#like you can really feel the weight of their ages in this. rose is so young and so vibrant and she brought that vitality back to the doctor

[malinaa]

thinking about doomsday again . the way the doctor grieves rose is so heartbreaking because you can see it in his eyes that he’s always knew this was gonna happen. he was always going to have to grieve her. he’s just…empty. rose, in pete’s world, is banging on the wall, crying, screaming with this childlike anger. it’s so visceral because she’s so young. she’s experienced loss before but not to this level, not this personally, not this tragically. the contrast with the doctor being quiet…..god for someone who is so unable to shut up, his grief silences him and it’s BRUTAL

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you��” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

[sadcoms]

until i recently read posts on here about how there is an inherent queerness to the doctor and rose's relationship in how it's unspoken and filled with yearning that i'd never really considered that element, despite knowing for ages that RTD is gay but. man. it's just reframed a lot of the series for me, like the idea that you have this lonely man who's just watched his people die and is self-destructive and misanthropic and traumatised and he can love again and he wants to but it has so many risks.

but especially S3 and how it adds even more weight to the doctor's grieving widower status. how he tells martha that he and rose were together but martha refers to rose as a friend to tallulah; the fact that he can only say they were together once she is gone; how the only other person that both can feel how he feels but also understands the depth of his feelings is jack, a queer man himself. and I've been thinking to myself lately oh, it's ok, the doctor and rose probably accidentally got married on at least one planet or something but also the point is that there was no official title that could convey to people the extent that they meant to each other, that the doctor can really only tell donna that rose was his friend even though it is so wholly inadequate and she comes to see that by the end of the episode (and martha too of course). how people who saw the doctor and rose together assumed they were a couple, like on krop tor, but once there's no more physical evidence of the relationship it becomes more vague (and simultaneously clearer).

anyway something about how christopher eccleston said he based his portrayal of nine on RTD and something about RTD saying that his husband is "in every good man i write now" and how the doctor and ruby seeing each other in the club mimics his first meeting with his husband aka the one moment he would use a time machine to go back to hmmm

[03jyh23]

— shooting stars!  || park seonghwa

loosely inspired by the drama shitting stars!

Most people aren’t interested in the truth. They just casually gossip to entertain themselves. No one takes responsibility for the caused pain.

idol!seonghwa x prmanager!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

trigger warnings: vanilla sex, honestly there's not much just kissing, touching, and... lovemaking. really soft smut. it's embarrassing, jealousy, argument, emotional distress, career-related stress, and difficult decisions

words: 8.2 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! this is my longest story so far! i've been working on it like crazy for the past few days and here we finally are. so the smut... it's not really a smut but still? i tried oh god, i feel so embarrassed but yeah i just decided to go for it. it's again requested work but i actually changed some of it to fit into my idea... anyway thank you so much for requesting!

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i'd be so grateful for a little love – a like or comment would truly make my day!

The office in Mapo-gu, Seoul, felt stiflingly hot, despite having already downed three cups of iced coffee. With the air conditioning out of order and repairs not scheduled until two days later, you found yourself drowning in a sea of work. Who would have imagined that working at a medium-sized entertainment agency would entail such an overwhelming workload? You should have felt grateful for landing this job, considering the effort you had put into securing it, but at times, it felt overwhelmingly demanding. Being the head of the PR department at KQ Entertainment was certainly something to boast about, especially after ATEEZ's success. You joined the company a few years back when you were the sole member of the PR team. If you claimed you believed in the company's success from the beginning, you'd be lying. When you first entered, fear outweighed optimism regarding the future. Indeed, it was no small feat for eight teenage boys to shoulder the weight of an entire company, but ATEEZ rose to the challenge with unwavering determination and passion. Now, with two active bands under KQ's wings, you find yourself constantly occupied.  

Managing the members of ATEEZ was undoubtedly a challenging task, and surprisingly, it wasn't due to any misbehavior on their part. Despite their young age and the temptations that come with fame, the ATEEZ members remained remarkably grounded and focused on their careers. You truly admired that. But when a band from such a small company starts gaining momentum, rumors are bound to circulate. Your main priority was to prevent those rumors from leaking. Which wasn't easy, as people can be cruel when they're envious. But still, to this day ATEEZ has not been involved in any major scandals, which made you proud.  

In a small company like KQ, everybody knows each other. Initially, stepping into that environment, you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous around the members of ATEEZ. Their presence seemed to exude a magnetic energy that was both captivating and intimidating. As you interacted with them more and more, you realized that their aura was indeed something special. Each member brought their own unique charm and personality to the table. You and the members of ATEEZ grew slightly closer than others, due to your similar ages, but it was Seonghwa who stood out to you the most. His effortless humor, kindness, and genuine care for others made him a favorite. Right from the start, you felt drawn to him. However, you maintained a professional demeanor, knowing all too well the potential consequences of getting too close, especially considering his status as an idol. But at some point, company dinners and parties became regular occasions, where you celebrated each of ATEEZ’s success together. And as the alcohol in your system increased, your professionalism decreased. Your bond with Seonghwa deepened, you found yourself drawn to him more than ever before. Whether it was sharing drinks, engaging in playful games, or simply relishing heartfelt conversations over company dinner, you cherished every moment spent in his company. With each passing interaction, your admiration for him grew, and before you knew it, you were falling head over heels for him. Despite the looming fear of crossing a line you couldn't return from; you couldn't resist him. What started as a professional relationship evolved into something much deeper and more profound. The shy touches and lingering glances exchanged between you spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words alone couldn't express. In the midst of loud music and bustling crowds, you found yourselves leaning closer to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of each other's presence. His hand naturally gravitated to your waist whenever you stood side by side, a silent yet undeniable declaration of the connection you shared. 

The day had been long and exhausting, and you were just about ready to call it quits when the sudden intrusion of your boss jolted you from your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see him standing in the doorway, a look of excitement and urgency written across his face. 

"Y/N! Have you heard?" he exclaimed; his voice filled with anticipation. You blinked in surprise, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you leaned forward in your chair.  

"Heard what?" you asked, curiosity piqued. Your boss couldn't contain his grin as he delivered the news.  

"ATEEZ just sold out an entire US Tour!" The words hung in the air, sinking in slowly as you processed their significance. And then, without warning, a surge of elation washed over you, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, a joyful scream escaping your lips. 

"What?" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. Without a second thought, you rushed forward, enveloping your boss in a tight hug, overcome with happiness at the incredible news. It was a moment of pure exhilaration, a testament to the hard work and dedication of everyone involved in ATEEZ's journey. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment. The excitement in your boss's voice was contagious as he patted your back, a wide grin spreading across his face.  

"We are celebrating tonight!" he declared with enthusiasm, his words echoing through the office. A surge of anticipation raced through you at the prospect of celebrating ATEEZ's incredible achievement.  

"Absolutely!" you replied eagerly, already picturing the party ahead. With a playful wink, your boss continued,  

"So go back to your place, doll up, and I'll see you here at 7 sharp!" You nodded enthusiastically, a smile stretching from ear to ear.  

"You got it!" You exclaimed, already mentally planning your outfit for the evening. As you made your way out of the office, the excitement of the impending celebration filled you with renewed energy. With a spring in your step and a heart full of anticipation, you packed up your belongings and bid farewell to the office for the day. The thought of celebrating ATEEZ's success and the prospect of finally seeing Seonghwa filled you with an infectious excitement that bubbled within you. As you made your way through the bustling streets, the anticipation only grew stronger. The familiar sights and sounds of the city seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the promise of the evening ahead. Tonight was a night for celebration, a chance to toast to ATEEZ's success and revel in the joy of being surrounded by friends and colleagues. But above all else, it was a night to be reunited with Seonghwa, and you couldn't wait to see where the evening would take you. With a smile on your face and excitement in your heart, you pushed open the door to your apartment.  

After a quick shower to freshen up and wash away the cares of the day, you set about styling your hair and applying my makeup with meticulous care. With the luxury of extra time on your hands, you paid attention to every detail to ensure that you looked and felt your best for the evening ahead. After finishing your make-up, you reached out for your phone resting on the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Seonghwa's name flashing on the screen. A surge of excitement coursed through you as you answered the call, eager to hear his voice after what felt like an eternity apart. 

"Hello?" You said, your voice tinged with anticipation as you brought the phone to your ear, butterflies dancing in your stomach. 

"Hey, it's me," Seonghwa's voice came through the line, warm and familiar, sending a rush of warmth through you. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,  

"Hi, Seonghwa. I was just thinking about you." There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft chuckle.  

"Funny, I was just thinking about you too," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I will see you tonight, right?"  

"Absolutely, I wouldn't miss it for anything," you replied without hesitation, "We definitely need to celebrate!" 

"Honestly, the only thing that matters is that I will finally see you," Seonghwa's voice came through the phone, filled with warmth and affection. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,  

"Same here, Seonghwa. I've missed you." And as you exchanged a few more words of affection and excitement, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to be reunited once more. With a renewed sense of anticipation and joy, you ended the call, a sense of warmth and happiness lingering in your heart. Tonight was going to be a night to remember, and you couldn't wait to see Seonghwa's smiling face once more. 

Choosing the perfect outfit for the evening was challenging. On one hand, you wanted to look your best – to make a memorable impression on Seonghwa after being apart for so long due to his overseas schedule. But on the other hand, you didn't want to appear overdressed or out of place at the party. After rummaging through your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, you finally settled on something. Opting for a timeless and sophisticated look, you selected a classic black shirt for the evening's celebration. Deciding to add a touch of allure to the ensemble, you opted to leave the top few buttons of the shirt undone, revealing a hint of skin. It was a small gesture, but it added just the right amount of intrigue to the outfit. Paired with a simple black skirt that hit just in the middle of your tights, the combination was effortlessly sexy. The monochromatic palette created a sleek and cohesive look that was eye-catching. With a few carefully chosen accessories – a delicate, gold necklace, a pair of understated earrings, and a sleek clutch – you completed the outfit. As you admired your reflection in the mirror, a sense of excitement washed over you. Tonight was going to be a night to remember. 

You entered the company building, the air was filled with electric energy, a tangible sense of excitement pulsating through the air. Everywhere you looked, you could see signs of preparation – colorful balloons swaying gently in the breeze, banners hanging from the walls, and a festive atmosphere that filled the space with warmth and joy. A smile spread across your lips as you took in the sight before you, feeling a surge of excitement building within you. It was clear that everyone had gone to great lengths to ensure that tonight's celebration would be a night to remember, a fitting tribute to ATEEZ's incredible achievement. With each step you took, the anticipation continued to build, fueled by the excitement of finally being reunited with Seonghwa and the rest of the ATEEZ members. After exchanging greetings with everyone and soaking in the festive atmosphere, you found yourself nestled in a cozy corner of the room, a drink in hand. As you scanned the bustling room, your heart skipped a beat with each familiar face that passed by, hoping to catch sight of Seonghwa among the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.  

"Y/N!" As you heard your name called from across the room, you turned your head in the direction of the sound. Through the sea of people, you spotted a familiar face. 

"San!" You greeted him enthusiastically as he approached, a genuine smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. San was always such a warm and friendly presence, and you were genuinely glad that he had come over to you. "Congratulations!" you exclaimed as San pulled you in a warm hug. With a smile, you pulled back from the hug, meeting his gaze with genuine happiness in your eyes. "I'm so happy for you, San," you said sincerely, knowing that his success was well-deserved.  

"It's truly incredible," San replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he raised his glass to clink it against yours. The sound of glass meeting glass echoed through the room, a toast to success. "It's moments like these that make all the hard work worth it," San said, you nodded with agreement. "Here's to many more successes and celebrations to come." with a smile, you took another sip of your drink, savoring the moment and feeling grateful for the opportunity to share it with a friend like San. 

''Y/N! You look amazing!' You didn't notice when Hongjoong approached you, 

"Thank you!" You replied, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Before you could react, Hongjoong took your hand and spun you around gently, causing laughter to bubble up from within you. His eyes scanned you appreciatively, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks under his gaze. It was a simple gesture, but it filled you with a sense of happiness.  

"Am I interrupting something?" As the question hung in the air, you turned your gaze away from Hongjoong and met Seonghwa's eyes, feeling a rush of emotions wash over you. His presence seemed to fill the room, drawing you in with an intensity that was both exhilarating and unnerving. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you both. In that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you standing there, caught in a moment. 

"No, not at all," you replied, as you tore your gaze away from Seonghwa's, turning back to face San and Hongjoong. "We were just catching up." your mind remained fixed on Seonghwa, unable to shake the feeling of his presence lingering in the air.  

"I was just telling her how amazing she looks tonight," As Hongjoong's words filled the air, a warm smile spread across your face at his kind gesture. It was a small reassurance amid the tension that lingered between Seonghwa and you, 

"Thank you, Hongjoong," you replied with genuine gratitude, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to face Seonghwa once more. His eyes bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts lay behind Seonghwa's gaze. 

''We will leave you two alone and say hi to the rest of the team.'' San spoke, as he took Hongjoong by his arm, and pulled him behind. 

"Of course," you replied, nodding in understanding as San and Hongjoong made their way towards the rest of the team. They disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. 

“I don’t like the way they look at you” Seonghwa's words hung in the air, breaking the silence with a weight that you couldn't ignore. His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of concern that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and curiosity at his sudden confession.  

"What do you mean?" you asked. There was a depth to his words that hinted at something more, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to elaborate. Seonghwa sighed, his expression troubled as he struggled to find the right words.  

"I mean... I just don't like the way they look at you," he confessed, his voice strained with emotion. His admission caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for how to respond. "It drives me crazy." As he downed his drink in one swift motion, you could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.  

"Seonghwa, are you... jealous?" you asked tentatively, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes widened at your question, and for a moment, he was speechless. 

"Jealous?" Seonghwa repeated, seemingly taken aback by your question. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the answer himself. After a moment of silence, he let out a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Maybe I am," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The intensity of his confession made your heart flutter, and a blush crept up your cheeks. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, a sign of his nervousness that you had come to recognize. 

"I just... I care about you, you know?" He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you hadn't seen before. It was a look of protectiveness, of possessiveness, but also of vulnerability. And in that moment, you realized that perhaps Seonghwa's feelings ran deeper than you had initially thought. Your moment was abruptly interrupted by someone calling his name from across the room. Your heart sank slightly, realizing that you wouldn't have the opportunity to delve deeper into the conversation. Seonghwa glanced at you apologetically, his expression filled with regret. 

"I'll be right back," he promised, his voice tinged with disappointment. You nodded in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile despite the lingering questions in your mind.  

"Take your time," you replied, watching as he made his way through the crowd, his figure disappearing into the throng of people. Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder about the true meaning behind Seonghwa's words. His confession had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within you, and you longed for the chance to delve deeper into it. But for now, all you could do was wait, hoping for the opportunity to continue your conversation when the time was right.  

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in a whirlwind of conversations and celebrations, the opportunity to continue the conversation with Seonghwa slipping further and further away with each passing moment. Seonghwa seemed to be caught up in the festivities as well, pulled in different directions by the demands of the evening. Despite your best efforts to find a moment alone with him, the bustling atmosphere of the party made it difficult to carve out the time for a private conversation. Seonghwa was constantly surrounded by friends and colleagues, and you found yourself pulled in different directions as well, engaging in lively discussions and catching up with the rest of the team.  

The atmosphere in the company was quiet, with only the faint echoes of the recent party lingering in the air. As the party slowly wound down and the last of the guests trickled out of the door, you found yourself alone in the room, left to clean up the aftermath. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, and you turned to find Seonghwa lingering in the doorway.  

"Can I help you clean up?" he asked, his voice gentle and earnest. You nodded, appreciating his offer of help and the chance to speak with him once again. 

"Of course, thank you, Seonghwa." You replied, welcoming his company. Together, you started to pick up the scattered cups and plates, the silence between you comfortable yet filled with anticipation. Seonghwa worked diligently, making quick work of the mess. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, admiring his focus. When he finished, he looked up and met your gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"It's much easier with two people," he commented, breaking the silence. You agreed and thanked him again for his help. The room was now clean, but neither of you made a move to leave. Seonghwa finally broke the silence.  

"About what I said earlier," he began, hesitating slightly. You nodded, indicating that you were listening. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he continued. "I meant what I said. I care about you... more than I probably should." His words echoed in the empty room; the atmosphere suddenly heavy. You looked at him, surprised by his confession but also relieved. His feelings mirrored your own, and you found yourself smiling at him. 

"I care about you too, Seonghwa," you replied, his face lit up at your words, and for the first time that evening, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. 

"Can I kiss you?" His words sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, and without hesitation, you reached out to gently cup his face in your hands. 

"Yes," you whispered, Seonghwa’s eyes twinkled with happiness at your answer. You could feel your heart pound against your chest in anticipation. Seonghwa’s touch was gentle yet commanding as he pulled you closer by your waist, drawing you into his embrace with a magnetic force that was impossible to resist. As his touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, your body reacted instinctively, responding to the electrifying sensation with an intensity that took your breath away. Every nerve seemed to ignite with a fiery spark as his fingertips grazed your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation. Seonghwa's lips were warm and soft against yours, each gentle brush sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. The moment his lips met yours, everything around melted away. All you could feel was him; his lips on yours, his heartbeat echoing your own. The kiss was soft, tender, filled with all the emotions that had been building up between you. With each press of Seonghwa’s lips against yours, you felt yourself melting into his touch, losing yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his embrace. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, a steady rhythm echoing the urgency of the desire that coursed through you. With each caress, your senses were heightened, attuned to every nuance of his touch. It was as if a spark had been ignited within you, setting your entire being ablaze with a fierce longing that threatened to consume you whole.  

"Seonghwa, we shouldn't," you whispered breathlessly against his lips as you pulled away, a pang of hesitation gnawing at your heart.  

"Why not?" He murmured, his breath hitching as he stared at you with a look of surprise and confusion. His words resonated within you, forcing you to confront the fear that had been lingering at the back of your mind. You swallowed hard, your mind wrestling with the feelings that had been building up inside you. 

"You're an idol, Seonghwa, and I... I work for your PR team," you started, your voice barely a whisper. You watched as the confusion in his eyes shifted to understanding, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "The rules... the... the consequences," you stuttered, your heart pounding as you tried to put your fears into words. "We could get caught... I could lose my job... and it could ruin your career." For a moment, Seonghwa was silent, absorbing your words. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his feelings and the harsh reality of the world you both lived in. But then, he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"I understand," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. "But I can't help how I feel about you. We'll figure this out... together." You tried to say something, to voice the concerns still swirling in your mind, but Seonghwa shook his head and placed a finger on your lips.  

"Shhh... I've waited too long for this," he murmured, and before you could respond, he leaned in once again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that left no room for argument. His touch was electrifying, his lips hungry and insistent against yours, and you found yourself returning his fervor with equal intensity. There was no gentleness, no tender caresses. Instead, your kiss was raw and unbridled, fueled by a primal hunger that threatened to consume you both. With each brush of your lips, the barriers that had once held you back crumbled, giving way to an overwhelming surge of desire. In the heat of the moment, there was no room for hesitation or doubt. All that mattered was the fiery connection that blazed between you, igniting a flame that burned brighter with each passing second. And as you lost yourselves in the intoxicating rush of passion, you knew that there was no turning back. As the world around you melted away, you found the courage to voice the words that had been on the tip of your tongue.  

"Let's go to my place," you breathed out, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response. Seonghwa looked at you, a slight surprise in his eyes. Then a slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features into a look of pure happiness.  

"I'd love to," he replied, his voice husky. You reached out, gently grasping Seonghwa's wrist and pulling him to follow you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was a glimmer of excitement mirrored in their depths. With a sense of urgency, you swiftly took your purse. Every movement was propelled by a heady mix of anticipation and desire, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rapid pace of your thoughts. As you made your way to the back door, Seonghwa paused for a moment, reaching for his jacket, glasses, and a mask before stepping outside. You were struck by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. In that simple gesture, you saw a glimpse of the considerate and caring person he was beneath the surface. With a soft smile, you followed, grabbing your own jacket and slipping on a mask before joining Seonghwa outside. The cool night air greeted you as you stepped onto the pavement, wrapping you in its embrace. Feeling the warmth of Seonghwa's hand intertwining with yours sent a jolt of electricity. With your fingers intertwined, you set off together, following the familiar way that would lead you to your apartment. You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude as you made your way through the quiet streets, it was a relief to know that your apartment was only a short distance away from the company. 

As soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, Seonghwa pulled you hard into his chest, your bodies pressing on each other. His kisses became more urgent, his grip on you tighter as if he was afraid you would disappear. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless, his taste intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. In this moment, there was no room for remorse or second thoughts, only the overpowering need for each other. You were lost in him, in the overwhelming sensation of his touch, his taste, his scent. As the intensity of your shared passion escalated, Seonghwa moved to unbutton your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. 

"Wait," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but he stopped at your words, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he waited for you to continue. "I... I just want to make sure we're both on the same page," you said softly, voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. "I care about you, Seonghwa, more than I can put into words. But I want it to mean something, for both of us." As you spoke, you searched his expression for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was a profound sense of understanding and respect. In that moment, you were sure that Seonghwa shared your desire for something deeper, something more meaningful than just physical intimacy. His lips curved into a tender smile, and he reached up to gently cup your cheek in his hand.  

"I understand," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want this to mean something too, Y/N. More than anything. I’m not leaving you." With those words, the last of your doubts melted away, leaving only a sense of trust and connection between you. His touch, careful and loving, trailed down your body, taking the time to appreciate every inch of you. Seonghwa’s fingers traced over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. He took his time, his hands exploring you as if he was memorizing every curve, every line of your body. Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands. He let out a soft groan, his hot breath fanning against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His lips found yours again, stealing your breath away with the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it aside. His gaze was full of admiration and desire as he looked at you, his eyes taking in your form.  

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. You blushed, a smile spreading across your lips at his words. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing kisses along your neck, collarbones, down to your chest. His hands finally moved to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His touch was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of pleasure through your body. Seonghwa was patient, taking his time to make you feel loved, and cherished. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him closer to where you needed him. "So impatient," Seonghwa commented as he moved back up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. Craving the feel of his skin against yours, your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing it off his shoulders. You took a moment to admire him, your gaze trailing over his muscular chest, and the defined abs. Seonghwa was beautiful, every inch of him perfect. You reached out, your fingers tracing over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Seonghwa’s hands roamed your body, the touch igniting a fire within you. He moved lower once again, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. His hands moved to your skirt, unzipping it and sliding it down your legs. Seonghwa’s lips found the skin on your thighs, his hands gently creasing them, each touch sending waves of desire coursing through you. His lips moved up your tight, his lips finding all your sensitive spots, making you arch your back and gasp out his name. You felt his breath dangerously close to your panties, which by now were soaked completely with your arousal.  

"Seonghwa," you moaned, your voice thick with longing as you arched your back, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you. "Not here," you murmured, your voice trembling as looked down on him with a mixture of desire and urgency. "Bedroom... Let's go to the bedroom." Seonghwa, with a deep and magnetic gaze that held you captive, guided you gently towards the bedroom. He led you to the edge of the bed, his hands never leaving your body. Carefully, with an affectionate touch, he laid you down on the soft sheets. Seonghwa's gaze was intense but tender, as if he was committing every detail of you to memory. The look in his eyes held a fervor that was both thrilling and comforting. The last piece of your clothing was slowly discarded, your lace panties landing softly on the floor. His hands, now free to explore, traced a path of heat down your bare body, each touch igniting a spark of anticipation. He kissed you deeply, a promise of more to come, before his eyes met yours once more. Seonghwa's gaze was full of adoration and hunger, a testament to the intimate connection that was about to deepen. Slowly, Seonghwa began to undress himself, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As the last piece of his clothing dropped to the floor, he positioned himself atop you, his bare skin against yours sending tremors of desire coursing through your veins. His eyes continued to hold your gaze, their depths reflecting the shared anticipation of the intimate moment that was about to unfold. 

"Is this alright?" Seonghwa whispered against your lips. 

