome and look after your appearance.”

“Women?” he frowned a bit.

Had he truly not noticed it? “The table of women where that woman came from that plopped into your lap.”

A light chuckle fell. “You are still upset with her.”

“To put it lightly.” you mumbled.

“I did not notice them staring.” he stated. “I did notice the table in the corner where three men kept looking over at you. I went to find you outside when I thought one of them had followed you, but he was still in the inn when we walked back inside.”

“At least none of them fell into my lap.”

“No. Someone groped your rear.”

You hummed. “And unfortunately it wasn’t the one who I’d wanted it to be.”

His eyes landed on yours, trying to read them. He saw you grin at him, cocking a daring brow.

You feigned innocence then. “But you are too proper and sweet to do that. Aren’t you?”

Not two seconds later he made you take back that statement when he grabbed a hold on your rear, a firm hold that took you so off-guard that a gasp forced it’s way out of you. Your fingers dug into his shoulder. “Lancelot!”

He couldn’t resist not giving it a small squeeze now that he had the chance. “Let us not question my devotion to proof that thought wrong.”

You cupped his jaw and connected your lips with his, a slow deep kiss all whilst he caressed your behind. You hooked your leg over his, intertwining yourself with him.

He was the one to break the kiss, smiling. “Are you trying to climb into my lap again?”

“You already had someone in your lap today.” you jested.

He shook his head at the jest. “I prefer the Ash Woman in the chemise that has slipped down her shoulder.”

It made you look, the neck of the chemise had indeed slipped down and bared your shoulder. You wanted to adjust it but he hooked the tip of his index finger under it to prevent it. His finger traced your shoulder, over your collarbone and down to your cleavage. He laid his head down on the pillow, tips of his fingers lightly dancing over the spot.

“Are you content?” you quietly asked him and hoped he would know what you were referring to.

His eyes locked on yours, searching them for a moment. “‘Content’?”

You swallowed down your nerves. “With… what we just did.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, a characteristic of him when he was nervous to tread on matters that were still new to him. “Can you not feel the answer still on your thighs?”

You smacked his chest light and playful. “That is the answer of your body, I am asking for the answer of your mind.”

That boyish smile settled on his lips. “I could never imagine a dream that could match this. I am content. Are you?”

Your fingertips traced his lips. “Very. No one ever kissed me the way you did earlier, I would have come undone by your mouth if you hadn’t stopped.”

He was genuinely curious, “Would you like that?”

You were quiet for a moment, taken aback by how forward he could be sometimes, then nervously chuckled. “I am processing the knowledge that a man raised as a monk just propositioned me like that.”

Almost did he tell you to just lay down on your back and allow him to taste you again, more and longer, until you trembled in bliss at the mercy of his lips. He had spend a life serving a God who would cast him out, spending the rest of his days serving his lover was much more rewarding.

His confidence was growing. “Say it… Say it, and I will lift your skirt again to tend to you. I will serve your desire.”

A tempting offer, but it was obvious that he was tired, not a surprise after the exertion. “You overexert yourself too often, my love. You have pleased me enough for tonight, the only thing I wish for is that you take some rest for yourself.”

The sweet words had it’s effect on him still, his intention was clear to be read from his eyes when he wanted to grab hold on your waist. You tsk-ed him, reprimanding him with your eyes for trying. He yielded, abandoning the thought to keep the both of you awake a while longer.

“Rest.” you whispered, laying down comfortably beside him.

He was grateful for it, he didn’t stop tracing your skin with his fingertips until sleep pulled him under. Born from the gods of the Fey, he indeed looked divine as he slept. Softened features, steady breathing, that arm around you. You prayed to the Hidden that they would allow you to have a long life with him, that you would have moments like this to experience again. You nested yourself against him, kissing his temple a few times, then let sleep carry you away.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You woke early, not long past dawn. He still slept. You washed the remainder of the night from your skin and got dressed. While putting on fresh trousers and a shirt, you noticed something laying under the bed, at the foot of it. Kneeling down, you plucked the small shiny thing up from the floor. A ring, gold and engraved with a swirly pattern. You put it on the table next to the washbasin and continued to put your bodice on. Someone had to be missing the piece of jewelry and you debated on leaving it in the room for them to find or hand it to the innkeeper and hope they knew who it could belong to. Lancelot stirred, groaned at the sunlight that showed no mercy on his eyes when he opened them.

You were just putting on your boots. “There’s still more time to sleep. Don’t mind me.”

His eyes fell on you. “You’re dressed?”

You chuckled. “Well, yes. I’m afraid a chemise will not hold up well against the weather.”

“Come back to bed.” He was certain it was nowhere near noon by where the sun was.