"Yes," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Yes, Seonghwa... I'm yours." Your affirmation seemed to ignite something within him. A slow, intoxicating smile spread across his face, his dark eyes twinkling with a mixture of love, desire, and a hint of possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze never wavered from yours, maintaining eye contact as he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a searing, passionate kiss. One of his hands, tender and firm, cradled your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheeks. With the other one he steadied himself between your legs, and you finally felt him entering you slowly and gently, his movements measured and full of care. The feeling was intoxicating, overwhelming in its intensity but filled with a tenderness that only Seonghwa could provide. As Seonghwa moved, you felt a surge of pleasure that left you gasping, your fingers trailing over his back, your nails gently digging into his skin. His name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper, the syllables intertwining with the soft moans and gasps that filled the room. Each thrust heightened the pleasure, building up tension that had you moaning his name louder. He responded to your every sound, his movements shifting and adapting to your responses. It was as if he was attuned to every part of you, each touch designed to elicit the maximum pleasure. 

"Seonghwa," you moaned, as he continued to move, his rhythm steady and deliberate. He looked down at you, his gaze filled with love and desire, his expression mirroring the pleasure coursing through you. "I’m close" you whimpered as the pleasure started to overwhelm you. 

"I know, baby," he responded, his voice low and soothing. His eyes never left yours, holding your gaze as the room around you both seemed to fade. Each of his movements were measured, calculated to draw the maximum response from you. He knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and he wasn't afraid to take his time in delivering it. Seonghwa was completely in tune with your body, knowing just how to touch you, how to move, to bring you to the edge. A gasp escaped your lips as his rhythm increased, the intensity building as he moved. His name was a whispered prayer on your lips, the only word you could manage as you clung to him. The world around you narrowed to the feeling of him, the sight of him, the sound of him, the scent of him. 

"Let go baby," he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing balm, grounding you in the moment. With a few more deep movements, he guided you both to the peak of your shared pleasure. The feeling was indescribable, a release of tension that left you both panting and gasping for breath. And through it all, Seonghwa was there with you, his gaze never leaving yours, his love and desire for you clear in his eyes. As the waves of pleasure subsided, Seonghwa collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He held you close, his heart beating in time with yours as you both lay there in silence, the echoes of your shared climax still reverberating through your bodies. Seonghwa’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, a soothing gesture that eased the lingering tremors racking your body. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the tenderness of the gesture making your heart flutter. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. His concern was palpable, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

"More than okay," you assured him, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his sweaty forehead. His answering smile was warm and genuine, a sight that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. 

"Good," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing slowly became more regular, his body relaxing as he basked in the afterglow. You laid there, tangled in each other's arms, your heartbeats syncing in the quiet. There was no need for words now, the silence between you was comfortable and familiar. As you drifted off to sleep, his arms tightened around you.  

You were suddenly awakened by the sound of Seonghwa's voice, harsh and irritated, a stark contrast to the gentle tone you had grown accustomed to. His distressed voice pierced the calm tranquility of the early morning as he was on the phone, pacing around the room with furrowed brows, clearly in frustration. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed your phone blinking on the bedside table. Forty-three missed calls. A wave of chilly dread filled you as you unlocked your phone to see the flood of messages and notifications. The first one you clicked on made your heart drop. Pictures of you and Seonghwa, walking to your apartment, your hands intertwined, were plastered all over various media outlets. The headlines screamed about Seonghwa's secret relationship, a shocking revelation that seemed to have hit the fandom like a lightning bolt. The comments section was a whirlpool of emotions - shock, betrayal, and surprisingly, support. As you scrolled through the articles, you could barely register the words. This was your worst nightmare coming to life, the very reason you hesitated to start a relationship with Seonghwa in the first place. Seonghwa finished his call and turned to you, his face unnaturally pale.  

"It's all over the news," he said, his voice barely a whisper. The room felt suffocating as a heavy silence descended upon it, both of you too stunned to utter a word. The reality of the situation was sinking in, unfolding a terrifying scenario that you both had dreaded. Your mind was racing, scrambling to make sense of the situation. All your worst fears were coming to life - the fear of getting caught, of losing your job, and of potentially damaging Seonghwa's career. This was the adverse consequence of your secret relationship, the one you had feared and tried to prevent from the very beginning. Yet, amidst the turmoil, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. Your anger flared as you dialed your boss's number, your hands shaking as you held the phone to your ear. He picked up on the second ring, his voice tense, 

"You need to do your job and stop this information from spreading," he demanded, his tone cold and unyielding. You felt your heart clench at his words, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you fired back,  

"How am I supposed to do that when I'm the one involved?" The line crackled with tension as you braced yourself for your boss's response, knowing that your conversation was about to take a heated turn. 

"You're involved!?" His voice was sharp, laced with disbelief and a hint of anger. "How could you let this happen, Y/N? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into?" His words hit you like a slap in the face, and you felt a surge of anger rising within you.  

"I didn't 'let' anything happen," you shot back, your own voice rising with frustration. "This isn't something I planned or wanted. And as for the mess, believe me, I'm well aware of it." There was a tense pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with unspoken accusations and bitter recriminations. You could practically feel your boss's disappointment radiating through the phone, a heavy weight pressing down on you with each passing second. 

"We need to contain this," he said finally, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Handle the damage control on our end, write a press release. Stay out of the public eye, keep your head down, and for god's sake, don't make things worse." You clenched your jaw, struggling to keep your emotions in check as you listened to his instructions.  

"And what about Seonghwa?" you demanded, unable to suppress the edge of desperation in your voice. There was another pause, longer this time, as your boss considered his response.  

"Seonghwa knew what he was getting into when he chose this life," he said finally, his voice oddly cold and unsympathetic. "He's a public figure, and he needs to accept the consequences of his actions. Just like you do." The words hung between you, a bitter reminder of the harsh reality you were both facing. As you hung up the phone, a sense of resignation settled over you, knowing that no matter how much you wanted to protect Seonghwa, there were forces at play far beyond your control. Seonghwa, who had been a silent witness to your conversation, finally broke his silence. His sobs filled the room, each one stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You turned to him, your eyes filled with regret and sorrow.  

"I was supposed to be the one protecting you," you said, your voice choked with tears. You could see the pain in his eyes, reflecting your own as you confessed, "This was a mistake. I'm going to get fired, Seonghwa. There's no future for us." His face crumpled at your words, a look of utter devastation replacing his earlier confusion. 

"No, Y/N, please..." he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you." he retorted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. As the silence settled in the room, you felt a lump forming in your throat. The harsh reality of the situation was too overwhelming to comprehend. The words that had been exchanged between you two still echoed in your ears, haunting you. The room, once filled with love and warmth, now felt cold and distant. The air was heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Seonghwa, his eyes red and swollen from crying, looked at you. His usual cheerful demeanor was now replaced with a look of sadness and despair. He seemed like a completely different person. Seeing him like this broke your heart even more, the reality of the situation dawning on you. 

"I... I need some time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He got up from the bed, picked up his clothes from the floor and walked towards the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, numb and silent, as you processed everything that had happened. You felt a sense of guilt wash over you, realizing that your actions had led to this mess. Picking up your phone, you answered the incoming call from one of the reporters.  

"This is a delicate matter, and we are currently fact-checking all the information," you replied, maintaining a professional tone. "We will be releasing an official press statement soon regarding the matter. Thank you for your understanding." 

For the next several minutes, you found yourself answering a seemingly endless stream of phone calls, bombarded with the same questions over and over again. "Who is this girl?" "Is it really Seonghwa?" "Is it official?" With each call, your heart ached a little more, the reality of the situation sinking in. You were the reason behind this mess, and with each question, the weight of your actions became increasingly clear. Seonghwa finally emerged from the bathroom, he was fully dressed, his hair neatly combed back, and his face, although still showing signs of distress, was more composed. He settled down next to you, the distance between you heavy with unspoken tension. You could feel his gaze burning into you, his eyes searching for answers in the depths of your own. But as he heard you denying what happened during countless phone calls, a flicker of hurt flashed across his features, overshadowing the mask of composure he had worn moments before. 

"Y/N," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Why are you doing this? We can't keep pretending like nothing happened." His words cut through the silence like a knife, leaving you speechless in their wake. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, demanding honesty in the face of your denial. But as you met his eyes, you saw the pain reflected in their depths, and a pang of guilt surged through you. You had hurt him deeply with your words, and now, as you continued to deny the truth, you were only adding to his anguish. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to meet Seonghwa’s gaze any longer. In that moment, you felt more alone than ever, trapped in a web of lies and deceit from which there seemed to be no escape.  

Once the calls ended, with a heavy heart, you began to draft a press release denying the rumors. As you typed, your mind raced with thoughts of how to properly word your denial, how to ensure that it would put an end to the rampant speculation. Seonghwa, who had been observing silently, finally spoke up, his tone filled with discontent. "Why are you denying it?" he asked, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration. 

"Seonghwa, we have to," you tried explaining,  

"No, we don't," he retorted, his voice steady and determined. "We don't have to lie. We don't have to hide." 

"Seonghwa, we can't just admit to this. The backlash... it could ruin your career," you argued, your voice tinged with desperation. 

"And what? We lie? We hide?" Seonghwa countered, his voice filled with frustration.  

"We need to think about the consequences. The fans, the company... it's not just us we have to consider." you countered, trying to maintain your composure. 

"I don't care about that," he said, his voice softening. "I care about you. I care about us. I don't want to lie about that." 

"But this isn't just about us. There are other people involved. Our actions have consequences." you responded, your voice breaking slightly. 

"I know that" he said, his tone resolute. "But isn't our relationship worth fighting for?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. As the weight of your situation bore down, you felt the sting of desperation clawing at your heart, driving you to speak words you knew would hurt Seonghwa deeply. 

"What relationship are you even talking about, Seonghwa? We hadn't even had a 'what-are-we' talk, and everything is ruined," you spat out, your voice laced with bitterness and regret. "We kissed less than 24 hours ago, and now we're all over the news." The words spilled out of you like poison, each one laced with the bitter taste of reality. You could see the pain flicker across Seonghwa's face, his eyes clouding with hurt and confusion. But you couldn't stop yourself, couldn't hold back the flood of emotions threatening to consume you. "We need to protect you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "There's no 'us' in this, Seonghwa. It's just you, and your career, and the future you've worked so hard for. I won't let you throw it all away for me." Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to bear the weight of Seonghwa's gaze any longer. In that moment, you knew that you had hurt him deeply, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret those words. For better or worse, they were the truth, the raw, unfiltered truth that lay at the heart of your impossible situation. 

"You don't get to decide that" Seonghwa replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "You don't get to decide what I throw away or keep. It's my life, my career, my future. And you... you're a part of that, whether you like it or not." His words hung heavy in the air, an undeniable truth that weighed down on your heart. "We're in this together, and I'm not letting you walk away just because you're scared. So, let's face this together. Let's fight for 'us', for our future. Because, in my eyes, there's no 'me' without 'us'." You stared at him, your heart pounding. His words echoed in your mind, raw and powerful. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear. Could you really fight for this? For him? Suddenly, the weight of your decision seemed more significant, more daunting. 

"I... I don't know, Seonghwa," you stuttered, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this. If I can put you at risk like that." 

But Seonghwa just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's not for you to decide," he countered gently. "I'm ready to face whatever comes our way. And I want you by my side. So, will you fight with me?" 

[snowsonlylove]

Looking So Crazy in Love

Pairing: Academy!Coriolanus Snow x Enemy!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been butting heads since the very first time they met despite their parents being mutual friends, which makes them frustrated as it means that they have to see each other every time the families gather. Now, they’re both 18 and are considered young adults. Their friends, Arachne and Festus, are sick of them arguing and throw them in a closet to sort it out (Arachne secretly setting this up with Festus after seeing how Coriolanus looks at Y/N), which leads to them having rough, hateful sex.

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Enemies to Lovers

Warnings: blowjob, unprotected sex (don’t do this people, wear it before you tap dat ass), degradation, mommy issues, lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 2.3k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Beyonce and her team. 

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow first met during the tender age of 3, both being the only children of their families and the apples of their fathers’ eyes. You may think that this makes it so that they have something in common, however that is totally not the case. Since the first time they’ve looked into each other’s eyes, all they saw was someone who can take away their parent’s love because of how similar they are.

Coriolanus felt that Y/N was someone that his parents would really love as there was a time where her mother mentioned having a girl instead of a boy. That statement made him blind with rage since he thought that his mother never saw him as good enough. He professed this to his father, who looked shocked as he comforted him before confronting his mother after, which led to a huge fight he would rather not discuss.

Y/N however had it worse as her mother always saw her as someone who could take her spot as the sole love of her husband and hated her since birth. Whenever she looked into Y/N’s eyes, all she saw was hate, burning aflame as she saw red with how much she hated her daughter. Y/N not only took away her beauty, but added to her life baggage as she started to have droopy eyes, saggy breasts and a flabby stomach, making her hate Y/N more.

15 years later, both Y/N and Coriolanus are now 18, both preparing for their coming of age gala hosted in the Y/L/N’s estate. As Y/N got ready for the upcoming gala, she thought about how much better life had been had her mother accepted her for who she is. She doesn’t know why her mother hated her, always criticising her looks, her weight, her actions. She was just sick of it. She wanted a way out of it, and she would find a way.

Coriolanus on the other hand, had started to notice how Y/N’s features have benefitted her lately, her ass plumper, her breasts more prominent and her facial features all enhanced into a perfect symphony. He doesn’t know what this tugging feeling is, but he always felt it when being in proximity, especially when in the same room with Y/N. He tried to be discreet as he took glances from time to time, admiring her features. Unfortunately, he was not as sleek as he thought as a certain Arachne Crane saw this exchange and devised the perfect plan before running to her go-to pal for chaos, Festus Creed.

As Y/N finished getting ready, Coriolanus arrived to the Y/L/N mansion looking exceptionally handsome with his curls perfectly tame, his dress shirt clinging to his perfectly sculpted muscles and his blazer and dress pants a perfect blood red, referring to the Snow’s love for roses as the Snow family entered the estate, the picture of perfection if there ever was one.

Coriolanus looked around the crowd, before treating himself to a tall glass of posca, anxious to see what his arch-nemesis looked like when all of the sudden, the lights dimmed in the estate as the Y/L/N family walked down the ginormous flight of stairs, all made of expensive granite as Y/N’s parents walked down hand-in-hand before Y/N joined shortly after. All eyes on her as they stared in either awe or jealousy as she sauntered down the flight of stairs like she owned it (which she does fyi). 

Coriolanus felt every movement around him slow down as he took in Y/N’s appearance as one of an angel, with her feathery dress cut down to a modest length, ending just above her thighs as the dress had jewels and rhinestones echo around her in a wave of beauty, wrapping around her features like a second skin of sorts. As he glanced at her, she suddenly met his gaze and gave him a look of confusion, which immediately made him snap out of his trance as he walked away.

Y/N reached the floor of the gala as she glided through the crowd to the drinks station, in which she entertained herself to a glass of posca, swallowing the harsh liquid in one go. She examined the crowd as she saw her friends talking and decided to join in their conversation. “Hi guys, what are we discussing?” Arachne looked at Y/N, feigning surprise all the sudden, “Oh! Look who’s joined us, the star of the moment.” Y/N looked at Arachne with a pointed look, tilting her head to the side, “That, I am. Thank you for saying that, Arachne. Always looking forward to hearing something so unprofessional from that dick-sucking mouth of yours.” She gave her a snide smile after.

Most of the friend group around them laughed, some even slapping their friend’s arms in disbelief. It was at that moment where Coriolanus showed up and swung a hand over Y/N’s shoulder, acting as if they were best friends. Y/N then looked at him incredulously, shoving his hand out of her shoulder. The group looked at them as if they were watching a movie. The atmosphere was tense for a moment before Clemensia let out a frustrated sigh, “Oh my god! Guys, what is up with you two? You guys always fight every time you’re together and it’s killing me over here!” 

Both Y/N and Coriolanus looked at her, shocked before their arms were pulled by two bodies. Arachne pulled Y/N and Festus pulled Coriolanus as they dragged the two to a quiet shady place in the Y/L/N estate before shoving them in a nearby closet and locking it from the outside. “Y/N! Coriolanus! We’re sick of you two fighting! You two better work it out if you want to be let out!” Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s hands were turned to fists as their hands furiously banged on the closet to be let out. “Let me out, you bitch! Oh, just wait until I get out of here!” Y/N screamed as her face turned red. Arachne and Festus laughed from outside the closet before pulling each other towards the gala, leaving the two of them alone.

Coriolanus sighed as Y/N gave up and tried her best to sit with whatever space they had. “Hey, are you okay?” Coriolanus said as Y/N looked at him, her face the picture of female rage. “Okay? What the fuck do you mean am i okay Coriolanus?! Are you fucking kidding me?! God! I can’t believe you’re that dumb!” Coriolanus was offended by that statement as he stared at her for a moment for furrowed brows before responding in an equally frustrated tone, “I’m just trying to comfort you, Y/N! God! I can’t even be civil with you anymore! Genuinely, what do I have to do to make you show me just an ounce of respect?!” 

Y/N looked at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you actually fucking with me right now? Coryo, we’ve never been friends! The fact that you think we'd be best friends now is seriously beyond me. Why do you even care, huh? Every time you look at me, all you do is look at me like I crushed your favourite Barbie doll or something, why do you think I’d be civil with you?” She kept on riling him up as Coriolanus stood in the closet, heaving huge, deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down before he suddenly exploded, “Because I like you, okay! Good God! I don’t know when or how I like you but it. just. happened. There! Happy now?!’

Y/N looked at him, her breaths slowing down as she looked at him with an expression of disbelief, “What… W-What? H-How, Coriolanus?” “I don’t know, Y/N! All I know is that I’m in love with you and it’s killing me that you’re not even looking at me whenever we’re together.” Y/N looked at him, her mouth turned to an “O” shape, “Oh…” Coriolanus continued, his hands suddenly going to cup her cheeks as he leaned his forehead towards hers, “Y/N Y/L/N… I have been in love with you and I haven’t been honest about it. I’ve gone from wanting to kill you.. to wanting to kill for you. Please, don’t push me away. Let’s work this out..” 

Y/N reluctantly leaned in as she closed the gap between them, their teeth and tongues clashing together in a crazed frenzy. It was almost like a battle between them as Y/N pulled on Coriolanus’s bottom lip as he pushed her against the closet with what little space they had, making the closet move with great force as they stumbled a little without breaking their kiss. They continue this battle as they roughly shoved each other’s clothes out of the other’s as Y/N tore Coriolanus’s dress shirt open after shoving his blazer off, ripping the fabric and tearing the buttons off in the process.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus’s hands went to the back of her dress and quickly pulled her zipper down before roughly shoving her dress down, tugging her lace underwear down and unclipping her bra with one hand. Y/N’s hands roamed around his chest as she moved from kissing his lips to kissing his neck, collarbone and shoulder before continuing all the way to his barely visible happy trail, tugging the zipper of his pants down just enough for her to pull his huge, aching hardness with pre-cum leaking on its tip.

Y/N tried her best to kneel as she looked up to him with her eyes glazed with lust as she pumped his dick up and down a few times before swirling her tongue on the tip of his dick and working up until she was able to take about half of his dick until she suddenly felt this force on her head, pushing her down further to take more of his dick. She then heard one of the most slutty groans ever as she smirked in accomplishment. She started with a slow but deep pace before Coriolanus aided her in increasing her speed into a rough, unforgettably fast pace as the closet echoed with his groans and her gagging on his cock.

This did not last long as Coriolanus groaned a final time before shoving her head all the way to the hilt of his dick as he came into her throat. Y/N moaned as she felt the warm liquid in her throat as she swallowed dutifully before looking up at Coriolanus with her mascara streaming down her face, her lipstick smushed as when she pulled his dick out of her mouth, there was a noticeably red print on his dick. After pulling it out her mouth, Coriolanus continued grabbing her hair as he pulled her into another rough kiss and lined his dick with her pussy before stroking it to her clit a few times and finally pushing it in her dripping wetness, both of them moaning loudly in the process.

Coriolanus moaned, “Ohh, so good, Y/N. Such a dirty, dirty girl. You enjoyed having my dick in your mouth, huh? You're my nasty little slut, yeah? My. dirty. little. whore..” He said as he thrusted his erection in her center with every word. Y/N sighed in pleasure as she shakily moaned while she played with her tits, “Y-Yes, Coryo. Fuck me h-harder, I’m y-your little slut. I’m such a dirty little w-whore.”

This fueled Coryo as his thrusts became rougher and he continued thrusting himself into her harder and harder, causing the closet to shake in tandem as their moans and groans echoed around the closet. There was also a very distinct sound of skin slapping echoing as his balls slapped her ass, both Y/N and Coriolanus wrapping their arms around each other as Coriolanus lifted her right leg up to his waist as his thrusts became deeper with him getting close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, sweetheart. Such a good little whore..” His forehead was glistening with sweat as he felt his body becoming warmer and warmer with Y/N moaning incessantly as she also felt herself getting closer, “O-Ohh, Coryo! I’m so close, so so close. Oh, you’re gonna make me come.” She panted, “I’m coming, Coryo. I’m coming. OHH GODD!”

“So good, Y/N. So good..” Coriolanus panted as he quickly pulled out of her and pushed her down to her knees before pumping his cock and cumming on her face and breasts. His cum was everywhere. It decorated her nose, her eyebrows, her eyelashes, her forehead, down to her cheeks and lips, which were covered with his pearly white, spent. The rest was all over her collarbone, shoulder and her breasts as well as the valley of it. She damn looked like a whore, his whore.

“Y’so pretty like this.. covered in my cum everywhere. Just like one of those district whores. But now, you’re all mine sweetheart, you’d do well to remember that.” He said with an evil smirk. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gave an evil smile of her own, “Who’s to say I am? You know, I might as well be fucking someone else. Sejanus looks pretty handsome tonight. Might even invite him-” Her words were taken out of her as his eyes turned a dark hue and he dragged her towards him and kissed her lips hard before going down and sucking a big, fat hickey on her. He tasted himself on her tongue but he didn’t care as he kept sucking, therefore preventing her on finding any other guy. 

Y/N moaned as she tangled her hands in his hair as as he pulled his face from her neck, he said with a dark tone, “No, sweetheart… That’s never gonna happen with me. Unless you look forward to seeing Sejanus’s decapitated head on the news one day? That is not happening anytime soon.. You’re mine, understand? No one is gonna touch you from now on.. You’re mine as much as I’m yours, understood?”

Y/N gave him a small smile as she responded with a soft tone, “Understood, Coryo.”

[furybymoonlight]

See Me (Now) - Part III [FINAL]

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

Warning/Genre: NSFW! Smut, Age Gap (3 years), Fluff, Angst, friends to lovers

Part I

Part II

***

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

***

It was one in the morning. The streets of Liverpool were mostly empty as Trent’s G-Wagon made its way through the city. The man had just spoken to her once, in the beginning of their drive, to make sure that she’s using her seatbelt and that she’s not cold. He also didn’t play any music to fill the silence, which gave her a hint into his state of mind. He never drove in silence, except when he’s really tense or angry, or worse, both. It didn’t help that even in that situation, her body was still buzzing, not with alcohol, but a highly sexual charge, courtesy of the driver of the car.

Had they just done…whatever the hell it was? It still hadn’t fully registered in her mind, but she guessed it was real, because her lips were swollen, and her body was still burning. She had also now become hyperaware of everything about him, like the way he effortlessly steered the wheel with one hand, the hand that has touched her in ways that she had never even imagined, or how even in the dark of the car he still looked devastatingly handsome. 

The tension in her took a hike as she entered his house, more of a mansion really, which he had just recently bought. She had never been there before, but she had seen the interior during their video calls. The living room was so grand, it could have fit dozens of her small crampy student apartment. She hugged herself, the fiery sensation in her body ebbing away. She suddenly felt small and out of place. Him and her…they were really worlds apart now. 

“How much did you drink?”

He asked, catching her off guard, and all she could do was stared at him because she had no clue at all.

Seemingly catching on that her silence meant that she had drunk too much, Trent’s jaw tightened.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” He said before he made his way to the kitchen, leaving her alone.

She looked around her, wild questions and scenarios jumbling in her head. What was she doing here? Did he truly like her more than just life-long friend? If he liked her then why the hell did he kiss the girl in the club? Who was that girl anyway? Was he just playing with her now that he’s famous?

Her stomach dropped at that unbearable thought.

If he did treat her just as his plaything…it would destroy her, but even if he truly like her as a woman, should they really cross the line? They had a different life now. Would the risk be worth it? Their connection was everything for her, she had never imagined her life without him.

Her head spinning, she took a seat on his ridiculously large and comfortable sofa. A tray with a glass of water, a banana, and some crackers suddenly dropped on to the table in front of her, courtesy of the younger, who settled beside her.

“You should have these.”

His cold, rather indifferent tone ticked her off, she couldn’t help but scoff at him.

“You’re mad at me, really?”

His gaze pierced her, luscious lips curled in a sign of distaste.

“You were seriously drunk and glued yourself to a random stranger, even you’re still a bit drunk now, can you blame me?”

“You kissed another girl.”

She bitterly said, then grimaced when she realized it possibly didn’t make any sense to him. God, she hated how she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, when he wasn’t even hers. To her surprise, he simply shook his head.

“No, I did not. A random girl kissed me and I removed myself immediately. Ask my mates if you must.”

Her eyes rounded at his unexpected answer, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted off her. Silence filled the room.

“I…” She stopped, suddenly at loss of what to say. She took a sip of water and slowly rose from the sofa, intending to put some distance away from him. She needed to think, and she couldn’t, not with him being so close.

A gasp left her mouth when Trent pulled her back, and she somehow found herself sitting sideways on his lap, arms splayed across his broad chest. He circled her waist with his left arm, one hand cupping her face, so she had no choice but to look at him. Her heart slammed against her chest. He was so close that their breaths mingled together.

“Trent –“

“You have been avoiding me, and I let you play your game. I thought if I was patient enough, you’d come around, that at the very least we could start to talk again, really talk.”

“Well – “

“But hey, there you were, getting fucking wasted…dancing with some random fucking guy in that dress. That guy could easily be a criminal you know. Did you do it to get back at me?”

He bombarded her, rich brown eyes glinting with ire, voice sharpened with dark emotions.

“No!”

She managed to break free even though she stumbled. Feeling like she was in the danger of suffocating any minute, she walked to a large glass window in the middle of the living room, slowly as she couldn’t trust her legs at that moment. She knew the window was facing his vast garden but currently it was pitched black outside. She crossed her arms, feeling his eyes drilling her back. The room was comfortably warm, but she felt strangely cold.

“It wasn’t like that. I saw you with that girl…and I…I just wanted to escape, to not think at all, hence the drink…and Dan.”

“Dan?”

“The guy’s name…I think.”

“You can’t remember your alcohol intake, but you remember his name? Really?”

Her mind was so hazy in the club that she hadn’t really think much when he said he didn’t like it when she danced with other guys, but now….was it jealousy in his voice?

She turned around to face him, who was suddenly standing tall just a few feet away, throwing daggers at her with his eyes. She let out a deep breath, then asked her question. Her bravery improved by the alcohol which still had a grasp on her, though not by much.

“Trent…do you really like me?”      

“Do I – are you seriously asking me that?”

He looked at her like she had grown two heads.

“I do. Do you really like me as more than friends?”

“I kissed you a week ago, told you today you’re all I see, then kissed you again…and more, and you still ask me that?”

The anger in him appeared to be gone, replaced by disbelief. His words rang true, but she just somehow couldn’t believe it.

“This is just….all too sudden isn’t it? Like - if you hadn’t kissed me that day of my return, I never would have guessed. Trent – wait -”

In a flash, he was right in front of her, cornering her against the window. She tried to push him back, but he deftly trapped her wrists with his left hand, bringing it above her head, then stepped forward even closer. Their bodies pressed together, as close as could be with their clothes on. Her heart missed a few beats and her body instantly lit up.

“You said you wanted me to see you, but you didn’t see me at all do you?”

Before she even could process his question, his lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss, destroying her train of thoughts in an instant. He kissed her the way he played football, passionate, relentless, like he could do it forever, and she wished he really could.

Still keeping her mouth and wrists hostage, his right hand traced her heated skin, along the side of her neck, down to her shoulders, then to her breasts. A muffled moan left her as he kneaded the swollen peaks, the dress a meaningless barrier. He then continued down, his hand slipping beneath her dress to squeeze her rear and pressed it forward against his still covered hardness.

“We still need to….talk..”

She said in a breathless moan when he finally freed her lips and wrists to suck hard on the skin of her neck, sinking his teeth in several spots. She shivered, molten heat dripped down straight to her core. It would leave marks and it would take work to cover it. However, as she had just found out herself in that second, him marking her was a total turn on.

“Okay.”

He said against her shoulder, voice thick with desire, while unzipping her dress, and the next second she was clad only in her strapless bra and panties.

“What –“

“We’ll talk, but first… jump.”

As if spellbound, she did as he asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

“Good girl.”

He whispered against her ear, making her flushed even more, if it was possible. Propping her with his arms, he carried her across the living room and towards the – kitchen?

Still carrying her, he took an opened bottle of water in the middle of the kitchen island with one hand and brought it to her mouth.

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that and her throat all of a sudden felt dry indeed, so she drank, feeling the cold water did nothing to dampen the fever inside of her. He then put the bottle down before claiming her mouth again, smothering her senses. The next thing she knew, she was lying on his bed stark naked, moaning with his mouth suckling and fondling her aching mounds.

“Have imagined about these babies for so long…”

He muttered before lavishing kisses down her abdomen, fingers pinching her tautened peaks, making her back arched. The fire in her was raging and getting more unbearable by the seconds.

“Trent – please - ”

She weaved her fingers through his soft springy hair. She knew they should talk first and set thing straight before doing something as big as this, too much was at stake, but her common sense was gone at that moment.

“What do you want baby?”

“Just….you.”

Moving back up, he pressed their foreheads together, their eyes locked, hips instinctively grinding against her soaking core. He already divested his clothes but still had his briefs on, and she needed more...friction. She could see the carnal longing in his eyes, as she was sure reflected in hers as well.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She had never been more nervous. She wasn’t totally without experience. She went on a few dates and had one, albeit very fleeting, relationship before she went away. She knew Trent had had some girlfriends as well, all of them short-lived, though she didn’t recall he had any in the last couple of years.

“I want you too, you have no idea how much.”

He muttered against her mouth before snatching her lips again, as if he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before staring at her again.

“But first…”

He trailed off and swiftly rolled on the side to sit against the pillows. He then easily arranged her to sit in front of him in a kneeling position, facing him with his hips between her folded legs.

“Let’s talk.”

It took her a couple of seconds to understand what he was talking about. What the-

“Now? Seriously?!”

“Hmmm.”

He said, settling his hands on the small of her back, suddenly sounded not too certain. He chewed on his lower lip and her eyes dropped to his mouth. Damn it, she wanted to have a bite as well.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to sink myself in you so bad, I am dying to, you can literally feel how much…but I don’t want us to do this when you still have doubts about me. I don’t want you to regret this, ever.”

She felt like laughing, crying, and kissing him at the same time. If her body wasn’t currently shouting for him, she would find their situation comical. Her and Trent, naked, in bed…just talking. Gotta hand it to him to still have logic at a time like this. Feeling like he was way older and more mature than her now.

“All right.”

“Do you like me?”

He asked her bluntly.

“I do.”

She said, managing to look straight at him although she couldn’t help the blush on her face. His lips tugged into a sincere smile.

“How long?”

“Looking back now, I think I started to feel differently for you quiet a while before I moved away...you’ve always been special to me Trent, you know that, but when I finally had to go away…there were times that leaving you felt like it was unbearable.”

Her fingers trailed along his defined jaw before she brushed her lips softly against his.

“So yes, I like you, more than that actually - but it’s fine if you don’t love me back – yet – I – I mean the important thing now is you like me too. I –“

He shushed her with a soft kiss of his own, looking deep into her eyes with unabashed affection.

“Three years then…well…I win…try five years. I was seventeen, just lost a match and beating myself up because of it, staying all day in my room. So afraid that was as far as I could go in football, that I would never make it to a first team anywhere. That I would just disappoint my family who have sacrificed so much.”

She gaped at him, in total disbelief of what she was hearing.

“You burst into my room, telling me to man up and return to training, you said I’d make it into the team because I was bloody brilliant, but that even if I didn’t, it didn’t matter...you smiled and hugged me, and said that perhaps I hadn’t seen it yet, but there’s more to life than football and that whatever path I treaded in life, you’d be with me every step of the way. That’s when I knew you’re it for me.”

Gently tucking the strands of her hair behind her ear, he continued his shocking confession.

“So I tried to be there for you for everything, hoping in vain that you’d notice me as more. I watched you go on dates, so I dated as well, wanted to erase you from my mind, which turned out impossible. Then there’s Ben, the guy’s name couldn’t be more boring, honestly, just like his personality, thank God you came to your senses quickly with him. After him, you said that you’d focus on your study, so I held my tongue, quite content with being your go-to person, even though it broke me that you’re so far away.”

“Trent…”

“I had a plan for your return you know, asking you out on a date and all…but you started spouting nonsense about being a sister and I just couldn’t cope with it anymore, so I kissed you.”

He kissed her then, slowly at first, before delving his tongue inside her parted lips, hands smoothened the naked skin of her back, creating delicious shivers as they passed. Her world shifted as he toppled her down onto the bed, him on top of her, propping himself on one forearm so he didn’t crush her, his other hand tantalizingly gliding all over her naked body.

“So yeah, I’ve loved you for five years, wishing that every smile, every hug, every call, every message that we exchange means more to you. Five fucking years…going crazy with countless dreams about you, some sweet, others are wild, and the rest…’’

He pressed his still clothed arousal against her flooded entrance in a teasing manner, earning him a soft moan from her.

‘’…borderline illegal that you’d perhaps run away from me if you knew.”

‘’I…had no idea.’’

That’s all she could say to him. Her heart filled with overwhelming emotions, shock, relief, passion, lust, and so much happiness and love that she felt like she could fly at any moment.

‘’Well now you know.’’

He said as he bestowed a kiss on her forehead then her temple.

‘’So see me now…kissing you..’’

He whispered before kissing the spot behind her earlobe, then down to ravish her mouth.

‘’See me now… pleasuring you…’’

His mouth hovered against the valley of her breasts then captured one pebbled tip into his mouth, rolling the other with his fingers, before switching up the treatment. She shuddered as another stream of pleasure pooled at the center of her.

‘’See me now…worshipping you…’’

She could feel his hot breath on the junction of her thighs and then he delved his tongue into her, slithering through her wet folds. He played her like a violin, and her body was a tight string, getting tighter with every tantalizing move of his tongue.

“You taste better than I imagine baby…my all-time favorite flavor.”

He said, voice heavy with desire, then he licked her upward from the bottom of her weeping core before twirling the swollen nub right above her entrance and gently sucked it. Massive electric current ran through her body and she was done, a high pitch scream of his name left her mouth. He seized her mouth again, letting her taste herself, before aligning his pelvis with hers, his arousal now completely uncovered, eyes almost black with unbridled passion.

‘’See me now… making you mine.’’

Trent buried himself inside of her in one swift move. She was more than ready to receive him, but still as he filled her to the hilt, a little sense of discomfort appeared. He was thick.

He stared at her with concern, muscles tensed as he held himself back.

“All right? Just breathe baby.”

He peppered her with kisses, whispering sweet nothings in her ears to give her time to adapt. It wasn’t long before she rocked her hip, signaling him to move, but he held her still.

“I’m clean. Are you still on the pill?”

She nodded. She hadn’t been dating for a long time, the pill had been more of a convenience means to regulate her period, at least until that moment. It made her realize then just how close they were, how she told him deeply private details about her, hell, even her parents didn’t know that.

“Good...for now. One day I hope you won’t need to be.”

Before she could think about his words, the younger began to move, and her brain shut down. He took her in an unhurried pace, his eyes locked on hers, clearly wanting to savor the moment, but her body was still so sensitive from her previous release that it didn’t take much for her to reach her peak again. A simple twist of his hip and her body quaked involuntarily, eyes fluttered shut as another wave of storm washed over her.

Trent stopped moving, taking a long count to inhale and exhale in an effort not to follow her. Her muscles finally loosened, though barely, and he pulled himself out. A whine left her mouth without she realized it.

“So greedy for me.”

He teased, before making themselves lying sideways and spooned her from behind, embedding himself in her again. He thrust into her in a fast pace then, branding her across every part that he could reach with his lips, one hand playing with the rigid tip of her breasts, his right on her hip to anchor his thrusts.

“Give me more babe.”

“Trent….I can’t…”

She said even as the pressure of another climax began to build quickly inside of her. She had just experiences two best releases of her life, she couldn’t bear a third one. He nipped at her neck.

“You’ve made me pining over you for years baby….I want more…you need to give me more, babe, one more.”

He sounded so demanding that even in the throes of passion, she still had it in her to give him a side eye.

“Look who’s the greedy one.”

She returned his teasing, expected him to chuckle at her jab. Trent cradled her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make her face him, before giving her a rough, thorough kiss which rendered her breathless.

“When it comes to you Princess? You have no idea.”

He said without any humor, eyeing her with absolute possessiveness. He continued to ravage her then, keeping their eyes locked together. It’s like he needed her to literally see him as he’s owning her.

He grazed a certain sweet spot within her, and she jolted, her moaning increased by numbers, yet she still couldn’t look away, trapped by his intense gaze.

“That’s it….such a good girl for me…only me.”

He hissed as he felt her inner walls began to tighten again around him. He felt unbelievable inside her, crazily good, that she lost her mind.

“Baby please…Trent…”

His name came out in a pleading voice. She was on the verge of a burning cliff and he was the only one who could bring her to absolution.

“Come for me, Princess.”

He gave a hard thrust before pulling himself back until his tip is almost out, then drove deep into her for the final time, meshing their mouth together at the same time. She burst then, breaking to pieces as her walls wonderfully clenching him, pushing him through not a second after. She then felt his warmth filled her, but her eyes had already begun to close. She was wholly spent.

“Mine....at last.”

She vaguely heard him and felt his arms around her. The sound of his heartbeat, though still fast, lulled her to the dreamland.

Ray of sunshine seeping through the large bedroom window roused her from her sleep. Her eyes flickered open, she found herself still wrapped in Trent’s embrace. For a second she tensed, couldn’t remember where she was, then last night event flashed through her brain and she relaxed. God, she was sore all over, rarely used muscles throbbing inside of her. She slowly turned around, finding him still deeply asleep and smiled. He looked so adorable in his sleep. Kissing him on the cheek, she grabbed the nearest shirt that she could find, and made her way to the kitchen.

“Excuse me Miss, have you seen my girl by any chance? I think she is around your height, pretty smile, sexy as sin, wearing number 66 on her back?”

In the light of day, he looked just like the sweet Trent that she usually saw around their family. She rolled her eyes at his cheesy lines but couldn’t resist a blush and a smile. He’s just a cute dork sometimes, well, a half naked cute handsome dork with chiseled form and grey sweatpants which was hanging enticingly on his hip.

She looked away in the pretense to turn off the stove, though it was already off.

“Hmm...I think she is right here.”

She said, trying hard not to get flustered.

“She definitely is, and ooh bonus point! She’s making me an omelette for breakfast, just the way I like it. That’s like, two of my fantasies coming true.”

He admitted, giving her his adorable smile, showing his pearly white teeth. She smiled at him, couldn’t hide the fondness in her gaze.

“You’re such a dorky cutie pie sometimes, do you know that?”

He put a hand against his broad chest in an exaggerated movement as if he's offended.

“Excuse me? I am not. I am a grown up fella.”

“One fact does not negate the other you know.”

He tilted his head then, doe eyes flickered with mischievous glint.

“Hmmm. Want to know what else you’re doing with this so-called cutie pie in his fantasy?

Cornering her against the kitchen counter, his hands slipped beneath her shirt, one squeezed her breasts, another dipping between her legs.

“What?”

Her voice came out breathless.

His whisper against her ear was a promise of an immediate action, sending tingles to her every nerve ending.

“My number….plus three, with you all tied up.”

Author’s Note: Aaand that's it! Thank you all for reading my first ever Trent story! Phew this took a while cause really, I love smut but writing smut is hard! Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I love making this. Apology for any mistakes as again, I'm not a native. Anway this turned out faar longer than I imagined :A: hope you don’t get bored. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading! <3

[lumiconic]

" even the sun is soft on the eyes "

✧ swimming with them at different times of day

✧ lyney, lynette, arlecchino ; fluff; it was supposed to have childe and freminent but i ran out of steam T.T

  lyney has a pyro vision, you know that; so his affinity for water must be nothing more than yet another magic trick. it doesn’t help that the golden sun, hanging high in the sky, practically blinds you with its light. when he flicks his hand and a spray from the river goes flying into your eyes, you consider dunking him if he likes it so much.

  “stop splashing me,” you protest, swatting him on the arm. “aren’t you supposed to be looking for rainbow lilies, or whatever?”

  “rainbow roses,” he corrects, wading through the river. his boots are on the bank and his pants are rolled up to his knees, but the vaguely expensive-looking fabric is already drenched, the stain spreading. he barely seems to notice, turning to you as he steps backward. “and if you aren’t gonna get in the water, then i’ll bring the water to – ”

  and then he’s gone with a massive splash, and you start laughing as you watch the flailing mass that’s his not-quite-able-to-swim self sink to the bottom of the river. and then you stop laughing and remember that oh yeah, he’s not quite able to swim. and then you start panicking and dive after him. 

  the water is freezing. it’s the hottest day you’ve had in ages but the deeper you swim, the colder it gets, goosebumps pricking up your arms that you’re barely able to see. you blink the blurriness from your eyes, chasing after lyney, who’s kicking furiously but still sinking with the weight of the heavy cape-thing trailing from his waistcoat. 

  he doesn’t look nervous or even slightly concerned yet. in truth, he could probably snap his fingers and magic himself back onto the riverbank. it’s ridiculous, but you can’t just swim away. at the very least, lynette would kill you. 

  he opens his mouth and a bunch of bubbles stream up towards the surface. his teeth gleam in the pale blue light. he seems to be able to see the scowl on your face, eyes crinkling; a school of gleaming silver fish whirls between you, and when it disappears, he’s on the bottom of the river, scraping into a gently waving anemone. 

  you want to shout what are you doing? but your voice won’t make any noise, much less travel to where he is, while in the water. you punch the water wildly, connecting with a fish exactly as lyney looks up. it squeals, darts away, and he looks at you like you’re a monster. you throw your hands up, floating in place for a moment, before paddling towards him again. 

  he’s still pawing through the fronds of a glowing mushroom-looking thing. you can see the shining blue powder collecting under his fingernails from where you are. he looks like he’s walking along the bottom, one hand clapped over his mouth and the other clenched on a rock to keep him anchored. you scoff, bubbles escaping your lips, and kick towards the bottom.

  “hey!” you hear him exclaim, though it’s more like a garbled shout than an actual word as you link one arm through his, tugging him away from the plants. this deep, it’s like you’ve plunged into a bathtub full of ice cubes. you have no idea how he’s dealing with the cold. “i’m – ”

  the rest of it is lost in bubbles as you brace your legs against the sandy floor, pushing downwards as hard as you can, and you go rocketing towards the sky. he makes some protesting noise, trying to wrestle out of your grip, but you hold on tightly. he would sink like a rock, and then you would have to fight him to come up again. you want to roll your eyes, but… you can’t force yourself to be annoyed. not really.

  you realize his vision is emanating heat. the longer he clings to your arm, the more warmth spreads through you. the river feels less like an ice cube, more like a hot spring. under his puffy sleeves, you can just barely feel his skin, as hot as a fire. if you held on for too long, you might get burned. 

  but right now, it’s okay. right here, when it’s just you and him.

  “i was doing fine,” is the first thing lyney says when his head breaks the surface. you let him go and swim a few feet away. he shakes droplets out of his hair, spraying in a circle; you can’t complain this time since you’re soaking wet too. it’s all you can do not to push him back under. “and i got a bunch of them!”

  “your sister would steal a gardemek and run me over if i just let you sink down there.” you glare at him, crossing your arms as you find a place to stand, feet barely scraping the underwater grass. “i’ve seriously had enough of you – how can you possibly live in fontaine and not know how to swim? and a bunch of what?”

  he digs in his coat, opening his mouth then closing it, a look of panic passing over his face. “w-wait – there’s no way i dropped it as i was coming up, right? after all that work?” he pats down his pockets, eyes going wide as plates. “i think i really did… oh, how could this happen! and i was so proud of myself, too.”

  despite yourself, your face softens. even if you’re annoyed, you have to feel bad at his rapidly mounting dismay. “what did you lose? i can go get it for you, if it’s that important.”

  his gaze whisks to you and you see the corner of his mouth turn up. he reaches towards you, scanning the water and the air around your face as you tilt your head up. “just – wait, i think i see it… aha!” he flicks the wet hair away from your temple and pulls a rainbow rose, shimmering and delicate, from behind your ear. “there it is.” 

  “you – ” you’re speechless, heat creeping up your neck. “where the hell… ”

  “a magician never reveals his secrets, etcetera etcetera.” lyney winks at you, peeling back his sleeve, and a whole pile of flowers falls into the water, bobbing there. the colors are iridescent, gleaming and fantastical. they looks like magic. though, maybe it’s not fair to compare them to magic, not when he’s right there.

  you search for words for a long moment. it’s harder than you would think, with his eyes on you. he shifts his weight forward, displacing the roses in the water. “... you know, you’re supposed to do that trick with a coin.”

  lyney clicks his tongue. “i thought you’d have figured out by now that i don’t do things the conventional way, my lovely.” the name makes your heart beat a bit faster. you swallow. he offers you the first rose and lifts his eyebrows. “go on, you can have it. put it in a vase and think of me whenever you see it.”

  “as if i need a reminder to think of you,” you mumble, taking it and rolling it between your hands. he seems not to hear you, humming as he turns, dragging the tips of his fingers through the surface. the petals are soft, yellow stamen dripping with a thick, sweet scented nectar. “but this is nice too, i guess.”

   you sit on the beach, gazing at lynette through your sunglasses as she skips through the grass a little while away. her boots don’t sink into the ground, moving like she’s lighter than air, despite the sun-softened, slightly damp earth; the tides washing up gently on the sand don’t seem to have any effect on it, either. or maybe she’s not really touching the ground at all. 

  she bends, scoops a glittering silver shell out of the water and pockets it. the water drips through the gauzy fabric of her leotard, and she twirls in place, skirt spinning out. water droplets spray in a circle, carrying through the air in a sudden breeze. she looks towards the horizon, seeming to watch the grass and trees sway in the wind.

  “hey,” you call out. “come here a second.” her ears twitch in your direction and she approaches you, tilting her head down. her hair blows gently back and forth, carrying the sweet scent of peaches and mint towards you, like a fragrant tea. you wouldn’t be surprised if that really was a flavor of tea she had been drinking earlier; you need to tell her sometimes to quit overdoing the caffeine. too often you’ve found her after midnight, reading with bags under her eyes and a teapot emptied ten times over.

  she sits down and you slide your sunglasses onto her head, pushing them down over her eyes. her tail twitches. “what are you doing?”

  “you shouldn’t look directly at the sun,” you admonish. “i know a boy who went out every day without glasses or anything and one day he went blind just like that.” you snap your fingers on the last word. her expression doesn’t change and she doesn’t make any noise, but you feel like you can feel an aura of disapproval radiating from her. you wilt, pouting at her. “huh, no reaction?”

  “you’re obviously lying,” she says plainly.  “i can tell from spending so much time around lyney.”