“Maybe after I’ve spoken to the innkeeper.” you grabbed the ring from the table.

He sat upright, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Why do you need to speak with him?”

Your satchel was still on the floor by the bed and you threw it on. “I found a ring on the floor while you were asleep. I’m going to ask if someone might be looking for it.”

His eyes snapped to you, alert now. “A ring?”

You pointed to where you had found it. “It was under the bed. I know we could trade it for something, but I’d be upset too if I lost my bracelet and someone decided to keep it instead of trying to give it back. I’m sure the rightful owner will come back to the inn for it.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the ground. “Show me what you have found?”

You obliged and put the ring in his hand, letting him take a look, then noticed how pale he had suddenly gotten. “Are you alright? You don’t look well. Maybe you should rest a bit longer.”

He seemed distracted. “What were you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to hand it over to the innkeeper. Someone might return for it.” you said.

He shook his head. “No.”

It made you frown. “We have coin now. And this ring could be important to someone.”

You took it back and stubbornly headed for the door with it.

He was up on his feet in an instant and caught your lower arm, blurting out, “It is yours.”

That wasn’t true. “No, it’s not.”

He gave you quite a look. “Yes. It is.”

Your voice got ridiculously quiet. “What do you… why do you say it’s mine?”

“Have you forgotten your lesson already?” He plucked the ring from your fingers and made you look inside the band.

Carefully you took the ring from him between your fingers and noticed the engraving on the inside too. It was the first thing he had taught you to read in the language of the Fey, ‘Little Ember’. It was strange to fear wrongly assuming that he got you this ring, you needed him to explain, to tell you that this was indeed what you thought it was. Instead he was silent, you couldn’t really read his eyes now, he was back in the hurricane of his restless thoughts.

It must have fallen out from behind the sheath of his short sword last night. He had been distracted, too eager to be unburdened by the weapon belt. Your response to the ring was not what he had expected. It should have been given by him, not found on the floor of an inn. This was not how he had wanted it to happen, and you weren’t smiling…

“You do not like it…” It was a statement.

It had rendered you speechless.

He composed himself, accepting the situation and thinking of solutions, “We can trade it, or sell it for one you will love.”

You held up the ring a little, struggling to form a sentence. “Why…? Why did you….?”

He quietly explained it upon seeing the confusion in your eyes, “The chance to experience our wedding was stolen from us, I wished to at least do one matter correct. When I went to Ravenwick at night, I searched for a merchant who sold jewels. A gold coin open’s every merchant’s door even in the night. I saw this ring, asked to have it engraved.”

The engraving cost him more. He was fortunate the merchant made not a problem of having a patron who was Fey as long as payment was good.

You swallowed hard. “It’s a wedding ring… you got me a ring…”

He saw a mixture of emotions come down over your features. “I chose it because I believe it has the same sort of gem that sits in your bracelet.”

With shaking hands, you inspected the ring again, having failed to notice the small round gem set in the band. This time you paid more attention to it’s fine delicate details, to the thoughtful engraving and stone that matched your bracelet. It wasn’t until he touched your arm that you realized tears were staining your cheeks. You wanted to tell him it was alright, that you were just feeling a little overwhelmed, but instead a sob came out. He apologized. He apologized. You had grabbed him and pulled him into your arms not a second later.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Not until you cupped his face faster than you had ever done and kissed him so fierce that the air was out of his lungs that very moment. You did not stop, did not hold back, and he relished in that feeling.

You heard him make a sound and worried that your strong hold on him was hurting him. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you back to his lips.

He steered you by the hips to the wall just beside the door, kissing you with the same vigour, stopping only because people were walking past the door outside.

“Do you still wish to be rid of the ring?” He could guess the answer.

You were firm on that. “Over my dead body.”

“See if it fits?” He plucked the ring from your hand and took your hand in his. “I had to guess. We could go and have it altered in the city when visiting the market.” He slid the ring on your finger. “How is it?”

“It fits.” you said.

He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing. “Does it fit well?”

You had to admit the truth, “It’s a little tight.”

To him it was not a hard problem to solve. “We will have it altered. Store it in your satchel, don’t let it hurt your finger.”

It was a wise idea, you put it in the satchel to keep it safe. “You should get ready for the day too, we can’t stay in this room forever.”

“We have until noon.” He smirked, getting closer and cupping the side of your neck. Obviously he had something on his mind to spend the remaining time on.

Chuckling fell from your lips. “Gods, Lancelot!” You stepped away from him. “Wash up. Get dressed. Try to be done by noon.”

There was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Since when do you command me?”

You fired your risque jest, “Since I know that you take commands well in a bedroom.”

He scoffed, but it turned into a chuckle. Even after last night a pink flush spread near his nose.

It fell from your thoughts, “Gods, I love that.”