  “oh, of course,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. you get to your feet. “come on, we’re here, so why don’t we go in the water? you know a lot of tricks, so you should show me!” 

  you can’t quite see lynette’s eyes through the dark sunglasses, but she shifts her weight to one side, leaning on her hip and unbuckling her boots hesitantly. “... they’re nothing special, but if you really want to see, then i guess – ” 

  “great!” you cheer, pumping your fist and tugging her over the ground to the shallows by the arm. you can’t help but shiver at the sudden chill, but she barely looks bothered, moving like the water doesn’t even exist. her steps are light, sending pale gold sand billowing through the waves, and she whisks away from you in an instant as though she’s dancing.

  she reorients herself, facing a marble pillar edged in gold that sticks out of the water. in a matter of moments she’s submerged up to her chest, and your view of her lower body is distorted as she heads towards the pillar. you clap your hands delightedly, scanning the beach and then racing towards a nearby boat a couple feet from the shore. you scramble onto it, heaving your frame up and over the side to sit with your legs dangling into the lake.

  “go, lynette!” you shout, cupping your hand by your lips to project your voice towards her. she leans her head to the side and looks at you, bright purple eyes glinting as brightly as the inside of an iridescent clamshell. the side of her mouth ticks up in a half-smile. she has your sunglasses clasped in one gloved hand and tucks them into another unseen pocket as she propels herself to the pillar.

  the marble is wet and slippery and from where you’re sitting, you can’t see any cracks or bumps in the smoothly polished stone that could possibly allow her to have such a steady grip, but she climbs easily, scrambling up the side to prop her legs on the top. lynette stares out over the lake, over the city; she feels miles away, coils of hair fluttering around her face. she looks picturesque. she looks like a painting.

  in a heartbeat, she’s on her feet and raising her arms over her head. you’ve seen synchronized swimmers before, with their elegant movements and expensive costumes, and her silhouette against the sun isn’t so far from theirs; with her frilled leotard, gaze sharp as needles and hands reaching towards the sky, she could be one. just another one of her many talents.

  she leaps from the pillar, fingers stretched out before her, and you want to applaud. applaud before she’s even done anything. then again, being with her always feels like a performance. like a dance. here you are, barely a few meters away, and – her eyes are closed. she doesn’t see you as she plummets from the sky to the sea. it feels like there’s something between you, like if you held out your hand you would meet something solid. a wall. or a curtain. 

  there’s barely a splash as she plunges through the surface, tumbling into the water. she disappears in a mass of glittering white bubbles. you lose sight of her, and then she reappears, and you want to jump too, duck underwater to see her fully. to take in every bit of her. 

  her tail flicks behind her, hands pushing through the depths as she goes deeper, less like she’s sinking and more like she’s falling through a clear blue sky. her hair flutters like a bird soaring in the air. she looks so gorgeous, so graceful. someday she will flap her wings and fly away from you. you know that as well as you know anything. when the inevitable deadly winter comes – she will be gone.

  but not yet. you can still keep your eyes on her, floating in the water. you can cup this moment and keep it close to your heart until it’s all you have left.

  lynette surfaces, pushing wet hair out of her eyes, the platinum color darkened to silver. she looks exhilarated, cheeks filled with color, breaths coming fast for a moment before they slow down, returning to her usual impassivity. she looks at you, barely kicking to stay afloat. “... what’s with that look?” she asks, one eyebrow arching. 

  you blink, lean forward to see your reflection. it’s slightly distorted by the soft ripples, but you’re smiling, eyes sparkling. eyes wet. 

  “did something happen?” she asks. her tone is slightly laced with concern. it makes your throat tighten. “you look… emotional.” 

  you lift your head, brushing one hand over your face, avoiding her gaze. “just looking at something pretty,” you say, eyes on the horizon. “that’s all.” 

  arlecchino’s face is cold and stony as always, like her features have been carved out of porcelain, but you think maybe you can trick yourself into seeing a hint of affection in her dark eyes. at the very least, she hasn’t drowned you yet, though her hands have twitched a few times towards your throat when you splashed her “by accident”.

  “it’s so cold,” you complain, dragging your feet through waving strands of seaweed. “it feels like winter.”

  “i don’t feel anything,” arlecchino says, hands laced behind her back. her voice is even, unbothered by the temperature. her suit’s train trails through the surface of the water, silken cloth fading in and out of ice-white, bloodred and gleaming silver. she’s tired today, unable to muster any more words than what’s strictly necessary.

  you tilt your head, smiling wryly as you step towards her. “probably because you’re the reason it’s cold.” it’s true, though she only blinks slowly at the remark; the water cools several degrees around her waist. you’ve made remarks before that she resembles a statue when she stands still, and now is no different – rising out of the lake with the sun setting behind her, hair gleaming like snow. 

  “why are we here again?” she questions. her heels are caught in the murky sand. “we both know that i’m not a swimmer.” 

  “just wait for a bit, until night.” your arms are wrapped around yourself, but you still manage an excited smile, an i-know-something-you-don’t smile. you’re the only person who ever looks at her like that; she’d bite the head off anyone else who dared, but… she just inclines her head. “fine. after that, i’m going home.”

  “okay, okay.” 

  the time passes leisurely. you float on your back, showing arlecchino rocks and shells that you’ve plucked from the sand. she doesn’t respond beyond a nod to most of them, but your pockets grow heavy with the ones that receive an appreciative blink. you snatch up a hermit crab and place it in her hand; when it pinches her palm, she threatens to crush and eat it, prompting a cry of outrage from you.

  the sun slowly drifts below the horizon; golden bleeding to red, then to dark orange, then a sedated gradient of blue. wind whistles through the trees surrounding the lake, and the cries of birds grow quieter and quieter. this secluded pocket of fontaine – far away from the city, the aquabus and anyone who could interrupt you – is somewhere arlecchino has never been. somewhere you’ve been begging to show her for a while now. so far she’s seen nothing remarkable about it, and if it was anyone else, she’d go home, but…

  but.

  the sun is completely gone by now, and the sky is velvet black and speckled with stars. you’re shivering, the shoulders of your gauzy shirt soaked through as you bemoan your decision to wear such thin layers. her face is cold, her eyelids are drifting shut; exhausted from days and days of nonstop work. a thousand duties for the tenth harbinger. 

  and yet you want so badly to show her, whatever it is that you’ve been waiting all day for. so she can stay at least a moment longer.

  the sky dims a bit more, and you push yourself up and onto the riverbank. arlecchino follows a moment after, and as the water laps at her boots, it feels like a shadow passing over her. she tilts her head up and sees that a cloud has drifted past the moon, dimming its silver glow; the air is cold and crisp like a peppermint. you’re sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest. 

  she sits beside you feeling like a child awaiting instruction, legs stretched out in front of her, and looks up at the sky. there’s a few heartbeats where the sound of your breathing fills her ears, shivering and frosty puffs escaping your lips, and then you make a delighted noise. “look, look,” you say, pointing at the water. “it’s glowing.”

  arlecchino glances at you, blinking slowly as if you’re playing a trick on her. but your eyes are riveted to the scene below. she tilts her head, looking down at it, and sees the bright blue sparkles, glimmering in the water like a thousand stars, fallen down from the night sky to rest in the sea. her breath catches in her throat. the river glitters as though it’s filled with gems.

  “isn’t it amazing?” your fingers twitch, like you’re going to try and reach out, touch it. she inches her hand forward inconspicuously, ready to catch you if you lean just a bit too far. you’re not looking at her, transfixed. “it’s beautiful. it looks like a dream.” 

  she peers at it. the azure gleam reflects in her black eyes, the red x-shape of her pupils standing out like fire in a field of flowers. she reaches out, stretches as far as she can, brushes her long, sharp nails through the surface of the water; blue light blooms wherever she touches it. her lips curve up slightly, then press into a flat line again.

  “it’s… ” she stops and blinks fast. “it’s just algae. it’s science. plants. it’s not… a miracle, or anything. there’s no need to fawn over it like that.” 

  you pull your knees up to your chest, touch the top of her hand. her skin is cold, dry and without pores, no marks in her skin anywhere. smooth and empty. you trace the silver lines threading over her fingertips like veins. “even if it’s not magic, it can still be a miracle. you know that, right?”

  she lets you run your hand over her fingers for a moment longer, then pulls it away. “... maybe. but it’s nothing exceptional. it’s a plankton. we could come back here tomorrow night and see it again. it’ll never go anywhere.”

  “that doesn’t change anything,” you say. arlecchino can feel your gaze on her. she looks down into the water, sees the fish swimming through the luminescence, tries to ignore your eyes burning like flames into the side of her head. it’s too pleasant of a feeling to her, who doesn’t understand pain. “just because it’s always there doesn’t mean it’s any less beautiful. maybe that makes it more special.”

  “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she hums. “you’d probably appreciate it even more if it disappeared for a while.”

  “i don’t think so.” you lean into her, slowly, tentatively. she doesn’t push you away, tucking her hands into her pockets. you shift your attention back down to the sea, as if you’re speaking to it when you say, the radiance of the water illuminated in your irises, “i’d rather have you here with me.”

© lumiconic ; please reblog and follow if enjoyed

[hydrobunny]

 jump then fall (into me)

tags: fluff, established relationship, insecure reader, comfort, reo reo reo reo reo reo, lots of dialogue actually, they're drinking age, listen to jump then fall !! word count: 1.2k

“do you ever regret us?”

reo mikage jolts from his seat at his computer. the expression he fixes you with as he turns around is almost comical, all wide eyes and horror.

you can’t find it in yourself to laugh.

“what?”

you shift nervously. the satin sheets underneath you bunch awkwardly. “you know. getting together- staying together.”

he rises immediately, emails left for a later time. “what happened.” the words themselves should be a question, but his stiff tone doesn’t make it one.

you sigh, falling back on to the bed. although it’s only been two nights since the two of you checked in to this particular hotel, the bed already smells of reo’s expensive shampoo. “i dont know. sometimes i feel like i’m holding you back.”

his weight sinks into the mattress. “how the hell would you hold me back?”

you drag your hands over your face. “you’re just- you’re so you. heir to billions of yen, future ceo, hotshot football player, and you’re just barely in your twenties. shouldn’t you be out there in the wild getting into scandals every week? but you’re always just... here.”

“y/n.” even through tightly shut eyes, you can feel reo’s intense gaze on you. “is this really because you think i want to be out there making a fool of myself?” his hand gently brushes over your hair. “also, why would i get into scandals when i have you?”

you roll away with a groan. “it's not that. just- shouldn't you have had more relationships than just me? you know, all the first meetings and awkward flirting and shit.  you were popular as all hell in high school, but somehow you’re still with me? isn’t it boring?”

his hand freezes, and you feel a small inkling of guilt bleed through your heart.

after a long moment, reo rises from the bed without another word. He grabs his jacket from the chair as he pads out of the room, away from you.

you shove a pillow over your face and fight the urge to scream, sigh in relief, suffocate yourself, anything.

twenty minutes later, when you’ve reached a point of contemplating if those roses in the hotel vase are fake- (they’re in water, but you swear they smell exactly like those essential oils in scented candles)- your phone vibrates from its place on the desk.

you reluctantly lift yourself up, sliding your feet into your waiting fluffy slippers. reo’s computer is still turned on from before he left, some fancy computer program steadily running. you spot a hint of a message thread with nagi before you tear your eyes away.

the notification is from your messages, from none other than reo 🦎💜 himself.

the message itself is pretty short, unlike the usually wordy messages reo sends you consistently throughout the day.

come down to hotel bar. look nice

it takes you some time to actually comprehend the message, more than a few seconds spent blinking at it blankly.

and then you’re immediately digging into your suitcase for anything considered “nice.” honestly, did reo expect you to be able to procure outfits without any hint of the dress code? was he expecting family dinner or clubbing?

and what the hell was even with this request anyway? you were pretty sure your boyfriend had a business meeting in barely forty minutes, and it’s not like you two had ended your conversation on good terms.

either way, you settle on something in between wholesome and provocative, a pretty flattering cocktail dress you hadn’t really even planned on bringing. after a moment of contemplation, you leave your hair down, sliding in a pair of glittering earrings.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were trying so hard.

but when you arrive at the bar some minutes later, reo isn’t there. in fact, there’s no one there except for a stiff bartender slowly wiping down a glass. you hesitate from your place by the doorway, shooting off a here. dont see you? message.

he leaves you on read.

it takes you another six minutes of disbelief before you finally walk into the bar, and then it’s a short two minutes of fuming before you call for your first drink.

throughout it all, you see no hint of anyone; no reo, no drunk couples, no rich guests, no one. it would actually be kind of creepy if you had it in yourself to look around or care, but you really don’t.

ten minutes later, it’s when you’re nursing your second drink of the night ( a daiquiri that honestly is not getting you drunk fast enough ) that you hear another human voice.

“haven’t seen you before, pretty. can i pay for that drink?”

your mood immediately plummets as you turn with a scowl, ready to tell whoever it is enough curses to- oh.

reo smirks at you, flashing his card towards the bartender. you stare at him in disbelief. he’s in a completely new outfit from when you saw him last, something that is definitely not appropriate for his upcoming meeting. he has a leather jacket on, for gods’ sake!

“what the fuck are you doing?” you manage to say, realizing that you’re supposed to be mad at him. “do you realize how long i’ve been waiting?”

he pointedly doesn’t respond. “another round please, for me and the lonely lady!” he says before turning back to you. “so. what brings a girl like you here?”

you literally have no idea what he’s doing. you open your mouth to respond - with what, you couldn’t say- but then reo winks at you, quick enough that you barely notice.

the words fall out of your mouth without you even realizing. “what’s it to you?”

he hums, looking you up and down. “is it wrong to want to comfort a clearly sad stranger? come on, spill out all your secrets.”

you fight the urge to smile. “well, if you say it like that…i guess i’m trying to heal my broken heart.”

he responds a beat too late. “really? what idiot broke your heart?”

“no, i was the idiot,” you sigh, looking back towards your glass. “i was a bitch for no reason. got too caught up in my head, you know?”

his hands fly to yours. “i do know. and i’m sure your idiot knows as well. in fact, if i was the guy in question, i would have told you that nothing you can do would hurt me. that any time spent with you is infinitely better than time spent with any other women.”

you meet his eyes and smile. “and if you happened to be that guy, i would probably kiss you right then and there.”

reo swallows, hard. “yeah?”

you lean toward him. “too bad you’re not him.” you stand from your seat, grinning at how your boyfriend sputters instantly, almost knocking over his cup.

your shoes click clack a rhythmic beat onto the hotel floor as you head back toward the elevator.

seconds later, reo’s familiar form bumps into you, arm linking around your waist.

“i think that was first date was awkward enough, yeah?” he says breathlessly.

you lean further into him. “it was perfect. but i think i prefer my boyfriend.”

“good thing you’re looking at him. which means..”

you laugh, stopping. “which means this.”

you tiptoe upward and finally kiss reo. he tastes like watermelon chapstick and expensive rum.

// bonus//

“hey, reo?”

“yes?”

“did you rent out that entire bar so we would be alone?”

his silence is response enough.

I loveee reblogs and comments !! <33

[gor3-hound]

meant to be yours

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, unwilling cannibalism - reciever doesn't know! self-mutilation. obsessive, creepy, delusional reader. no real sex but masturbation n fantasies. very little smut and also a lil vomit.

a/n: idk why, but i... could not get this out of my head. been writing this the past few hours n it's now 1am... all i'm gonna say is read at your own discretion

word count: 1.9k words

There wasn't much good in your life. Not really. You'd never been one to talk much. No family, no friends. You spent most of your life working, dropping out of school, and saving money from a young age in order to pursue your one true passion - baking.

Opening up your own shop was hard. You went hungry most nights in order to skim a little cash from your dead-end job to be able to afford the down payment. But it worked. You had your own bakery, and business was booming.

For once in your life, you felt happy.

The day Leon came into the bakery for the first time changed everything. A festering desire found its way into your mind, an itch that wouldn't leave. He was your soul mate, you knew it. He was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. So pure and untouched.

He made your skin crawl. You needed to be closer to him, to corrupt him in a way that no one would ever come close to you. You needed to be his, mind, body and soul. His smile made you nauseous. How many others had received that same smile?

No. You had to have him in a way no one else could.

You started experimenting. Simple things, really. Your love for him was all consuming, and you're sure in time he'd come to understand how much you worshipped him. He'd be appreciative of all you'd done for him once he found out.

It made it all worth it as you carved into your flesh for the first time. Your teeth clamped down on an old leather belt of yours to stiffle your screams, a piece of fabric tied tight around your thigh to slow the bleeding as you cut chunks of your flesh out.

The pain almost made you pass out, but you wouldn't let your weakness get in the way of showing devotion to Leon. You swallowed your bile as it rose up your throat, blinked past the blurriness of your tears.

You did your best to treat the wounds efficiently after. YouTube can only teach you so much, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking, so you couldn't wrap the bandage as tight as you should have. But that was okay. You couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk someone stopping your plan.

You swallowed some painkillers and went to bed, content with the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. That meant Leon would be coming. You had something really special for him.

You wake up with a hop in your step the next morning despite the excruciating pain you were in. You down more painkillers and pop the pack in your pocket, although it does little to dull your pain.

You grind the carefully harvested flesh down. You had already made the dough which had expanded nicely. This would have to be your best work, after all. You carefully lay out the necessary ingredients, combining them before placing the filling neatly into the dough.

You gather up the edges of the disc you'd made, folding them over the seasoned flesh and tucking them in to form a nice ball. You smile at yourself, feeling like you deserved a pat on the back. Once the egg wash is on, you place them into the oven and glance at the clock.

Perfect timing.

You smile and set up the rest of the bakery for opening. Once the buns are cooked, you take them out and place them in the back. You greet all the customers as friendly as always despite the burning in your thigh and the obsession making itself known in the forefront of your brain.

The closer it gets to Leon's usual entrance time, the more antsy you get. You can't keep still, shifting your weight between your feet as it becomes increasingly more difficult not to snap at every customer that walks in. They were all wasting your time.

Your eyes flick over to the clock on your wall constantly. The quiet ticking makes your eyes twitch and keeps your nerves on edge. You want to rip the clock from the wall and-

“Hey.” Your head snaps to the door. A smile makes its way to your face as you relax. Finally. You lean on the counter, your gaze trailing Leon's face appreciatively.

“Leon. Hi.” You breathe out, all the tension seeping out of your muscles. He makes all the pain you endured worth it, just to see his smile. “The usual?”

He nods softly, and you get to work packing his order. He likes to treat himself to a slice of cake and a pastry at the end of the week. It's the cutest thing ever to you, and you always like to throw in an extra little snack. On the house, of course.

“Hey, I tried something new today. Saved some for my favourite customer. Want to try it?” The festering in your mind returns tenfold. You didn't know what you'd do if he didn't accept. Your mind was screaming at you, wanting nothing more than to see him eat your flesh. To become one with you.

Please. Your mind supplies, your breathing growing shallow as you wait for his reply. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours, your nails digging into your palms and leaving little crescent shaped marks in the flesh.

“Sure! What did you make?” He asks, sweet as ever. The air you suck in after that satisfies your whole body, like the first breath of air after you'd been drowning. Your lungs stop burning, your mind stops screaming.

“I'm trying out some more savoury stuff. Trying to broaden my horizons, you know?” You say with a chuckle, stepping back to retrieve the tray. “I made some pork buns. Saved them just for you. They're all yours, if you like them.”

He lets out a laugh himself, eyes examining the food in front of him. “You're too good to me. These look amazing.”

Take one. Please. Just one.

“Ah, it's nothing.” You say causally, your eyes locked on his hands as they reach out for one of the buns. Your heart beats faster, feeling like it's about to break free past the cage of your ribs. “You're an officer. Just giving back.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He says with an amused smile, finally picking up one of them.

Yesyesyesyes. Just a little longer.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to make a noise as he takes a bite. It's even harder to keep a neutral expression as he chews it, his eyes widening slightly. He swallows the bite, looks at you and grins. You lean forward, watching with morbid curiosity as his Adam's apple bobs, picturing the chunks of your flesh sliding down his throat.

“Wow! These are, like… really good. You should definitely start selling them.” He compliments, taking another bite. You watch him finish up the bun with increasing interest, your eyes practically sparkling with joy and your pussy throbbing with need.

“That's, um…” Your words come out shaky, so you clear your throat and try again. “Thank you. That means a lot. I'm really glad you liked it.”

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed.

If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

“No, no. I think that's it.” He says with a head tilt, not looking unlike a puppy in that moment. You want to keep him in a little room, safe from the cruelty in the world. Maybe a cute little display case you dust off every day.

“Alright, no problem, then.” You say as you start to ring up his order, telling him the price and taking the money. “Let me just wrap these up, and you can be on your way.”

With practised ease, you quickly wrapped the ordered items in paper, making sure the wrapping is secure. Once done, you carefully place them into a brown paper bag, double checking everything was intact. Reaching out, you held it out towards Leon, a kind smile on your face as you tried to ignore the aggressive beating of your heart. Your hand shook slightly, yearning for contact. For just a tiny moment of skin on skin. "Here you go.”

“Thank you so much! I'll see you next week.” He tells you as he reaches for the bag, his fingers brushing yours lightly as he takes it, getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Have a wonderful day." You reply, your voice breaking slightly as you watch him walk away. Your eyes follow his form disappearing down the street until he was out of sight before you let out a ragged breath, collapsing against the counter. Today had been... too close. Too much contact. You needed to calm down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your mind wanders for the rest of the day, thinking about how satisfying it would be when you were finally his. You'd get him to accept your gifts with open arms. How could he not love you when he'd realised how much you'd sacrificed for him?

You wanted him to dip his tongue in your wounds, to thank you properly for the pain you'd sustained for him. You'd worship every inch of his body, give everything you'd had to him.

Oh, how good it would feel when he sunk his cock into you for the first time. You'd be perfect for him, open up so easily for him. You'd take every inch without complaint, let him fuck you as often as he wanted.

Maybe he'd sink his teeth directly into your neck when he realised how much he craved your flesh. You'd make him crave another taste. The thought made you shiver, arousal pooling into the gusset of your panties, making the fabric stick to you.

You closed up early to return to your apartment. You find your bed instantly, flopping down and stripping within seconds. You shove two fingers deep into your cunt as you pictured Leon fucking you. The sloppy wet noises fill your room as your moans echo off the empty walls.

Your free hand shifts to the wound on your thigh, and you press down harshly. You scream in pain, nausea hitting you instantly at the agonising pain. It's enough to make you cum, your pussy gushing around your fingers. You lean over the edge of the bed, throwing up onto the hardwood floor. You'd deal with it later.

You curl up into a ball, breathing heavily through tears and mucus as the burning sensation worsens. You can barely breathe through the acrid scent assaulting your senses. It was all worth it. You'd tear every muscle fibre of your body apart to show your reverence to Leon. No one can love him like you can.

You wouldn't be content until he devoured you whole. Not until your souls became intertwined and you were sure you'd plague his thoughts like he had plagued yours. His teeth would sink deep into the flesh of your still beating heart, and only then would he understand the extent to which you adored him.

His innocent appearance meant nothing when he could ruin you so completely with one simple look. One touch. One smile.

He already had.

[yuri-is-online]

Hour of the Ox (Zenji Kotodama x Reader)

notes: I wrote this in a haste, consider it an apology for taking so long with my other stuff. If you ignore how self indulgent it is (III╥_╥⁠)

More fic can be found on my masterlist here (x)

“How would you define beauty?”  You're not really counting on an answer, without the doll there's no way to tell if Zenji is really with you but you're awake and the night has an eerie gloom to it that you're dangerously close to associating with him and not a warning.  Your pillow gains some extra weight and you blink; finally you see his form, his uniform cape keeping the small of his back from your gaze.

“Well my dear, that's one tough cookie of a question.”  He nods, thumb and pointer finger frame his chin as he begins to voice his thoughts.  “Are we speaking about classical definitions?  The poets oft point to nature when trying to show what beauty is.” 

“I think that…” Your heart is on the tip of your traitorus tongue but you swallow the words and try to find another way of speaking.  “I would say that's a shallow definition of beauty.”  

“Ack!”  His look of distress is heart-wrenching, but you had to say it. “My dear, how could you say such a thing?”

“There's only so many times you can compare someone to a rose before it becomes an insult. Roses wilt, you could use it as an analogy for the ugliness of age just as soon as you could an example of beauty.”  He says nothing, the figure beside you does not flicker so you hope he's merely thinking and not hurt by what you said.  

“Mmmm, I see, I see.”  Zenji's voice is deep, but not as loud as you are used to him being.  Maybe this is him being serious?  “Your example is not wrong, no matter how you word it, to pull a rose up by its roots and then decry it for wilting is an ugly thing to do.  But that, my dear, has little to do with the definition of beauty.”  Something works its way around the curve of your cheek that feels cold more so that solid.  Your eyes say it can't be his hand, those are still in his lap.  And you have tried time and time again to touch him before and felt nothing, this weight is little more than your own imagination.  

What you would give for it to be his as well.  

“If I were to say that the ‘moon is beautiful tonight,’ what would you think I am complimenting?”  This is Zenji, man of the quill so he cannot be ignorant to what he is saying, but, this is also Zenji the fool utterly, oblivious to the world around him.  So maybe he can, maybe he can be unaware of what he is saying and how it makes you feel.  “In your example, the author likely isn't speaking about a rose.  They are speaking about age and time, humans think of these things as something to be feared so we speak of them as being ugly and not pieces of life.”

“So intent is where you think beauty is?”  You ask slowly, determined to stave off sleep and keep him here.  But it's getting difficult, the longer he stays the more you want.

“Perhaps.”  Zenji hums.  “You lie to sleep alone, the moon shines against my page, empty as your hand.”  The solid cold works its way into your hair and you shudder, despite the comfort it brings you.  “Not my best work perhaps, but enough to bring you sleep I hope?  This is not the hour for living things to writhe in agony over what they cannot change.”

He's gone when you open your eyes again.  The other side of the bed smells faintly of jasmine, maybe if you move over there into the cold you will finally have some closure.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 9

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So I thought this may be the last chapter. It's not. Because I'm me.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

Raiders. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long for someone to find us. But I thought, or assumed we’d be mostly ok, hidden as well as we are. Joel and Tommy are always extra careful whenever they have to venture out further than our property to scavenge, making sure they aren’t followed. But they’ve only seen people once and that was years ago.

Sarah and Jax move quickly into the hall closet where Joel and Tommy had made a secret hiding place behind a back panel. Tommy hands me a shotgun and squeezes my hand, trying to reassure me that it will all be ok. But I don’t see how it will be. 

The cabin is silent, but getting louder is the unmistakable sound of a truck, no, trucks. Joel and Tommy exchange a look, moving to stand by the front door but well hidden behind the shutters. Rose and I wait in the hallway, staring at each other as we listen as hard as we can. The trucks park and we can hear muffled voices getting out of them. Joel peeks through the slot on his side and whispers to Tommy, but I’m close enough to just hear it. 

“It’s Mr. Jones.”

Mr. Jones? The man who sold us this cabin? We should be ok then, right? I chance a glance around the wall and watch as Joel’s posture changes, his face hardening even though his back is to us. 

“He’s with the Raiders.”

Why is Mr. Jones with raiders? Was he captured? Why would he come here, to a cabin he’d sold us long before the outbreak? 

“What’s the move?” Tommy looks at his brother, waiting to see his reply. Joel stands another moment, watching the men get out of the truck outside. 

“Just follow my lead and stay quiet. If it goes south, take the kids and the girls and get out.”

“I won’t leave you-”

“Tommy.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a firm warning, and by his silence, I know Tommy complied. 

Joel takes a deep breath and unlocks the door, carrying his shotgun loose in his hands, pointed down, but still ready to go if needed.

“Hey, Mr. Jones. It’s Joel. Joel Miller.” 

There’s silence for a moment before he replies. I have to strain to hear him properly. “Holy shit! Joel? It’s really you?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh! Wow, never would’ve guessed. Everyone make it out ok?”

Joel pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking how to best reply. “We survived the outbreak.”

A chuckle. “Well that’s amazing news!” There’s a slight lull in the conversation, a heavily weighted pause.

“Can I help you all with something?” Joel asks.

“Ah. Well see, I’d forgotten about this cabin, having sold it to you so long ago. Well, it feels like a long time ago. So much has happened…..anyway, I remembered we were setting it up to be off grid and I hoped you all had continued that, maybe have some supplies? I didn’t think you’d actually be here.”

“What supplies do you need?”

“All of them.”

There’s a more weighted pause before Joel replies. “Yeah, I can’t help you with that.”

“Well now, I think you can.”

This isn’t like Mr. Jones. Not the sweet man and his sweet wife who just loved the Miller brothers. Mrs. Jones especially adored Tommy, as she often told him he reminded her so much of a brother she had lost when she was younger. I can hear Tommy grip his gun harder and I glance at Rose, both of us locking eyes in the understanding that we may have to book it down the escape route rather quickly if things escalate. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. I would be happy to trade with you, but I can’t just-”

“You know, the only reason you’re still alive is because my wife loved you guys so much. Tommy especially. He reminded her so much of her brother Gabriel. She wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“Is she ok?”

Another pause. “She…didn’t make it past outbreak day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.”

“She was. But, now you see my predicament. I don’t want to hurt you out of respect for my wife. And I’m assuming you have a lot of resources, considering I’m fairly positive your brother and your kids and wives are all hiding here too.”

“So what do you propose?”

“There’s no need for bloodshed here. There are many of us and a few of you. Still, I wouldn’t want to upset my wife.”

“Alright then. You and your men can just go and we’ll forget it happened.”

“Ah, well. I do have responsibilities to my men too. They also have families and needs…how about this: we leave you all here with your supplies, but you and Tommy have to come work for us. Only when we need you. We could use your construction expertise but also your, apparently steady trigger fingers.”

A long pause. “Can I have a moment?”

“Absolutely. We’ll be here, in good faith.”

“In good faith.”

Joel’s heavy boots tap against the floor as he moves back inside, gently closing the door almost shut behind him, his peripheral trained on the men he can see through the crack. Joel calls to use and Rose and I join our men in front of the door. 

“Well?” Joel asks, looking at all of us.

“How many men are there?” Rose asks. “I’m a pretty good shot.”

Joel shakes his head. “There’s at least 10. And they mentioned families so I think if they didn’t return, more would come.”

“We could just leave? Throw a few things in some backpacks and head out the tunnel with the kids?”

“And go where, Daisy?” Joel’s dark eyes meet mine. “There’s nowhere around for miles and these raiders are bound to go looking around. Not to mention the damn infected. We can’t give this place up.”

I know he’s right, but still. It had to be said.

“I don’t like this, Joel.” Rose takes his hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you gone for God knows how long.” 

Joel lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I know. But we have to do this to take care of you. All of you. Tommy?” Joel looks at his brother, but I don’t have to look to know what his response will be. Tommy will do anything to protect Jax and I, no matter what.

“Yeah. We gotta protect ours.”

Joel nods at Tommy. “It’s settled.”

It was almost 2 weeks before they came back, just one vehicle, Joel and Tommy gathering up their backpacks, nerves visible in their features. Joel went around back to grab another tool bag and Rose and Sarah followed him. Jax was still asleep upstairs and Tommy had already said goodbye to his sleeping son. He slides his arm through the other strap and I adjust his flannel shirt, picking at it in an attempt to do something other than cry. 

“Hey.” Tommy lifts my chin with his finger and gently presses his lips to mine before pulling back to look at me. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

“Please be careful, Tommy. I love you so much, I can’t…I can’t lose you. Not again, I-”

“Hey, darlin’. I love you too. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pulls me to him and I nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his scent, letting it permeate my brain as it tries to memorize everything about him. But then Joel walks back inside, handing Tommy another tool bag before moving to the front door. 

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

Rose, Sarah, and I stand together in the doorway, watching Joel and Tommy get into the truck, not knowing when they’ll come back.

Or if.

The first few times they went, they helped the raiders build some additions to their compound, fortifying their defenses and just general maintenance and repair. I had asked Tommy if no one there knew how to do any of this, as it seemed pretty odd that in a compound of the size they discussed, that no one knew how to do something as simple as switch out a doorknob.

“Yeah, normally that would be odd. Except, they’re all rich people.”

I look up at him from where I had been snuggling against his chest. “What?”

He nods. “Yeah. Before the outbreak, all of these people had money. I’m talking loaded. Lots of them telling stories about it. So they’re not used to doing things for themselves.”

“So the rich people are raiders?”

He shrugs. “Guess maybe they couldn’t cope with doing without. So they just started taking.”

About 6 months in, the raiders come to collect Joel and Tommy, this time for an actual raid. They promised they’d be careful, looking out for people and clickers. But I don’t like it. It was bad enough them going to help the raiders build their home. But this?

They don’t return for nearly 2 weeks. 

Before, they were gone at most 4 days. Byt the end of the 2 weeks, Rose and I were ready to go charging the base and probably would have if it wasn’t for Sarah and Jax. 

They returned in the middle of the night, the kids fast asleep. Rose and I were still awake, having a hard time sleeping without them here. But the sound of a truck was unmistakeable in the quiet and we carefully headed downstairs, peeking out the slot in the shutters that Joel had looked out before, making sure it was really them. Joel and Tommy hopped out of the truck, slinging their bags over one shoulder without so much as a glance behind them. But my initial wave of relief at the sight of them quickly was replaced by concern as Tommy gets closer and I can see the hunch in his shoulders, his eyes on the ground. Something had happened. Something bad. Rose opens the door and Joel steps inside, Tommy following behind him as Rose closes the door. They drop their packs and kick off their boots, stowing them in the little baskets we had placed by the door.

“Tommy?” I reach for his hand but he snatches it back, not quite meeting my eye.

“I need to shower.”

I was stunned. He had been on some dirty construction sites, even building for the raiders, and not once has he never kissed me when he came home. Out the corner of my eye, I see a similar conversation happening between Joel and Rose, Joel following Tommy upstairs. 

“What the fuck happened?” Rose whispers to me, her eyes on the stairs where Joel had just been.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem good.”

I pop my head in the kid’s room, checking that they’re still asleep. I should stop calling it the kids room as Sarah is nearly 20 now. But they’re both so attached at the hip, I forget that she’s so much older than him. 

I close our door behind me, hearing the shower click off as I kick off my house shoes. I sit on the bed, quietly waiting for him. Tommy emerges from the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, his hair wet and curly, sticking to his neck and forehead. He turns to the dresser and grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on, tossing the wet towel in the basket. He sits next to me on the bed, still not looking at me. It’s almost as if he’s..ashamed?

I cup my hand to his cheek and lift his face to mine and immediately have to choke back tears at the look of defeat in his eyes. “Hey. I love you.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give details. But fuck, Daisy, I…we had to do some shady shit and I don’t…But it’s to keep you safe so I will, but-”

“Hey, hey,. It’s ok. We can just leave. We have the truck and we have more time now so we can load it up and-”

He shakes his head. “Joel’s right though. They’ll come looking for us. Especially now.”

“What do you mean especially now?”

Tommy looks down, picking at his fingers. “We were good at our job. Joel more than me, but they liked how good of a shot I am.”

“Tommy. Look at me.” It takes him several moments but he does, his eyes watering. “I love you. I love you no matter what, ok?” He nods but like he doesn't believe me. I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. 

And to my surprise, he melts into me, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he deepens the kiss. He turns his body, pressing me down into the bed as he lays on me, kissing down my neck, goosebumps erupting down my arms. I know this isn’t a healthy way to cope but it seems to be what he needs and honestly, I need him. I need to hold him, know he’s here with me, solidly here. He pushes his hips against mine, my back arching as he nips at my neck, his hips rocking faster and faster, chasing his high. His hands are everywhere, sliding over my skin, gripping me, touching me, his lips drawing paths across my body. My fingers tangle in his curls, my legs wrapping around him, urging him deeper, faster until finally lights erupt behind my eyes, my whole body tingling as I moan his name, hearing my own echoed back at me as his hips sputter against mine. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a few breaths before he pulls out, allowing me time to use the bathroom first. When he’s done, he slides into bed and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his large arms around me, my back pressed into his broad chest, his nose in my hair. 

“I’m here if you want to talk, but I’m also here if this is what you need. Whatever you want, I’m here, Tommy.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Every time they leave, I swear a part of them doesn't come back. Joel seems more aggressive. Not to us, but just...angrier. Tommy's shoulder's slump, his smile often not reaching his eyes, staring blankly out at the trees as he relives whatever horrors he's had to do.

It's when the last bit of life in his eyes snuffs out that I decide I need to do something.

I'd always told him he could talk to me and sometimes he did. I know he hasn't told me everything they've had to do, and I don't expect him to. I've asked him to leave before, but he always said Joel never would. That he couldn't leave his brother. But after 5 years, it finally took that last little bit of him I had left. I couldn't continue on like this. We couldn't continue on like this.

I come back into the cabin, washing my hands in the kitchen sink, before I head back outside, walking down through the trees to the dock, knowing I'd find Tommy sitting at the edge of it, glass of water clutched in his hand as he stares blankly out at the water, a million miles away.

"Hey, handsome." I sit next to him, gently placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze. He blinks rapidly a few times, coming back to present before looking at me, smiling slightly.

"Hey, beautiful."

I place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the bit of stubble that had grown in the last few days. "Are you here with me?"

His dark eyes meet mine and he blinks. "I am."

"Come with me?"

He cocks his head slightly to the side as I stand up, offering my hand out to him. He takes it, the warmth from his large hand seeping into mine as I lead him off the deck and back into the woods, down a path he'd taken me years ago. Albeit I was blindfolded, but I'm not bothering with a blindfold this time.

It had taken me a few days to figure it out, setting up the tent and blankets just like he'd done for our anniversary not too long after...well, after. I thought for sure he'd know where we're going but if he does, he says nothing, his fingers still laced with mine as we walk around trees and over roots. When the clearing appears and he sees the tent, he stops walking. I look back at him and am met with a blank stare.

"Tommy?"

"What..what are we doing here?"

"I thought it might be nice to get away for at least a night."

His jaw clenches. "Shit, did I miss our anniversary?"

At least he remembered why we had been here before. "No. I just...come sit with me?" I take his one hand in both of mine, pulling him slightly towards the blanket I had spread out. He pauses for a moment but then acquiesces, kicking off his boots and stretching out his long legs on the blanket. I kick off my own boots and sit next to him, hesitating before taking his hand again, feeling him lace his fingers through mine.

"I love you, Tommy."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

I told myself I wouldn't cry, that I'd be strong. But when I looked at him, his eyes staring at mine, and I couldn't see that light, I lost it. Giant drops fell from my eyes, splashing against our entwined hands.

"Hey, hey Daisy. What's wrong?" He drops my hand to place it on my cheek, cradling my face with both hands.

"I..can't...can't..."

He pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and I finally feel safe, secure, like he's fully here with me in this moment. It takes me a few minutes to calm down, but he's patient with me, always so patient, just holding me and letting me sort myself.

"We have to leave, Tommy."

He doesn't move, still for a long moment and so I sit up, drying my tears on the back of my hand.

"Daisy, we can't. I told you, Joel won't-"

"Every time you guys leave, a part of you doesn't come back. I know you're having to do terrible shit, more terrible than the crap you've told me about. And I've supported you as best I can, but Tommy, I feel like you're finally slipping away from me and I can't pull you to me, and I can't lose you, I just can't. Not again. I won't survive it."

"Oh darlin'. I'm right here."

I look up at him. "But that's just it. You're not. Even when you're here, you're not. This last trip. Something took the last bit of light from your eyes and I-" a sob ripples up from my throat and Tommy immediately pulls me to him again.

"You said you're protecting us. But who's going to protect us when you're gone, Tommy? Even if you're alive, you can still be gone. Please. We have to go."

A drop of water hits my cheek, but it's not my tears. I turn my head up and see tears freely flowing down Tommy's cheeks. This time it's my turn to hold him, press him to my chest as he cries. It's several long minutes before the sobs stop, the tears finally drying. My fingers are still tangled in his curls, gently patting him and lightly scratching his head. He sits up, wiping his eyes on his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Daisy. I thought I could handle it."

"Hey. You're so fucking strong. Most people would've cracked by now."

He smiles weakly. "I would have, if it weren't for Joel." His face falls. "He'll never leave, Daisy. He's convinced this is the safest option."

"Tommy, we can't continue on like this forever."

He nods. "You're right. I gotta take care of my family and that's what I'm gonna do."

"What if Joel won't come?"

"He won't. I'll make the offer to Rose and Sarah, but I'm sure they'll stay. But we'll still go."

"You sound like you have a plan?"

He's quiet again, his eyes going far away for several moments before looking back at me.

"Actually, I do. I've heard about this freedom fighting group called the Fireflies."

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk   

[barbsgirlfriend]

Velvet & Veneer Headcanons Pt. 3

(If you notice inconsistencies between posts it is because I use google translate. My first language isn’t English, it is Swedish. And I also changed some stuff)

Velvet✨✨

Basics

Full name

Velvet Lyric Mazzola

Alias

Vel (pretty much everyone), sis (Veneer)

Age & DOB

19 31/7/05

Gender & Pronouns

Cis Female She/her

Sexuality

Lesbian

Occupation

Singer & Performer

Religion

Agnostic

Appearance

Weight

68.95 kg (152 lbs)

Height

192 cm (6’3)

Body Shape

Rectangle

Body Type

Mesomorph

Skin Color

White

Face Shape

Circle

Hair

Long, wavy, healthy, bright green

Eyes

Round shaped, bright blue

Normal Apparel

Extravagant clothing, skirts, jean shorts, crop tops, makeup

Distinguishing features

Beauty mark above lip, scar on her left arm from childhood, dimples, five tattoos, and a big ahh forehead

Personality

Personality Type

ESTP-A (the entrepreneur)

Short Description

Velvet is extremely goal-orientated, and would put her friends or family down to reach her own goals. She strives for attention and love. Velvet might seem mean on the outside, but deep down she has a soft spot for her twin brother, Veneer. She’s extremely protective of her loved ones, but she isn’t the most reliable. Velvet barks more than she bites, but she can knock a bitch down.

Traits

Mean, ambitious, artistic, humorous, intelligent, controlling, protective, talented, somewhat toxic, and strong

Likes

Bubble baths, perfume, money, shopping, expensive clothes, praise, candles, mani pedis, the beach, purple crop tops, and roses

Dislikes

Trolls, being ignored, cheap perfumes, the feel of velvet fabrics 💀, her parents, being bossed around, balloons

Hobbies

Singing, dancing, songwriting, yoga, sketching makeup ideas, collecting vintage magazines, hairstyling, and zip lining

Fears

Thantophobia, atychiphobia, athazagoraphobia, cynophobia

Backstory

On July 31st, 2005, Velvet was born along with her younger twin brother. Her parents only wanted a boy, so she never got a lot of attention. She was cared for on and off by her parents and grandparents. Velvet made a strong connection with her grandmother, January, who was a famous singer in her days. Her grandmother was the main reason she wanted to start singing.

At the age of six, she was enrolled to a private primary school with her brother. Velvet became instantly popular for her famous grandmother and dentist parents. She became friends with almost everybody and loved her younger years. In year 3, her grandmother passed away. It was difficult on Velvet as she lost her main caretaker and friend.

At the start of secondary school, Velvet started becoming rebellious. She and Veneer would sneak out of the house to go to parties, smoke, etc. Eventually, the two were caught. As a punishment, they were given too many activities to worry about instead of sneaking off. She really started to despise her parents.

Velvet would skip her extracurriculars and use her free time to hangout with her friends or sleep. In year 12, she started dating. Velvet was dating the goalie for the school’s football team. However, he was a cunt. He was toxic and emotionally abusive towards Velvet.

This relationship was very draining for her. It made Velvet’s mental health really decline. One day, she got into a heated argument, and he hit her. Velvet went to protect herself, but Veneer jumped in and beat the fuck out of him. Safe to say, he never messed with her again.

Around that time, she started her singing career. Velvet would post her songs on SoundCloud, and got a few thousand followers! She felt consumed by the fame and wanted MORE. Velvet convinced her twin brother to start singing with her a bit after. They became insanely famous stupidly fast.

Velvet was blinded by her fame and money, making her toxic and controlling. It was so bad that she had to go to weekly therapy to control herself. She moved out of her parents house and into a beach home for her and Veneer.

She lives with Veneer right outside of Mount Rageous. she’s pretty happy now. She loves her life and how far she’s come.

Favorites & Least Favorites

Food

F: East Coast oysters. LF: scrambled eggs

Drink

F: raspberry lemonade. LF: Pepsi

Song

F: Agora Hills (Doja Cat). LF: 9 to 5 (Dolly Parton) she’s sick and tired of crimp singing it

Season

F: Summer. LF: winter

Place

F: her grandmother’s music hall. LF: childhood room

Color

F: purple. LF: red

Relationships

Mother: Veronica Mazzola/56/living

Father: Valentino Mazzola Jr./58/living

Brother: Veneer Mazzola/19/living

Other: Grandma/Mom’s Side/January Harmony/85/deceased, Grandpa/Dad’s Side/Valentino Mazzola Sr./92/deceased

Lover(s): Joey/20/living/ex, Orchid/18/living

Other

Birthplace: Mount Rageous

Residence: 5 miles out of Mount Rageous in a Beach House

Nationality: Mount Rageon

Ethnicity: Mount Rageon

Veneer

General

Full Name

Veneer Adagio Mazzola

Alias

Ven (almost everyone), bro (Velvet)

Age & DOB

19 31/7/05

Gender & Pronouns

Cis male He/him

Sexuality

Bisexual with pref for men

Occupation

Singer & Performer

Religion

Christian

Appearance

Weight

67.13 kg (148 lbs)

Height

183 cm (6’0)

Body Shape

Rectangle

Body type

Ectomorph

Skin Color

White

Face shape

Circle

Hair

Medium, wavy, soft, bright green

Eyes

Round and bright blue

Normal Apparel

Extravagant clothing, heels, jeans, t-shirts, tank tops, bracelets, earrings

Distinguishing features

Scar on upper lip, tooth gap, and three tattoos

Personality

Personality type

ESFJ-A (the consul)

Short Description

Veneer is extremely smart… like VERY smart. He’s insane with how good his intuition is and how quick he can find your biggest insecurities. Veneer is goal-orientated like his older twin sister, but he’s more secretive about it. To most, he only seems to be a flamboyant himbo. But in reality, Veneer is a caring but shady bitch.

Traits

Loud, judgy, overall friendly, happy-go-lucky, flamboyant, sensitive, protective, strong, talented, intelligent, mean

Likes

Pop music, gossip, anything gucci, the champagne toast scent from BaBW, beanies, vintage clothing, expensive jewelry, smell of gasoline

Dislikes

Cheap food, being bossed around, cigarettes, Velvet spraying perfume on him, being tickled, being alone, lavender scent, having no money

Hobbies

Dancing, singing, gardening, shopping, sketching fashion ideas, crocheting, acting, playing tennis, fishing

Fears

Atychiphobia, acrophobia, traumatophobia

Backstory

On July 31st, 2005, Veneer was born along with his older twin sister. Their parents only wanted a boy, so Veneer got the most attention growing up. He was spoiled to death by his parents, but it made him uncomfortable. Ever since he was a toddler, he was weirded out by his parents. However, there was an important figure in his life that made him not uncomfy: Valentino Mazzola Sr.

His grandfather supported his love of dance and acting, but also taught him “manly” things. Veneer was very close to his grandfather. He started attending a private primary school with his twin sister. Quickly, he became popular; not just by his family being famous. Veneer was an extremely nice kid in Primary School.

In middle school, Veneer started to experiment with who he was. He started painting his nails, got his ears pierced, and acted more feminine. But this angered his parents; they said that they didn’t want a gay child. With that, he started becoming very secretive. Veneer didn’t talk to certain people for months on end.

When he got to year 10, his grandfather past away. It was really hard on Veneer. On top of all the stressful activities he had to do; he had to suffer loss. This was when Velvet and Veneer started their singing career. (Ha that rhymed).

He felt so happy that people adored him; he felt even happier his sister was getting the attention she deserved. Due to getting famous, Veneer really stopped caring. He became himself and didn’t give two shits if his parents started complaining.

Veneer became an icon in Mount Rageous quickly. He is just as greedy with his fame as Velvet, but he can control himself more. He loves his life, his family, his boho chic home decorations, and his money.