He eyed you inquisitively. “Hm?”

You got closer, cupping his cheek, and touched your thumb where his skin had flushed a bit. “When you blush, I love to see it. It’s endearing.”

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek to try and stop the embarrassed smile. Pointing it out only seemed to make him blush more.

You brushed your lips to the marking that ran across his cheek. “I love you.”

His eyes snapped to yours again, blinking two times rapidly. He slowly took hold of your wrist and pressed his lips to the inside of it, closing his eyes whilst he did. “And I you.”

More people were waking up, you could hear them pass by the room. He let go of your wrist, went to the washbasin and took off his shirt.

You went to the wardrobe to take out fresh linen for him to use. Picking out a large linen cloth to dry himself. “There’s linen in here to wash and dry with.”

You lost all knowledge of language when turning around and seeing that he was undoing the cords of his trousers. A hot flush came up into your face and you swiftly turned around.

He did not even notice your reaction at first, it was the sudden silence that alerted him. The reaction had seemingly amused him. “Are you concerned to see me wash a part of me?”

You did not turn around and ignored how he was clearly going to tease you about this. You heard him wring out the water from the rag.

He took it a step further. “Did you not acquaint yourself well with it last night?”

That smug… “It’s different.”

His wit was strong that morning. “That is because it is at rest now.”

Almost did you throw him a look for that. It was such a bawdy thing to say that it did manage to make you laugh. “You know that is not what I meant!”

“I know.” He finished washing his lower self. “Why do you find it different to see me like this now?” There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine curiosity to understand.

“I did not expect to see you like that now.” A quiet sigh. “My previous experience with matters like this does not make me immune to feeling shy or flustered. I often feel more self-conscious and shy now because I am with someone I love and it’s different. Now my head spins just seeing you clothed, try to imagine what it feels like for me to see you unclothed.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you feared you had said something wrong. Had you made a fool of yourself?

Finally he spoke, “I am trying to imagine how I would react if I would see you without your trousers on unexpectedly after having acquainted myself with you last night.”

“Don’t imagine too hard.” you quipped.

Half a laugh escaped him before he muffled it into his fist. “You can turn around. I am almost done.”

You threw a careful glance over your shoulder, his trousers sat securely on his hips again. “How are your wounds? Do you want me to put some of that salve on them?”

He dried his face with the linen cloth you handed him. “They do not hurt anymore. But I will not decline that offer.”

You took the salve out from the package in your satchel that the healers had given and began to apply it onto the wounds that still looked too red to your liking. In the meantime he borrowed the comb from your satchel to tend to his hair, plucking your straying fingers out of his locks a few times when you couldn’t resist raking them through his hair.

Someone knocked on the door, Lancelot waited to respond and heard Gawain announce his presence.

“Good morning, Gawain.” You opened the door for the knight who entered the room but he came to a sudden stop at the sight of Lancelot.

“Green knight.” Lancelot greeted him.

Both of you knew that the knight had just seen Lancelot’s scars for the first time. Shock was present in Gawain’s eyes before he composed himself.

The knight came to inform him on some matters. “We are heading into the city around noon. Purchase wares we need and food. Percival is awake and eating breakfast down with the others who are awake.”

Lancelot noticed that Gawain was trying not to stare at his scars. “You can ask.”

Gawain frowned, then understood what the Ash Man meant. “Flagellation?”

A nod. “Yes. Scourge.”

“You have stopped?” The knight sounded hopeful.

Even Lancelot was glad that he could answer, “I have.”

Gawain looked around the room until he saw the sword still hanging over the foot of the bed. “You treat the sword of our people like a rusted blade.”

He put his shirt on. “Am I to worship it on my knees all day?”

Gawain gave him a look. “Do not lose the sword, Brother. We are counting on you.”

“I will not fail you, Gawain.” He stepped towards him. “But I will not be at the mercy of any gods again, even if I share their blood.”

“There is another matter,” the knight said, “Percival needs a better jacket and cloak. Those tears in them will not shield him from the rain long.”

You took responsibility for solving that issue. “I’ll find him something at the market.”

“Thank you.” Gawain nodded gratefully. “The weather is colder today and the sky betrays rain. Prepare to sleep in the forest tonight unless we make haste and travel ahead to this fort Merlin is leading us to.”

“What comes after? When we do find this place to be suited as a sanctuary for the Fey, you believe they will trust my presence there?” Lancelot doubted it. “Who is to say that they will not avenge their loved ones that perished at my hands?”

Gawain took no offense to his worries. “Will you let that fear alter your wish to help your people?”

“I will not.” His voice got quieter, “but when it comes to that-”

The knight stopped him there. “Do you believe I will not stand by your side when you would be threatened? I swore to protect the Fey, all Fey. And I have yet to be proven wrong for putting my trust in you. Stand by us, and we will stand by you.” He took a breath. “Not even Arthur and Red Spear have forgotten that you slayed Trinity Guards that would have killed them otherwise. Your efforts are being noticed, Lancelot.” The knight turned and headed for the door. “Get dressed and head to the horses if you prefer to visit the market with us before the rain. I will arrange for something you can eat whilst riding.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

After Gawain left the room, Lancelot was quick to get dressed for the day while you packed up your clothes again.

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[autism-corner]

the world NEEDS to see my boobs

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel for the unhinged character bingo!

yessss YEEEESSSSSSSSS

[lazzarella]

Kinn really has so much love inside of him, huh? And the way he loves Porsche with everything, when he lets himself love him, it’s just like… All that love has been bursting to get out and now it finally has somewhere to go

[akkivee]

are we one and done with these or we thinking they’re going to be a factor in the off arc???? 🤔

[notmoreflippingelves]

So I know, I know, we all hate it when people add comments and especially lengthy ones to posts that are no openly encouraging them. Nevertheless, I'm gonna do so in this particular case because the novel that I was writing in the tags just got too too long and I was frighteningly close to the tag limit.

The things that would fix Esteban Flores are (in roughly this order)

A found family (preferably one totally divorced from connections to his bio family) and/or a small child to take care of.

A heartfelt apology from his biological family (definitely Luisa, probably Elena, and maybe Francisco as well).

A hug x1000

Being shaken

Enough sleep

But most especially the first two.

Esteban's issues stem from being made to feel like an afterthought and/or an obligation to his family of origin. In his mind, he was not chosen or wanted. He was liked, loved even--but he was loved because he was familia--not because he was Esteban. He was not enough in and of himself, especially not when compared to Elena.

Do you know why he continued to tend the cacao trees during the Dark Times? Yes, it was out of love for his family, but I think there's a bit more to it than that. His abuela shared something private and meaningful (i.e. how to take care of the cacao trees) with him that she didn't also share with Elena. He was welcomed into Luisa's world--if only for a moment. This was his, the rare thing that he didn't have to sacrifice to or share with Elena. No one could take this away from him--the moment of feeling seen and chosen. Not even the fact that this moment was very very much an anomaly and the rest of his youth (and his adulthood) consisted of him being shoved into the corner of some family portraits and left out of others entirely---and no one noticing this for years.

In "Something I Would Never Do," Esteban outright states "Years ago/ I did not know/Just how much they cared for me." He's just now realizing after 40+ years that his family just might love him (50+ years if you go back to when Esteban moved into palace); he's genuinely surprised about it and terrified that he's going to fuck it all up. Yes, Esteban has atrocious self-esteem, but these impressions did not come from nothing. Even now, his family keeps him largely at arm's length. He doesn't appear (or isn't even mentioned) in the two family vacation episodes, suggesting he was left behind. His Navidad plans (the ones he has been dreaming of , all alone for 41 years!) are rejected outright by Luisa, and no one even bothers to ask what the Dark Times were like or how he is coping. Everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. He's there, sometimes he is shown attention and affection, but he's still made to feel that he's not really a part of the family in the same way the others were.

All this is pretty bad in and of itself, but it's made worse by the fact that he's not getting his emotional needs fulfilled from outside the family any more than he is within it. As far as we can tell, Esteban's only real friends as a child were Elena and Victor. (Maybe Felicia as well, but she was far more Elena's friend than his). And neither Victor nor Elena could give Esteban what he needed: the feeling of being liked and chosen for himself and that alone.

Elena is family--the same family has made Esteban feel like an afterthought and obligation, merely liked at best and tolerated at worst. But that's oversimplifying things. Elena is also the impossible gold standard that Esteban will always be measuring himself against. (And it's especially galling that she was 1-2 years younger than him, and he was still nowhere near her level). She's the favorite (and Luisa is not subtle about hiding that fact), the priority, the important one. She's the one who has always been and will always be secure in power and confidence and their familia's love--the exact opposite of Esteban.

Victor, meanwhile, was a horrible influence on Esteban, and not just where Shuriki was concerned. His selfishness rubbed off on his amigo, and his competitiveness and callousness brought out every one of Esteban's insecurities and worst tendencies. It's also very strongly implied that their friendship (at least on Victor's side) was rooted in how 'useful' Esteban was. Through El Segundo, Victor got closer to power/the crown and also found someone that he could feel "superior" to. Someone that Victor could consistently beat at races, so that he could feel like a winner. Someone who wouldn't tell Victor to go to hell if he subjected unflattering nicknames upon.