Favorites & Least Favorites

Food

F: Lobster tail LF: coconut

Drink

F: Pipeline Punch Monster LF: sparkling water

Song

F: I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman (Britney Spears) LF: Rude Boy (Rihanna)

Season

F: Fall LF: Winter

Place

F: the beach LF: elevators

Color

F: hot pink LF: bright yellow

Relationships

Mother: Veronica Mazzola/56/living

Father: Valentino Mazzola Jr./58/living

Sister: Velvet Mazzola/19/living

Other: grandma/Mom’s side/January Harmony/85/deceased, Grandpa/dad’s side/Valentino Mazzola Sr./92/deceased

Lover(s): Kid Ritz/19/living

Other

Birthplace: Mount Rageous

Residence: 5 miles out of Mount Rageous

Nationality: Mount Rageon

Ethnicity: Mount Rageon

(Thank you for reading this massive thing <3 )

[teez-the-time]

Choi San, Wolf Warrior: PREVIEW

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance, angst

Synopsis: Ten years ago, your best friend San promised his eternal love to you. Now, the danger of his oath creeps through the both of you, and he has to bear the weight of his words. No matter what his fate will be, you must remember that he is the Wolf Warrior.

Warnings: Blood, wounds, death (animals die, I'm so sorry), weapons, cursing, San is fucking RIPPED, reader doesn't do much (sorry again), way too much flashbacks and monologuing (sorry x3, but I do not know how to stop).

Wc: 7.8k

A/N. Hello hello!!! I humbly present this preview of the first ever fanfic I post here 🤭 while I don't promise it to be my best work, you can message me or leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist for when it drops.

Your tribe had a sacred tradition.

The first hunt is the most sacred; dedicated to whom you thank your life for.

The best hunt is the most important; dedicated to whom you’d die for.

That is why you couldn’t help but tremble while looking at San down below.

Even if he had clearly announced his decision to embark on the journey no more than a couple of months ago, nothing could have prepared your heart.

Not even kneeling alongside your father and your mother at a higher ground, far away from where he stood, could you escape the power radiating from his stance. Even his posture was perfect; perfectly still and elegant, like a wolf just like the one he had marked with ink on his chest. His eyes looked up, and you knew your Sanie was long gone.

He was Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

The drums started beating in an ancestral rhythm; one you had heard in too many unsuccessful attempts. Men and women below hollered and twirled their bodies to the music, almost in a spiritual trance brought by the excitement of the hunt. The sound got louder and louder in your chest, so hard that it felt like a second heart. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran several times through your spine. You just kept praying for it to be over.

And just as they had started, the drums ceased as your father rose as the chief of the village. He, too, didn’t feel like your father anymore, his hierarchical title far outweighed the one of father right now. You couldn’t decipher his expression, no longer familiar to you.

“Choi San”, his voice boomed through the whole village, “why are you here today?”

To you, San didn’t look intimidated one bit. “I’ve returned to fulfill my promise made sixty-two days ago, in this very place.”

This was all part of the ceremony, nothing more than a formality, but your heart fluttered with San’s words. But still, you knew he was wrong. No, he didn’t make that promise sixty-two days prior. He had made it way before that, when you both were young kids.

He had promised to marry you ten years ago, at age twelve.

But your father didn’t find it that endearing. “An oath like that can’t be made by anyone. Are you sure you will be able to keep it?”.

San didn’t fall for the taunting. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Are you really sure? Do you even know the consequences?”

Everyone knew them, even more San. “Yes, sir. I know them.”

“Are you willing to go through them then? Even if it means your death?”

With that, San let out a grin. “Especially if it means my death…sir.”

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 10

Artist!Joel x Florist!Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (8 years), bee is the reader's nickname, angst, fluff.

a/n: Okay, chapter 10 is here! I know I said this would be the last one but I really didn't have time to write something that felt like an ending, so here's one more chapter because I feel I own you weakly chapters. This one is not my favorite, but it's a cute one, you know, angst, then fluff, so you can give it love. Thanks a lot for your comments and support, Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

masterlist

With a soft gasp, Joel whispered, "Are you...?"

You didn’t respond, instead you hold his hand placed over your stomach and gripped tightly as if this was the decisive moment in the course of your relationship.

but still, his features on his face were unreadable. You knew what those moments meant between you. The words say but nothing back in return. It was like all that night all over again and you couldn't bear silence once again. You weren't alone this time. Unable to endure the quiet any longer, you broke it with a whispered, "Joel." Your voice carried a mix of vulnerability and hope, seeking connection and understanding.

At that moment, Joel let go of you carefully, creating a bit of space between you two. His eyes continued to hold a mixture of awe and realization, and it was clear that the weight of the revelation was sinking inside him.

“Ho-ho-how?” Joel asked as if any thought could fully process inside his head. "Bee," he began, his voice soft but with a tint of anger “When did you find out?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to find the right words. "I... I wasn't sure how you would react. 

“That’s not what I asked you” he retorted, harsher than expected.

“Yesterday” you confessed, looking at your hands instead of his face.

“That’s why you were being so weird,” he said, as a matter of fact “You didn’t tell me, but you told ex-boyfriend first, who is casually in town. How convenient, right?” 

At this point, you felt the air in the room was suffocating as a way of punishing you for breaking what you loved so much.

“No. I-I mean he-he found out”

Joel chuckled. He didn’t believe you. He was torn between joy and confusion and anger towards you. Anger for not being able to tell him things as if you were scared of him or something similar.  

“I know you wish he would be the father. Right?” he questioned.

“What?”

“The man you had a future secured with. Mister Perfect-

“Joel stop!” you cut him off through your breaking voice.

Joel's expression shifted from confusion to frustration, and his voice rose with intensity. "Bee, you don't get it, do you? This changes everything. Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I was scared, Joel. Scared of how you would react, scared of how it would affect us," you pleaded, desperation in your voice.

“You just stopped to think what happened to me the last time I got the woman I loved pregnant?” he said raising his voice, stepping closer to you “She left me and my baby alone”

“Have I ever made you think I was going to do something like that”

“I don’t know you tell me,” he said. His eyes were red, between the anger and the sadness

“You’re being mean.” you sobbed

“You’re hurting me too” Then he called you by your name for the first time in years. 

“I-” you sighed “I don’t what to tell you then. It’s not like I can pretend the baby doesn’t exist” 

Joel's shoulders slumped, and for a moment, his anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a weariness that went beyond the present situation. "Bee, I don't know how to process this. It's not just about you and me anymore. It's about a child, and I’m afraid to go through what I went through again."

You sobbed so loud, you almost felt like fainted. That made Joel raise his eyes at you and take the state you were in. His heart shattered at that picture. He knew you would never let him alone with a baby and yet he had found a way to make you suffer. 

His eyes softened as he saw the pain in your expression, and the weight of the situation seemed to press on both of you. Joel hesitated for a moment before he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, as if unsure of how to comfort you. 

"Bee" he whispered; his voice filled with remorse. “I don’t want to lose you”

You clung to him, seeking solace in his arms. "Joel, I love you. You will never lose me. I would never let you alone.”

His grip tightened, and he pressed a tender kiss on your forehead, preventing you from going away from his touch. 

“Stay here tonight” he pleaded “I’ll sleep in the guest room, if necessary, but please just stay here” 

You hesitated, torn between the comfort of his presence and the need for space. The room was filled with the echoes of your shared history, the joy, the pain, and now the questions of the future ahead. Joel's plea resonated with his own vulnerability and guilt, the opposite of his earlier reaction.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of emotions, “Okay, I will stay”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the man in front of you "Joel, I need to be sure that whatever decision we make, it's the right one for both of us."

Joel nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding, though tinged with sorrow. "I'll sleep in the guest room. If you need me, I'll be there. Okay?"

You nodded “Okay” you whispered.

As you watched him leave the room, a mix of emotions swirled within you. The fear of your insecurities was taking hold of you and you felt how much your world was going to change. Taking care of another tiny human is something you didn’t have in plans, yet he you were, and the night stretched ahead, filled with the weight of the uncertainty of it. The path ahead was still unknown.

During some time of the night, you woke up with a desperate need for chocolate you couldn’t resist, so you just got up from bed on your mission of finding some of the chocolates you and Sarah hid from Joel a few days ago. 

Once you step out of the bedroom, the house was shrouded in silence, broken only by the faint noises from the night and the hum of the refrigerator, so you decide to walk downstairs. As you reached the bottom, a soft glow emanated from the living room.

There was Joel, seated on the couch, a glass of whiskey in hand. The dim light accentuated the lines of weariness etched across his face. He looked up as you approached, with resignation in his eyes as you found him drinking at this time of the night. 

“It’s past your bedtime to drink, mister,” you said a lighthearted kind of humor in your tone in order to lift the weight of tension between the both of you. 

But as Joel kept looking at you with nothing to say, you retracted from your attempt to calm the situation. 

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question.

Joel only shook his head, taking a sip from his glass.

Again. No words came out from his lips and you felt ashamed of breaking the peace he had found in the middle of his own solace. 

“I’m just craving some chocolates,” you said, walking to the kitchen.

A faint smile tugged at Joel's lips as he gazed at your movements in the cabinets, looking for the chocolate.

What you didn’t know was he was in fact studying you with his eyes, looking for any change he hadn’t noticed in your body, already picturing you with your belly, and God, that only thought made his heart burst in awe. 

You returned with a small stash of chocolates in your hands “Sarah and I have a spot to hide chocolate from you” you confessed hoping to lighten the mood.

 Joel chuckled; all the tension seemed to fade away easily with that sound. 

"Want some?" you offered, holding out the open box

But instead of words, he gestured to the empty spot beside him, inviting you to take a seat next to him. The air was still heavy and suffocating, but for you, the closeness was enough for now.

Without telling you he took a chocolate from the box in your hands, the corner of his lips lifting slightly in a tiny smile. 

“Sorry for hiding the pregnancy from you,” you said. 

Joel's expression softened as he turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and remorse. "Bee, we both have things to work through. I'm sorry for the way I reacted. It caught me off guard, and I didn't handle it well."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "It's okay, Joel. This is a lot for both of us. We just need to figure it out together."

He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. “You’re the first woman that had made me go crazy; you know?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean that after Lauren, I really didn’t have any kind of romance with another woman, at least not more than s- “

“Oh my God” you exclaimed covering your face with your hands “I don’t wanna hear it” 

He chuckled. “You are the first one I settled with. The first one I want to stay with until the day I die,” he smiled. "It was really hard for me to trust someone after what happened because it wasn’t just me anymore. There was Sarah, my daughter was someone I had to protect from anyone else, and I never trusted other women with her, but you. You just... she loved you since the first day she saw you selling those stupid flowers of yours, and I? I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Your eyes softened as you listened to Joel's heartfelt words. The vulnerability in his voice resonated with the sincerity of the emotions in his eyes. His admission took you by surprise, and a warmth spread through your heart, realizing the depth of his feelings for you.

"Connell was the only man I was with before you” You began to tell your story too, “I mean there were these guys but it never clicked until him”

“I don’t believe you for a second,” he said, serious. 

“Why?” you laughed.

“I mean look at you” 

“Oh, do you think I’m pretty?” you asked, tilting your head to your side “But seriously, I never was really popular at school, so no guys wanted to date me really, until there was that one guy, I was kinda into, but he broke up with me on the phone. Then, I had these dates that never really worked because I didn’t want to do anything with them and then I met Connell and he was a gentleman, really. I feel like I’m always gonna be thankful for him because he helped me to realize I was worthy of love and when he left the first time, I was heartbroken because I thought I was never going to find someone who made me feel that”

Joel's eyes softened as he listened to your words this time. Being vulnerable and telling this kind of stuff was something a lot of people were ashamed of most of the time. Society had always made most women believe their worth is their sexuality when in fact it came from other things, and he appreciated the honesty in your speech.

“Then, I eventually met this annoying man next to my shop, and God, he was infuriating” you smiled at the memories “But, I liked him a lot”

Joel chuckled, the teasing grin fading into a tender smile as he wrapped his arm around you. "Well, I guess that annoying man turned out to be the love of your life, huh?"

You nodded, looking up at him. "Yeah, he did. And now, we're going to have a baby together."

The weight of this news still hung in the air, but this time, it felt different. There was a sense of joy and acceptance from both of your sides. Joel leaned down, trying to place a kiss on your lips, but you hide your face on his neck instead.

“Hey, don’t avoid kisses from the father of your child,” he said, pretending offense. 

You chuckled; your voice muffled against his neck. "I'm not avoiding. You smell to alcohol and I just don’t wanna throw up in your face” 

Joel laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. He pulled back, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Fair enough. I'll save the alcohol for another time." 

You both shared a laugh, and the tension dissipated. Joel's gaze softened as he caressed your cheek.

"You're amazing, Bee," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I never thought I'd be so lucky."

You blushed, feeling the warmth of his words. "The feeling is mutual, Joel. We're in this together, right?"

"Absolutely," he affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "No matter what comes our way, we'll face it together."

“Even when the big belly comes between us?” you asked, playfully.

Joel grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Especially when the big belly comes between us. I'll be right there, supporting you every step of the way."

You smiled at the thought, realizing that despite the challenges, the love and unity between you and Joel would be the foundation of your growing family.

"Alright, let's get you back to bed," Joel suggested, standing up and offering you, his hand.

But before taking his hand, you looked at him “I’m sorry for making us lose time”

“What do you mean?” he said, as the wrinkles on his forehead accentuated his worry.

“When I almost left the city just because you didn’t tell me you loved me when I wanted to. I told myself you just were playing with my feelings because we were doing all this fake dating thing. I didn’t think in your feelings or in your fears”

Joel's expression softened as he listened to you. He sat back down on the edge of the couch, his eyes searching yours. "Bee, I never meant to make you doubt my feelings. I just didn't want to rush things, especially after what I went through with Lauren. I wanted to be sure, not just for me but for you and for us." 

You sighed, the gosht of the past faded away "I know that now. I shouldn't have doubted you."

Joel's thumb gently brushed against your cheek. "It's okay. We're here now, and that's what matters." a genuine smile on Joel’s face broke "I just want you to know, Bee, that you're not just someone in my life. You're my partner, the woman I want to share everything with. I may not always know how to express it, but I love you more than I thought I could love anyone."

Tears welled up in your eyes, overwhelmed by his feelings slipping past his lips in such a beautiful way. He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently.

“I think we should go to the doctor,” he said, as he looked at you with adoration “To check in our baby” 

Your heart swelled with warmth at the mention of "our baby" filling the space with a sense of hope and joy you wanted to taste. It was a stark contrast to the emotional rollercoaster of the past night.

"Yeah, I'd like that," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. 

“Okay” he spoke again, a smile tugging on his lips “Now let’s take you to bed for real” 

Joel nodded, his smile lingering as he led you back to bed. The weight of the night's emotional turmoil had given way to a new kind of commitment between both of you, after all, there was a new person joining into your lives.

As you settled back under the covers, Joel tucked you in with a delicate touch. "Sleep well, Bee” 

You nodded, the tiredness of the night catching up to you. Joel pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before making his way to the door. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up.

"Joel," you called out, and he turned back to you.

"I love you," you said, your voice filled with sincerity.

A warm smile crossed Joel's face. "I love you too, Bee. Goodnight."

“No” you whined “Stay.”

Joel hesitated for a moment, a conflicted expression on his face. The turbulence of emotions you had shared tonight had taken its toll on both of you, and he wanted to respect your need for space. However, the sound in your voice tugged at his heart.

He could never say “no” to you.

Without a word, he walked back to the bed and slipped under the covers beside you. You scooted closer, seeking the warmth of his embrace. Joel wrapped his arms around you, and in the quiet of the room, you found solace in each other's presence.

"Thank you," you whispered, snuggling against him, falling asleep a few minutes later. 

“I’m happy you’re the mother of my baby” he whispered against your hair as you slept on his chest.

When the morning sun arose, painting the room in a soft golden glow, you slowly stirred awake. After the events from the previous night, you still felt a little weird about it, but the reminder of Joel’s gentle embrace took over the memories in your head. 

As you made your way downstairs, the scent of breakfast wafted through the air, enticing your senses.

To your surprise, when you entered the kitchen, you found Sarah already seated at the table, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she greeted, her eyes twinkling with a secret.

You furrowed your brow, wondering what could be behind that knowing expression. "Morning, missy. What's got you grinning like that?"

Before she could respond, Joel emerged from the backyard, a small gift bag in his hands. The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, his eyes meeting yours with a warm smile.

"Morning, Love," he said, as he kissed you on the cheek. 

"Morning, luv" you replied, a curious glance shifting between Sarah's smirk and Joel's mysterious bag.

Joel handed you the bag. "I thought you might like this."

You took the bag, with anticipation growing within you. As you opened it, you found a tiny onesie folded neatly inside. The fabric was soft, just like the skin of a baby.

"I found this while going through Sarah's baby clothes," Joel explained, his eyes reflecting nostalgia for those years "It was hers when she was a baby."

Sarah couldn't contain her grin, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched your reaction.

"I thought it might be a nice way to welcome our little one," Joel continued, his gaze softening.

You held the tiny onesie in your hands, feeling the weight of emotions on you. It was a gesture filled with love, a bridge connecting the past and the future of your lives at once. As you looked up at Joel, tears filled your eyes. 

The combination of pregnancy hormones and the overwhelming meaning of the gift created an intense, beautiful moment. Silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you clutched the tiny onesie to your chest.

Joel, worried about your reaction, closed the distance between you. His arms crossed around your middle, offering the comfort you needed. Sarah, witnessing the scene, smiled warmly at the two of you, her eyes reflected joy and gratitude for you. After all, you were her first picture of a woman in her life, and the girl his father loved. 

Your voice trembled with gratitude as you spoke through the tears. "You guys, this is so nice."

Joel held you a little tighter, his embrace a source of comfort. Sarah beamed with understanding, recognizing the feeling flooding within you. 

"I thought it would be a nice way to connect the past and the future," Joel murmured, his voice soft felt soft to your ears "That onesie was the first thing I bought for Sarah” 

Sarah, unable to contain her excitement, chimed in, "And the baby can wear it, just like I did!"

As the tears kept flooding, you found yourself wrapped in the warmth of your little family.

“That was all the point of this dummy,” Joel said to Sarah, still holding you in his arms.

“Shut up, let me hug Bee,” she said, 

The playful banter between Joel and Sarah added a touch of lightness to the emotional moment. Joel chuckled in response.

"Alright, alright. Hug away," Joel teased, giving Sarah a gentle nudge.

She enveloped you in a hug, her small arms wrapping around you with surprising strength. The connection between the three of you, the shared laughter and love, filled the room with a warmth that transcended any fear you could feel. 

"Thank you, both of you," you said, wiping away the remaining tears. "This means the world to me."

Joel pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, echoing your gratitude. "We're in this together, Bee. All of us."

As you stood there, embraced by your little family, the morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a glow on the beginning of a new chapter—a chapter filled with love, shared histories, and the promise of a beautiful future together just like you dreamed when you were a little kid. 

As the days passed, Joel and you visited the doctor. You were two months pregnant, on the edge of the third month approaching. And you couldn’t be more nervous about the little one growing inside you. 

Days blurred together, each single second bringing you closer to the prospect of imminent parenthood. Joel had grown into an anchor after overcoming the initial shock and fear of the news. However, his protective instincts kicked into overdrive, creating a delicate balance between care and an overbearing nature. 

When you were in the flower shop, you were arranging a bouquet for a customer. Flowers' lovely aroma filled the little space, and sunlight rushed in through the windows, creating a warm glow over the colorful blooms.

Joel, ever watchful, stood nearby, glancing at you with a protective gaze. You couldn't help but smile at his newfound attentiveness. As you meticulously arranged the flowers, he cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Bee, are you sure you should be doing this? Maybe you should take a break," he suggested, concern drawn on his face.

You chuckled, appreciating his concern. "Joel, it's just a bouquet. I'm fine, really."

He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. "I just don't want you straining yourself. What if you need to sit down or something?"

"I have been doing this for years, and I'm not about to collapse over a bunch of flowers," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes “At least if I die flowers are ready” you joked.

Joel huffed, frustration and amusement on him "I know, I know. I just worry."

The bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of a customer. You excused yourself to assist them, leaving Joel standing by the counter. As you worked with the customer, you could feel Joel's eyes on you, his protective instincts in full force.

Once the customer left with a beautiful bouquet, you returned to Joel's side. He handed you a bottle of water, a small frown on his face. "You should stay hydrated. It's important for the baby."

You took the water, amused by his persistence. "Joel, I promise I'm taking care of myself. You don't have to worry so much."

He sighed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I can't help it. I just want to make sure everything is perfect for you and the baby."

You reached out, squeezing his hand. "Joel, it already is. And it's perfect because you're here with me, looking out for us. But you have the gallery, you should be there” 

His gaze softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you, Bee." He spoke completely ignoring your last words.

That was it for that day, but his overprotectiveness over you continued the days later when Lily came into your shop to lend you a hand and enjoy some quality time together. 

As you started selecting some flowers to arrange some bouquets, Joel walked in, his presence immediately felt. His protective instincts kicked in, and he began hovering around, offering suggestions and sometimes rearranging the flowers you had picked.

"Joel, I've got this," you said, trying to assure him.

The shop wasn't terribly crowded, so Lily gently excused herself to allow you and Joel some space. Despite your efforts to continue with the flower arrangement, Joel's protectiveness increased.

"Joel, seriously, I appreciate your concern, but you're suffocating me," you finally said, your voice tinged with exasperation.

He scowled; pain visible in his eyes. "I'm just trying to take care of you and the baby."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but I need some space, Joel." "I can't breathe with you watching my every move," you said, hoping he'd get it.

As Joel stepped back, the atmosphere in the flower store became strained. His mouth was clinched, and a cloud of annoyance lingered over him. Lily returned to the scene, sensing something had happened, feeling the tension.

"Do I really bother you, Bee?" he asked, not caring about Lily's presence "Okay, so I leave"

"Right now, I just need to focus on the flowers and get some work done. We can talk later." You spoke, feeling frustrated. 

Joel, visibly upset, walked out of the shop without saying another word. Lily shot you a sympathetic look, understanding the complexities that came with the situation.

You sighed, deciding to confide in Lily about the recent events. "Joel's being overly protective, and it's driving me crazy. I know it's because he cares, but I need some space too, you know?"

Lily listened attentively, offering a sympathetic smile. "It's a big adjustment for both of you. Have you talked to him about it?"

"I tried” you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

Meanwhile, Joel was at the gallery, his mind preoccupied with the events of the past day. He discussed his concerns with Tommy, admitting that he was struggling to find the right balance in being there for you without overwhelming you.

Tommy, being a voice of reason, suggested, "Maybe you should give her some space, Joel. It's a learning process for both of you. She needs to feel like she has room to breathe."

Back at the flower shop, Lily offered some advice. "You both love each other. Just give it time, and things will work out. Maybe try talking to him again when you're both calmer."

A few hours later, the drive back home was filled with an uneasy stillness. Joel's grip on the steering wheel was firm, his gaze fixed forward. The tension inside the car echoed his silence.

You paused, trying to bridge the gap but unsure how to go about it. You opted to let him alone after a few unsuccessful attempts to establish a conversation, realizing that pressing too hard may aggravate the situation.

Without a word, Joel got out of the car and headed toward the house, leaving you in the unsettling quiet of the night. The distance between you felt like an insurmountable wall, and the weight of the situation pressed down on you.

“Movie night is going to be weird,” you said to yourself entering the house after him.

The Friday movie night tradition was one that brought joy and comfort to your little family. Sarah was excitedly selecting a movie from the collection, the animated glow reflecting in her eyes. But this time, the atmosphere was different, tainted by the unresolved tension between you and Joel.

Once you stepped in, Sarah was excitedly selecting a movie from the collection, the animated glow reflecting in her eyes. But this time, the atmosphere was different, tainted by Joel's upcoming outburst.

Once the snacks were ready, and you all were comfortable, the movie started playing, Joel excused himself from the living room, leaving Sarah with a puzzled expression. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes darting between you and the direction Joel had gone.

You sighed, contemplating how much to share with her. "Your dad got mad at me because he was being overprotective”

Sarah nodded, still curious but not pushing further. The movie continued, but the usual warmth of the family gathering was replaced by his absence.