So yeah, Esteban's childhood primary source of affection/attention outside his family were two people who exacerbated Esteban's already huge inferiority complex. One of whom was part of said family that enabled said inferiority complex in the first place, and the other of whom is wrapped up in the event that caused Esteban to lose his family as well.

And then, Elena was trapped in the amulet and Victor was banished from Avalor, and Esteban was without anyone at all for 41 years. His primary source of attention and affection during this time was the woman who conquered his kingdom and took away his family. Someone who had preyed upon his vulnerabilities from the very start and who kept him alive only so long as he remains obedient and "useful" to her. There's nothing even remotely close to equal or mutual about this dynamic, and Shuriki did even more damage on Esteban's already battered psyche than all of the others combined and multiplied by ten.

Even after Shuriki is gone, Esteban still doesn't have anyone in his life that voluntarily chose to be in his life. His entire social circle is comprised of people that he knows through his family and/or his role as chancellor (and later his magical abilities). There's Naomi, except there isn't, because their dynamic is rooted exclusively in their shared devotion to Elena and their roles on the Grand Council (which is also directly tied to Elena).

Similarly, Doña Paloma interacts with Esteban almost exclusively in reference to his role as Chancellor. Would she give him the time of day if he had no political power or influence?. Doubtful, especially as she seems to really dislike him most of the time. There's a bit more potential for a genuine friendship to develop with Julio or Professor Mendoza, but again, these connections were formed through Esteban's job and we don't really see any interactions that aren't in service to that.

Higgins is explicitly Esteban's employee and given how insensitive he can be to Esteban, it seems unlikely that he has any real non-professional loyalty or affection to him. Same with Armando, except things do seem to a bit more cordial between them.

Esteban seems to have a good rapport with Avalor's allies, especially Toshi and Shoji, but these are unlikely to be anything more than friendly diplomatic connections and ones separated by distance.

So yeah, my boy literally does not interact with a single character on the show without at least one of them doing so out of obligation/duty/job requirement and/or ulterior motive. Fifty years later and almost nothing has changed, Esteban still has nothing and no one to call his own.

[confused-spood]

When you see a reel bro would lowkey fw but he has a gf now and the reel can be viewed differently

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand. 

[giantkillerjack]

It is very true that this "kid-glove explaining" IS sometimes the only way to get any assistance at all, and that this is absolutely not the fault of the disabled people who have been put in so horrible a position by their ableist loved ones. You have to do what you must to survive.

But i just want to emphasize how it is also true that the labor of these kinds of repeated forced-calm explanations can be extremely harmful for the disabled person long-term.

I say this because I THOUGHT I had made progress with teaching my family, but in fact I had only gained a LOT of additional trauma and grief during a time when I desperately needed non-ableist support.

I was sick and in crisis for years, and during that time, I repeatedly spent the energy i could have used to ask friends for help on instead begging my family to learn how to stop hLeping me and start Helping me.

This genuinely endangered my life on multiple occasions. Imagine the difference between getting immediate help bailing water out of your sinking ship (ex. my friend Laura metaphorically jumping into my boat with buckets and pumps and no judgment), and having to instead stand in your increasingly-sinking ship explaining (so SO gently or else they will dismiss you entirely, even though the water is creeping up to your neck) to someone that "actually no, adding water to my boat doesn't help please PLEASE just bail it out; I cannot emphasize enough that I can't swim why do I have to keep saying that? no I don't think I could have avoided that hurricane and it hurts that you keep asking; no I am not faking it - why would I fake this?? What kind of person do you think I am??" - as they allow the water to creep up to your chin. That's the difference between help and hLep.

Also, a helper wants you to have all the help you could possibly need, and they recognize that they almost certainly can't provide you with everything you need on their own. (Ex. My partner can't help me with panic attacks most of the time due to her own mental illness. But she helps with all sorts of other stuff, communicates her limits, and actively encourages me to rely on my friends for support.)

Meanwhile, a hLeper might be offended that you would even want ANYONE'S assistance besides their own because it isn't about *your need,* it is about *their pride.*

If the people around me *get angry at me for being angry* when THEY are the ones who hurt ME, then I no longer want them around me. And I hope to have the skill and the privilege to be able to stay in control of that. I hope someday we all can have that.

And to every disabled person stuck waiting for better days: Please survive in the meantime because your survival is the key to a better future for us. It will be better with you there. I don't care if you disagree with me; you won't persuade me otherwise - I am a stubborn Jack. I want you there. Disabled survival is an act of radical resistance. You, along with the other contributiors to this post, are Punk As Fuck.

I go into these concepts some more in this version of the post.