“I’ll go check up on him,” you said, leaving Sarah watching the movie. 

You made your way, you made your way to the bedroom, finding Joel lying on the bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Instead of uttering a word, you walked laying over him to draw his attention. 

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "I thought I was suffocating you,” he said, placing his hands on your hips to stead you in place. 

You caressed his cheek, feeling the tension in his touch. "Joel, I appreciate how much you care” 

His gaze softened, and he sighed, the worry lines on his forehead easing slightly. "I just... I don't want to mess this up, Bee. I'm scared of making the same mistakes I made before."

Leaning down, you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Oh, you’re doing right big baby, but you should relax a little bit. I’m not gonna break if I hold a knife or something” 

Joel chuckled at your attempt to lighten the mood. "I know, I know. It's just hard to shake off the worry."

You sat up, placing a hand on his chest. "Joel, we're in this together. I don't want you carrying all the weight on your shoulders. I need you with me, not just physically but mentally too."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess I need to work on letting go a bit."

"That's the spirit," you teased, ruffling his hair. "Now, let's not let Sarah watch the movie alone. She's probably thinking we're doing it” 

“That’s how I got you pregnant” he recalled. 

“Tell me about it” you chuckled “Oh by the way” you began “Tomorrow’s my ultrasound and we may find out the sex of the baby” 

Joel's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? That's great news! I can't wait to find out."

"Yeah," you grinned, "I thought it would be a nice surprise for all of us. I was thinking of inviting Lily over after the appointment to share the news."

Joel nodded, the worry lines on his forehead replaced by anticipation. "Sounds like a plan. And, uh, I'll try my best not to be overly protective during the ultrasound."

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "I'll appreciate that, big baby. Let’s go”

Joel laughed, and you both headed back to the living room. Sarah looked up, a curious expression on her face.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

You exchanged a glance with Joel, and he nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just some grown-up stuff."

Sarah rolled her eyes playfully. "Grown-up stuff is boring. Can we finish the movie now?"

You smiled, realizing that despite the bumps in the road, your family had a way of finding joy in the simple moments. As the three of you settled back in to enjoy the rest of the movie, you couldn't help but feel anticipation for tomorrow’s day.

The next day, you and Joel visited the doctor's office together. The atmosphere was a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation as you sat in the waiting room. Joel held your hand, offering silent reassurance. When the doctor finally called you in, the two of you entered the room, ready to see the first images of your growing family.

As the ultrasound machine came to life, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of the baby's heartbeat. The screen displayed a tiny, flickering image—a heartbeat that seemed to echo the newfound rhythm of your lives.

"There it is," the doctor said, pointing to the screen. "A healthy heartbeat. Everything looks good."

You exchanged a glance with Joel, and in that moment, the reality of becoming parents together sank in. The doctor continued the examination, providing insights into the baby's development. It was a surreal experience, and the joy on Joel's face mirrored your own.

“Since you are three months long, you can know the sex of the baby”

The mention of finding out the baby's sex added another layer of excitement to the already emotional day. Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"What do you think?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled, feeling a mix of nerves and joy. "I have no idea. What about you?"

"I'd be happy with either, as long as they're healthy," Joel replied sincerely.

The doctor prepared to reveal the gender, and your hearts raced. As the image on the screen sharpened, the doctor announced, "Congratulations, it's a..."

The suspense hung in the air, and you exchanged an eager glance with Joel. The doctor's words echoed through the room, marking the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

a/n: Okay, so what do you think it will be?

Okay, I wanna write this here. I usually don't reply to comments when I forget to do it, and when time has passed I'm kinda embarrassed for it, but I appreciate them. So in this case, sometimes I read the notification and forgot to answer, but please if you have something you didn't like you can say it in a kind way, and not start by saying "I hate this chapter because...." because, yes I get sometimes fictional characters make you upset but that doesn't have to do with the time a person spends writing something. In my case, I'm doing this because I think is fun and I like writing sometimes I get not everyone is gonna like what you write, but if you gonna say something like use better words :( Kisses for you&lt;3

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981 @littleshadow17 @sevillagrenada

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Yanderes Aizawa, Hanzo, McCree, and Toji like to pretend you don't know what your clit is for.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

“This is your pussy. This is your pretty little pussy. You might have touched her before, but I’ll teach you how to spoil her.”

God, I love sad older men.

Content Warnings: forced cunnilingus (female receiving), overstimulation (female), c*mming in pants, fingering, kidnapping themes, self-flagellation (Hanzo), worship (Hanzo), dirty talk, mommy kink (Toji), implied gambling addiction, your implied age is -26 (Toji), Age gap, neglect on account of gambling addiction, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, (Toji) forced pregnancy? (Toji), dubious consent (Toji)

Not recommended for those under eighteen.

You try and touch yourself to show that you know how to make yourself cum. You've been doing this for years.

Aizawa

Aizawa swats your hand. No, no. You won't do it properly. You won't do it until you shake, cry, and run down your thighs. But he will. He won't overstimulate you if you don't want him to. He will work you through your orgasm, though. No matter how much you claw, beg, and squirm. You'd wanted to get off, and Aizawa will ensure you get every last bit out of this. He'll make sure you come in his mouth, make sure your cum slides down his chin. No matter how angry you are at yourself. No matter how hurt you feel. He can be tender—can make those thighs burn and those tits jiggle in a way you can't. "This is your clit, sweet girl. I'm gonna make it purr for you."

The last remains of his words drive into your ears as his mouth finds yours. The finger in your panties swept back and forth over the smooth, leathery skin of your clit the way a slow tide would swathe and flee a shoreline.

"Nn!" Fizzy pleasure bloomed in warm, scattered waves throughout your pelvis. You twitch forward the slightest amount, subtly humping yourself into a breathy, whining mess. "'s not a cat."

Aizawa draws a lazy circle around its sensitive edges, and your thoughts water.

"It can't—" Ah! "—caaan't purr." Your voice curled. It rose and wavered like a tilde symbol—building high and going all melted butter toward the end as you lurch into the wonderful crest of good he inspired. Your hips obeyed the spasms in your tummy and curled without decision or thought.

"It already is." It's practically vibrating. Singing.

"Can't you feel her purring?" Aizawa made the most agonizing, thigh-shuddering passes over your clit. You arch, arch (uhn, God!), arrrrrrrch into each one. Your clit is ringing, purring.

"Kitty's melting in my hand." She's really showing out for attention, wetting and trickling down his palm. Your small cravings are his responsibility, as were all your larger needs. He's your provider and caretaker. You rely on him for everything else, so why not this? When are you going to learn that Daddy does it better? He can satisfy them better than you ever could.

"Don't—don't call it that."

"But it purrs."

Oh! Oh, oh! It—it—oh, please, god, oh. He's using his nails, teeth, whatever he has. Aizawa sucks a bruise right into your neck. You shiver, squeal, and wriggle. How could a neck be this sensitive?

Aizawa doesn't budge. His heart thumps as you push at him, half-hearted. Enamored with any short amount of contact, Aizawa hums. You twist away from that, too, the sensation foreign on your skin. Aizawa takes a deep huff of your neck (your scent) and falls onto you like a dead weight. The new position traps his hand down the front of your panties and you underneath him.

"If it purrs, then it's a kitty. This cute kitty makes you a queen. And a purring queen means it's time for a litter." He's still working on you—working your clit and mons. You're soaking. You're hot. You arch into his hands, desperate, nearly out of your mind.

"Why do you have to be such a kinky bastard?"

"Because you like it." His stubble scrapes against your neck. Aizawa does it often, notably during 'quiet moments,' so you'll familiarize the sensation with safety.

Or so you suspect.

The brambly term of affection came often, but from what you gathered, it reserved itself for special occasions (you're convinced he stole it from his cats). When cramps left you withered and spent, Aizawa lifted you from the lonely little corner you'd carved for yourself underneath the kotatsu and reoriented you onto his lap for something to lean on—something to wring your grief into, should you need it. Shouta said he could take it—that he wouldn't mind—and had the scars to prove it, namely, the one beneath his eye. It was hard to argue in the face of something so tangible. Yet, it left a sour feeling of worms in your gut.

You're in pain. You don't want to be pain for someone else. You don't want to hurt him—he's never hurt you.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should.

He's pushing you forward, wanting you on your knees. "Because it gets your kitty panting."

It vibrated.

"W-who said I liked it?" Your tummy tremors and sweats as his fingers trace those hidden valleys.

"She did." Aizawa dove in for a quick, lascivious kiss. "She purred so sweetly." He lapped at your clit, hot and moist and delicious. "It must be love."

Calls your vagina 'kitty.'

He talks to it (which perturbs and delights you to no end). Cum for me, kitty. Isn't Daddy treating you nicely?

You know in your soul you aren't the 'kitty' he's referring to. Aizawa only called you kitty when you were topping. He had a habit of going into a deep mantra whenever you did. "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Aizawa sighed under his breath, sometimes moaned, and others thinly whined as you rode him and as he watched through sexed eyes progressively getting lower and lower until they would eventually close. He'd seize shortly after. And if you didn't stop, Aizawa gasped it (half-heartedly attempting to shuffle out from under you, gently pushing at your coasting thighs with jittery palms. Outside of that, you were 'kitten.'

When she obeys, Aizawa gives her kisses and licks—so many that you'd stammer and beg him to stop. He attacks with fervor, and with your weak-kneed body, he pins you there, grunts, and gives you mouthfuls of his tongue, which leads you to beg, this time more openly.

Aizawa repeatedly kissed the top of your vulva, where your clit lay beyond its folds. Such an obedient kitty. —kiss— Such a perfect darling. So good. —kiss— So perfect.

He doesn't torture you for too long. Aizawa (generally) won't overstimulate you unless you want him to. He'll even apologize. He just had to give his kitty her due.

The guiltiest (second to Toji) in pretending you're too naive and innocent to know what your clit is for, let alone how to use it. He'll smack your hand away (reawakening memories of your father swatting your chubby little hands when they had something they shouldn't).

You can insist you know what you're doing, and he'll insist you don't.

"Feel these?" You touch your outer labia. Aizawa's hand is over yours, guiding it. "These are your pretty lips." Gummy, soft, and perfect for his teeth. He'd use them for pillows if you'd let him. You wouldn't, though. There's no way Aizawa could get close enough to smell you without getting a taste.

"They'd look prettier curing my insomnia." In other words, he's telling you to ride him until he passes out, or rather, throwing out an invitation. Your lips have erased his dry eye and lifted his depression. Simply gorgeous.

"How would I..." How could your vaginal lips cure someone's depression?

"Simple," He's against your ear. His hair gave you shivers as it fanned your neck. "You sit on my face," Together, your hands rode parted lips. They kneaded love into your skin that settled in your ovaries. "and rut." Your hips went forward with a gasp, unexpected and on cue. No matter the situation, Aizawa never failed to sound like a college professor three years away from retirement. He speaks to you as he would his colleagues and students. There is no bedroom voice, growl, or husk other than his natural warmth—warmth that made you swallow from the very lips he made you touch. Made you restless on his lap.

"If you knead them gently," he says, "they'll make you feel nice." Your knees knock when Aizawa focuses on the entrance hidden in your labia, circling it. "But not as nice as this," Aizawa pats your pussy, sending ripples through your body.

Slap!

Something liquid-warm fires across your hipbones, following a path up your spine, reminding you of when Aizawa kissed you. You call his name in a panic. What is this, and why is it delicious? Unadulterated joy tore through you like a storm in Texas-May. It stole your tongue, and the thoughts it couldn't finish—stole the bones from your body. The ache reverberating in your core was a flash-bang replacing everything but Shouta's name with bright white. It rang like a bell from the ovaries out, telling the rest of your body it was in love. It scares you. "Shouta—"

Slap!

"You're alright, pretty. You're going to be a big girl and cum, that's all."

Slap!

Oh, God.

"Intense, isn't it?" His chin sits in the crook of your neck. Aizawa watched you stutter after his hand and gently convulse.

Slap!

Your body hums like a Ford Mustang at a stop light. It lurched into each tap—tipping over the crosswalk markings in the concrete, eager and desperate for him to take you over the edge. Nervous foot on the petal, it waited for green.

"Come on, pretty girl. Almost there."

Slap!

Your thighs snap shut. Pleasure so soft and sweet spreads throughout your body. The ache becomes ecstasy, and the guilt becomes glee. It swells and sways like storm clouds in New Orleans, easily hitting your lungs and filling you with the finest summer rain.

Did you think for a second Aizawa wouldn't praise you? "Yes, kitten. Yes, kitty." He's agreeing with all your sobbed gibberish, rubbing you out because he knows you won't. His finger is hard on your clit when you buck and shimmy to escape the rush—the pleasure that won't stop knocking. Again, he won't take you past what you can handle, but you're riding that coaster to the end: no stops or pauses. You're getting every single clench, every tooth-chattering, leg-shaking, hip-raising flood of absolute 'God, yes,' that follows.

Aizawa was a decent man—was. It's wrong. It goes against every code, the oath he'd taken with the acceptance of his license. He made excuses for the inexcusable. Every day he went out and fought for freedom while ignoring yours. Swift on his legs when avenging the cries of the innocent, Shouta let yours fall on deaf ears.

Hanzo

Hnng. But forced cunnilingus. Dubcon, only because you're overstimulated, and Hanzo is stubborn. If you haven't squirted, he hasn't done his job. He had his pride as a man to uphold.

Hanzo raises your hand to his lips. He kisses it, clasps it, and restrains it to the bed. "Let me tend to you. So long as you warm my bed, you won't lift a finger." He kissed your neck and collarbone. "Not for your pleasure," Hanzo gently spread your labia. "Not for mine. This time it is for you, my queen."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind fills itself with visions of Hanzo taking you. He never has—claimed he could never 'defile' you. That didn't stop him from fingering your clit, drawing you to orgasm, or turning you into a mess of nerve endings.

"You are divine." You're a gift from the gods. Hanzo prayed they would keep him from succumbing to temptation, but it was useless. He had never been able to resist a challenge, and this time would be no different. His prayers didn't stop his cock from sliding against his expensive sheets, wishing it were your body his seed had coated, giving the legacy he'd spent a lifetime chasing.

His queen enjoyed testing him, denying him his duty as a husband. Why trouble yourself with matters such as these when he is so capable? He had solved many puzzles and navigated treacherous waters with ease, yet she seemed to think his skills were limited to a bow and arrow. Do you truly believe he cannot satisfy your needs?

Hanzo fondled your clitoris. "This is a husband's duty."

He moved down between your thighs.

"This is a wife's duty." He said as you whimpered. "To moan as a man pleasures you. To lie back and know your body is in his hands. To take your pleasure and offer your own." His tongue found you. You writhed against the bed, unable to stop your body's rhythm from matching his tongue's motions.

"Allow me." Hanzo touched your clit the way you'd tried to, his tongue deep in your core.

You wouldn't know the first thing about settling your body's aches. That was Hanzo's business. Your hands need only grab onto his hair when it all becomes too much for you.

Hanzo is skilled with a tongue, with a cock, with a razor-edged sword.

"Let me tend to what is mine."

Hanzo kisses your thighs, thighs that a man has never kissed. Thighs that tremble and shake so terribly you fear for your health. You can't breathe. Your heart is pounding, and you feel your mind slipping away. Colors bleed into the corner of your vision, static and buzzing like an old TV.

But Hanzo keeps kissing, licking. Your thoughts slur, and your tongue is no better.

'an...H-han.. c'n.. cn't... Your eyes roll—your back arches. Tears run into your hairline; Hanzo tightens his grip on your hand as your other one blindly scrabbles at his bedsheets. "H-han! Z-z—Oh, my God..." A wash of electricity ravaged your body. Pleasure so raw and sweet your voice croaks out hoarsely, love pouring from your lips in a flood of passionate syllables.

His grasp remains firm as you jerk into his waiting tongue. You try not to. You try and fight your body's natural curl toward the very thing bathing it in pleasure—foolish woman. Hanzo tongued harder and doubled his hold to keep you pinned throughout your cries and gurgles.

Cry for me, my Goddess, my queen, so I may worship you harder. Seek my hand if you are overwhelmed. Cling to me. I promise to be your source of strength and comfort. Security is the least of a husband's duties. Make me strive for the breath of freedom, then deny it to me all at once. Show me with cries that I am worthy, yet prove with the heat in your thighs that I am nothing.

Unable to praise you to the extent he'd like, Hanzo returned your moans from deep between your clenched thighs. He licks harder and faster, and he just isn't stopping. You deserve all this and more—to drown in your own wet and swallow hard enough to see heaven.

So beautiful. —Lick— So generous to me, my queen.

Your body is a waterfall that Hanzo would happily kneel underneath. Hanzo was no Buddhist, but he believed you could purify his wretched soul. In you, he'd find redemption. Your heat could make a blind man see. Surely, it could cleanse the stain of his past.

No matter how many passes his tongue made, you had more to give.

You scratch his sheets, and Hanzo has never been so jealous. The skin of his back tingles at the mere thought of hovering above you, thrusting into you - warm, soft, and perfect as you carve into his back and warm his ear with your crying breaths.

You can feel your breath swelling, becoming a low chant of pleasure as Hanzo continues to lap at the valley between your hips. Hanzo rewards your pussy for each hungry gulp as it comes and comes and comes by flicking his tongue over its pounding entrance. Wildly twitching, it swallowed deep and hungry—a trail of wet escaped. Hanzo licked that too.

"Can't… Hanzo, can't…." You reach out desperately for the headboard, using the bed covers to help propel you forward. When this failed, you mustered all of your strength and used your core to drive yourself forward, shoving his head with a surprising force. With each attempt, you inched closer and closer toward freedom.

His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him as he licks and sucks. You can feel yourself trembling on the edge of something big—an adventure you aren't ready to take.

Hanzo watches you above your knees; he looks you in the eyes as you gasp and wheeze. You plead, and the archer licks your outer lips. Hanzo sucks your clit, hums. Your words gargle in the back of your throat.

The hand in his hair turns into a fist. Hanzo moaned.

At some point, he mumbled in your folds, snippets of "goddess" and "queen" as his hips repeatedly struck the mattress. The groans he's making have your ovaries flushing, your cunt fluttering. Hanzo's panting by the end, but he doesn't stop licking.

Hanzo, for all his dignity and grace, wants you to put him on his knees. Make him work and beg for air. Then, smother him.

Can you imagine Hanzo pinning you to the bed, claiming he's wronged you and needs to atone? You can scream that you forgive him, that it's unnecessary, but he won't accept it. What good is forgiveness if he doesn't earn it?

Or, he goes down on you before every Overwatch mission to "strengthen his mind and body" to better prepare.

"H-Hanzo. Why—" You bit your finger to keep from moaning (squirming). You don't need any bruises. Your hips still bear the thick shape of his fingers.

"Why not just—ah!—just train more?"

"You are the only meditation I need."

Hanzo’s bed once filled itself with women from all walks of Asia. Sojiro filled his bed with women from all walks of Asia. Differing accents, differing traditions. Same economic status. None of them would have been good enough for his father. The thirst for an heir may not have originally been his own, but the need still burned beneath his painted skin. The dragons grew restless, for Hanzo’s desire was their own. The dragon lord had never truly given up on his future children.

Unconsciously plays into your worship kink

Step on him

Physically a virgin, spiritually a whore

Not inexperienced, per se. The terms by which Hanzo lost his virtue weren't his own, so Hanzo ignored them.

Vanilla in theory and theory alone. Missionary, no anal. Ever. But he'd clean his spend from your 'temple' (inside and out) in gratitude and penance. First, for deeming him worthy of such a privilege. Second, for dirtying you and finishing without your consent.

He's kneeled at your feet, kissing them and offering his sacrifice.

It's all amusement and spectacle until he asks what punishment you deem suitable for his transgression.

Is he serious? You came three times in the last forty minutes.

You should be at his feet. You could never cum like that on your own.

Hanzo decides for you

You're shuffling off the bed when he reaches for his bow

He expects you to use honorifics after his name. You are his wife, and he is your husband. You must address him with respect.

Call him 'lord Hanzo' in jest, and the archer closes in on himself. Memories of a life he'd long abandoned close in on all sides. He kindly asks that you don't tease him in such ways. You know nothing of his past. Hanzo doesn't blame you for his reaction to your words; you only meant to play with him, as a wife should. Humor, and not ridicule. (Not that he thought himself undeserving of it. If a divine creature decided he needed humbling, who was he to feel any different?

Hanzo shies from titles that place him above you, "master, King, God, etc."

Jesse McCree

"Now," Jesse stood with his hands resting on his belt, the light from its buckle glinting off into your eyes and reflecting the terror you felt. His hips tilt to one side as he observes you silently. "Why doncha tell me again what you were hopin' to accomplish with them tiny little hands o' yours."

Panic flashed in your eyes because Jesse widened his stance and raised his hands.

You still scramble further up the bed.

"Nah, ya ain't in trouble," Jesse said as he removed his hat and tossed it on the side of your dresser. Always mindful of Ma's etiquette lessons, Jesse knew better than to enter a lady's room wearing his hat. Was impolite. You don't enter a lady's room 'less you come naked. "Pity she didn't teach me to knock," he added with a smile.

Confusion twisted your features. Jesse often said things that you weren't sure how to interpret.

His slow smile told you he was a man looking out after his own. It made your heart beat faster. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Just show Uncle Jesse what you were up to 'fore I came in." He moved closer, the bed frame squeaking beneath his boots. "Lemme see what you got," he said. Jesse reached out, and you flinched.

But his hands only brushed a finger across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. "Ya got somethin' special in those hands," he said gently as his fingers pressed against your skin.

You become aware of the hands covering your modesty. You glance at your bare thighs out of habit when Jesse references the heat between them.

"Come on now, don't get all bashful," He said before you could try to hide under the blankets. You had a way of scurrying off like a little mole whenever he teased you too much. Shy, sweet, and gentle. He could eat you up for days.

"Show me how ya touch 'er when you're all alone."

You pull your cami over your thighs to deter those mocha-brown eyes. Jesse raised a brow that was just as dark. "Ya ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. I already seen it all." He said. Good-natured, southern charm oozed from his every sentence. Yet, you still felt like you were standing in the principal's office and caught doing something wrong.

But Jesse smiled as though what he said was meant to make you feel better. He leaned down, kissing your forehead as if it were the world's most natural thing.

"I'm… I'm loud.." Your knees draw together.

His smile was lopsided. "Good thing all the gunfire and explosions drown out hearing." He said, referencing the hearing aids he wore in his ears.

Did you think a little thing like that would ever be a problem? Bless your sweet little heart.

You weren't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry?' Would he think you're pitying him?

But he just let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't sweat it, sugar." A large palm ruffled your hair affectionately. "Now, why don't you show Uncle Jess what you were playin' with?" He asked again, his voice a little more playful this time.

"You..you really can't hear?" You fidgeted with the hem of your cami, not wanting to make eye contact.

His grin widened, "Not a thing." Jessie lied. "I'll even take 'em out if ya want." He started to take off his hearing aids, but you stopped him.

"No, no! That's... That's not necessary." You said quickly.

"Well, alright then." He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"How's 'bout you let this old cowboy have that weapon yer holdin'?"

Weapon?

"Oh, she's lethal." Jesse winced playfully. "One could take out a man if it's aimed properly."

"She?" You asked, curious.

Jesse held back the brunt of his laughter. "Yer pussy, sugar. It's a she."

Your expression has him losing his composure. He had the courtesy to turn away and chuckle. The insult on your face had him in stitches.

"Well, shoot." He said after a while, finally managing to compose himself. "I ain't mean to make no fun of ya. Just thought you'd like to know your kitty got a name."

Your body ran hot, and your heart thumped against your chest. You can't believe how Jesse made you feel with just a few words and one little joke. You could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he would make you squirm again.

"Respectfully, I'm gonna need to see those hands of yours." He said, that same southern gentleness in his voice like before.

Jesse whistled as your hands lifted, low and appreciative.

"I'll be damned..." You're sweet enough to top his apple pie. If he had it, Jesse would've held his hat to his chest; those thighs could carry him through the Arizona desert.

"You can take my breath away any day," Jesse said with a grin. He drank those thighs ten times over before they'd self-consciously shut. He was drunk on you as he was on moonshine.

"Hands back on your holster. Show me how you use it."

With his boot planted firmly on the mattress, brown eyes staring you down, you touched yourself. You'd jumped at the first brush of a hesitant finger against the peach fuzz clothing your mons—prickly and on its way to growing—cold fingers startling skin that hardly ever felt a temperature change. You've never been more thankful for those stubborn hairs that always grew back despite your best efforts. It offered a level of decency—privacy—during a private act made public. You map your vulva, getting a feel for it. Your legs spread as you become more comfortable with the movements and sensations that kiss you nightly when the house is sleep—as comfortable as you could be with a man like Jesse McCree looming over you.

You were very aware of him—his presence, his smell. You could feel him in your veins as you touched yourself, and he watched. He dared not move a muscle lest it scared you off.

The situation might be foreign, but the sweetness in your abdomen isn't. The toe-curling warmth made you want to rock and hum into its beautiful calm. It took the stress out of a very stressful situation. How odd to find yourself tense in the middle of your go-to stress relief.

You moved with clinical precision, not for pleasure but to show Jesse you weren't helpless. You felt like the Tin Man—joints stiff, robotic, and locking together when thoughts of what you were doing and in front of whom caught up to you. The need to defend yourself from any infantilism oiled them and kept them going. Your breath gets heavier as the pleasure builds inside of you, regardless.

Could you even cum like this?

Doubtful.

There wasn't anything too exciting about tracing up and down your lips, still wet from the 'exercise,' Jesse interrupted. Your clit still pulsed despite cologne tickling your nose like spice (or maybe because of it).

He was so close.

With the scent of tobacco and leather on his clothes, Jesse Mccree had your undivided attention. You can't look at him, but the thought of staring into those deep brown eyes while you circled your clit and cried the prettiest you could make you swallow down below. Your clit throbs, and you massage it before you can stop yourself. You play with the hood, fragile and unsure. It isn't enough, but you don't want to appear indecent. God, if only you could throw open your legs and—

"That ain't how ya do it. Touchin' 'er like that, bet you don't even know what she's called."

Of course, you do. It's a vagina. Not a 'her,' not a 'she.' You told him so.

"Aw, now. You'll hurt 'er feelings. Tell me what you call 'er, darl.'"

"It… it's my vagina." You emphasize the word 'it.'

Jesse shook his head. Shoulda knew you'd call 'er somethin' dull and childish.

"Move aside, sugar." Jesse motioned for you to stand. A cigarillo was all that was needed to complete the toothy grin as he sat, cybernetic hand hitting his thigh. "Come sit on Papa's lap. He's gon' show ya what she's for. How to touch 'er."

You stood uncertain before him, blanket held to your sex. The red fabric pooled between your legs and onto the floor.

"I don't bite, sugar." He said. It's the softest you'd ever heard him.

Your lips thin to a pensive line.

This is a bad idea. But the prospect of this man sipping you like he did his whiskey was thrilling.

You look past him toward his hat on the dresser, and the blanket drops. So do Jesse's eyes. But that grin? It stretches to something boyish, handsome, and white. He savors, just as you'd hoped; he savored himself so fully your legs ache to cross over each other. He's fixated on your vagina. You hope he can't see it swallow.

"This is your little pussy." Jesse spread you open with two fingers. You squirm on his thick thighs. He's mountainous and warm against your back; you hardly cover two-thirds of his broad chest. He must spray cologne directly on it. Woodsy Pine and Old Spice took you to a campfire with marshmallows and Southern folklore. You don't think about the chestnut hairs peeking out of his flannel. You can't. You'll die.

"This is your pretty little pussy." He rubbed your fatty, wet lips with four fingers—rough and widened in a V-shape.

Your vag—your pussy clenches, tingly.

"You may have touched 'er before," He swiped your clit side-to-side, hitting nerve endings that had you bucking on his tan, human finger. "but I'll teach you how to spoil 'er." He dipped one deep inside.

"And fill 'er up."

Your cries are as helpless as your hips as they help him fuck your pussy open. He stretches her so good you can't recall when you began referring to her as a she. You fuck yourself on his fingers until pleasure gushes from your cunt.

An involuntary gasp escapes your lips as he collects his first load in his fingers. You're there.

"You wanna cum, and I can make it happen, sugar." Jesse held you as you shook. Robotic arm slung over your waist, he let you use his finger to draw out your end. He pumped into you occasionally—lazy and matching your weakening thrusts.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' greedy. Uncle Jesse will let ya have seconds if ya want 'em."

You just keep goin', doncha? You're a lil fighter—pushin' those shuddery hips forward even as you gasp and choke.

Ya weren't lyin'. Yer loud. Not in a cutesy way, either. You're raw, unapologetic.

Jesse loves it.

Nothin' worse than a woman who does all that dainty shit.

You cried so long and hard your voice tapered into a husk.

"These fingers were made for women. Made for touchin' 'em." Any internalized shame blew in the wind when Jesse used his thumb to swipe your sensitive clit. You groan like a cavewoman. Guttural, primal.

"Made for makin' 'em come. You gonna come for me again?"

You're already trembling, unable to get your tongue working as you tighten on his fingers.

"There ya go, sugar. Cum like I'm gettin' it in. Goin' six inches deep and cummin' hard on 'er lips." Jesse pumped his fingers deep again as you began panting, panicking—he was insistent on getting you off—a knot of orgasm tightened in your waist until you snapped like a whip against your backside and seized.

"Ain't nothing wrong with cryin'."

You can't stop shaking. Crying. Tears fall off your chin, and you don't know where they came from. At this moment, you're a helpless baby—wailing and hoping he understands. You need him to fuck the soul from your body. You need him to stop.

"I've got somethin' of a confession," Mccree said, his drawl thickening with each syllable. The thumb on your clit sent his words through one ear and out the other. He's knuckle-deep in your cunt and seated near your pleasure spot as he slowly curls into it. You curl with him, hot and whining.

"I may be aurally challenged, but I can still hear you, sugar." You're drooling in every figurative sense—mentally and emotionally sloshed from the pump of his heavy fingers. "Every time you whisper my name at night." He said, his tone low and warm.

Your thighs clamp around his hand.

Fiery shame swept like lava and left coals on your chest, leaving you with prickly, uncomfortable goosebumps.

Oh, now we can't have that.

You've stopped chasing his hand, chasin' that release you'd wanted so bad.

A gentleman, Jesse puts in enough work for both of you. If you aren't meetin' him, he'll have to try that much harder, won't 'e?

God, what would your family think? They'd shun you. Getting off to thoughts of your captor's big, impossibly wide hands instead of biting them.

This needs to stop.

Oh, but you can't. You're grinding on his finger again, helpless to stop. It's so good. It's too fucking good.

"That's it. Get it, sugar." Jesse starts flying in and out of your thighs. Something coughs from your throat like a drowned victim spitting up water. You grab his wrist for stability and don't make it halfway around.

"That's what I like to fuckin' see," Jesse growled.

Fuck it. You'd let him pull your panties aside and cream your pussy right there on your bed with your family in the doorway for them to see every desperate clench it made, each spasm in the base of his cock as it emptied inside their precious daughter, sister, and loved one. They could watch the conception of their grandchild and niece/nephew for all you care.

"Jesse! Oh god. Feels good!"

"Sounds even better up close." Mccree chuckled. Breathy, strained. As if it'd come through gritted teeth. His cock pressed into your ass—hard and hot. He made no attempts to relieve it.

"You come to Uncle Jesse when your pussy needs some lovin', ya hear?"

He pulled out, leaving you so, so empty.

You quickly nodded. No, no. Please put it back! He'd stopped touching your clit.

Jesse doesn't leave you empty much longer now that he has an answer. "You let ol' Jess handle it. I'll give the lil lady what she wants."

You're too damn polite. Callin' 'im 'sir.' He ain't no 'sir.' Jesse would tell you to stop if he ain't like it so much.

He pretends to hate it, gives you grief about it, but let you come 'round askin' for somethin'. Jesse stops you mid-sentence and tells you to call 'im that thing he likes.

"Come on, honey. You'll make me feel old."

Your name might as well be 'pretty.'

"C'mere, pretty. Wanna show ya somethin' real quick."

Toji Fushiguro

It's one of those days.

Toji stood in your doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had a can of beer in his left hand and a race ticket in the other. You should be happy to see him. There's no milk, and your stomach could grow teeth and devour. Your heart drops instead. The paper had as many wrinkles as a white shirt straight from the dryer. Crumpled, meaning he'd lost. The one Toji wore was stretched and spent. He hadn't come home last night. A sour odor of alcohol told you why. Toji celebrated his losing streaks with bottles of sake at the bar. Usually, he'd be out looking for a job to 'make up what he lost,' as he'd always promised.

The hunt must've been unsuccessful if he had been back so soon.

Toji was bitter before he'd even come in the door. Catching you with your fingers in your pajama pants put him over the edge.

"What ya doin' touchin' what's mine?"

Toji scoffed when you continued giving him that owlish stare.

"Y'think I'm good for nothin', dont'cha." His posture remains loose and bored, his tone detached. The slip crinkled in his balled fist.

This isn't going to end well.

"Of course no—"

"You ain't gotta lie, Seven."

Toji was more superstitious than met the eye. He set you up in his home like a Maneki-Neko for good luck and fortune, laughable.

You aren't lucky. Trouble raced after you like tin cans on an exhaust pipe, with your situation to prove it.

Trouble stepped further into your room—swept across your floor like tumbleweed, kicking the ground with every slow, drunken step. Trouble knelt on your bed, knocked your plushies off to the side, and snatched your arm when you scurried.

"Y'think I'm a deadbeat." Trouble pulled you under him and ripped your pajamas off your hurling legs. His triceps bulged beneath his tee as his hips rolled into your cunt, wet and bare. He held you still to take each stubborn, mouth-watering rut. "Think I can't take care of ya anymore."

Toji's still beating the headboard into the wall as you quake around his thighs. Frantic hands tear at his upper back, tugging his shirt for him to go harder despite the worrying cracks and splinters of wood.

"'m gon' prove you wrong." Toji put his weight on his elbows and fucked you like he meant it. He'd buck forward and knock your eyes to your skull.

'God, yes,' is all you can think as he presses you into the mattress and shoves into you until you can't get air. 'More, more, more.'

"Gonna make you cum so hard you wet yourself," he growled in your ear. "Gonna make you scream and cry." And he did.

"Oh God, Toji!"

Toji rabbits at the first sign of tears. "I'm gonna fuck you right to hell."'

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh—uhn!"

Spleck!

Your thighs squeeze and judder into his cock. Wetness dribbles past your lips regardless of how tightly you clench your legs. You cum hard—the spasms in your cunt deep and violent. So fucking slutty and messy.

"God!" The word tore from your throat in a ragged sob. Feral. Hysterical.

There's no way you should clamp this fiercely. It's been so long Toji let you tighten up. He needed to stretch you back out. This pussy should be loose and sticky always. A constant fullness to fill the pangs and help you forget your troubles.

You wanna be fucked.

You wanna be bred.

"A little girl like you don't know what you're doin'." Toji got between your thighs and licked you from slick perineum to juicy clit.

"Says you." In your head, you're pushing his face deeper into your sex, hand in his hair as you grind on his tongue. 'Show me, baby; show me. Show me what I'm too stupid to do.'

Toji eats you alive.

His fingers brush up your bum while he tongues you into orgasm. Toji piles your juices on his fingers and licks them clean, again and again.

"Lookit how excited she gets." Toji rests on his knees. The crotch of his sweatpants is a darker shade of black and damp from your sex.

"She can't quit talkin'." Spasming, spitting, and wetting.

His cock is visible, sitting on his lower left thigh, right above his knee. A footpath of the same dark shade runs down his left pant leg.

Did he cum? Did he cum just from eating you out? Was that fat, ruddy cockhead drooling over the very hint of your sex when he'd rutted against you before?

There's something so primal about him kneeling over you, your juices on his tongue, his cock jutting out so proudly, hung like a horse between your thighs. It makes you aware of just how filthy this whole act is, how raw.

You can smell yourself on him, and your legs self-consciously close.

"Still think you know how to get this pussy to clamp as she should?" Toji's voice was low and gruff.

"No." You whimpered.

"Then why the fuck are you playing with my clit?"

"I wasn't playing with it! I was just..."

"You won't even squeeze your thighs together without askin' when I'm finished," his lips close around your clit.

Toji licks every slippery skin fold and nibbles your clit until it's throbbing. You fuck his mouth with your hips, desperate. You reach deep, guttural tones no woman should.

Would nut if you called him 'sir.'

Call him 'sir,' and he'll call you 'ma'am.' Especially in bed. It's shamelessly kinky, given the age gap between you. Might just call you mommy if you're okay with it. You're still under your parent's insurance and barely have a driver's license. Your wisdom teeth haven't come in, and here this forty-year-old man was calling you mommy.

And if you are? Agreeable with it, that is? Toji does his best to make you one.

He missed out on Megumi. Thoughts of another child hadn't crossed his mind until he was deep in your green, twenty-something pussy calling you mommy in that aged murmur.

You love everything he's saying. "Gon' fuck a baby into your teenage pussy—get you pregnant." Toji liked to poke at your age. He'd call you a teenager when you're particularly difficult. Little girls can't talk to me like that. Those nights remained the same. Toji fucked you on the floor and bred you until you couldn't speak. Cum ran from your entrance in a thin, constant stream. Milky, thick-flowing, and filthy. You just need some good lovin'; that's all it is—needed attention. You didn't know how to ask for it without pitchin' a fit like a child.

Make-up sex where he'd hold your hands as your thighs shook. Toji made up for leaving the cabinets empty by leaving your thoughts emptier. Cramming you six inches full of excess and relief, Toji filled you over and over until debt became greed. He's slow, thorough—men his age typically were. Toji was no boy. Wasn't in no hurry to finish. Thrusting between your hips, deep and thick in your cunt and inches from your face, Toji murmured, "'m gon' set it right."

You love what he's saying so much your appreciation lands on the base of his cock and lower abdomen as you squirt. "Dirty little girl. Dirty teenage pussy, begging for her senpai's cum." He burns right through your chest.

The words, "What are you going to do about it?" sit on your tongue.

"Gonna breed that pussy good. Gon' get you pregnant. Get you knocked up." Toji tugs your legs up higher, pulling you into his body as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into you, quick and hard.

Give it to me, give it to me. Put a baby in me. Oh, God, fuck me!

"Pussy'll be so sweet with my cum between those pretty, swollen lips. Might just eat it. Might have to. Might be all the sugar I need."

Muscles jump in your lower belly. Toji grinned above you, rotten, when your pussy quivered. Toji is feral when he gets his face between your legs, unlike any man you've met. The enthusiasm for your pleasure as he dug, sucked, licked, and scraped with his tongue (all while his right hand held your slippery cunt open for him to discipline and drink down) was primal and terrifying. It had you there in minutes. He had no direction, no idea, and no technique. All he had was the hell-driven desire to please you—make you come fast and hard 'many times as he could before his tongue gave out.

Every little thing you told him to do. That's all he had. You asked for more, and he gave it. You tell him to scratch that itch between your thighs, and he knows exactly what that means—squeezing his cock into your too-small ass. From there, all you did was tell him what you wanted, and he performed like a dog with a bone.

Toji wasn't above holding you down so that you took your pleasure on his face, fingers, and lips.

No, this dog took every ounce of his strength and overpowered your body to ensure he got his pound of flesh. What sorta man was he if he couldn't please his woman? An embarrassment, that's what. You ain't gonna insult him and walk away with steady legs.

"Gonna ride that pussy, make it mine."

Ride me, baby. Oh, God, yes!

Toji hunkers over you—that thick, heady scent of sweat, cologne, and body heat. He smells good. "Bet this teenage cunt loves feeling like it's mature, getting filled and stretched into a mommy's pussy." He's telling you how you'll look so good with your freshly creamed pussy.

Wanna be slutty for you. Make this pussy creamy.

"Gon' get that cervix wet. You'd better drink up, girl."

God, you'll drink every last white drop of it. You're already spasming.

"There she goes talkin'. Swallowin’. She's thirsty." Toji tilts your face towards him. "Boy or girl? Which one ya like?"

You struggle—feebly pressing his chest with jellied wrists to get him up and off of you. Out of you. You have to keep yourself from melting outward and running onto the sheets when he snatches you up in his arms as if you were nothing and hemmed you to the bed, hemmed you to his chest in a bear hug, and fucked you. He caged you beneath him and held you there. You’re held down and bred. Pre-cum drooled out of you onto the pillow like the real thing. Each thrust sent your hips violently into him, bobbing, circling, and returning to meet him as you rubbed your slick folds against his cock when it slipped out. He had you humping his wet dick like a bitch in heat. That was you on him. He's covered in you. He hugged you so hard that the bed felt like a paper bag under you.

"Ain't no running. Y'gon' take this dick. Take this apology."

"Don't! Don't—" The fight to free your arms was heavy and impossible as he lined himself up just as quickly as he'd left. Eager to fill. Eager to please. Hands trapped between your sweaty bodies, you settle for pushing against his stifling weight despite rising to help him resettle himself. And God, do you feel like home. Comforting, warm. He can already smell Ma's cooking. Slick, like the blood of his bounties. 'Specially when his bosses demanded a trophy as proof of his service.

White. All you see are the whites of his eyes as Toji's cock overfilled you to bursting, assisted by your curved spine and lofted hips.

He does it so gently—sliding into you like a Spanish kiss. Indulgent. Letting you admire the breadth of him, the ridge of cockhead that made your walls flutter and sing as it moved through you like drugs flooding a bloodstream, peddling euphoria throughout every corner of your body until you were floating and light in the giddy breeze of his possession. He looks demonic, possessed. Your cunt groaned from how full it was, glutted. Feel-good chemicals left you gooey and barely conscious as he stroked into you, exactly where you needed him and weren't ready for him. The deep grinds into your G-spot had you losing your breath, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop fucking you.

Uhhhn, God. Your eyes flutter. Your walls squeeze him against your will. You could kiss him.

"N-noooo, you can't. Don't cum in my pussy." You moaned. "Don't—hnn!—don' cum..." Your arms close around his waist, hips arching and rocking like you couldn't decide what you wanted more, to push him off of you or get creampied in one go. Bred.

"Mommy, ya gotta tell me." Your pussy clamps. Fissures of resistance disappear like they never existed when Toji calls you "mommy" like it's a sin. He's whispering dirty in your ear as if he knew your secrets. As if he knew you were two pumps and one shuddery male moan away from pleading the exact opposite.

"Tell me, Mommy, so I can do it for you." Toji's voice had gone sugary-sweet and deep.

But no...no. Nnn. No. "You… can't...do that." It's cheating. He's cheating.

"Tell me how you want this baby."

God, it just feels so good. You want him to cream you. Breed you. You like the fantasy of it all (it gets you wetter than anything), but he isn't financially stable, and you're no mother.

"We can't! Not 'nough money." Your lips don't sing lullabies. They sang heartache and blues. Emotionally immature and mentally thin, you're no mother. The slightest inconvenience, and you're ready to cannonball off a bridge.

"Ain't what I asked ya." Toji put you in a headlock. Ears hot and pounding, you twist and thrash as best you can underneath him. He doesn't leave you much room to grapple—still bearing down on you with all his strength and thrusting. 'Overwhelming' couldn't begin to capture the wave of shivers washing over you. Toji scratches that itch inside of you so good it nearly hurts. God, it's good—the beating he gives that secret, special place you can never reach alone. Where fingers clench into knots, your womb feels like a fever. You're in heaven. Your thighs burn from all that friction. You're in hell. Your body wants nothing more than to let out a primal scream as you battle to cope with the intensity. It takes you a few moments to realize you are—hollering in absolute hysteria. You unclench your fingers long enough to shove fruitlessly at his chest, claw at his arms and pelvis.

The thick arms caging your head tighten. "Answer. Or I’ll put one in your backside."

"Girl!" You shouted—voice rough and strangled behind his grip.

"A lil princess just like 'er Mama." Toji bucked into you, closing his eyes with a groan. When they opened, they stared down at your hostile mouth. If there was one body part of yours Toji was fascinated by, it was your lips.

He's been staring at them while he fucked you, lust in his eyes. Toji watched them threaten and plead.

"You get off me, or I'll—" Your words clung thickly together, dragged in places they shouldn't as if they were moaned.

"I'll..." Your lashes fall to your cheeks as Toji moves down, nose rumbling softly with steamy breath as he latches onto a nipple and sucks.

Your cunt swallowed and sang; you rose to meet his next push. The way his tongue and teeth work together on that sensitive spot is enough to make you light-headed.

"I'll..."

Toji stared at you, expression unreadable as ever. "You'll what, Mommy?"

He watched 'em gasp and form his name. He needed 'em. Needed 'em more than his own mother's rotted eyes.

"You'll cum?" He ground into you, and you gasped.

"Yes." You wrapped your arms and legs around him. God, your skin was on fire.

Toji released your breast and latched onto your mouth instead, groaning against your lips. His tongue flicked inside, and you opened wide.

"H-harder. Toji, I'm—"

Ughn!

Toji hits it like he couldn't miss—rutting, grinding, and humping into that sacred spot. Your kiss had him rabbiting and murmuring, moaning, and biting. He was gasping. He was growing—swelling at the base of his cock. He was coming apart.

Seeing you thoroughly enjoy yourself and falling apart on his cock has Toji's hips faltering. Mama's never yelled for 'im quite like that before. He had mama screamin', had 'er eyes rollin' back. Had her thrusting on his cock like she wanted her green, little pussy filled—wanted his kid.

"Sound so good, Mommy." He's coming already, eyes shut as the first few spurts escape him. Toji's thrusts deepen each time you moan. He'd shiver, pushing hard into your g-spot. He spoiled it for every hunger pain while he was away.

"Hands." His voice shook with effort—the physical strain of staving himself off.

When you don't immediately respond, Toji's head rests on your shoulder—miserable like an old dog. "y'know I can't cum without 'em. Know I need 'em."

His breaths come in rough pants. "I'm gonna cum, Mommy. Imma go right up your pussy and spill my seed."

"Toji—" You squirm, "Toji, don't!" You'd damn near drooled as the first squirt of hot cum hit your pussy, unconsciously bucking into him for the umpteenth time.

You beg Toji not to cum inside you, hugging him and pumping those hips all the while. Desperately, at that. A man's gotta wonder.

"Let me apologize, mama," he said between labored breaths. "Let me give you this baby." His fingers pry into yours, clutching them against the mattress as he rutted and sighed into you. "Let me."

"No." You fight. "No, no, no, no, no! No. Don't!"

His thrusts pick up as you try and wrangle free.

"I forgive you, Toji! I forgive—"

Toji licked into your mouth, grabbed onto your hips, and emptied himself in a long, thick stream. He shivered in your arms through spurts and convulsions, letting you swallow his shuddered alphabet of husky groans.

You can't help but buck into each warm shot of his seed. You're a whore. And you're tired of pretending you're not.

You're still moaning for him not to cum inside you as he does just that, pushed up against your G-spot, gently grinding you toward an orgasm of your own.

He could've positioned himself at your cervix and got all nice and snug, but then he would've missed the sleepy look on your face. Eyelids hung low, mouth parted—sated, full, and still working that pussy against him, swallowing miserably around him because it hasn't cum. She will. He'll show ya he ain't useless, that he's good for somethin'.

Besides, they'll swim. He doesn't need to be lined up to hit a target. It'll be fine once you're shiverin' against him; you'll send 'em right where they need to be.

"Please don't, sir." You said, still thrusting through the zips and tapering shocks of your orgasm. Your arms are helpless, bumbling, and unresponsive.

'Sirs' nice and all, but he'd prefer 'Mister.'

Author’s Note: This was Valentine's gift for myself and I decided to share it. If this performs well, I'll finish the second installment. The next part will feature Erasermic, Bob Velseb, Daddy Dearest, Mommy Mearest, and a fourth character I haven't decided on.

Tips: Please consider tipping if you're well-fed. It would incentivize me to keep sharing. https://ko-fi.com/pumpknpie

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For your listening pleasure:

The title was based on the song below.

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