[Also, if you have any trouble reading the opening paragraphs of this post, I edited the original post into a more dyslexic-friendly version, and I've tried to include that link in every version of the post that I refer to.]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hlep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you ask for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hlep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hlep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it helps reinforce the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hleper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

demonstration

words: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, reader is toppers girlfriend, struggling to cum, female receiving oral and fingering, multiple orgasms, edging and overstimulation, protected and unprotected sex, cheating

“maybe you could ask one of your friends for help, top.” you pout, rubbing your hand over his shoulder, not wanting him feel any more upset than he needs to be, but at the same time, you’re not sure how much longer this can go on.

“you can't tell me what i can do to fix it?” topper asks.

“you know i was a virgin before you babe, i really don’t know.” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “maybe ask rafe?” “rafe?” topper turns suddenly to look at you. “why him?” “i’ve just… heard talk from some of my friends. he can probably give you some good advice. i don’t know.” you shrug. “maybe it’s something wrong with me.” “no, don’t say that.” topper shakes his head, turning to pull you into him, a hand around your waist.

“you ask your friends and i’ll ask mine.” you give as an option. topper nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead, hoping the next time you’re in his bedroom, it’ll go a lot better.

--

“what?” rafe gawks at his friend, unsure if he heard him right or if he was going crazy.

“ive never… i’ve never made y/n cum before and i just… i need to know what to do rafe! i’m worried she’s gonna leave me if i can’t get it together and i guess- fuck! i don’t know! just help me out man!” topper paces quickly, bringing his hands to his hair, tugging on it, stressed out of his mind.

“okay, alright, jesus, just clam down!” rafe says, sitting down on the couch, gesturing for topper to sit as well. he’s not sure how long he can keep himself still, already feeling awkward and nervous about not being able to make you cum, only made worse by trying to talk to rafe about it.

“every time i fuck her, i just get so over excited and cum too quickly and i know this is tmi but i just try my best and every time she doesn’t cum and she says its okay but i know it’s really not.” topper blurts out.

“alright, well…” rafe sighs, pushing his hand through his hair. he’s never had this type of issue before with girls. “do you finger her? or eat her out? before you fuck her, i mean.” “i eat her out sometimes.” topper shrugs. “she says my tongue feels good and i can make her cum like that, but not when im fucking her, i just don’t know what to do, i just get so excited and… and i’ve never had this problem with girls before, it’s just y/n.”

“to be fair, she’s hotter than any girl you’ve been with before.” rafe comments. it’s no secret, so he doesn’t feel bad saying it, especially when topper nods.

“she’s way out of my league, thats why i’m sure if i don’t fix this she’s gonna leave me.” topper sighs.

“maybe a demonstration could help?” rafe suggests, making toppers head snap towards him, a look of fury in his eyes.

“you are not allowed to fuck my girlfriend.”

“no, man.” rafe shakes his head. “what if i’m there while you fuck her? then i can give you specifics, and she will know you are really trying. she told you to ask me right?” “yeah, i guess you have a reputation of being really good.” topper cringes at his own words.

“i am. so, let me help you, top. brother to brother.”

--

rafe understands why topper has such a hard time keeping it together as you lay out naked on the bed, eyes flickering between your boyfriend and his best friend, a cautiously optimistic look on your face.

“go ahead and spread your legs.” rafe says, trying to keep his tone even, to disguise the lust that he feels as his eyes move from your breasts down to between your thighs.

“can you get naked first topper? i feel weird here.” topper was shirtless, but still had his shorts and underwear on, even though he was obviously straining against the fabric. 

“yeah.” topper glances briefly to rafe before tugging them down his hips, letting his cock spring free. 

“so have you ever cum before y/n?” rafe asks.

“yeah, um… with my own fingers.” you cough awkwardly. “and when topper eats me out.”

“its really just when i’m inside of her.” topper says with a thick swallow as your thighs part, opening them wide to show off your pussy, already gleaming with wetness and a peachy pink color that makes rafe want to bend down and bury his tongue inside of your folds, but he has to behave himself, just happy to have this opportunity to see you like this.

“why don’t you finger her first? then you can show me. open her up a little, it’ll help.” rafe instructs.

topper nods, reaching down and pressing one finger against your hole. you tense up briefly before relaxing, allowing topper to push his finger in.

“is she tight?” rafe asks, without really meaning to, but he figures you must be from the way you are squeezed so tightly around his finger.

“yeah, that’s why i can never last.” topper says, thrusting his finger in and out, the slick sounds of his movement squelching throughout the room.

“does that feel good y/n?” rafe asks, eyes flickering up to your face.

“mhm.” you nod, but you don’t feel any urge to moan, needing more. “could add a second, top.” “okay.” topper nods, trying to work a second finger in, but you hiss at the stretch, primarily hurting around your entrance, despite your wetness.

“gotta rub her clit too.” rafe says, reaching over and pressing a fingertip to your clit, rubbing it. you gasp out, not just from the good feeling but from rafe touching you, like he swore to topper he wouldn’t do before he agreed to this.

toppers finger slips easily in once you’ve relaxed to having your clit rubbed. topper looks slightly annoyed, but he stays silent when he sees how much you’re liking it now, unable to hold back your moans. “oh, just like that.” you moan, eyes fluttering closed.

“see if you can add a third.” rafe says, flicking his finger over your clit before going back to rubbing.

“i’ve-i’ve never been able to take more than two.” you sit up slightly, surprised when topper presses a third finger and manages to begin thrusting it inside of you.

“aw, fuck.” you whine, trying to close your legs, but topper holds one thigh open with his hand while rafe grasps the other.

“keep ‘em open, cutie.” rafe says. “gonna cum?”

“yeah, yeah keep going-” you cut yourself off before you can yell rafes name instead of toppers.

“pull out, top.” rafe says, suddenly taking his hand away, making your back arch off the bed as you squirm, trying to chase their fingers, to get them back touching you.

“no, no, no.” you whine when topper also pulls out, leaving your hole clenching around nothing.

“sometimes if you’re struggling having her cum with your cock inside her, you can edge her first.” rafe says, switching easily back to teacher mode.

“should i fuck her now?” topper looks to rafe, before glancing to you, realizing he shouldn’t be asking permission to fuck his own girlfriend, but rafe has that type of energy, that commanding presence that easily makes him in control of any situation.

“yeah, put the condom on though.” rafe glances to the bed where topper threw a condom out of his pocket earlier. while topper slides it on, your focus on him, rafe takes a moment to reach to his crotch, squeezing his cock and begging himself to settle, to calm down.

topper lines himself up with your entrance, placing one hand on your hip as he lines himself up with his other hand, pushing inside of you slowly as you moan, eyes squeezing shut, obviously aroused and feeling good by him stretching you, so rafe is unsure what the issue is, until topper begins to move.

he’s thrusting too rapidly, overwhelming you. rafe shakes his head, “slowly, topper. deeper thrusts.”

topper manages to get control of himself, slowing down but still not thrusting deeper, and rafe realizes its because of the angle, topper not holding himself low enough to properly thrust.

“here.” rafe grabs a pillow, a different one from the one you’re laying your head on. rafe taps your hip and you lift them as he stuffs the pillow underneath. “try now.”

topper scooches closer, now able to thrust much easier, entering you at a far better angle as he takes you repeatedly, still going too erratically, too random.

“on a beat.” rafe says. “gotta fuck her steady, can’t just jackhammer.” “i-i-” topper groans out, pulling out, much to your disappointment as you let out a deep sigh. “i can’t, was about to cum.” “damn, baby, you must be real tight.” rafe glances to you, making you blush and close your legs slightly, which is hard as you are propped up, spread open on display.

“try again, top, it’s okay.” you soothe him, keeping your voice soft and steady.

topper nods, retaking his cock in his hand, pushing it back inside. you nod in encouragement as he moves, already going to shallow and too fast to properly build you up.

“gotta rub her clit too, man. remember she’s already close from getting edged.” rafe tries to instruct, but when topper places his thumb on your clit, his movements are jerky and too harsh, almost hurting as you cringe, but in your displeasure, your cunt clenches around toppers cock and he looses control, moaning as he cums, pumping into the condom.

“shit!” topper shouts out in pleasure, before he realizes you’re looking up at him with disappointment in your eyes. “shit.” he groans again, this time angry with himself as he pulls out in shame.

“it’s okay, top.” you sit up, moving the pillow as you reach out for your boyfriend, or at least attempt to, but he moves away, looking down in shame.

“you’re gonna break up with me now.” toppers voice is sad as he speaks.

“what?” it takes you back, not expecting it.

“you’re gonna break up with me, aren’t you? because i can’t make you cum, you’re gonna leave me? god, i’m so pathetic.” “i can’t believe you think i’m that shallow.” you scoff as topper pulls the condom off and tosses it into rafes trashcan, who is simply glancing back and forth between the two of you. “that i would break up with you over sex?” “you wouldn’t?” topper questions.

“you would?” you question back, growing frustrated. “topper, i let you take my virginity, i can’t believe you thought i would do that just… just go.”

“no, baby, listen.” topper begins.

“i’m not breaking up with you yet.” you tell him. “but i need some space, please just go.” 

topper can’t hide the tears welling up in his eyes, and he doesn’t want to cry in front of you, and especially not rafe, so he pulls his clothes back on quickly and haphazardly before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him.

you sigh, burying your head in your hands. you wouldn’t break up with topper just because of sex, but his reaction to what happened makes you question everything.

“you okay baby?” rafe asks, making you jump, forgetting he was there.

“yeah, sorry, i can leave.” you move to get off the bed when rafe grabs your wrists, making you stop.

“or you could stay.” rafe says, his voice suggestive, as well as the look on his face.

“i-but topper…” “just finishing off what he started. come on, you came here for help anyways. lets see if you can cum when i fuck you.” “i-i guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” --

rafe finally picks his head up from between your legs, cunt now bright red and covered in mess due to your three orgasms his tongue and fingers brought out of you, deciding to go for overstimulation instead of edging, now that he was the one getting to have you.

“still thinking about topper?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit, making you whine out.

“no.” you admit honestly, all of your thoughts have been replaced by rafe. “fuck me, please, rafe.”

rafe smirks, standing up and taking his shirt off, pleased that your eyes glaze over as you watch him undress, jaw dropping open when his cock is revealed, already hard and leaking.

“yeah, i know i’m bigger than him.” rafe smirks as he climbs onto the bed. “but i opened you up enough, didn’t i? or do i need to make you cum again?”

“n-no.” you shake your head, already so overstimulated. “i want your cock, i need it.” “he always fucks you in missionary?” rafe asks, wanting to make you cum in the same position that topper couldn’t, proving yet another way he’s superior.

“yeah, we haven’t tried anything else.” you say, leaving out the word yet not sure if you can go back to topper after this.

rafe nods, looking towards his drawer that he knows contains condoms, going to grab one before you speak up suddenly, “you-you can fuck me raw. if you want. i’m on birth control.” rafe can’t help but smirk, nodding as he grabs the same pillow again, placing it under your hips, bringing your tired legs up, thighs falling open.

“tell me if it hurts or if anything doesn’t feel good.” rafe says. he’s sure it’s toppers' inadequacies making you struggle, but just in case he wants to take good care of you.

“mkay.” you nod, hands fisting in the bed sheets as rafe rubs the head of his cock through your sticky folds, making sure to tap against your clit, just to tease you even further.

“gonna fuck you so much better than he ever could. ‘ts why you should be with me instead, baby.” rafe says, not letting you respond or even think too much about his statement as his cock pushes inside of you, making your back arch off the bed.

“oh my god!” you shout out, moaning wildly without care as rafe begins to thrust, deep and hard, hitting spots inside of you that topper has never touched before.

“oh, fuck.” rafe groans out. “you are tight, baby.” your cunt is squeezing him, molding to his walls. “no wonder he cums so quickly.” you shake your head, not wanting to think about topper, not wanting to feel any guilt or regret as rafes hips swing forward, cock pressing against your gummy walls as he moves a thumb to your clit, rubbing it in that same enticing way that made your high build so quickly last time.

“feels really good, rafey.” you moan, raising and lower your hips slightly in time with his thrusts, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, feeling his hot skin against yours, the first person to take you bare.

“i knew there was nothing wrong with you.” rafe smirks. “already close to cumming, aren’t you?”

despite your body being tired from your three previous orgasms, you do feel another one building in your stomach.

“yeah, thats what i thought.” rafe moves faster, rubbing his thumb more intensely. “nothing wrong with you baby, you are perfect. perfect tight little cunt.” “please.” you whine out, unsure what you are begging for as tears slide down your cheeks, purely from being overwhelmed with pleasure. you’ve never managed more than two orgasms in a night, and he’s close to doubling that.

“cum for me, doll. don’t have to beg. wanna feel that cunt squeezing around me.” rafe encourages you, pumping quickly as he pinches your clit between his thumb and finger before letting go and rubbing quickly, forcing the orgasm out of you as you scream, entire body tightening as your hips rise, high overtaking you as your eyes open to see rafe looking back at you, cocky look in his eye, but his jaw is slackened in pleasure as your cunt spasms around his dick.

“that’s it, good girl.” rafe affirms, thumb now gently touching around your clit, bringing you down slowly as his cock stays lodged deep inside of you.

you shiver as you lower your hips, breath slowly coming back to normal. 

rafe bends over your body, taking your lips in a kiss. you moan into his mouth, his tongue licking against your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth.

“you just came on my cock, pretty girl.” rafe says.

“i know, i loved it.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as rafe kisses your jaw, obsessed with the taste of your skin almost as much as your cunt.

“hmm, so two more? three?” rafe suddenly snaps his hips forward, making you realize he’s still buried inside of you.

“wait, wha-” your question is cut off as rafe straightens, resuming his same pace as if he didn’t just deliver you the most mind blowing orgasm.

“you think i’d be satisfied with getting you to cum just once?” rafe tsks and shakes his head. “we aren’t even close to done.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore.