#please watch this of you struggle with yourself as a creator

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[paddedbabiesfw]

A Regressors Age Guide

1 Year edition! (Baby baby)

Traits and Behaviors

These teeny babies are often dependent on their cgs as they may struggle with getting things done on their own.

-They may crawl and roll instead of walking

-They may be non or semi-verbal

-Often very sensitive to tone

-At this stage, these babies may prefer to cuddle up to their cg and have a nice nap

-They may enjoy reaction games like peek-a-boo instead of bigger kid activities like climbing trees and playing video games

-These little ones may enjoy being coo'd at and sung to as it can be hard for them to contribute much to a verbal conversation

-They may cry to communicate instead of using words

-These babies may find it hard to see what's wrong with them (They may be hungry, thirsty, tired, they may need a diapy change)

-These tiny babies may need diapies or reminded to go use the potty

-They may need help doing most tasks, feeding themselves, picking out clothes, showers or baths, most things biological babies would need help with, these tinies will need help with

Paying Attention to Your Baby's Non-verbal Ques

You need to make sure that when your baby is regressed to such a dependent age like this that you're paying attention to their non-verbal ques. If their body language indicates that they're uncomfortable then take that as a sign.

Take notice of your baby's schedule, that may be easier to tell what they need. If it's their lunch time and they're expressing discomfort, they may be hungry. If it's close to bedtime and they're a bit fussy, maybe it's time to get them ready for bed.

Another thing to take notice of is their body language, if they're rubbing their eyes then they may be tired and need a nap, if their tummy is growling, they may need to use the potty or they may be hungry.

If in doubt, asking your baby yes or no questions could help a lot and all they need to do is nod or shake their head.

Diapies

Some babies in this age range may wear dipies! It's So important that you as their caregiver know how to diaper safely (if you do their diapy Changes)

Always communicate with your tiny! Tell them what you're doing and ask if they're okay with it

Ex: "You need a diapy change, sweet baby, do you want me to change you or do you want to do it yourself?"

"You need a diapy change, little one, is it okay if I change your diapy?"

And make sure your tiny is comfortable during their diapy change, make sure they have their favorite paci and stuffie and make sure to have a blankie on hang in case they get uncomfortable or cold!

Make sure you're changing frequently if they're using their diapies and make sure you're using baby powders and barrier creams to stay safe

A extremely helpful post I found here, goes over a bunch of important information and tips on diapering!

Here is an extremely helpful video on how to diaper an adult using a variety of different diapers, how to keep them comfortable and hope to dispose of used diapies as well as a bunch of other helpful information!

Please note that this video is filmed by a creator who uses "abdl" and other terms that often refer to the nsfw community in their title. This video does not have anything nsfw in it, and is extremely helpful to learn how to diaper someone(or yourself) comfortably but still watch at your own discretion.

Activities and Fun Things to do With Your Baby

So you may be finding it harder to find some fun activities to do with a baby so young but I'm here to help!

Sensory play is always great fun to a baby this age, babies are super curious and always looking for something to keep their attention so playing with toys together like rattles, fluffy toys, toys that make noise can be great stimulation for your baby's mind and it can also help them maintain their regressed state better. Playing games together like match making games is always good. Reaction games are also great for Regressors this age as well like peek-a-boo and patty cake

Bath time is always great fun and binding time for any regression age, having these little ones splash and play in some shallow bath water is so fun, make sure to put some bubbles in the bath for your baby to enjoy

A great way to get in some quality time is watching a movie together too! Bright colors and the voices from the characters from a movie of your choosing is a great way to keep your little one entertained.

Food

Usually baby regressors want soft foods! So foods like mashed potatoes, oatmeal, grits and yogurt, soft foods like that can be great for baby regressors cause they don't have to chew or think super hard about what they want to eat. Another thing you can do is blend up some of your favorite fruits and add some yogurt into the mixture to make sure your blend is nice and smooth. Bananas and steamed vegetables are also great because they can be soft and easy for your little one to eat!

Shows Movies and More!

Some great shows are shows aimed towards a younger crowd

You can find some great shows for younger kids on sites like Nick Jr, Disney Jr, and pbs kids!

Personally, I like shows like Octonauts, Gabby's doll house, baby einstein and Thomas the tank engine

Some movies I like to watch are actually Disney movies when I regress to an age so so tiny! I like Winnie the pooh, I like toy story and Cars but I also have been trying to lean away from Disney recently due to their political stances and I've found some great movies on Netflix Instead!

Know Your Baby!

Know your baby before they regress around you, ask them what they like to do and like to watch well Before they end up being so itty bitty with you! I know it's tough to have the awkward conversations but it's so important to know how your baby expresses themself Before you're in a situation where you don't know what to do. Each and every regressor has a different experience regressing so I may love something while someone else may not.

I hope this helped! Feel free to reblog with any questions or feel free to write a comments asking any questions!

My main is @pumpkinheadspacestation so feel free to send in questions there too!

The first post to this thread of posts is Here, it's on my main blog, there will also be a link to a post with All the age guides, ages 1-13, on my main page which I will edit all the age guide posts and create a link to that post when I've made it!

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 5

This chapter was like pulling teeth, I swear I switched POV's like 3 times.

Thank you guys so much for reading! Just as a heads up future chapters will be much much slower to update since real life hast decided to reassert it's presence. That being said, enjoy!

Warning for Spoilers up to 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

The sharp edge of a sword hovered extremely close to your face. Its wielder's furious golden eyes stared you down.

“Who are you, how did you get here?” They demanded, their floating companion hovering behind their shoulder anxiously, watching this exchange.

For some reason, even though your life was being threatened, you struggled to feel any sense of fear or urgency. That’s probably something you should revisit when you didn’t have a sharp weapon pointed at you.

But you did, so you should pay attention to that, shouldn’t you.

Oh, but you haven’t, you’ve probably been silent for a while, getting lost in thought.

You redirect your attention back to your current situation. 

You are in this fancy bedroom you don’t recognize, whilst being threatened at sword point by a pretty teenager you don’t recognize.

Great, go brain, you can do things!

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for an explanation.

“I don’t mean any harm,” you say, slowly. 

The teen in question didn’t seem to believe you. They narrowed their eyes further, actually they were really pretty. Not just the teen themselves, though they are quite pretty, but their eyes sparkled like molten gold, not a common eye color at all.

Now that you think of it, are golden eyes even real? Don’t you need contacts to get golden eyes?

Oh wait, you’ve gotten off track, you’re being threatened.

They were saying something, their mouth was moving and you missed all of it.

You blinked, “sorry could you repeat that I didn’t hear it,” you asked politely, hoping they wouldn’t get mad at the request.

Oh looks like they did, considering how they’re clenching their teeth, they don’t look particularly pleased with you.

Well, you suppose it is rather rude to ignore someone mid confrontation.

Why were you in a confrontation anyways, you weren’t a particularly confrontational person, you liked to avoid drama whenever possible.

You probably shouldn’t be here, you realized. It’d be nice if you were somewhere else, like a nice park or a meadow or something.

Just as you finished your train of thought your surroundings changed.

The chirping of birds and the warmth of the sunlight distracted you from your earlier train of thought. 

You were in a lovely meadow, with beautiful golden flowers and a gigantic tree with blue crystalline branches.

It seemed rather empty though, which was a bit of a shame considering how nice it is, but you were hardly going to complain about having the entire place to yourself.

You started walking through the meadow, when a slight pain in your foot distracted you.

You checked to see that you were pricked by a rather sharp piece of gravel. 

That’s weird, why are you barefoot outside? Now that you think about it, your clothes are rather strange.

It’s this white flowy garment, reminiscent of the clothing worn by Ancient Grecians. 

But you weren’t cold at all, it was honestly quite comfortable. 

Wait, what were you thinking about again.

Oh right, you’re talking a walk in this pretty meadow!

~~~

The Wanderer, or well, Hat Guy as people now know him sighed as he flipped through a tedious book about the Origins of the Production of Wood Lacquer in Inazuma and its Effects on Weaponry. 

Unfortunately for him, I was there, does not count as a citable source if he doesn’t have the receipts to prove it. Now he has to sort through all these old books to find one with the information he needs to prove his point.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure examining the shelves.

It seems that they noticed him too, judging by the white haired fairy’s flailing. How troublesome.

“What are you doing here,” she whispered fiercely, at least she had enough decency to not raise her voice in a library.

He looked over at his piles of books and papers covering his workstation, and then back at her, wondering if she actually expected an answer to such an obvious question.

She seemed to realize that too, considering the sheepish look she adopted. “Well, you can’t blame me for being curious. You don’t seem like a big library kind of guy.”

“I’m not,” he replied curtly, turning back to his workstation. “Trust me, if I had it any other way, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Yet somehow, him turning his back to them and ignoring their presence wasn’t hint enough of his lack of enthusiasm to engage in conversation with the two, since they ended up hovering over his shoulder, attempting to read his papers and more importantly, distracting him from his work.

He swears, if he could get a headache, he would. He ends up slapping his hand on top of his notes, disrupting their reading and whipped his head back to give them the most annoyed glare he can.

It doesn’t work, because of course it doesn’t.

Instead the Traveler just gave him a smug smirk, they did this on purpose to annoy him, which makes it worse because he fell for it.

“What do you want,” he gritted out, knowing they won’t let him have his peace until they’re satisfied.

“I need to speak with Nahida,”

Wanderer scoffed at that, “then why are you bothering me? Did the Matra turn you away at the door and now you're begging for my help to get you in?”

“Not at all,” the Traveler smiled, “I just wouldn’t mind your insight on the topic as well,”

“Plus we couldn’t find her in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, ” Paimon chimed in.

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling a face at that inane statement, “Why would she be in the Sanctuary of Surasthana?”

“It’s where we’d meet up with her before,”

“That’s because she didn’t have any rooms or offices of her own,” he explained slowly, like he was talking to a child, well he probably was considering the intellect of the white haired one. “Why would she willingly go back to her prison of 500 years when she now has the resources of all of Sumeru to build herself a new place.”

The white haired fairy in question made an exaggerated face of revelation that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at.

He looks at his notes longingly, well not quite longingly, it’s still quite annoying, but its bound to be less troublesome than whatever the Traveler has planned.

Sighing to himself, he gathered up his notes and research and headed to the exit of the House of Daena, the Traveler and Paimon hot on his heels.

The three made their way up the winding paths of the Akademya. The puppet ignores all the glances and whispers garnered by the students and visitors alike, and moves as fast as he can without breaking into an outright run.

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at The Dendro Archon’s new residence. Designed by the Light of Kshahrewar himself, its a beautiful structure with many windows and balconies, designed to be everything the Sanctuary was not. 

He headed straight in, the Matra having long gotten used to his frequent comings and goings with the Dendro Archon. He honestly doesn't know what reasoning they’ve decided on to explain why Lesser Lord Kusanali spends so much time with him, and honestly he couldn’t care less. It’s simply the fact that they couldn’t keep their mouths shut and now he has to deal with complete strangers coming up to him in an attempt to learn more about her.

He could hear the other two, awing at the architecture as they made their way in. Privately he did appreciate the architect's tact in designing this building. Whilst still made in the classic rounded Sumeru fashion, he managed to avoid any references to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, ensuring that there weren't many large empty spaces or darkened ceilings.

He knew she still avoided the building whenever she could, even though she rejected his proposition to have it torn down. It’s a curious relationship, for whilst it was her prison for so long, it was also the only place she knew and could call home.

Regardless of the matter, it wasn’t for him to pry.

Before long he had reached her office, offering a cursory knock before barging his way in. If she had a problem with his way of entering her rooms and offices she would've long told him to stop, but she didn’t so he didn’t.

It was a lot messier than he’d seen it last. Papers and reports scattered around the office, stacked in messy piles on her desk.

Lesser Lord Kusanali blinked up at him from where she was seated, before breaking into a smile when the Traveler and Paimon walked in.

She greeted them with enthusiasm, moving out from behind her desk to talk to them properly.

He tuned out the rest of their small talk, it was nothing more than empty pleasantries to fill the air before they got the actually important parts that were relevant to his presence.

“-ject Stuzha,”

He blinked, focusing back onto the topic of conversation. 

“Hmm, I must admit I haven’t seen many records on this project before,” the Dendro Archon said, her expectant gaze turning to him. 

He couldn't help but bristle slightly at the attention. “I’ve already given you most of the information I have about the Fatui.”

“Most is not all,” she replied simply, “and besides, from what the Traveler just said it seems to be something they’re mobilizing all their forces on.”

Logically he knew that it would be in everyone’s best interests if he told them all he knew about the project, but old habits die hard. The Tsaritsa’s court was nothing more than the world most extensive chess game. Every action and movement had to be calculated to give the player the best advantage, every scrap of information hard won. 

As much as it rankled him to admit, he was only the 6th Harbinger and the Director only gave out as much information as was strictly required, no more no less. But he did have some information, some he was given, some through sleuthing and others through his own conjecture.

He warned them of that before launching into an explanation of what he had seen and figured out.

“From the timing of things, it is clear that Project Stuzha is related to the gnosis, especially since the only one of the seven that they’re missing is the Pyro Gnosis.” His audience nodded at that assumption.

“It’s also related in some way to the state of things in Teyvat and the survival of humanity as a species. As things stand, Teyvat is becoming more and more inhabitable for regular humans. With ley line disorders, abyssal energy and dead godly remains lurking about. Project Stuzha is supposed to fix that, permanently.”

“But how,” Paimon interrupted, her head darting back and forth in confusion. 

“No idea,” he shrugged, “All I know is that it has something to do with the Abyss.”

“The Abyss? I thought that place had nothing but monsters and dead gods?”

Wanderer shook his head at that, “That’s just a common misconception. There’s actually the remains of an entire world down there. A human world.”

Both the Traveler and Paimon looked shocked at that statement. 

He’d already shared this information with Lesser Lord Kusanali so she didn’t look surprised, but she was deep in thought.

“I didn’t know that there were entire realms banished to the abyss, and I thought Enkanomiya was creepy.”

“It wasn't banished,” he refuted, “From my investigations, it seems that the civilization was built and founded there.”

There was a moment of silence as they contemplated his words.

“That brings up more questions about the origins of humans,” Lesser Lord Kusanali commented, “Irregardless of that, I believe you had another question for us Traveler?”

“Oh right!,” Paimon chimed in, looking over to the Traveler who stepped forward.

“We’re looking more into the blessings that keep happening and we'd like to hear your opinion of it.” They paused, looking between the two of them.

“Ah,” the Dendro Archon paused, looking at Wanderer.

“The thing is, we've already tried,”

“And failed.” He couldn’t help but add, to quash any hope that the duo may have.

“What do you mean by failed!” The fairy gasped.

“Well, that’s not exactly the case,” she tried to reassure. “It’s more like, there weren’t any results where we were looking. ”

“That’s just another way to say you found nothing!”

“Actually Paimon, finding nothing gives you a lot of information about where it is found!” She explained. “The thing is, the blessings we experienced aren’t connected to Irminsul in any way, so we can conclude that it originated from somewhere outside of Teyvat.”

”Does that mean that it can’t be tracked?” The Traveler asked, 

”Hmm, well from our experiences, it’s quite easy for those who’ve been blessed to recognize each other since they can feel each other’s blessing, but the range for that is no more than the size of two Sumpter Beasts.”

That was an irritating experience, having to stand in the middle of Sumeru City for hours as that annoying forest watcher had to try to find him through only his blessing. It took over half the day before they concluded that the energy of the blessing was far too weak to use as a tracking mechanism.

Thankfully, any experiments they had were benign and didn’t involve anything close to what he imagined that damned doctor attempted to inflict on Tartaglia before being shut down by the Tsaritsa. 

If that were the case he’d probably have hated the flame flickering in his hollow chest a lot more. 

Well, hate is a strong word. He didn’t deny that having the blessing made him a lot stronger than he ever was previously and on some level is grateful for its calming warmth. But a private part of him wished it had appeared to him sooner.

Logically he understood that the blessings were in some way connected to the Traveler and that they hadn’t appeared until well after his appointment as a Harbinger.

But the other small quiet part of him wonders just how different his life could’ve been had this blessing appeared before that. 

Would he have been able to save Niwa, or that little boy. Maybe even the Sho-

No

He can’t go down that train of thought.

What’s done is done and all he can do now is attempt to make amends and move on.

He tuned back into the topic only to find them talking about some kind of dessert they had in fontaine. Ugh.

He waited,

And waited,

And waited some more.

…

This conversation was taking too long.

And he isn’t even in it!

“Can I leave,” he butted in, realizing that their conversation is never going to go back to anything useful.

“Oh I’m sorry, are we interrupting your incredibly important work about glazeworks or something,” Pamon mocked.

Ignoring her he turned to the Dendro Archon who looked delighted. 

“You’re still working on the new essay?” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. 

He felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. “I would’ve had it done a week ago, if someone actually let me use accurate sources,” he snapped.

“Oh come on, it’s not so bad. Besides, how are you going to explain how Hat Guy knows so much about ancient Inazumen weapon crafting techniques that have been lost to time.”

“You could vouch for me,”

“But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other students now would it.”

He took a deep breath, remembering how he’d already tried and failed to argue his case a week prior, “so can I go or what?”

“Oh course, what kind of Archon of Wisdom would I be if I prevented learning and research!”

He took that as his cue to leave, stomping out of her office, faintly hearing the fairy commenting about how she’s surprised that he’s actually doing his schoolwork.

As if he’d let some inconsequential mortal get better grades than him.

Besides, being the top of his class means that he won’t have any irritating students come up to him and ask if he needs help or offer tutoring.

Of course, being top of his class also means that there are now people coming to him to ask for tutoring or help. 

But at least those are easier to turn away.

Hopefully he doesn’t get interrupted anymore today, if so he should be able to finish this reference by tonight. 

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

Things are heating up huh!

I wonder where our dear creator has found themselves. Oh and don't worry too much about their state of mind, that will come up again soon!

Taglist: @bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi,  @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa

Once again, my ask box is open if you'd like to join the taglist or just leave comments or questions. I promise I don't bite!

[notjustjavierpena]

Wake

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A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out. 

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

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship. 

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop. 

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength. 

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on. 

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks. 

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet. 

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now. 

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh. 

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on. 

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold. 

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind. 

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall. 

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him. 

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own. 

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize. 

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come. 

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.” 

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip. 

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles. 

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged. 

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

.

.

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[bowieandqueen11]

Zoro Falling In Love With You Would Include...

Request: I've been binge watching one piece this Friday night so I could appreciate your recent requests and finally send one in! Please can you write for Zoro falling in love? 🥹❤️ I know you would do it amazingly!

Yayayay I've been waiting to write something like this for Zoro, thank you lovely!!! I had WAY too much fun writing this one I am so sorry if I went overboard on the imagery but also sorry not sorry I want to press a thousand kisses over this beautiful man's face

Okay this actually took way too much time to write so comments are much much appreciated!!

Warning: slightly suggestive if you squint, mention of scratching/ injuries and sword fighting

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @starryyshadows.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Oh, mosshead. What a dopey ass himbo you are. Istg this m*therf*cker right here (affectionate) would be so god damn ANNOYING when he's in love. Forget about Zoro nearly grabbing Sanji by his curly brows and swinging him like a ragdoll over the railings any time his continuous nosebleeds drip into his sake. Zoro is just as bad, just a needle swung in the opposite direction; he grumbles around the ship like a mopey, exasperated crocodile, snapping at anyone who comes near him that isn't you.

He wasn't built for love; hellfire roared through his veins, ravishing every cell in his body until his teeth gritted and lips bled in his struggle for self-discipline. He was a predator; rampant, ravaging, resolved in his fortitude. So why? Oh god, why? Why did he feel like he was being torn apart? Ravished by teeth that left rupturing silver punctures in his lungs, shredded by claws that streamed blinding light through the chambers of his heart.

He had felt like that: bent over doubled, clutching his chest in pain when the two of you first met as teenagers. If it hadn't been pitiful enough that you had bested him during your first sparring match at the Shimotsuki Dojo, you had to rub salt into the wound by being kind to him afterwards. He had scoffed when you had thrown your helmet to the ground and held out your hand to him, a scowl cloaking his face and making his teeth grind as you offered him advice on how to perfect your technique. Yet all you had done in response to his slight was to smile: a smile so shining, so unjustly kindly, so prepossessing and beautiful that the swordsman froze in shock, a fleeting flash of pure light haloing his eyes.

He knew. He knew, right there and then. That you were the only thing in all of the seas that could stand in his way. In that moment, he had decided that he would like to live forever in that strand of light: that one that strayed through a gap between the oak leaves, straying past its dark, dense leaves, foraging past the crawling thickets to instead brush against the tip of your cheek.

'What does it matter anyway?', Zoro had glowered, refusing to look back at you again. 'It's not as if you're going to stick around. Once your gone, I'll be the best fighter here again.'

'I'm not going anywhere. Not until I defeat you ten more times, at least', you added, once you noticed him rolling your eyes. You held your hand out, and Zoro glanced down at your outreaching fingers warily. 'No matter where we are or what happens to us, I'll always be a better swordsman than you.' His lips finally curl up in a smile then as he reaches out to shake your hand, and the feeling sends a spark of something running down his fingertips. His whole body feels alight, and he spends the whole rest of the day clenching his fingers into his palm and trying desperately to relish the feeling.

Which is why, for a while, Zoro seems to go extra hard on you: calling you away after lessons for private sparring matches deep in the woods, where only the crunchy bark could hear your swift steps and the fine mist wrapped around the pale trees and sent a cold shake down your hilted hand. The only way to warm yourself up was to butt the edge of your sword against Zoro's flailing torso, shoving him back so you could use the leverage to pin his panting face up against the nearest tree trunk. This time, though - this time, you surprise him.

If he was disappointed in himself for losing again, it soon melted away by the feel of your torso pressing up against his heaving lungs. For a moment, his lips tighten into a thin line as sees your approaching forehead and believes you're straight up just going to headbutt his sorry ass. He jumps even more when your skin lands... softly? against the burning side of his temple. He can't seem able to find his breath, the world seeming to be frozen in glinting threads of light as you linger against the young demon. All that exists is the soft push of your nose against his fluttering shut eyelid. The warm puff of breath as you sigh against the shell of his ear. The light scrape of the bark against his back as he shivers. The sound of his own heart, his blood scorching through his veins and convulsing against the sharp cage of his ribs.

He's so hyperaware of his body tantalisingly close to yours; his stiff elbows lay drawn up by his side, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly as he spreads and flexes his fingers, slowly drawing them to hover around your back. He was still too afraid to touch you.

Too afraid of the fire burning through his fingertips again.

But before he could muster up the courage you had pulled away, and the moment faded into a jaded dream that he nestled safely in the back of his memories.

It's impossible to shake Zoro from you after that moment. He hounds after you like a coveting beast: he stays tied to your hip like a disruptive dog harnessed on a leash. Your favourite activity is sneaking out of your dorms after hours and running down to meet by the riverbed: feet sprinting across the cream petals and sharp pine needles to collapse next to one another among the buzz of the fireflies nestling above the woven grass. For a while, as the two of you turn your tired heads to the skies, there's nothing but a silent affinity settling over the clearing. Nothing but the feel of the silk sleeve of Zoro's pyjamas brushing over the side of your cheek as unclasps his hands from behind his head and warily rests them in the short space between your hips. Nothing but the sound of your extolled voice as you point up at the bursts of sparks and swirls of silver against the darkness, enrapturing Zoro as you chart out the dips of your favourite constellations.

The reflection of the skies you had spent your younger years on the seas watching with wonder fill your eyes with a wonderous light, the delight drawing your attention away and allowing Zoro the opportunity to docilely turn his head to face you instead. His cheek freezes against the dew, but he's too revered in memorising the scrunch of your nose as you swat your hand at him for not paying attention: too busy watching the placid look that softens your smile as you look, too busy wishing he wasn't so cowardly. Wishing he didn't feel so feeble. Wishing, as his hand clawed at his thigh and dug in deep enough to leave bruises, that he could just reach out and touch you.

He jumps when you click your fingers in front of his crossing eyes. 'Zoro, are you even listening?'

He shrugged. 'Kinda. I don't know much about this stuff. If I can't hit it, I don't care.'

'You should! One day, when I become the greatest sword fighter in the world, I'm going to sail into those stars and discover all the secrets this world has to offer.' You flopped your free hand over your stomach with a content sigh, the spiralling glow of the heavens raining down and coating your face with sparks of silver.

He snorted. 'That sounds stupid. You can't sail into the sky.'

'You're just jealous because you're not invited.'

'Good. Who said I wanted to come.'

Zoro may be an idiot, but he's also a man who learns from his mistakes.

He doesn't know what overtakes him. Adrenaline? Rage? An overwhelming surge of fondness? The thought pounding in his head that if he doesn't do this now, he'll spend forever locked away in this cage? His fingers itch across the grass. His whole body squirms, the heat rolling through his body making the perspiration bead on his forehead, but still he keeps going. It's only when he feels your hand jolt back as his pinkie bumps against the side of your wrist that he begins to feel stupid.

Growing self-restraint be damned, as soon as you recover from the shock and shyly place your hand back down by your side, he pounces. Initially, the squeeze of his fingers as they wrap around your cool palm almost breaks bone, but all you do is rub your thumb over the edge of his knuckles.

You know its his way of telling you he loves you, even if he is too young and stubborn and proud to say it.

You both knew that one day you would leave him for the stars. When the time comes, and you leave Shimotsuki Village, to stop the sinews of his heart from completely scorching away with every knot of your ship, the demon suffocates any thought of you.

When he meets you again that fateful day: tied up to a Marine post in a dusty courtyard, tired, frustrated, solemn, for the first time in his life he begins to feel his judgement sway. When your face popped around the yard gates on your way out from meeting Axehand Morgan, your feet skid so comically across the ground the cloud of smoke it raised was so huge it even made Zoro sneeze. With a hand on your hip, and eyes widened in disbelief, you stepped out into the sunlight to survey the man bowed before you.

'I always knew I'd see you tied up one day', you smirked, shoving the handful of berries you had earnt from trading in your last bounty into the satchel by your hip before wandering over to untie him. 'Just thought it would be me doing the tying.'

'Y/n?', he asks incredulously, trying his best to dart his eyes nonchalantly up and down your body despite how fervently his voice was trying to waver. He sneered, tipping his head in the other direction and staring at the ground as you tug on the rather tight knots around his wrist. 'What the hell are you doing here.'

When you finally manage to tug him loose off the boards, his knees sag so quickly beneath him that the swordsman nearly goes collapsing headfirst onto the ground. With reflexes so quick they could only be rivalled by your own sparring buddy himself, a firm hand slaps against his sternum. A quick tug pulls him back, Zoro's knees dirtying with beige as he kneels back against you.

'Same as you, oh great swordsman', you laugh against his ear. 'I always told you you'd have competition. And from the looks of it, I'm winning.'

For a second you're concerned you've overstepped: the familiarity, the fondness you thought everlasting between you both a figment of your imagination when Zoro tilts his head back slightly to glare at you from the corners of his eyes. Placing a hand on his knee he braces himself, and steps up. For a moment, you're even more terrified he's about to kick you to the ground - or even worse, turn his back and walk off, ignoring you completely. But then he surprises you. The corners of his lips twitch in what - no way- could only be the beginnings of a smile?! before you're lifted off the ground and crushed in a hug so unyielding between his solid chest and taut arms that you can't help but bury your head into his shoulder blade and laugh.

It wasn't very hard to convince Luffy to let you join his crew - I mean, when you took down three Marines with just one punch, and he saw the powerhouse you and Zoro were as you fought back to back with Axehand Morgan, you were coming, and that was that. No buts. No excuses. Don't argue with your Captain.

I mean, bless his heart, Zoro is still a dumbass though, as perceptive as he is. And he's still sore. It takes a little bit of work to climb through the trellises of his grave heart. But little by little, he begins to open up to you again. He starts to grumble less when you climb up to join him during his late nights on watch up in the Crow's Nest. At first, as he burrows his back into the planks and crosses his arms in front of his chest, the steady breathing of his stoic body makes your job seem even harder. Undeterred, you rocked back on your heels and clucked your tongue in nervousness. But you should have known: even with his eyes closed, concentration edged into the furrows of his face, he's far too perspicacious for his own good. Even though he's doing his best to look brooding and bored, his foot shoots out and kicks his sword out of the way - launching it back across your heels and barring you from tumbling back down and falling down the hatch.

Every time you drag yourself up in the middle of the night to join him, you can tell his full concentration is centred on you, even if his eyes never even move behind their lids. He's pointedly listening out for your move, your every breath, your every heartbeat - which comes in very handy for darting out and catching in his massive palm the warm cups of cider you had precariously tried to carry up. Eventually, after a full week of you sitting up there Zoro finally relents his pride; even with Luffy's vest and Usopp's jacket wrapped around you, you clutch at the lapels of Sanji's suit jacket that your friends had very kindly lent you to try and stop shivering from the cold. Zoro doesn't even speak, just raises his elbow a little bit, and you don't need a second invitation to come clambering into the warmth of his side.

God, if he hadn't spent every moment of every day since he was thirteen years old dreaming of holding you in his arms. You pretend, for his sake, that you can't feel his heart thrumming wildly against your ear.

You catch the former bounty hunter staring at you from across the Lounge’s breakfast table most mornings. The intensity of his unwavering eye would be strong enough to make you blush, if you hadn't turned your attention back to stabbing at Luffy's grabby hands with the prongs of your fork. It's only when Sanji clasps his hands to his cheek, and in a faux sugary sweet sing-song voice professes 'how romantic mosshead can be! What person wouldn't love being stared at like roadkill!', that all hell breaks loose. Luffy's too busy munching on your pancake to truly register you and Nami nearly flying leapfrog over Zoro's back to try and stop him from throwing the poor cook through the window.

Although you succeed, Sanji does have to spend the rest of the morning sulkily smoking out of the corner of his mouth while wringing orange juice out of his hair.

Zoro is extremely, extremely protective over you. Even though you know how much he hates talking, he draws all the attention to himself away from Cabaji, even while tied up to Buggy' circus wheel. When the knives start whizzing past his head, he doesn't even flinch: safe in the knowledge that no matter what happens, you're safe from these buffoons. When Nami finally manages to pick her cage's lock and help free the two of you, you offer Zoro your hand as you cautiously steady him on the ground again. He jolts, and for a moment you're worried one of the knives actually did hit him; while you flip his palm trying to find any sign of a scratch, Zoro's eyes focus on you in wild shock. He feels fifteen again as he gently rubs your searching fingers between his coarse pointer finger and thumb, sobbing into his bed and holding the hilt of his sword, pretending it was your hand. Your warmth. And here you were, come back to him, offering it freely. He felt like falling to his knees, a pliant supplicant to your unwarranted mercy.

One time he nearly made you bust out laughing: since Zoro spends most of his day napping in such random intervals, during a rogue storm aboard the Going Merry one cloudy evening the swordsman was still awake. It was during your struggle to stop yourself pitching right off your bed and slamming into the wall, and planting yourself firmly from sliding to the left and body slamming a very irritated looking Nami, whose head was covered by one of her bunched up pillows, that you spotted a shadow flitting across the porthole on your door. Zoro's tall, awkward outline hesitantly moved as if he were about to rap at the door, before the sound of him yelling at himself under his breath made you snort aloud.

His head rises at the sound, and before he can take a step backward to try and abort his masterplan of sneaking into your room under the guise of checking if you were alright with the storm battering the rocking ship, you had slammed open the door and nearly flung Zoro into your hammock like a ragdoll. For a moment, Zoro lies there like a statue, unsure of where to put his hands or if it's alright that the sway of the ship means that he can't unsquish his cheek from against the side of your eyebrow. When his hand hesitantly begins to fall over your back and fold you tightly against his pecs with a squeeze, you know that's his trepid way of trying to let you know he still loved you.

Not to mention when you wake up and he's lying with his nose nearly indented into yours, his sleepy eyes looking so peaceful for once... just admiring you with the warm glow of the sun dousing him in holiness.

One time he got really lost trying to find you and Luffy after the two of you had the very sensible idea of setting off to the nearest island on a search for hidden treasure. After he had spent hours wading through muddy creeks and tearing some tangled thorns away from his face, out you come wandering from behind a tree. Thinking you were some kind of wild animal, Zoro has you pinned against the bark of the nearest tree before you even have time to blink.

Not one to be defeated, you kick out at his legs with a delighted laugh, knocking the man nearly ass over head onto his back. You grin, victorious, as you crawl between his legs like a ravenous tiger, knocking the hilt of his blade far out of reach of his clenching fingers. As your knee presses against the inner seam of his muscled thigh, you can tell by the forced gulp of his bobbing throat how hard he's struggling. When you dig your fingernails deeply enough into his wrists to elicit a throaty hum of approval, when his abdomen keeps bucking ever so slightly off the reeds to try and shake you off, you just know the man's imagined this scenario a lot of times, in a lot of different ways over the years.

(I mean this man could throw you off easily let's be real.)

When the Straw Hat Crew meet Kaya, this man - istg - he nearly goes weak at the knees when you come down the stairs in your brand new borrowed outfit. His breathless inhale earned him a distasteful glare from Klahadore, but he didn't even care that he was showing such careless, unmeasured adoration. It took Luffy nearly slapping him across the face with the shrimp he was waving in front of his nose to draw him back to some sense of reality.

'I know!', the Captain had smiled. 'The food here is so good, I was daydreaming about it too!'

Having the good fortune to uh *definitely by chance and not because you snuck into the dining hall earlier to switch the place cards* - to sit next to Zoro offers him the opportunity to make his feelings more plain, in a subtle way. Perfect timing! As soon as Luffy clambers up onto the table and draws the wrath of the strangely severe butler, Zoro's hand latches across yours under the tablecloth and squeezes. He blinks languidly, his face as unreadable as ever as he takes a sip out of his champagne flute and clears his throat, but you notice. You know every part of him: every idiosyncrasy, every bob of his Adam's Apple, the tensed pull of his jaw muscle as he clenches his teeth, the warm flush rising up his cheeks, you know them all. As if they were so innate, so interwoven with your own being, that you weren't sure of a time when your hearts hadn't been devoured by each other's. Each the predator. Each the prey.

He leaves his hand on your knee for the rest of the dinner, and you refuse to remove his latched fingers and let him go.

You kiss him for the first time that night: just a sweet little tease of lingering lips against the pure radiance of his cheek.

As he walks you down the 'confusing' corridors that are 'definitely a trap' by Zoro's own declaration, you unlink yourself from his arm to straighten the collar of his silk shirt. 'You look nice', you say sincerely, eyebrows furrowing as you trace the outline of his bare collar between the open buttons. 'Even though swords are more your style, you look good in a suit. You look good in everything.'

'Uh... thanks', he balks, his head emptying as his entire being instead focuses on the feeling of your fingertip scratching of his chest. 'You- your eyes look nice', he bluntly replies. 'Like two rice balls.'

Bless him, he meant well.

And then you kiss him with a raise of your tippy toes and final clutch of your hands against his shoulders, before retreating back into your room and leaving him extinguished within the shadows. He spends the next few hours almost deliriously wandering the corridors, trying to temper the tight ball growling in his belly. To try and find a sense of clarity, some kind of retinence. Looking past the billowing blue curtains and out through the slats of the casement windows lining the ornate, ostentatious glass cases, a warning pangs in Zoro's heart. How could he? How could he find restraint, when you had spent all these years driving his thoughts wild? How could he keep you safe, when he could focus on nothing but the wetness still lingering against his cheek? How could he fulfil his dreams, when all he wants right there. Just past the clear moonlight drifting silver into his eyelids, there your stars lay.

He wasn't about to let you sail away from him this time, to alight only in his memories: to pulse through the hollow beats of his hear and cool his charred veins like a cruel reminder of a salvation he had never deserved.

He wasn’t going to lose you to his callow cowardice. Not ever again.

When he comes knocking on your door, you don't expect the demon bounty hunter to blurt out a fevered 'I love you!', before turning and stamping off. But I suppose, as you ran after to him to drag him back into your room by the scuff of his neck and slam the wide expanse of his back against the door to shut it, he wasn't expecting to spend the night filling poor Kaya's house with unbridled moans.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Further inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

❕but also Sauron x Celebrimbor + slight Celebrimbor x reader❕

-> in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

Warnings: smut, voyeurism kink, exhibitionism kink, tease and denial, handjob (Annatar x Celebrimbor, Annatar x Reader) oral (R + C receiving from A), mutual masturbation (C x R), p in v (A x R), manipulation cause you still don’t know he’s Sauron, Sauron will have more influence over the Rings if he soft doms their creators or something, I just wanted to write pure filth

Note: sequel to Inspiration. I wasn’t expecting to write something like this but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I experimented a little🤭

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

You are not proud of the disappointment you feel knowing Celebrimbor has returned to his work. You should be glad that he has recovered enough to carry on with forging the Rings—using the designs with which you provided him, no less—and you are happy. Truly. It’s only that part of you wishes you still had the forge room to yourself and Lord Annatar.

You had not been alone with him since he had... aided you to finish the designs, and you are driving yourself mad with thoughts of what might happen when or if you shall find yourselves in an intimate setting again. Will he be poised as ever, as though you had never known each other most intimately? Or will there be recognition between you? Connection.

Repetition.

The thought sends a pleasant shiver racing down your spine, right as you reach the forge room. You stop to breathe. Even if Annatar is inside, he is there assisting Celebrimbor with his work, and that is your purpose as well. Nothing more.

Before you can push the doors open, just as your fingers nearly reach the wood, one slides ever so slightly ajar, as if moved by the wind. Except there is no wind, and the doors are too heavy to be simply blown open, and so quietly no less. But you cease to ask yourself how such a thing has happened the moment you catch a glimpse of the sight revealed by the small opening.

From your angle, you can see Celebrimbor at his worktable, Annatar sitting beside him. There would be nothing unusual about that, if they were not sitting so much closer than you have seen them do on previous occasions. If Annatar’s arm were not wrapped around Celebrimbor’s shoulders, as if to cradle him close. And if that may yet pass for an exceedingly warm gesture of friendship, there is no mistaking the rhythmic movement of Annatar’s other hand in the area of Celebrimbor’s lap beneath the table, or the nature of the smith’s tortured groans as he struggles through the finishing touches of a Ring.

You cover your mouth to prevent an audible gasp. So, you had been right to assume you were not the only one for whom Lord Annatar performs such unconventional acts of... creative encouragement. Your first, panicked thought is that you need to leave before they sense your presence, pretend as though you never witnessed such a thing. But your legs simply refuse to move. Your eyes will not, cannot turn away from the sight. You watch, heat blooming within your belly, as Annatar’s fingers pinch and fondle the tip of the smith’s pointed ear, and Celebrimbor shudders almost violently.

“Please,” he begs, barely above a whisper, “I can bear it no longer.”

“You are capable of much greater feats than you know, my friend,” Annatar encourages, ever so trusting. But Celebrimbor shakes his head in utter defeat. His hands cease their trembling work and lower the utensils on the table as he turns to Annatar with an anguished gaze.

“I beg you,” he all but whimpers, “grant me release.”

Annatar smiles, a tinge of disappointment in his eyes, and releases Celebrimbor altogether, standing from his seat. The smith cannot help but whine, looking down at what is sure to be a most helpless state of arousal, but makes no attempt to touch himself, either. He must have understood by now, as you did before, that he is not to act without Annatar’s permission.

A trembling breath escapes you. Your hand is on your stomach, having come to rest there you know not when, and you stifle the growing urge to reach lower, between your legs, if only to ease the light throb that has begun there with a quick press of your fingers.

You shake your head, squeeze your eyes shut, and turn away to press your back to the wall by the door. It’s Lord Celebrimbor, you remind yourself. Your mentor. Your friend. If anything, you should be mortified that you have witnessed him in such a state of arousal, or envious that he is receiving the same attentions as you did from Annatar. And, to some extent, you are, but... seeing Annatar’s hands upon him only reminds you how they felt upon you, and Celebrimbor’s pleas for release remind you of the torturous stretch you had endured with Annatar keeping still inside of you, of the ache of helplessly unfulfilled pleasure and the beauty that had come from it.

Celebrimbor must have gathered his will, same as you did back then, and resumed his work, because his moans reach your ears again. You will your legs to carry you away, but all they do is take you back where you can peer through the crack in the door once more. Annatar is now hunched over Celebrimbor, mouth on his neck and hand back to stroking him beneath the table, and when the smith wavers anew in his feeble attempts to work, the cry he gives out at the loss of stimulation sends a bolt of pleasure to your clit. You press your thighs together, in vain. You cannot touch yourself in the hallway, where anyone might see you.

Just as you think you have gathered the resolve to flee to your chambers, where you may indulge in the pleasure of your own fingers without risking your dignity, Annatar says your name. It happens in an instnat—a flick of his wrist, and the door slides all the way open, leaving you exposed to their sight.

Every cell in your body freezes.

“I am glad you have joined us,” Annatar greets politely, standing to his full height at Celebrimbor’s side.  “You need not linger at the door.”

Celebrimbor, on the other hand, goes into a wide-eyed panic that matches the one no doubt written on your own face. His jaw drops, trembling, and he fumbles beneath the table to make himself decent again before he shoots to his feet.

“I-I assure you,” he stammers, awfully flushed in the face, “this is not at all what you might imagine—”

“Do not fret, Celebrimbor,” Annatar intercedes, mildly amused. “She is quite familiar with my methods.”

A small gasp leaves you as you avert your eyes, heat flooding your skin. It is one thing to catch Lord Celebrimbor in the act, quite another to admit to your own. His eyes dart between you and Annatar as he blinks, stunned at the revelation.

“Come... come inside,” he urges you. “Shut the door.”

You do so in haste, but remain standing in the doorway. You cannot tell whether Celebrimbor is more angry or ashamed. Though he hardly has the right to judge your behaviour, given that he has engaged in similarly improper acts himself, if he were to banish one of you, it will not be the emissary of the Valar.

“Is it true?” he asks, thankfully seeming more curious than scandalized. You glance at Annatar, unsure, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod of his head. It serves as a balm to your nerves.

“Lord Annatar...” you begin, willing your voice to be steady as you look at Celebrimbor. “He helped me to finish the designs, my lord.”

Celebrimbor’s brows shoot up. His mouth opens, then closes. Then he scrambles to pick up the sketches by which he had been guided as he worked—your sketches—from the table, and holds them up to you.

“You made these, while...?”

“Indeed,” Annatar says, the sole word imbued with such pride and admiration, your knees weaken.

“But they are excellent! Flawless!” Celebrimbor protests, his tone raised in disbelief. “It cannot be that... Under such torment...?”

It is plain to see, from the distress in his eyes, that he truly does not understand how such a thing might be possible. This must be the first time Annatar has tried this with him, catching him as off guard as you had been, and he has yet to learn how to accept the gift as you did. A gift which is too precious, you realize, to be kept only to yourself, especially with the fate of all Middle-Earth at stake. Sympathy for Celebrimbor fills your heart, and you meet his questioning look with a slight nod. Once again, your gaze briefly meets Annatar’s, and something in his eyes along with your own inner realization gives you the boldness to go on and confess, “It helps, Lord Celebrimbor. If you allow it. And... it does not go unrewarded.”

Celebrimbor releases a stunned huff, and puts the paper back on the table with a small thud of his fingers against the wood.

“She is right,” Annatar speaks when Celebrimbor seems at a loss for words. “But then again...” His brow knits, and he ponders something. “No two creative minds are alike,” he muses. “And yours, Celebrimbor, I’m afraid is in a rather fragile state. Perhaps a less... direct approach would suit you better.”

Celebrimbor eyes him warily, but his interest is visibly piqued, your words having eased his reluctance to believe such a method might prove fruitful. Slowly, he returns to his seat.

“And... what might that be?” he asks, cautiously.

Annatar gives him a rather cryptic smile before he turns his gaze to yours, extending a hand towards you in invitation.

“Would you come here?” he beckons.

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing to Celebrimbor to find him as puzzled as you, then looking back at Annatar in silent question. He gives no answer, only waits patiently. Waits for your trust, as you have given it before.

And as before, you give it. Holding his gaze, you go to him, and place your hand in his. Your skin tingles pleasantly as he takes it in his gentle hold, reminding you how you had longed to feel his touch again. He pulls you close to him and wraps his other arm around your waist with elegance, almost as if preparing for a waltz. You are transfixed by his eyes as he speaks in that wise voice of his, close enough that his breath touches your lips.

“There are more ways to open one’s mind to their most natural instincts than touch itself,” he says. “Sometimes, one needs only to be reminded... shown... how fulfilling it is to cease denying oneself.”

The last words are spoken just as he presses his lips to yours, and you sigh into the gentle kiss. His mouth’s caresses are so languid, so patient as you follow their lead. He takes his sweet time tracing your lips with his tongue, then sliding it against your own, allowing them to intertwine and dance together at leisure, savouring each and every sensation. But that is not all he means to do, you realize as a sudden intake of breath reaches your ears, one which belongs to neither you nor Annatar. This sensuous display is meant for Celebrimbor—who is still sitting right at your side, though the haze of desire had all but erased that knowledge from your mind.

When Annatar removes his lips from yours with a softly wet sound, you cannot help but glance a bit self-consciously to the smith. His eyes are clouded with an emotion you have never seen in them in all your years working together—yearning of the purely carnal sort. Though he flushes at being caught eyeing you so, the look he sends Annatar holds a glint of ruefulness.

“You can hardly expect my eyes to not stray from my work,” he warns, “whilst you engage in such... titillating behaviour a mere glance away.”

“And yet,” Annatar says, looking at him but leaning into you, “I expect you to not only finish your work,” you give a soft gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “but to craft your greatest creations yet.”

“I do not think—”

The protest dies in Celebrimbor’s throat as Annatar engulfs you in his arms and swiftly lifts you onto the table, close enough to Celebrimbor that you could reach out with your leg and rest a foot in his lap if you so wished. You make no move to do anything but remain right where Annatar jas placed you, your breath quickening as he reaches to your ankles and begins to draw the skirts of your dress slowly up, up, over your knees, until they are gathered gracelessly around your waist and all that covers your modesty is your undergarments.

You can’t help but squirm lightly, adjusting to the most unusual exposure. It’s already more than you had ever imagined Celebrimbor would see of you, and now Annatar is running the palm of his hands gently along your thighs, coaxing you to part them and reveal the damp fabric between your legs. His piercing gaze won’t let you look away. He holds such power over you, willingly given yet ruinous in its might.

And he is no less in control as he lowers himself to his knees before you, in the space between your legs. The realization of what he means to do, and in what circumstances, punches a small mewl from your chest. But perhaps you should know better than to think you can anticipate his actions by now. You must only take what you are given, and at the moment he gives you feather-light caresses of your legs, from your ankles to the sensitive skin at the back of your knees, whilst his lips begin a trail of kisses upon the inside of your thighs. A few on the left, a few on the right. Langourous, attentive, drawing ever upward.

If you were aching before, you now crave him with devastating force. You want to moan, but some deeply rooted instinct within you still tries to clip the sounds in your throat, sharply aware of your audience. Unbidden, your eyes drift to Celebrimbor. His are glued to the spot where Annatar’s lips meet the soft flesh of your thigh, his lips slightly parted in silent desire, and his fingers digging into his own thigh as he no doubt withholds from seeking his own relief. You shudder with a sudden burst of bashfulness... but also the thrill of it. Of behaving yourself in such a scandalous manner, leaving all thoughts of propriety aside and wearing your pleasure on display.

Lifting his head from your leg, barely a few inches from where you need him most, Annatar gives Celebrimbor an encouraging look. “Go on, then,” he instructs, much like he had done when coaxing you into resuming your drawing whilst impaled on his length. Celebrimbor’s throat bobs with what looks to be a painful swallow, but he does as he is asked and picks the object of his labour back up.

Satisfied, Annatar aims a wolfish smile at you, then works to free you of the only fabric covering your wetness. Once he has pulled it down your legs and tucked it safely within his own robes, leaving you quivering in anticipation as the cool air meets your soaked center, he parts your legs once more and looks up at you.

“Would you be so kind,” he says, caressing your thighs, “as to share with Lord Celebrimbor exactly what transpired between us upon our past encounter? From beginning to end. In as much detail as your sensibility allows.”

He says it with as much ease as he would request that you bring Lord Celebrimbor some tea. You’d scoff at the absurdity, at the word ‘sensibility’, if not for his thumb, which begins to massage your clit with small, slow circles as he awaits your compliance. You are helpless to do anything but whimper as you nod, and will yourself to speak through stifled sounds of pleasure as your swollen bud sings beneath his touch.

“Lord Annatar... he touched me,” you begin, egged on by his approving gaze. You can hardly make the story sound as coherent or vivid as it felt at the time, but you do your best to at least remember the sequence of events. “First, he massaged my shoulders. Then, he traced his fingers along my cheek and... my hair... and then he... touched the tip of my ear. Tugged at it with his fingers. I-I was surprised, but... I let him, because it felt... so good.”

The word melts into a moan, for Annatar has replaced his finger with his lips, pressing them gently to your clit before giving it a firm lick. All inhibitions set aside, you lay your hand on Annatar’s head and hook your fingers into the bow at the back of it, marvelling at the softness of his tresses. He raises his eyes to yours as he continues to kiss you between your legs, and by the Valar, he is the most divine sight you have ever laid eyes upon.

“What then?” Celebrimbor asks, nearly as breathless as you feel. When you glance at him, his eyes are painstakingly glued to his work, obeying Annatar’s command. The Lord of Gifts gives your thigh a soft pinch, silently instructing you to do the same.

“Then, he kissed my neck,” you go on, in between mewls and little gasps of pleasure as Annatar makes a meal of your most intimate flesh. “And touched my breasts. He kneaded them and... pinched my nipples through my dress.” Almost absent-mindedly, your own hand which isn’t in Annatar’s hair does the very same now, overwhelmed by the combined elation his mouth offers at present and the memory you are recounting out loud. “Then... his hand went lower and... touched my— between my legs.” You avoid the word, and immediately find it laughable. Annatar’s face is buried in your cunt right now, so close to Celebrimbor that he can no doubt hear the wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your folds—why on Middle-Earth would you shy away from something as harmless as a mere word now?

As if to further emphasize that point, Annatar’s kisses turn more vigorous, and he slips a long finger past your entrance, adding to the squelch. You gasp and tighten your grip on his hair, writhing on the table.

“Then, he stopped,” you go on, and your voice might as well be one continuous, obscene whine. “Told me to stand, and sat in my chair instead. And then... I sat in his lap... with my back to him... with him inside of me.” You mewl as he slips in a second finger, and begins to curl them into your sweetest spots with ravaging precision. “And it felt so good... and I wanted to move so badly... but he said I was to finish the designs first... and I trusted him... so I obeyed. When I had him in me... I could finally let go and just... create.”

He groans into your cunt, and you quake with the overwhelming sensations. It’s too much, how he sucks your clit into the heat of his mouth, how his fingers put relentless and heavenly pressure to the parts within you where it most wrecks you to feel it. Your already breathy voice grows in pitch, littered with desperate mewls as you pant and writhe your way to your peak.

“Once I finished, he lifted me from the chair... and into his arms... and he took me against a wall... hard and deep... until, finally... finally... My lord!”

You grip his hair mercilessly as you clench around his fingers, lost to an onslaught of pleasure that leaves you gasping and panting without shame. Annatar laps at your folds all the way through it, until your hips begin to twitch with too much sensation to bear.

“Until, finally,” Annatar continues, calm and composed as he rises to his feet, “she found her well-earned release.” He cups your cheek, admiring your pleasure-dazed expression with a blend of pride and hunger as you lean into his touch. “And looked as splendid as her creations whilst she clenched around my cock.”

He kisses you, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue. You feel so light and so wonderfully tired, all you want is to fall into his arms, rest your head upon his shoulder and close your eyes. So you do, breaking away from his lips to melt into his embrace, where he welcomes you with utmost tenderness.

“She does,” Celebrimbor agrees. You open your eyes to find his gaze has strayed toward you after all, and is filled with a soft kind of awe. “You do. Together.”

Annatar coaxes you to part from him with care, and a pleased smile graces his lips as he looks down at Celebrimbor’s hand.

“As does the fruit of your labours.”

You notice then, too—Celebrimbor now holds a finished, most exquisite Ring.

“I suppose I have begun to understand what you meant by... surrendering,” he admits, contemplating the precious jewel before he sets it carefully into one of the nine ring holders on the table. He knits his brow, somewhat nervous as he turns to Annatar. “Am I to finish all the rest before...?”

“That would be rather cruel, would it not?” Annatar says indulgently. “To craft none rings is more time-consuming than to draw them, after all. Stand, Celebrimbor.”

Hope sparks in the smith’s eyes as he obeys. Annatar rearranges your dress, allowing it to fall over your legs once more, and leaves a tender caress on your cheek before he turns to Celebrimbor.

You are not sure what you’re meant to do, but you don’t feel strong enough to stand yet either way. It’s almost as though you’re peering through the crack in the door again as, without further teasing, Annatar parts Celebrimbor’s robes and unfastens his trousers, releasing the hard and swollen flesh beneath to the air as well as your sight. It’s strange to think you and the Lord of Eregion have now officially seen each other’s private parts not only bared, but also evident with arousal. Celebrimbor is already weeping at the tip as Annatar wraps his elegant fingers around his cock and gives it a tug.

“Oh, my friend,” he coos, cupping Celebrimbor’s cheek. The smith whines softly, leaning into his touch. “How you must be aching.”

Celebrimbor nods, beyond words as Annatar begins to stroke his cock. The Lord of Gifts claims his mouth, and the smith clings to his shoulders desperately. You remember how it felt, to have gone so long without release and finally have the promise of it within reach. Arousal stirs anew within you, as though it had not been thunderously relieved barely a minute before.

At the same time, however, you are beginning to feel quite out of place as the kiss unfolding before your eyes grows deeper, more intense, Annatar’s tongue dominating Celebrimbor’s. His movements are still teasingly slow, despite the promise that he would finally relieve Celebrimbor’s suffering, and the more self-conscious part of your mind is beginning to wonder whether you are not hindering Annatar’s plans, somehow.

“Should I...?” you say, hesitating to interrupt. “Would you prefer if I left you to...?”

“No, please,” Celebrimbor blurts out, breaking the kiss and flushing as he meets your eyes. Remembering himself and to whom he must submit, he turns to Annatar, and somewhat bashfully asks, “Would it be all right if she stayed?”

Annatar nods, pleased by his deference. “If that is her wish.”

They both look to you then, awaiting your response—Celebrimbor with hope, Annatar with patience, and perhaps a tinge of expectation. You nod, a welcome one for all three of you. Now that you have become a part of this creative process, you wish to see it through to the end, whenever Annatar deems that may be.

“Good,” Annatar smiles. “There are eight more Rings to be crafted, after all.”

The implication thrills you to the core. Only the first of the Nine is finished, and it had mostly been completed by the time you had joined Annatar and Celebrimbor in the forge. How many more sensuous games will the emissary of the Valar invent until all the Rings are finished? In how many ways will he have you unravel, mind and body? The creamy sensation between your legs grows ever more persistent as you realize Annatar is unlikely to let it recede any time soon.

Under your gaze, Annatar returns his attentions to Celebrimbor’s neck, nipping and sucking at his skin in rhythm with his still-languid strokes. Celebrimbor says your name, practically moans it, and he wears a deep frown as he looks at you, half from pleasure and half from guilt.

“I do not wish for you to think that...” he falters when Annatar’s teeth find his ear, “in all our time together, I was harbouring improper thoughts towards you...”

“It’s quite all right, my lord,” you reassure him, watching as Annatar’s thumb gathers the bead of arousal blooming at his tip before you give him a fond smile. “There were many things I did not understand about myself and the act of creation, until Lord Annatar helped me to discover them. There is no shame in sharing in such knowledge. I do not think so,” you add, a bit more quietly. If one of the other smiths were to go against Celebrimbor’s wishes for some reason and come inside the forge now, surely they would scorn the three of you for engaging in such apparent depravity together. But you are equally sure that Annatar would help them understand the importance of your endeavours, just as he had you and Celebrimbor.

Annatar pulls away from Celebrimbor’s neck, caressing his cheek as he wears an adoring smile with which he then graces you as well as he speaks. “It brings me such joy,” he says, “to see the greatest of Elven smiths working in such harmony. Learning from one another.”

“We learned from you, my friend,” Celebrimbor is quick to return the praise. “We have you to thank for everything.”

“Let us say that we should thank one another,” Annatar insists. And as if in his own gratitude, he kneels before Celebrimbor, though he does so in that same manner he did with you before, without losing an ounce of the authority he commands. If anything, having his gaze meet yours from below has a way of making you feel as though you are standing on a precipice, dangerously close to toppling into the abyss, and he is all that keeps you upright still. Celebrimbor certainly seems to share that sentiment, his fingers brushing Annatar’s smooth cheek with deep reverence, as if he barely dares to touch such beauty.

Annatar begins with small kisses peppered to Celebrimbor’s cock, tongue darting out ever so teasingly to flick against the straining length and sensitive tip. The pleading sound that escapes the smith’s throat combined with the sight has you crossing your legs where you are still sitting on the table, to better press your thighs together.

“Oh, by the Valar,” Celebrimbor rasps out as his length is all at once engulfed in Annatar’s mouth, not a trace of discomfort on his face as the smith’s cock sinks deep into his throat.

“Lord Annatar,” you breathe out, unable to contain yourself any longer, “may I touch myself?”

You expect—hope—to be given a hum of approval, the rumble of which in Annatar’s throat will surely prevent Celebrimbor from begrudging you this small interruption. But Annatar releases the smith’s cock abruptly, pulling a strained groan from him.

“You shall take your pleasure when I see fit,” he replies before returning to his task. His voice is soft, yet the command in it is clear. It only serves to highten your arousal. And really, you should not interfere with Celebrimbor’s long-awaited pleasure again, but you fear the wooden table might begin to splinter within your white-knuckled grip unless you do something.

“May I touch you, then?” you entreat.

This time, when Annatar frees his mouth, a mischievous smile is tugging at its corners. “So long as you do not interfere with my task,” he says, looking up at the trembling smith before him. “Our dear Celebrimbor might be quite upset if you do.”

Celebrimbor caresses Annatar’s hair, giving a slight shake of his head. “I shall gladly take whatever I am given.”

You, on the other hand, waste no time to take that which you have asked for and were generously granted. You leave your seat to go and kneel behind Annatar, humming with delight as your fingers caress the soft strands of his beautiful, long hair. You brush it to the side to reveal his neck, and begin to leave your own kisses there, laving the skin between his jaw and shoulder with affection as he bobs his head while sucking Celebrimbor.

How ironic that he should warn you about interfering with his task, for a change. But even now, you seem to be the one in more difficulty as you reach around his waist, seeking to gain access to the part of him you have been missing inside you for every second since your last joining had ended. It’s an awkward position, with him kneeling and you trying to work through the layers of his clothing from behind, and however you try, you cannot seem to figure out how to even part his robe enough to reach the fastening of the trousers beneath.

He groans impatiently, and you soon find out why—when, in a few swift movements and shuffles of fabric, he frees himself from their confines and takes your hand to wrap it around his cock. He is hard and eager, practically pulsing with need within your grip, and you are reminded that to offer you these gifts requires his own sacrifice, his own desire going unfulfilled.

His hands return to Celebrimbor whilst yours remains on his cock, and you marvel at the heat and firmness of him in your grip as you begin to stroke it. He is leaking generously at the tip, and you smear the wetness along his length as you hasten your pace, and you moan as though the ridges of him are catching on your inner walls instead of the palm of your hand as your cunt aches helplessly.

But you focus solely on him. Your lips travel up the curve of his neck, trying to adjust to the movements of his head as you lick a stripe up his ear, and catch the pointed tip between your teeth as you had been longing to for so long. He groans, a low, hoarse sound that must scrape against Celebrimbor’s cock oh so wonderfully. Or torturously, if the smith’s broken whimper is any indication. With Annatar, it tends to be a blend of both.

It isn’t a coincidence, you think, but rather Annatar’s perfectly controlled timing, when they both find their end at once. It’s plain to see, from the way Celebrimbor bucks forward with a sob of relief, that he is spilling inside Annatar’s mouth, who keeps it firmly closed around him, receiving every drop—whilst Annatar’s own hips give a tense jerk and he throbs in your hand, some of his spend landing on Celebrimbor’s pant leg and some dribbling down your fingers.

It’s nearly enough to have you coming yourself. Alas, you clench around the emptiness within you, gently stroking Annatar until he pulls away from both of you. Releasing Celebrimbor’s spent cock and removing your hand from his own length, he rises from the ground, poised as ever, leaving the smith stumbling back into his seat and you panting on your knees. It isn’t long, though, before Annatar’s hand is held out within the line of your sight, and you raise your eyes to find him looking down at you like a blessing sent to be your salvation—which he, in fact, is.

“Come, now,” he urges tenderly. “The floor is hardly the place for an Elf of your talents. And generosity.”

Touched by his compliments as always, you place your hand in his and let him pull you to your unsteady feet. Though he praises your generosity, the result of it hardly shows—his cock still appears to be as furiously rigid as ever, and you frown slightly as it catches your gaze.

“Have I not satisfied you well enough, my lord?” you ask, barely a whisper. He lifts your chin, having your gaze meet his.

“You have satisfied me wonderfully,” he reassures you. “However, I shall not be truly finished until I will it so. And we still have long hours of toil ahead of us. Do we not, Celebrimbor?”

The smith gives a small chuckle. He had tucked himself away, and is now leaning on the table, resting his chin on his fist as he looks at you and Annatar with a hazy gaze.

“I am afraid I do not possess your prowess, my godly friend. It shall be a little while before I am able to endure such wonderful torment again.”

“How fortunate, then,” Annatar says, “that our dear friend is willing to share in your burden.”

You think you would share in any burden he might ask you to, so long as he kisses you all through it the same as he does now. His tongue plunges past your lips, and your eyebrows raise slightly as you realize both that the musky taste you feel is Celebrimbor’s spend, and that he must have felt your taste as well when Annatar had kissed him after feasting on you.

You are tempted to reach for Annatar’s length again as you feel its inviting weight on your belly, but then his arms surround you and you are being swept in his embrace effortlessly. You wrap yourself around him as he carries you back to the chair right beside Celebrimbor’s, sitting down with you astride him. He makes quick work of lifting your dress to expose you to him once more. Nothing would have made you happier. The moment you are able to, you cant your hips so that your moist folds caress his cock, moaning softly as your clit catches on the tip of him.

Annatar murmurs your name, gaze trained on your mouth as he traces your slightly parted lips with his thumb, “So needy,” he muses. “You neglected to mention, when you told our little story, how you came undone with barely a few grazes of my fingers, right before I took you fully.” He leans into your ear, “Should we see if we can achieve that once more?”

He grips your hips, preventing you from seeking friction much like he did the last time you had been seated in his lap. But at least then, you were achingly full instead of empty.

“Please,” you whimper, pulling away so he may see the plea within your eyes as well. “I’ve missed you inside me. So much.”

Annatar regards you tenderly, as though genuinely touched by your sentiment.

“Very well, then,” he says, running his knuckles down your cheek. “When I next bring you to the height of your pleasure, it shall be whilst we are most intimately joined.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in relief, and you turn your head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Whether that is to be now, however…”

You open your eyes to find a now familiar glint of mischief in his.

“Celebrimbor.” He turns his gaze to the smith, who seems quite surprised to be addressed in the midst of your exchange. “If you were to choose,” Annatar begins, voice honeyed with promise, “would you like me to keep you full while you work... or to hear me fill her?”

Your heart all but stills in your chest. It was one thing to put yourself at Annatar’s mercy, but for him to have Cemebrimbor decide your fate is a turn you had not expected. Perhaps it is only the illusion of control which he offers, a choice he asks Celebrimbor to make only for him to do the opposite instead. Either way, it’s a new flavour of the same addictive torment you have known at his hands, and your heartbeat practically echoes between your legs as you await Celebrimbor’s answer.

For his part, the smith seems at an utter loss. He meets Annatar’s expectant gaze, then your pleading one. “Both,” he confesses in the end. “Only... might you see to her first? I am quite sated for the moment, and she…” His eyes drop to your glistening folds. “Oh my dearest, look how wet you are.”

He forgets himself for a moment, resting his hand on your thigh. It’s nice and warm upon your already heated skin, but tenses when Celebrimbor notices Annatar eyeing it with a slightly raised eyebrow. Realizing he had failed to ask for permission, the smith bows his head in apology and begins to retreat.

Annatar, however, lays a hand upon his, keeping it pressed to your skin. He must have deemed, in the end, that the touch was tentative enough to count as a plea for more rather than a claim to it. He meets your gaze with a searching look and, finding nothing but the heat of anticipation there, he slides Celebrimbor’s hand further up your thigh, guiding it to the aching flesh between your legs.

A breath escapes Celebrimbor as he feels you intimately. Annatar ensures the tips of the smith’s fingers find your bundle of nerves, and guides them into circling it with torturous slowness before leaving him to carry on with the touch on his own. Your eyes fall shut, relishing the stimulation even as it worsens the emptiness you feel within.

“Wet indeed, is she not?” Annatar murmurs. Celebrimbor nods, unable to look away from the sight of your flesh beneath his fingers. You’ve never had two pairs of eyes trained on your exposed sex, drinking it in at the same time, and the rush brought by that fact alone pulls a whimper from you. Celebrimbor’s pace increases slightly as your hips chase his touch, but Annatar puts a tempering hand to his. “Not too much,” he instructs. “Not yet.”

Looking down, the sight you find is most frustrating. Annatar’s cock is so close, lying rigid and eager right before your core, yet your cunt weeps helplessly under much too tame a touch. You feel like you might cry if you don’t get to come soon, but you remind yourself to breathe and leave yourself to Annatar’s care, knowing his ways will leave you more fulfilled in the end than what you think you need in the heat of passion.

To your partial relief, Annatar takes himself in hand, teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, below Celebrimbor’s fingers. He leans closer, as though he means to kiss your cheek, but before his lips touch your skin, he gives Celebrimbor a meaningful look, tapping a suggestive finger to the side of your neck closest to him. Here.

Celebrimbor’s eyes brighten with understanding and eagerness. They both lean in, and then there are two sets of lips, two tongues, wet and warm and soft on the sensitive skin between your neck and both shoulders at once. All whilst Celebrimbor caresses your clit, and Annatar soaks his cockhead through your folds, and you moan as you tremble under their combined attentions.

Then, all at once and at long last, Annatar tightens his hold around your waist, and pulls you onto him. You gasp and mewl, your hand flying to grip Celebrimbor’s sleeve as you are finally filled to the brim. Celebrimbor pulls away from your neck to look down, a shuddering breath escaping him at the sight of Annatar’s flesh engulfed by yours. His fingers falter on your clit.

“Tell me,” Annatar murmurs in your ear, “is our friend still ‘quite sated’?”

You lock eyes with Celebrimbor, then lower them to his crotch. He opens his legs slightly as you reach out to return his intimate touch, and groans as you feel the renewed hardness between them.

“He is hard, my lord,” you reply, breathless, as Annatar retreats from you enough to watch you fondle Celebrimbor through his clothes for himself. You would like to relieve him, and you wish to begin riding the cock within you more than anything, but you know better than to do either before Annatar has allowed it. Your brow knits in apology as you remove your hand from Celebrimbor. He catches it in his, though he doesn’t return it to where he aches most.

“Please,” he breathes out, gaze shifting between you and Annatar. “Would you...? Could she...? If only for a while?”

Annatar smiles, wickedly. “We’ll see later if she feels inclined to return your generosity. For now, Celebrimbor,” he gently removes the smith’s hand from where it was still working slowly between your legs, “I believe the skills of your fingers are needed elsewhere.”

Celebrimbor deflates somewhat, releasing your hand. But he is no longer a stranger to this game, nor does he question Annatar’s judgment. “Yes,” he agrees, shifting in his chair to face the table. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent,” Annatar praises, his voice coated in the sweetest honey. “As for you…” He takes hold of your chin, turning your head so you meet his gaze. “You may take your pleasure. Once. Then, you shall lend your talents to the making of the Rings, along with our friend. Under my instruction,” he adds with the kind of gentle firmness only he can manage. You nod at once.

“Yes, Lord Annatar,” you promise breathlessly, already beginning to fuck yourself onto him. “Oh, thank you.”

He takes on a most humble expression, though you are too busy seeking the right angle at which to ride his cock to notice his carefully crafted façade. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

It truly is—for your pleasure, as well as Celebrimbor’s, belongs to him. The smith performs his craft with a faint smile as he listens to your pretty moans, his mind no longer muddled by the toils of the past weeks, both of you trusting blindly in your beloved emissary. And your sweet surrender to his will shall bleed into the Rings through the fingertips with which you bring them into being, and bind them to their Lord all the more closely.

He claims your mouth, your moans melting on his tongue as his cock throbs in pleasure with each eager roll of your hips—and creation has never tested sweeter, indeed.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Rivalry To Romance

velvette x f!reader

Summary: You worked in cosmetics at the Vee tower alongside Velvette, unfortunately you’ve never gotten along. You found her obnoxious and she found you to be a pest. However you struggle with yourself on whether you truly hate her or just can’t accept your true emotions.

Warnings: Fem reader, reader throws things again so does velvette, valentinos presence yuck, suggestive but nothing serious. No mention of readers hairtype, bodytype or skin colour, shorter than i originally wanted womp but I think that’s it but lmk

Word count: 2.5k

we need more velvette i love her so much and there’s like no info on her character or back story at least that i could find woomp womp im trying clear up what i have drafted but sheesh im so picky and a perfectionist about it i wish i was a writing machine that it could come directly out of my brain like i see it y’know?

“I fucking hate her!” You screeched tossing make up across the room at your assistant. “Please, calm down, my head hurts.” Angel whined from your couch as you paced around him, your assistant booking it after the second thing, that being a vase, was thrown.

“I can't, she's intolerable, seriously. A brat.” You grit plopping down onto the cushion beside him. The two of you were in the Vee tower, you being what Velvette would call ‘the shadow of the vees’, you got in on the triangle based on accessibility; for the Vees that is. You were a cosmetic creator and produced varying products for demons of all kinds, not only was it beneficial for Valentino's pornstars but Velvette’s models.

When you were a self employed business it was still very lucrative, and getting around quickly. Gaining the opportunities to work with overlords, sinners you never expected as well as selling and gaining quicker than you could’ve imagined. It wasn’t long until Velvette had caught onto the rage, and that’s how you ended up in the tower working alongside her.

It was terrible from the start; you weren’t some meek little demon, yet Velvette treated you like you were some Imp! You hated her bratty, disrespectful loud mouth and you never failed to let her know.

BIting your nails down too low without realizing, Angel grabbed your hand successfully stopping you, and leaned forward. “Hey listen I know how it is to have a sucky boss. Heh, literally.” Angel snickered to himself while you muttered that she wasn’t your boss. “But if i’m being honest, it sounds like sexual frustration,” He twiddled his fingers at you while a sly smile pulled at his lips.

You gaped at him, head falling forward in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me, hah, no fucking way dude!” You exclaimed, leaning back, you sighed frustrated at the conversation. “Oh shit, gotta go toots, boss is calling. Thanks for letting me up, see ya later.”

You waved by to Angel watching him go. Sitting with your elbows on your knees you stared off into space. Sure you suppose you admired her, sure, she was pretty, occasionally sure you’d check her out admiring how the clothes fit her, but that was purely platonic! Velv was a fashion designer, of course she knows how to accentuate her natural beauty.

And perhaps there were times when you couldn’t quite decide what you felt for her questioning your intentions second guessing your actions. Sometimes as you gazed at her while she worked, you wanted to ease her up a little, relax her from the stress whether that be from praise, a gentle rub or kiss, or something a little more promiscuous; you simply wanted to be her relief.

Other times you wanted to fight her and bitch her out, and then fuck her? You actually didn’t know and it drove you insane, but Angel was the first to spot the way you acted, overly aggressive.

You groaned, frustration emitted from you very clearly as you tugged at your hair. Standing you walk quickly toward Velvette’s and yours’ work sections on the tower's mid floor. Velvette stood at a table when you walked in, she only barely turned her head to you, too busy studying fabrics and colours.

“What’s the pretentious brat got cooking today?” You say walking up beside her looking down at the table. Rolling her eyes she turned to you hand on her hip. “Can you piss off? I’ve got shit to do, real work, not lazing around with a whore.”

Rolling your eyes right back at her, you looked down to the table. “Angels no more of a whore than that filthy moth.” You muttered fingering the fabrics, eyes dancing around the blueprints for an outfit.

“What’re these for?” You ask, meeting her gaze, a bored look plagued her face, but she loosened up slightly at the mention of her work. “These are the new blueprints for our outfits for the upcoming broadcast Vox has planned. He wants to market tech, pornos, clothing and your cosmetics so everything’s gotta be right.”

Velvette looked down harshly at the things laid out in front of her, you could see the gears working in her head as her eyes flicked around the different blueprints, fabrics and rough drafts. You hummed, flicking through a particular set of blueprints that caught your eye. “I’m sure you’ll do great hun, always do.” You muttered absentmindedly, barely focusing on the praise that came from your lips.

Velvette’s head jerked back a bit, eyes watching you. She wasn’t expecting such softly said words to come from you so suddenly, but she definitely didn’t mind it. “Do you want something specific?” Looking toward her you shrugged, trying to ignore the yearning you had to be nearer.

“Just a dress, suppose the only request I have is that I look the part.” You didn’t mean for it to come off sad however, it did, and Velvette felt the rare sting of guilt ping past her heart. She was in fact the one who fought with you the most on who was worthy in the tower, but she always felt you were trying to replace her as “the guru”.

The fight you had earlier was present in your mind as you stood there, it was dumb another thing that sent you spiralling. You stomped off and straight into Angel, thank goodness for that because his presence calmed you surprisingly. The fight was about time slots with models, mainly because one model had been held up by Velvette because she was being a snooty princess again about what the model wore, meanwhile time was ticking on how much time you had to do said model's makeup.

Which ended up spiralling into a screaming cat fight, where you tossed things at her and she tossed them back slinging a slew of colour insults at you as she did so. Normally you and Velvette never apologised but as you stood there beside her looking over stuff you felt as though the moment of peace was close enough to an apology.

“Do you really wanna go to this?” You asked breathing in deeply, catching hints of her perfume that left a warm familiar feeling in your chest. “Hm not really, but we have to.” Picking up navy blue colours, she stacked the square fabrics together.

Swallowing you ask; “What’s your favourite colour?” Stunned Velvettes hands stalled their actions, her eyes meeting yours. You were waiting looking neutrally at her, you simply wanted to know. It was easy to see Voxs was arrays of blues, Val’s pink and red, you fancied emerald and sea greens, and her.. you didn’t know, hot pink?

“I fancy whites, purples, plums…” Trailing off finger to her mouth in thought, she nodded one sternly. “White and plum.” You smile ever so slightly it was a decent conversation for sure. But it definitely didn’t help you inner fight about your feelings for her.

~

Today was the day of the broadcast, the lot of you ventured to Valentinos floor of the tower, doing it up for a big show. There were tons of tables set up, lighting, cameras; the porn stars were done up thanks to you and Velv, they sat on a plush couch their section was going to be an ‘interview with the stars’ no doubt being entirely fake lies. Angel was a part of the cast, much to your dismay, you’d rather him be far from Valentino, but that wasn’t possible. Another area was new improved tech, with tech nerds ready to present and push the new models Voxtech had made.

Off to the back was Velvette’s section where various manikins stood cladded in Velvette’s best work, there were also models present around waiting to pose with the manikins. Your area felt blander than the rest, your cosmetics sat on varying different platforms that lifted them aesthetically, and you had a few head models with you, cameras focused in on only their eyes and lips for the occasional shot. In the middle of the room was where you, Velvette, Vox and Valentino would be.

The lot of you were going to be standing tall with wide smiles, the only one who was set to talk was Vox, the rest of you were just their to claim name to your things. Velvette was running around taking Sinstagram stories and pictures of everything around, building anticipation and hype for everything to come.

You watched her bounce around every now and again yelling at a worker or model about their place here, before getting back to puttering around. She wore a white dress with hearts at the bottom, and her hair was done up in a classic poof instead of her straightened pigtails. “Admiring the goods?” Angel asks, scaring the shit out of you, gasping you grabbed your chest in shock. “Fuck Angel don’t do that to me, and ye- wait what?”

Angel cackled an accusatory finger pointed to you. “Oh cmon! Even Val knows you’re into her, and that’s him.” You stared in disbelief before shaking your head no rapidly. “How would he even know? We barely spend time near each other, I hate him more than Velv.”

Angel scoffed, crossing two sets of his arms he leant against the wall next to him. “Please Velvette’s always ranting about how annoying you are over the phone, telling Val when Vox is probably too sicka her to hear it! Then she goes off saying how you can’t be nice and how you always make it a mission to come and pester er’ and Val said it’s because you wanted to fuck her!” Angel exclaimed slyly leaning forward into you and than backward away.

“That’s not true, we just can’t get along.” Like the devil heard your words, Velvette skipped up to you three, pulling the two of you into her. “Alright! The bitches! That’s more like it!” Velvette shouted, snapping a picture, Angel defaulted to his actor ways posing lustfully at the camera, meanwhile you just smiled unbelievably at Velvette. Once the picture was taken she wasted no time stepping back and sending off the post with a series of different hashtags.

“You look happy today?” You ask more than say watching Velvette smile around the room. “Of course people have stayed quiet, and not been a dickhead all day. Not to mention Vox and Val aren’t in moods.” You nodded in agreement, eyes casting briefly over to the TV who walked around checking the different cameras while Val smoked in the back.

Angel not so subtly snuck off giving your back a shove closer towards Velvette. Even if you could admit to yourself you felt more than platonic emotions for her, it would be extremely hard to accept it or attempt to make a move when you didn’t even know her sexuality.

She’d never seemed interested in Vox or Valentino, but you’ve not seen her eyeing women either. It made you more uncomfortable to ponder the future of accepting your feelings when you could just be cruel and ignore them. “What’s up with you spacey?” Velvette suddenly asked her phone off facing toward the floor.

You anxiously fiddled with your short dress wondering if now would be a good time to start something. “Nothing Velvette, just nerves i guess.” Velvette rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You’ll be fine, always are anyways. We don’t do shit, it’s all Vox.”

Fair enough. Although that’s true it didn’t really matter considering it wasn’t what was really bothering you. “Are you straight?” You blurt suddenly, hand jerking upward to cover your mouth. Velvette’s eyebrow raised a ‘huh’ falling from her lips.

With a decision in mind, you couldn’t deny it, knowing that even Val saw something you know how you can’t hide it. The daydreams you have of her warm skin next to yours in the morning, the friendship you wish you had, the desire to have her lipstick smeared against your lips, wanting to post cheesy couple pictures together all over Sinstagram.

“Uhh, yeah, are you straight because I haven’t ever seen you around anybody, like, ahem, that.” You stutter out staring at her trying to gauge every little emotion on her face. “Suppose I could be considered, but i fuck who i want no matter the package.” She finally replied, returning to herself after spacing out, looking calmer than you.

“Would ya fuck me?” Scratching the back of your neck as her eyes scanned your face rapidly, trying to read you, trying to tell if you were serious. “Yeah, if you weren’t such a bitch.” You hum watching her once more, this time she looked a little meeker, shifting from foot to foot, her gaze casted downward.

“And what about love? Y’know not just wanting to have a hook up?” You asked a little apprehension evident in your voice, you craned your neck back trying to distance yourself subconsciously.

Softly you felt Velvettes gentle hand on your shoulder, focusing all your attention on her, you watched as her face turned out to the side, only looking at you through her peripheral. Her other hand crawled up to your other shoulder, before drifting softly to your neck, sending shivers down your spine and straight to your toes.

Velvette was still at fully extended arms length, so you stepped forward, cupping her cheeks gently like she was made of the fragilest material. Now eye to eye the two of you simply stared waiting, while invading eachothers space. Cautiously you leaned forward thankfully being her height, you hand your eyes closed already hoping she’d get the message, and either pull away running or indulge.

You were more than shocked to feel her lipstick covered lips meet with yours, soft yet eager. You kissed her back slowly, trying to convey the emotions and feelings you felt without speaking, the apology you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

Pulling you closer by the neck, you fell into her slightly, wrapping your arms around her like she was your world, fully absorbed in the passionate kiss you were sharing. Just as the kiss turned slightly heated, tongues introducing and slipping past the barrier of eachothers mouth Vox screamed. “You’ve got Velvettes makeup on your face, FUCK, why?! Why?! Five minutes before we’re live!” Jumping apart the two of you looked toward Vox who was already glitching out, meanwhile Val just stood smuggly sucking his pipe.

“Don’t worry he’s just mad that he now owes me one hundred dollars, losers weepers,” Val breathed his smoke wafting around the TV’s head. Velvette threw the bird at Vox before turning to you pulling out a handkerchief. “Weren’t you calling someone geriatric, now you’re pulling out handkerchiefs?” You teased, her hand coming up to wipe her black lipstick that stained your face.

“Oh piss off, or we’re both fired,” She scolded but there was no malice in her words like before making your heart flutter. “So how long before this gets out, our little before the air make out sesh?” You inquire as she handed the cloth to you, you wiping her smeared lipstick just as she did for you. “Based on the vibrations from my phone, not long.”

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 35

Image Source

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 7.2K - This definitely could have been split into multiple parts but I started foaming at the mouth and have no self control.

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Additional Note: You may have noticed that I’ve replaced all the images in previous parts with GIFs or photos linked to their original sources. A friend was helping me with the original images and I later found out they were primarily using AI-generated content. To support independent artistry, I’ve decided to remove those images and replace them with original works that include links to the sources. This decision aims to combat the negative impact AI can have on artists and creators. I apologize for the earlier oversight and will ensure to uphold artistic integrity going forward.

Three days. Three days in the House of Wind with just Azriel. The thought was exhilarating and a little terrifying, as you pondered the possibilities of what those days might hold. Azriel did have his personal home in Velaris, the Town House, but since your return, he had essentially relocated his life to the House of Wind to be near you. Now, you had three days of isolation with him, or so you thought.

Nesta paced about your room, her bare feet whispering against the plush blue carpet. You sat cross-legged on the bed, clutching a pillow in your lap as you watched her braided hair slowly unravel and the tension radiating from her every step. 

“Why did I do that? That was so stupid,” she muttered, her eyes flicking anxiously around the room.

“Nesta, you have to tell him,” you said softly, your voice steady but gentle.

“I could have waited longer, and now I’ve put myself in this situation,” she groaned, rubbing her temples as she sank into the chair in the corner, her fingers tracing erratic circles on her skin.

“How long did you think you could hold off?” you asked, knowing the answer was not much longer.

“Longer than this! Longer than this weekend.” She huffed, her fingers now digging into her scalp.

“Do you really not want to go?” you asked, watching as she chewed her lower lip, avoiding your gaze.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor.

You leaned back against the headboard, drawing your knees up. “You know, it’s probably going to be a little strange, given you asked to stay at the cabin and now you’re the one backing out.”

Nesta sighed. “I can’t back out now,” she said, her voice wavering, as if she were trying to convince herself more than you.

“You could always figure out a reason not to go,” you suggested, half-heartedly. 

She peered up, her brows raised slightly as though the idea were preposterous. “Like what?”

You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her reluctance, but the desperation in her eyes made you ignore your better judgment. “You could say you don’t feel well.”

Nesta scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah, like that won’t raise more questions.”

“Or you could say you just don’t want to go. That you’re not feeling up to it,” you offered, rolling your eyes slightly.

She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, rubbing them up and down as a groan escaped her. “I can’t back out,” she finally sighed, leaning back again, “I need to just get it out there. I can’t hide from it if he’s standing right in front of me.”

“To be fair, he’s been standing in front of you for the last week, and you’ve been avoiding it,” you pointed out, your tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Nesta’s glare could have melted stone, her eyes sharp and venomous. “That’s different,” she snapped, before her hand unconsciously moved to rest on her womb, a tender touch to the life growing inside her. She turned to gaze out the tall windows overlooking Velaris, her eyes like reflecting pools of fear, guilt, and perhaps hope.

You observed her quietly, noting the new radiance pregnancy seemed to give her. Despite her worries, her skin glowed with a renewed vitality, her eyes, though filled with uncertainty, shone brighter, and her hair had gained a lustrous fullness. It was remarkable how quickly pregnancy transformed her. Your thoughts drifted to your own mother, wondering if she too had experienced that early glow, if she had known about her pregnancy at four months, or if you had been a secret she kept even from herself for as long as she could.

You tried to pull yourself from that daydream, reminding yourself that your mother was more a figment of your imagination than a memory. It felt childish to pretend she was anything more. “Nesta,” you began gently, “I can’t say I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Her eyes flicked to you, her finger tracing her lips absently. “And I won’t say everything’s going to be okay because, well, we both know that’s a promise I can’t keep.” Nesta’s delicate finger paused on her lower lip, her other hand pressing gently on her stomach as you continued, “But carrying all this stress alone,” you gestured to her, “it’s not good for you or the babe.”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Cassian wouldn’t want you to go through this by yourself,” you added softly.

Her gray eyes, clouded with grief, locked onto yours. You could see the inner struggle, the battle between her fear and the need to share her burden. Silver began to line her eyes, the tears she fought to hold back shimmering like tiny stars.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you whispered, leaning forward from the headboard. “It’s okay to worry about the worst and try to prepare for it.” As a single tear escaped down her flushed cheek, you added, “But it’s also okay to feel joy about this. To celebrate. This is a big deal, Nesta—this is amazing.”

She sniffled, her attempts to brush away the tears only making them fall faster. You offered a reassuring smile. “Enjoy these moments with Cassian. He’d want to share this with you.”

Nesta nodded, her tears now flowing freely despite her efforts to contain them. She sniffed, her smile watery but genuine. “What about you? Plan for this weekend?” she asked, clearly eager to shift the focus. ”

You looked down, rubbing your hands over your thighs, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Not sure what you mean,” you muttered.

A crooked smile tugged at Nesta’s lips. “Three days alone with Azriel,” she reminded you, her voice laced with teasing.

You nodded, still fighting the blush spreading across your face and, perhaps, a few other places.

“No big plans?” she pressed.

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing formal.”

“How’s everything going with Azriel?” she inquired, her tone growing more earnest.

You glanced up at her. “You mean with me and Azriel?”

She nodded, her gaze intent.

“It’s good. Things are good,” you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to keep your composure.

Nesta let a silence settle between you, her smile turning knowing, almost cheeky.

“What?” you asked, finally meeting her gaze.

Nesta shook her head, crossing one leg over the other casually. “Just seems like you two are enjoying each other's company a lot.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “We do like spending time together.”

“A lot of time,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

You glanced at her, your cheeks burning. “We get along.”

Nesta’s catlike eyes gleamed with amusement. “You know, I’ve never seen Azriel look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You didn’t respond, but her words struck a chord, making your heart race.

“It’s like he can sense when you’re about to enter the room and drops everything just to see you first,” she continued.

You shrugged, trying to deflect. “Isn’t that part of his job? To be observant?”

“Sure, but he doesn’t get that goofy smile for just anyone,” she teased.

You knew the smile she meant—the half grin Azriel couldn’t seem to suppress. You wanted to dismiss it as Nesta reading too much into things, but deep down, you couldn’t ignore that Azriel had confessed his feelings to you. Feelings he said he hadn’t even realized he had until you came along.

“So?” Nesta prompted, her voice light yet probing.

“So what?”

“So things are going very well then?” she asked, her question thinly veiled as a statement.

“Yes,” you admitted. “Things are going well.”

“And things…” she raised her eyebrows suggestively, “down south?”

Your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh come on,” she groaned, her hands slapping her thighs in exasperation. “You read as many of those smut books as I do. Give a girl some details.”

You laughed lightly, embarrassed but amused by her persistence.

“You know the boys have a joke about wingspan being related to… other sizes?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

You looked down at your hands, “No, I didn’t.”

“Mhm, and Azriel always goes oddly quiet when they bring it up.”

You giggled, making Nesta’s grin widen. “So… it’s good?” she pressed.

You shook your head, still laughing. “I wouldn’t know.”

Nesta’s face fell slightly, confusion clouding her features. “Wait, you mean you haven’t-?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze. “We haven’t. Not yet.”

“But he’s been in your bed for months!” she exclaimed, a note of desperation in her voice.

You shrugged, feeling a mix of awkwardness and honesty. “We just,” you paused, “We haven’t gotten there yet.” And now pink rose to your cheeks for a different reason. 

Nesta broke her gaze, her own face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You cut her off gently, “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

Her interest sparked again, though she still looked cautious. “Have you two talked about it at all?”

You pulled the pillow closer to your lap, your fingers nervously tracing nonexistent frays. “Not really.”

You’d shared more of your past with Nesta than with anyone else, down to the painful details you tried to bury. Her voice, gentle and filled with concern, asked, “Are you ready for that?”

You kept your eyes fixed on the pillow. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” she began, her tone careful, “but I guess I just want to know if you’ve been intimate like that with anyone other than… him.”

A shudder ran through you at the thought of the 'him' she referred to, memories of past pain and harsh touches flooding back. “No,” you replied softly. “Not fully.”

Nesta nodded, understanding. “Do you think you’d want to try?”

You considered her question. Your body responded intensely to Azriel, your stomach fluttering at the thought of him, and his touch sent electric shocks through you. Physically, you were more than ready for something beyond mild petting. But those memories were powerful, and they had interfered before. They had with Kai, where attempts at intimacy had often triggered terrible flashbacks, forcing you to stop. Now, knowing that moments of vulnerability could open a line to Caelum, you worried if you could ever enjoy intimacy without the fear of what might slip through the bond. You looked up at Nesta, your voice trembling slightly, “I don’t want to go my entire life without being close to someone like that.”

Nesta gave you a gentle smile. “I think we both know that Azriel would understand.”

You returned a tight-lipped smile. You wanted to believe he would understand, that maybe he would even forgo that aspect if you asked. But then you thought of his skin against yours, the longing you felt for him, and the dream of a life you wanted, one that included closeness and a future you couldn’t have if you couldn’t be that intimate.

Nesta’s voice softened, almost a whisper. “I know it’s a little hypocritical, but,” she met your eyes, “just talk to him.”

She smiled softly, and you found yourself smiling back. You chucked the pillow across the room at her. She laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the room, and you laughed too. It felt good to laugh like that, to share a moment of joy with her, a moment that just felt normal. 

—

Nesta made good on her word, and when the morning finally came for her and Cassian to set off, she did so with a determined gleam in her eyes. When she hugged you goodbye, she lingered a bit longer than usual. You couldn’t tell if the prolonged embrace was for her or you, or perhaps for both—a silent recognition of a weekend that might have you both coming back changed.

As for Azriel, he missed the departure, having been called to the River House by Rhysand early that morning. He’d roused you slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple, urging you to go back to sleep, promising he’d return before Nesta and Cassian left. Apparently, that hadn’t been the case. You didn’t know when he’d come back, but as you wandered through the hall, hands mildly dirty from prepping the rooftop garden for overwintering, you paused by the library, rocking back on your heel as you saw the outline of wings.

Peeking through the entrance, you found Azriel at the writing desk, his hand pressed to his temple, his leg bouncing under the table. His boot squeaked softly on the floor as shadows curled around his feet like restless cats.

“Hey,” you chirped cheerfully, stepping into the room.

Azriel started slightly at your voice, turning to you with a surprised smile. “Oh, hey!” he replied, that goofy grin lighting up his face.

You walked over, wiping your hands on the small towel you'd brought with you before tucking it into your back pocket. “Where have you been?” you asked, leaning your hips against the desk, your body angled towards him.

Azriel’s hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief, met yours. “Got caught up with Rhys,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his hands interlocking behind his head, causing his biceps to flex slightly.

“Everything okay?” you asked, arching a brow, noticing the way his eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, his posture relaxed yet commanding. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” But his tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Deciding to trust that, like Nesta with Cassian, Azriel knew what he was doing, you chose not to pry into matters beyond your reach. Instead, you nodded, and his eyes flicked to your hands.

“You’ve been busy,” he noted, gesturing towards your fingers.

You glanced down, seeing dirt still peppered under your nails. You began to dig them out, a sheepish smile crossing your face. “Oh, yeah. Elain had me prepping the soil for overwintering, but I might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t know how you manage it, but it seems like every time you walk away from me, you come back covered in grime.”

Feigning offense, you scoffed, “Okay, well, every time you leave, you come back smelling like actual shit and death.”

“I’m talking about leaving you alone for five minutes, and you come back like that,” Azriel countered, his grin widening.

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. “What can I say? I like dirt.”

“Dirty girl,” he purred, his tone taking on a teasing edge.

Heat crept up your cheeks as you looked away, biting your lower lip to suppress a smile. “Gross,” you replied, though a laugh slipped through.

Azriel’s laugh was a low rumble as he stretched back in his chair, his wings flaring slightly. His black shirt rode up, revealing the tantalizing V-lines that disappeared beneath his waistband, along with a glimpse of his defined abs. You tried to keep your gaze on his face, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking down for just a moment.

As he straightened, catching the way you looked at him, Azriel’s smirk deepened. “Enjoying the view?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the blush threatening to deepen. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shadowsinger.”

His chuckle was warm, and his eyes sparkled with teasing affection as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate murmur. “I think I already did.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the desk, catching Azriel’s eyes trailing your hips as you walked away. It seemed he might have been entertaining thoughts of potential weekend activities himself. Letting yourself flop backward over the couch, you landed with a thud on your back, legs dangling lazily over the backrest. “Plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, casually picking at the dirt caked under your nails.

“Actually,” he replied, “I was wondering if you might be willing to do something for me.”

Your ears perked up just as you pulled a piece of your nail off completely, hissing slightly as a small bead of blood welled up in the tiny wound. “What is it?” you inquired, pressing your thumb to the spot.

“I have to meet someone from the Summer Court this afternoon.” Your heart sank a little, imagining Azriel’s weekend filling up with more responsibilities. “But I was supposed to pick up something from a shop in the city. If I drop you off, would you mind getting it? I can swing by and pick you up on my way back.”

You flipped your legs over the back of the couch, peering up over the crest of the sofa to meet Azriel’s eye. “Sure,” you agreed, though your voice lacked enthusiasm.

Azriel’s face relaxed, and the tension that had coiled around him when you walked in seemed to dissipate. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

You smiled lightly, “Just let me clean up first,” you said, scooting off the couch.

“Thank the gods,” Azriel replied with mock relief. “I was worried I’d have to carry you down there smelling like dirt and sweat.”

As you walked out, you stuck your tongue out at him over your shoulder. He laughed, leaning back in his chair again, and you had to stop yourself from turning around to admire the view. 

“Careful, you might catch flies,” Azriel called after you, his tone teasing.

You snorted, waving him off as you headed to clean up.

—

When you finally finished getting dressed after your shower, you opened the door to find Azriel standing across the hall. You jumped slightly, hand flying to your racing heart. “Gods, Azriel! We need to get you a bell or something.”

Azriel smirked lightly. “Ready to go?” He seemed anxious, perhaps pressed for time, though he hadn’t exactly given you any.

“Now?” you asked, blinking in surprise.

Azriel glanced around in confusion. “Yes?”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” You opened the door wider as Azriel crossed the hallway, tossing you your jacket from the front entry hall.

It seemed he’d been waiting on you—how long, you had no idea. He threw open the balcony doors, letting the cool air rush in, a sharp reminder that winter was on its way. Azriel smiled over his shoulder, extending a scarred hand to you. “You haven’t told me what I’m getting for you yet,” you noted, taking his hand. He scooped you up under your knees, cradling you close as his wings took a few powerful flaps, lifting off the marble floor. Your stomach flipped at the quick descent down the mountainside.

“I wrote the address down for you. Just give them my name,” he said, the wind biting at the tips of your ears.

You furrowed your brow. “You’re not going to tell me what I’m picking up?”

Azriel glanced down at you, his smile widening. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Not even a hint?”

“Okay,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just trust me on this one. It’s nothing bad.”

“I’m not collecting the head or fingers of your enemies?” you joked.

Azriel chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “That would be an errand I’d want to handle myself.”

“So it’s you who doesn’t trust me?” you countered playfully.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun,” he replied, smirking.

“Gross.”

“You love that word today, don’t you?”

“When I look at you, it’s the first word that comes to mind,” you shot back, your face breaking into a smile.

Azriel landed gracefully on a deserted sidestreet. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he said, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. “Here.” He handed it to you, leaning in to place a light kiss on your temple.

You opened the paper, squinting at his neat, thin handwriting. No name of the building, but you recognized the street. “So I can’t know what I’m picking up or where I’m going?” you asked, looking up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to be late. Consider it a trust exercise. Do you know where it is?”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but I do know where it is,” you replied.

“One hour. I’ll meet you there.”

You watched as he shot back up into the sky, wondering why, if he was meeting you there, he dropped you off a good fifteen-minute walk from your destination. But again, trust. So instead of calling out to question him, you sighed and began your trek through the city, shaking your head with a bemused smile. 

Local shops were already setting out items for Winter Solstice gifts, the streets adorned with twinkling lights and festive decorations. Your heart ached a bit, reminded of how different your life had been just a year ago. For a moment, you wondered if you had moved on too quickly from everything that had happened. You shook the thought away; dwelling on others’ perceptions of your healing wouldn’t help. Or at least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself.

You knew the shortest route to this particular street cut through the city near the entry gate, but the memories there were too sharp to face today. So, you opted for a longer, winding path, adding about ten minutes to your walk. The detour gave you a moment to breathe, to let the festive atmosphere seep in without the weight of the past pressing down too hard.

When you finally reached the correct street, you followed the numbers until you stood in front of a small bakery. The sweet scents of fresh breads and pastries swirled out from under the door, mingling with the crisp winter air. You rechecked the address Azriel had given you. This was definitely the place. Stepping up to the front door, your mouth watered at the sight of cranberry tarts with their crystalline sugar gleaming in the window, boxes of dark chocolates overflowing with cream, ganache, and fruit, and cakes delicately frosted with winter themes of ice and snow.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, the warm, cozy interior a sharp contrast to the chill outside. Your eyes adjusted to the dim, inviting light, and you noticed a few other patrons standing in front of the large glass counter, debating their purchases. You approached the rather plump, cheery-eyed male at the register.

“Hi,” you greeted as he smiled down at you. “I’m here to pick up something for Azriel.”

“Oh!” The male’s eyes lit up with recognition. He nodded and disappeared into the back of the bakery. You must have been in the right place. While you waited, you watched a female baker behind the counter delicately package pastel macarons into a cellophane box, her hands flying yet precise as she tied a pastel blue ribbon over the top.

The male reappeared, holding a small white box secured with red twine. He handed it over the counter with a broad smile. You thanked him, looking down at the box with curiosity, slightly disappointed that you couldn’t see its contents like the macarons on display.

Given that the sun was beginning to set, you figured you didn’t have much time left before Azriel would come to retrieve you. With the mystery box in hand, you crossed the street and sat on a bench, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you watched fae bustle by.

A few small children barreled down the street, chasing each other and giggling wildly. They stopped in front of the bakery, pressing their noses to the glass, their eyes wide with longing for the delectable treats inside. You watched as the female baker inside noticed their hungry faces. She smiled warmly at them, exchanged a few words with the male baker, and then disappeared into the backroom.

Moments later, she emerged with a white paper bag and stepped outside, beckoning the children closer. They approached cautiously, eyes alight with excitement. She handed them the bag, her smile radiant as she reminded them to share. 

The children eagerly took the bag from the baker, nearly ripping it as they peered inside. Their eyes lit up with delight as they distributed various cookies and candies among themselves. You smiled, remembering how, when you were young, the baker Henri used to give you scones that hadn’t sold the day before. A memory that once included your mother, now replaced by Titania. There was something comforting about these children, nearly a century later, still engaging in the same rituals. Adults continuing to offer sweets from the kindness of their hearts, expecting nothing in return but a smile and the hope that these children might someday pass on the same acts of kindness.

You heard footsteps crunching on the sidewalk next to you and looked up to see two large, winged shadows approaching. Azriel’s face was partially obscured by the late afternoon sun. He took a seat next to you, crossing his legs casually and draping his arms over the backrest of the bench, one foot jostling slightly.

“Hey,” you greeted, moving the box to the other side of you.

“Hi,” he replied, his warm smile melting away the chill in your bones.

“All set?” you asked. He nodded. “How did it go?”

His face conveyed a sort of nonchalance, his mouth twitching slightly downward but not quite frowning. “Fine,” was all he said, shrugging. “How was your little errand?” He cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the white box.

You handed him the box, feeling its light weight in your hands. “Fine, I think.”

Azriel took the box from you, untying the twine and turning slightly away to examine the contents. You strained to see over his shoulder, but one large wing blocked your view.

“If all you wanted were pastries, why be so secretive?” you scoffed, amused, as he replaced the lid and turned back to you with a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t a male have a little fun?”

You huffed, your eyes scanning his face. There was something about his presence you couldn’t quite place. The look of hesitation behind his eyes, the continuous bouncing foot, and the odd secrecy made you think Azriel might be nervous about something. But what, you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Ready to go?” he asked quickly, standing and adjusting his jacket. You watched him, taking the hand he extended to you, agreeing quietly while complaining slightly about the cold. He just called you a crybaby in response.

The two of you walked through the streets, searching for a quieter sidestreet where Azriel could fully stretch his wings for takeoff. When you finally found one, he picked you up gracefully, asking you to hold the pastry box, which you obliged. The entire flight home, you debated just opening the lid for a peek inside.

As you landed back on the marble balcony, Azriel gently placed you on your feet. You adjusted your top, smoothing the fabric with a quick tug, while he reached for the double doors and swung them open, reclaiming the white pastry box from you. The warm glow of the fire beckoned from within, its gentle crackling drawing you closer. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it casually onto the bed as you entered the room.

“Thanks,” Azriel’s voice followed you. “For doing this for me.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, flopping down onto the plush bed, your arms stretching upwards as you tried to ease the ache in your muscles. “No worries.” You expected Azriel to make a swift exit, eager to tackle the next task on his agenda, but he lingered. Standing near the double doors, his eyes stayed on you, a quiet intensity in his gaze.

Lifting your head off the bed, you noticed his prolonged stare. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you asked hesitantly, “Everything okay?”

Azriel snapped out of his reverie, his scarred finger tracing the twine of the pastry box absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied shortly, a touch of awkwardness in his voice. “Dinner?”

At his offer, you sprang up from the bed with eagerness. “Yes! I’m starving,” you exclaimed, your voice edged with a playful whine.

Azriel’s lips twitched into a soft, fleeting smile, the sound of a light laugh escaping him. As he started towards the door, you stumbled over your own feet, trying to kick off your boots in a rush. You fell into him, face-first against his chest, his warm laughter rumbling through you and making your stomach flutter. “Careful,” he chuckled, steadying you with a gentle hand.

“Sorry,” you murmured, pushing back slightly, your hands pressing against the hard muscle of his chest. You glanced up, your chin hovering mere inches from where your fingers rested.

Azriel’s gaze softened, his other hand still clutching the pastry box. With a slight nod, he led you out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the kitchen. Normally, you and Nesta or Azriel would eat casually around the kitchen island, but tonight was different. Azriel walked past the kitchen doors, his pace quickening with a hint of excitement.

You paused in front of the kitchen, a confused look crossing your face. “Aren’t we eating?” you asked, glancing towards the familiar island.

Without stopping or turning back, Azriel urged, “Come on,” his tone carrying a trace of anticipation.

Puzzled but intrigued, you followed him, your stomach rumbling in sync with your growing curiosity. As you trailed behind him through the sunken living room and past the cozy library, you realized he was leading you towards the grand dining room. A room you had only seen used for formal family dinners hosted by Nesta.

Azriel reached the doorway, his imposing wings nearly filling the large frame. Turning to face you, his smile broadened, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, still trying to decipher his peculiar behavior. Azriel pushed open the door, stepping aside with a radiant, cheeky grin that made your heart skip a beat.

As you stepped through the doorway, Azriel trailing behind, your breath caught in your throat. In the center of the grand dining room, which typically housed a vast, imposing table fit for large gatherings and entertaining, stood a much smaller, more intimate table, set elegantly for two.

The table was adorned with an elegant lace tablecloth, its intricate patterns catching the flicker of candlelight. Candles were placed strategically around the room, their soft, golden glow dancing off the walls. The centerpiece was a lush arrangement of flowers, the key flowers being purple hyacinths—your favorites.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the exquisite spread laid out on the table, a feast of your favorite dishes, each more mouthwatering than the last. Golden roast chicken, perfectly seasoned with a medley of colorful, caramelized vegetables, parsnips, and baby potatoes crisping in the tray. A bowl next to it held bright, emerald-green steamed asparagus drizzled with a cream sauce, a favorite that Titania used to make for you as a child, you had recently learned. Sautéed mushrooms and wild rice pilaf made your mouth water, and a few freshly baked rolls, still warm from the oven, rested in a basket lined with a blue towel. 

You stood there, momentarily stunned by the sheer meticulous effort placed on each part of the room and table. You couldn’t conceive of any other food on the table that wasn’t one of your favorites, as though someone had crawled into your mind, into your childhood, and handpicked out the moments you held with reverie. Azriel came to stand next to a chair, pulling it out slightly as you approached.

“Az, this is—” you stammered. “How did you—?”

Azriel merely chuckled as you took your seat, sliding it in behind you, then crossing around, pouring a sparkling purple wine into a crystal-clear glass and passing it to you.

“This is,” the words couldn’t even come to your mouth as you took the glass, staring down at the food in front of you. “This is insane.”

Azriel poured himself a glass, swirling it lightly as he gazed across at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as you tried to get your mouth to close from awe. He took a light sip from the cup, the first taste hitting his palate as his face scrunched up, eyebrows drawing together and then widening in surprise before narrowing into discomfort. He peered into the glass, mildly confused, and then slowly processed the unexpected saccharine assault on his taste buds, followed by a sharp exhale through his nose. “This is so sweet,” he said, shoulders and wings rising in an involuntary shudder.

You looked down into your own glass, the sweet aroma of blackberries filling your nostrils as you took a tentative sip. You were greeted with an intense burst of blackberry flavor, as if a handful of the plumpest berries had been freshly crushed, the taste rich and succulent with small hints of dark chocolate and vanilla coating your throat. You almost moaned in sensual delight. Your eyes shut as you melted into your chair. You finally managed to moan out, “This is delicious.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Azriel swirling the wine in his glass, peering into it with his mouth pulled up in a sneer as though a fly had landed in it. “Oh come on,” you said, taking another sip.

Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you, his sneer growing more exaggerated. “You actually like this stuff?”

“What about it don’t you like?” you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

“It tastes like pure sugar,” he responded flatly.

“No, it doesn’t! It tastes like blackberries.”

“Blackberries that have been coated in sugar.” He glanced into it again, “There’s probably one blackberry for three cups of sugar.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your chair as you took another delectable sip, eyes shutting again as you felt the warmth of the wine trickle down your throat. You hadn’t had this kind of wine since—

Your eyes shot back open as Azriel tried another sip, the same reaction flying from him. “How did you know I liked blackberry wine?”

Azriel seemed to pause in stillness as he gulped down his drink. “Lucky guess?” he offered.

You shook your head, leaning forward. “You were spying on me,” you said, eyes narrowing.

Azriel’s own eyes went hollow as he considered the best way out of this situation. “I wasn’t intending to.”

You laughed lightly, “So your shadows just followed me around on their own accord?”

At that, you felt the cool breeze around your ankle as one shadow skirted past you. “To be fair,” Azriel offered, “they are fond of you.”

Your gaze turned into a glare as Azriel tried to dig himself out. He placed his glass on the table, leaning his elbows onto it, eyes lined with sincerity. “Look, it was right after you left, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So how long were you watching me?” you asked, slightly more forcefully.

Azriel’s palms faced upward. “Only until it seemed you and Kai were getting more serious.” He paused. You scanned his face for any sign of deception but found none. Only pure sincerity. “Once you seemed like you had someone to rely on, I stopped.”

You leaned back, calming yourself again. In truth, you weren’t too upset that it seemed Azriel had been pining after you much longer than you had thought. Not to mention that knowing there was someone watching over you who wasn’t your mate allowed you to breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. You picked up the glass, swirling it so the sweet wine scent hit your nose again, breathing it in deeply.

“So you’ve seen me drunk?” you asked, taking another sip, eyes heavy as you cocked a brow at Azriel.

Azriel chewed his lower lip, trying to contain a slight smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps,” he offered back.

You quickly tried to sift through your memories, wondering about the things you had said or done that might now cause some embarrassment. “You’re giggly when you’re drunk,” Azriel remarked, a playful glint in his eye.

You set your glass down on the table, leaning forward as he carved a piece of chicken for you, placing it on your plate. The warm juices from the pan flowed onto the dish, tantalizing your senses. “And what are you like?” you inquired, arching a brow.

Azriel let out a breathy laugh as he served himself. You grabbed the tongs, dishing asparagus onto both your plates. “I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time.”

You handed over the tray to him as he passed you the rolls. “How long is a long time?”

Azriel pondered for a moment, setting the pan back down on the table. “Half a century?” he responded, sounding like he was questioning his own memory.

You picked up your fork, eyeing him with a smirk. “Sometimes I forget you’re ancient,” you quipped, taking a bite of the chicken. The savory sauce melted in your mouth, making you moan with delight.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It stops being important once you turn one hundred.”

You opened your eyes again, taking another greedy bite. “That’s what someone who’s too old and boring to get drunk would say,” you teased.

“I got my days of heavy drinking out of the way before I took on one of the most important roles in the Night Court,” he countered, leaning back. “It’s not exactly a good look to be falling all over yourself in front of those in power.”

You scoffed, “Cassian seems to have no problem with it.” It’s true, Cassian seized every opportunity to get absolutely sloshed at formal events, often challenging other warriors to drinking contests.

“Let’s not use Cassian as our standard for formality,” Azriel replied with a chuckle. “But when I used to get drunk, I’m told I got rather chatty.”

You almost choked on your food. “Chatty?” you questioned, wide-eyed.

Azriel flicked his eyes at you from under his brows as he took a bite. “Is that surprising?”

You shrugged, chewing a bit more carefully this time. “Chatty with everyone? Or just the people you know?”

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings casually lounged behind him. “According to Rhys and Mor, everyone.”

The thought of Azriel being the life of the conversation somewhere in a bar in Velaris, chatting it up with strangers, almost made you laugh out loud. “I’m sure you were fun at parties,” you offered, swallowing down your bite with another glass of wine.

“I would say I still am,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You think fun is brooding in the corner?”

“You’ve only ever seen me at Night Court events,” he countered.

“But you’re a party animal at the tavern?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s why you don’t like sweet wines,” you teased, leaning over the table. “You’re too old to enjoy something so youthful. You’d rather have a dry glass of white wine or some liquor that burns like firestarter.”

Azriel scoffed at you. “Am I going to regret doing all this for you?” he joked back.

You smiled at him sweetly, looking back down at your plate. “No,” you replied, a touch quieter and sincere. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Azriel’s face lit up slightly at your response. “I just thought you deserved a nice night,” he said.

You gestured to the table, “You really got all my favorites, even the ones I haven’t told you about or eaten in front of you.”

Azriel glanced toward the ceiling. “I’ll admit, the House did provide me with some insight on things you ask for late at night.”

You followed his gaze up, whispering in a hiss, “Those moments were supposed to be secret.”

Azriel laughed, “That and Titania helped fill me in on the rest.”

You ran your finger around the rim of your glass, heart and belly slowly filling with a feeling of deep adoration and joy. “This is really nice,” you finally whispered.

Azriel reached a scarred hand across the table to you, taking yours. “You deserve to enjoy the things you love,” he offered, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

Azriel shared with you that, unlike what you might have considered, he actually prepared all the dishes himself. He prepped the meal early in the morning with the help of Nuala and Cerridwen at the River House and then took the hour he had misled you into going to the bakery to set everything up. He really had thought of everything.

As you settled back in your chair, the plate nearly licked clean, you let out a sigh of gratification. Azriel, who had indeed brought out some nasty liquor you refused to try despite his imploring, swirled his glass across from you. His eyes lit up suddenly as he jumped from the table. “I almost forgot!”

You straightened slightly as he brought out the white box from the bakery, setting it in front of you to open. You glanced up at him, smiling. “You made me get my own dessert?” you teased.

“Oh yeah, I’m so sorry,” he replied sarcastically. “How foolish of me to ask you to do one thing so I could do all of this for you.” He gestured around the room with a dramatic flourish.

You smiled back as you undid the twine, peeking in at two delicately crafted tarts. The rhubarb, lemon, and berry compote glistened up at you, the crust perfectly crisped. Your mouth fell open again as Azriel looked down at you, joy in his eyes. You peered back up at him, “These are the tarts that Elain made when I first came here,” you said, breathless.

Azriel shrugged, “Not the exact ones. But they’re as close as I could get to the real thing without cluing Elain in.” In fairness, Elain couldn’t keep a secret, and for something of this nature, which included romance and food, she would have spilled every detail the second Azriel told her.

You found your hand seeking Azriel’s as you marveled at the beautiful little desserts, eyes welling up with emotion. This entire dinner was a three-course journey through your life, from childhood to now, all prepared for you, all a reflection of who you were and the things you had experienced. You felt a tear start to fall, but Azriel caught it, tilting your head up to face him, his own eyes filled with a sincerity and care you don’t know if anyone had ever had for you before. “Thank you,” you whispered lightly.

Azriel leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the oils from the chicken mingling with the sweet wine on your own lips. While you could taste the fiery hint of his drink, you didn’t pull away, lost in the soft caress of his lips as his thumb drew a lazy line down your face, his other hand coming to cup the other side. The kiss held no intensity other than pure adoration, care, and unbridled joy. When he pulled back, Azriel smiled down at you again, and you giggled lightly when he reached into the box, pulling out one of the tarts with his hands and taking a crumbling bite from it.

“Hey!” you protested, laughing as he chewed. “That’s mine!”

Azriel shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Consider it a toll for the perfect evening.”

To my readers, I'm hot, bothered, and need to be put back into my enclosure. We about to get wild: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes

[yourlocalstranger123]

Tignari & Cyno

Reader as kind of a sugar daddy/mommy [the atmosphere while typing this is so fcking awkward 🥲]

Warning:NSFW,

Apologies advanced: I'm sorry if you didn't want to use a strap, but right now, I'm not in the mood or have enough energy to write a separate one for F! reader and also F! Reader strap, it has fake cum as she has a button to release it.

This is the backup writing for you to enjoy since im going to take like more than a week to write the flirty villain [kinda?], Creator writing.

Characters: Tignari & Cyno.

Content/parts:

First: crack with sugar daddy/mommy reader. [Kinda?]

—NSFW—

(1.) Cyno's punishment [you're here!]

(2.) Cyno with tignari and care taker Reader. (Or nurse/doctor reader)

(3.) Tignari aphrodisiac mushroom

(4.) Tignari's heat.

(5.) Cyno & tignari x Eremite Reader

Note for content: cyno & tignari x Eremite reader. Ik, it sounds random, but the idea from it was: HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE EREMITES? THEY. ARE. H0T. 😳 YOU CANT SAY NO, THEY AREEEE. PLEASEE. I WOULD LITTERALLY GO ON MY KNEES FOR THEM—

[That what my friend told me to put. Honestly, I would do the same...]

— ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —

Tignari + Cyno

Cyno litterally makes 10x more jokes than usual around you. Even though it doesn't really make you laugh, you think it's enjoyable. While Tignari....not so much- Which he is glad at. Oh, his reaction is so cute and funny when you gave him limited edition cards. Except when he said that he'll pay for it even though it's a gift...

"This...is for me? W- wait! I'll pay you 1 million mora tor these!"

"Cyno. It's a gi—"

"2 million mora?"

"...." *friendly but firm holding of his shoulders*

"It's. a. gift."

"..."

"..."

"2 million, 500 thousand mora—?"

"Cyno, if you keep talking about giving me mora for a damn gift, I will literally go around Teyvat and even sell my f-cking soul to get more."

"Yes ma'am/sir-" *feeling shivers down his spine. Although....why does he feel hard down there—*

Dang. He made sure he'll never make you mad. Tignari is just mentally slapping himself on the forehead at this. You still give him the limited edition cards everytime it was released.

Tignari always thanked you for your kindness for playing supplies to do what he needs as a forest watcher. Although you still pay and give him stuff even though he has more than enough already....

"Ah, [name]. I already have more than enough. Thanks for offering though—"

"Accept. It."

Tignari with trembling hands as he accepts your forceful gift. Yeah, he ain't going to be on your bad or evil side. Hope to the archons that Cyno doesn't go too far.

....At least he can spoil himself with your gifts.

~`♡°•—~`♡°•—NSFW—~`♡°•—~`♡°•

(1.)

CYNO'S PUNISHMENT

"Hah....how many times have I told you, don't touch yourself?"

Cyno whined. He struggled trying to get free from the ropes and touch you. "M' sorryy!" and "Please!" Comes out of his mouth.

"If you keep whining with that mouth of yours, I'll gag it."

Cyno immediately shuts up when you say that as your hand tightens around his thigh. Letting out a whimper as a plea.

"First, you went home injured without even stopping to get a doctor or even at Tignari's. His house is way closer! And now you're breaking our rules? Touching yourself without permission. Now that's not what good boys do."

Cyno whined, wanting to beg for your mercy and forgiveness, but you didn't let him. He choked on a moan as he felt your knee rubbing against his crotch.

"Aren't you enjoying this too much? Maybe I shouldn't touch you for a whole week...."

Cyno cried a plea to keep touching him. He leaned onto your shoulder, sobbing in pleasure as it overwhelmed him.

Suddenly, Tignari came in. He paused as he saw the sight of Cyno tied up on your bed, and you pinning Cyno down on it. You turned around seeing tignari cover his drooling mouth as his ears slightly tilted downwards. His face is red as his ears twitched.

Tignari just stands there, watching the lewd scene of Cyno panting as he begs to have your touch. Tignari snapped out of his thoughts when you told him to come here. He kneeled beside you, gripping his pants in hopes you don't know. You rub his ears as he softly moans. Biting his lips to refrain the noise further but failing. His ears twitched when he saw Cyno already looked fucked out when you finally start stroking him as you finger him, kissing his prostate. You can feel his hole tightening and his cock twitching for attention, knowing that he'll cum.

"P- please? Wan- Na- cUuM!!"

Tignari tried helping him get over the edge, but you stopped him by tugging his tail, which maid him yelp as pre-cum sticks onto his pants. Cyno's eyes shot wide open as you stopped your movement, edging him. He squirmed as he clenched around nothing. He started sobbing, spreading his arms open and closing and opening his hands, wanting you to come over to him and touching him :(

He was laid down on the bed as Tignari got on top of him. Leaning in to kiss him. You let what Tignari wishes and desires to do with Cyno as you watch in amusement. Cyno pants in heavy blush, silently whining at Tignari to touch him already. Tignari easily gave in his pleading, taking off his pants and undergarments. Pumping both of their cocks.

Tignari's ears twitched as the fully tilted downwards. Cyno's legs started to tremble as he covered his mouth. They both rolled their eyes, saliva running down their chin as they both looked fucked out. Tignari finally fell on Cyno as his body gave up, supporting him.

Cyno flinched when he felt a cold medal going into his hole. He moaned into the sensation as he squirmed. It was a butt plug. You started fingering tignari as he whined but didn't stop you. Instead, he slowly tried thrusting back to make you go deeper as his head was thrown back when he felt your fingers abusing his prostate.

"Ngh— [name]...! Stop teasing me and put it in already– UgAhhH~!"

He felt his mind gone blank when you started pistoling his hole. He bit Cyno's shoulder to refrain his desperate moans, leaving a mark. Cyno soon felt pleasure overridden pain, whimpering in pleasure. Cyno watches everything drowsily with lust as he gets hard again. He kissed Tignari, making out with him.

"Mnm~ ah!! W- wait, slow down! I'm cuMinG!"

He came, ears twitching as Cyno grabs him and kisses him. The last string snapped when Tignari clenched around you, making you cum in him as he whined from being do full

F! Reader: You decided to finally give him his little reward [unlike Cyno, who broke the rule] pressing the button as Tignari drooled at the feeling of being so full

You put Tignari on the other side of the bed. Cyno starts to kneel on his knees, obediently waiting for you. He laid his head on your legs, eyes practically saying that he wants to have his turn to be ruined and fucked.

He teased you and tried to rile you up by showing the butt plug you put in him.

"Please....I've been good, haven't I?"

Pouting for your attention. You pretended to be thinking about it even though you'll give him a reward anyway.

I- I'll ride you! Pleasee? I just want you in me!!"

And here he is, riding you like it's the last time. He felt so full of you, touching the bulge that was caused by you, made him closer to the edge. You put your hands on his hips, helping him get to his climax as he cries a silent scream. He flopped onto your chest as he snores and slept soundly. You should probably wash them early in the morning, but for now, they will sleepily cuddle you.

[shubblelive]

— HYPOTHETICAL CAT

summary : your first time staying with wilbur since the beginning of your long-distance relationship, and you're already dreading leaving him. luckily for you, you may not have to.

genre : fluff

warnings : slightly dialogue heavy?? not proofread unlike usual but i think we're good

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x cc!fem!reader

pronouns : none (you/yours) BUT wilbur referrs to reader as a girl

featuring : cc! wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where him and the reader have a long distance relationship? And one day when she comes and visits him, he admits he cant go such long periods of time without seeing her, so he proposes that she moves in with him, the rest is up to you, thank you! xx

word count : 873

note : okay i wrote this all in one day which i never do but it was a struggle. but, i power through for you guys. i hope you enjoy this <33333

No one told you when you started out that your favourite thing about content creation would be the webcam quality. Of course, it was definitely something you could live without, but on nights when it was just you and Wilbur, a video call on your desktop as your sun rose and his set, the fact that you could see him in picture perfect vision was occasionally the only thing holding you together. 

But then suddenly, he was right in front of you.

You and Wilbur had been together for nearly three years, meeting at a creator event ages ago. You’d seen him at a panel and he’d waited in line to meet you just to give you his phone number, asking you to call him, and two weeks later he was calling you darling. 

You’d known at that first meeting that you lived awfully far from each other, but that hadn’t been thought of as a particularly big issue until the two of you started dating, and then it was comparable to torture. You’d have semi-regular meetings where he’d fly to your place and stay with you for a couple of days. This time, though, this was different.

“You have been holding out on me,” your voice was heavy with sleep, your head in Wilbur’s lap as the two of you watched something, some nature documentary that was playing so softly it was almost designed to put you to sleep. “Your couch is so much more comfortable than mine is.”

Wilbur looked down at you fondly. “My bad,” he laughed steadily, careful not to be too loud. “I guess I thought that if you got to experience the wonders of my sofa you’d only wanna come here, I wouldn’t get to come see you as much.”

“I knew you and Mr Gardener had some weird thing going on,” you said, accusatory with a smile draped across your face.

“He makes you bread!” Wilbur defended. “How are you not obsessed with him?”

You cracked one of your eyes open sleepily, hand coming up to reach for his. He took it eagerly, drinking in your figure as you lay on his couch. “I’m pretty sure he’s not the one doing it.”

Wilbur threw his head back to rest against the couch, letting out a puff of air. “Okay, maybe Emily is the one doing the actual baking, but you can’t tell me that Mr Gardener doesn’t add to the experience.”

“I’m sure he does.” You hummed.

“You can not seriously tell me that baking a loaf of bread is not made infinitely better by the presence of a cat.”

You paused. “Okay, okay. It would be.”

Wilbur let out a pleased noise, moving down to run his hands up and down the exposed skin by your collarbone. “We should get a cat,”

His voice was barely loud enough for you to hear it, your eyes closed and his voice heavy with exhaustion. The two of you had been out all day on the first day of your visit, finally taking a moment to rest. 

“Should we?” You mused. “Who gets custody?”

Wilbur made a choking sound like the answer was obvious. “Well- I would, right?”

You forced yourself up, yawning as you brought your knees to your chest. “Why am I jealous of our hypothetical cat right now?”

Wilbur chuckled and reached for you, sitting forward on his knees, gently tugging at your calves until he was resting on your chest. “You don’t have to be,” he pointed out. “I’ve got a very big bed. And an entire section of wardrobe that I’m not using, and-”

“Wilbur,” you chided. “You know it’s not as easy as me simply never going home. Believe me, if I could spend the rest of my life curled into this couch, I would but-”

Wilbur sighed dramatically, pulling himself off you and standing up. “There you go, dream crusher,” he let out an exaggerated groan, taking you by the hand and pulling you up. His cheek was pressed against the side of your face, hands interlocked. “Crushing my dreams all crush-ier and dreamy.”

You let out a giggle as he poked your side. “You think I’m dreamy?”

“So dreamy,” he nodded. “Dream girl material right here, loves me, loves our future cat-”

“Loves your sofa,” you added dreamily. 

“And before I let you two get a room, please just consider moving in with me?” He begged gently. “Come on, wouldn’t it be so nice? Just you and me, I’d even let you name the cat. Please?”

“I’m not doing it for you.” You conceded. “I’m doing it for Rhubarb and all of the future kisses I am going to get from him on my new couch.”

He kissed you on the forehead. “Okay, I’ll leave you guys alone, I see where I’m not wanted.” He pressed another one on the side of your mouth.

“No,” you groaned, trying to drag him back on the couch. “I don’t have our cat yet, I need someone to shower me with affection.”

He huffed as he sat back on the couch, letting you collapse on top of him, revelling in the comfortable weight of you pressed against him. “Fine, fine. If I must.”

[absurdthirst]

Claimed {Alpha!Joel Miller x Omega!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.1k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, mentions of bonding/claiming, heats, suppressants, threats of death, cannon violence, fingering, begging, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, knotting, pregnancy, biting, oral sex (female receiving)

Comments: Saved by an alpha and his young charge in Kansas City, you are worried about the basic needs of your body when your suppressants run out. Leaving you to need an alpha, your alpha to claim you.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You’re shaking when the flashlight shines in your face. Your hiding place is now discovered by people you can’t even see due to the bright light. “Please. Please don’t hurt me.” You plead, you haven’t eaten for a few days, too scared to move since you came down into the tunnels. Since Katherine wanted you dead for your part in her brother’s death, you have been on the run. It’s been terrifying. Being alone since you separated from Sam and Henry. You had turned in Katherine’s brother to get the meds you so desperately need but that backfired since KC fell to the rebellion.

You smell them, sensing an alpha, two betas and a scent you’ve never smelled before, making your brow furrow. You’re terrified of the alpha hurting you, maybe the betas will harm you until you hear your name. “Henry?” You gasp, recognizing your friend's voice. 

“It’s me. Me and Sam.” He tells you and the light is moved so you can see the group, and you struggle as you stumble to your feet.

Joel grips the gun even tighter, shaking his head half a motion before he catches himself. There’s something about your scent, or distinct lack thereof, that’s making him hesitate pulling the trigger. “Stay still.” He growls at you, watching in disbelief as Henry and Sam rush towards you as if you aren’t a threat. Why are you down here? Are you infected, are you hiding?”

“I- Sam! Henry! You’re okay!” You are relieved as you wrap your arms around your friend. “Thank God.” You sigh and stroke Sam’s cheek, glad he’s safe. You sign to him that you missed him, glad Henry had taught you some signs.

Sam beams and Joel growls, “are you fuckin’ infected?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“No. No. I’m not infected. I was hiding here from Katherine. Henry and I- she wants us dead. I got separated from them so I came down here, knowing it was Henry’s plan to come to the tunnels.” You explain, still shaking from exhaustion. You haven’t slept, too scared that you’d be found by Katherine’s men.

“Fuck, lighten up old man.” Ellie rolls her eyes at the alpha who is in charge of her protection. She moves forward to greet the new woman that has appeared in front of her, it’s been awhile since she’s been able to talk to another woman. “I’m Ellie.” She greets you, jerking her head back towards Joel. “He’s Joel, he’s okay. He’s an alpha but he’s not one of those alphas.” She wants you to feel comfortable, given the uneasy expression on your face.

You’re confused by her scent, a mixture of alpha, beta and omega. Like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. “I-” You swallow harshly, throat dry, before you introduce yourself. Glancing over her shoulder to see Joel lower his weapon, his dark eyes on yours. You lick your lips, “I’m - I’m an omega but I’m on meds. Well, until they run out.” You confess, knowing it’s risky to introduce yourself like this but you need him to understand you, especially if you are to get out of Kansas City alive.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, looking away from you in exasperation because he knows you being an omega is a complication he doesn’t need. It’s risky, traveling with an unbonded omega, when you run out of meds, any alpha for miles will smell you in heat. 

“She comes with us.” Henry immediately demands, making him roll his eyes and sigh after a long moment. 

“Are you hungry?” Joel asks you begrudgingly. He might not like it, but he won't starve you.

“Starving. I- I ran out of food a few days ago.” You admit and he sighs, reaching into his pack to toss the jerky he has left over to you. You moan when you bite into it, uncaring of chewiness when it’s something to eat. 

“She’s coming with us.” Henry repeats when he sees the look in Joel’s eyes. 

It takes him a moment, but he nods once, “let’s get moving.” He says and you lift your backpack onto your shoulder, following the group through the tunnel you collapsed down in when the exhaustion becomes too much.

Stumbling upon the abandoned, underground housing seems like a godsend and Joel agrees to stop until nightfall. You look exhausted and you probably need some water. It irritates him that he’s even thinking along those lines but the alpha instinct to protect and care for an omega is strong with you for some reason. He grunts as you collapse into a chair, having polished off the jerky and shoves a water bottle into your hand. “You don’t need to fall behind later on.” He warns you. “I will leave you.”

You nod, knowing how harsh alphas have become in this new world. You know it's dog eat dog and your omega nature makes it harder to survive. A lot of your peers are under the thumb of an alpha, unable to survive alone. You are trying to be different and look how it's worked out so far. You gulp down some water and your eyes are struggling to stay open. "Sleep." Joel orders and you shift to stand, gathering the bean bags to create a safe area for you to sleep, surrounded and you feel safe with the alpha watching over you.

“She’s good.” Henri leans forward in his chair and promises Joel. “She’s a good person, a good omega.” He pauses for a second. “She doesn’t need to be treated badly, there was enough of that under FEDRA here.” He looks over at you, already asleep and then over at where Ellie and Sam are giggling together. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that sound.” He tells Joel, making the alpha glance over at the kids with a sense of melancholy. 

Glancing back over at you before looking down at his hands, Joel sighs. There was a time when being around omegas was easier, when he was less abrasive, but that died the day he failed to protect his baby girl. The little girl who had just presented as an omega right before the world had gone to shit. “Once we get out of the city, what you do is up to you.” He tells Henry, frowning slightly at his own words. The smell of comfort and peace drifts from your little nest of beanbags and he wonders when the last time you exuded that scent was.

Henry sighs, telling Joel about Katherine's brother. "Sam had leukemia and I- I had to get him the medicine he needed. FEDRA wanted more. So I gave them Katherine's brother. He was a good man, a great man. She - she needed her meds to suppress her scent and she backed up my story. Katherine wants us both dead. Still think I'm the good guy?" Henry scoffs, crossing his arms.

Joel can’t answer that. Not realistically. Not when he knows he would have done anything to keep Sarah safe and healthy. Has already killed to protect Ellie. His eyes slide away from Henry’s guiltily and he taps his finger on the table. “We should go.” He huffs after a moment, watching as you continue to sleep. “We now have to sneak an omega out of the city too.”

You whimper when someone shakes you gently to wake you up. You look up to see Ellie standing there, her eyes soft and comforting enough that you aren't scared. "We are leaving." She says and you nod, sitting up. You feel rested despite the short amount of time you've been asleep. "Let's go." You say as you swing your pack over your shoulder. Joel swings the door open, walking ahead and you follow, trying to keep quiet.

Joel’s hackles are raised, eyes cautious for any sense of danger. Overly protective now that an omega is in the group. He huffs to himself, keeping himself closer to you and Ellie, naturally puffing up slightly. “How many pills do you have left?” Joel asks, knowing that his own rut is long overdue and if you are close to running out, he needs to get away from you as soon as possible.

You bite your lip as you stay close to him, instinct driving you to be with him. “About three months. I managed to ration them, cut them in half so my scent isn’t completely concealed but it keeps my heat at bay.” You reveal and Joel nods, knowing that it won’t last forever and eventually, you’ll have every damn alpha in the Midwest after you. You eventually come to the end of the tunnel and Henry is cocky as he says his plan worked…until the bullets start to fly.

“Get down!” Joel grabs you and Ellie, pulling you towards the abandoned cars for cover. Henry starts to freak out, taking Sam and trying to run away. “What are you doing? Get down!” Joel shouts, pulling his gun out and looking over the hood of the car. Bullets spray around Henry's feet and they run back towards you and the safety of the car.

Your heart pounds in your ears as Joel tells Ellie the guy has shit aim and he’s gonna go take him out. You are shaking, knife in hand that you grabbed from your boot, and you watch Joel ask Ellie if she trusts him. The girl nods and you know you trust him too. You swallow harshly, terrified as the bullets keep flying…until they stop. When you hear the cars, you barely hear Joel shouting “run! Run!” and you sprint with Ellie’s hand in yours, Sam and Henry not too far behind you.

Joel keeps his eyes focused on you and Ellie as the group with Kathleen pulls up. Chambering another round and keeping it ready as she makes her way out of the truck and implores you and Henry to come out. The truck he had killed the driver in is on fire, making him aware that his options for getting Ellie out of this situation are slowly starting to dwindle. He growls, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on Kathleen’s head. He’ll kill her. Then they will scatter.

You huddle behind the car with Ellie and Sam, Henry standing up and you can’t let him sacrifice himself. “Wait!” You stand up, holding your hands up. “You can’t kill Henry. He has Sam. He can’t - he has family. If you’re going to kill someone, kill me.” You order and Kathleen’s finger hovers over the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet, knowing that you have fared well for an omega in this world. Kathleen turns around when she hears the truck disappear into the ground and your eyes widen when the stalkers start to rush out. “Shit!” You shriek, running to grab Ellie and keep her safe.

Joel’s heart is pounding in his chest, firing shot after shot, afraid that he might not be quick enough. The group of soldiers that are with Kathleen quickly turn their weapons on the rushing horde, but there are too many of them. All manner of infected leaping out of that pit as Joel keeps Ellie and you in his sights and takes out the dangers around you.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You curse when you see Ellie trapped in the car. You are trying to open the door while trying to fend off any stalkers that come at you and when you hear the growls, you spin and see them taken out by a bullet from above. “Ellie! Quick, take my hand.” You order when you manage to get the door open and you’re running only to see Henry and Sam under the car. You drag the stalker off of Henry, stabbing it quickly and you push the body aside, trying to get to Sam. “Quick. Quick. Run!” You order when Ellie manages to kill the stalker and the four of you run towards the bridge.

Joel meets up with the four of you, checking to make sure that Ellie is okay before he turns towards you and the Betas. “Are you okay?” He demands, making you nod quickly. He ignores the need to reassure you, hating that he feels that way and looks back towards the flickering light of the fires. “We need to get farther away.” He tucks the rifle up on his shoulder and starts to move quickly, knowing its best to put distance between you and the horde of infected in case some came this way instead of going into the city. Kansas City is about to fall.

“Stop!” Kathleen approaches and you move to step in front Ellie. Joel’s fingers twitch and you try to be brave. Ellie and Joel don’t deserve to pay for your mistakes. She doesn’t get a chance to continue when she’s jumped on and torn apart. “This way now! Move!” Joel shouts and your heart pounds as you run away from the massacre. 

****

You lean against the wall, exhaustion seeping into your bones while you listen to Ellie and Sam read the comic book together. Joel looks exhausted and Henry breaks the tension by asking “you think they’ll be okay?” 

Joel nods, “yeah, I think. It’s easier when you’re a kid anyway.” Joel looks over at you, swallowing harshly before he looks back at Henry, “you don’t have anybody else relying on you. That’s the hard part.” 

Henry nods, “well, I guess we’re doing a good job then.” 

Joel nods, glancing back at you, “what’s that comic book say? Endure and survive?” He asks and Henry confirms it. 

“That shit’s redundant.” You snort and Joel nods, “yeah, it’s not great.” 

The quiet huffing of amusement passes and Joel sighs, “look, I don’t know how I’m getting to Wyoming, I’m probably walkin’ but, you know, if you want to.” 

Henry nods, “yeah. Yeah. I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend.” 

You bite your lip, “what about me?”

Joel frowns as he stares at you for a moment. His jaw tightening when he smells the wave of apprehension and fear pouring out of you. He knows what an unbonded omega can expect out here. You would be abused, mistreated by any alpha that came across you. You are capable, he’s seen that, but you need an alpha to protect you. He sighs softly after a moment. “All three of you.” He tells you. “I won’t touch you. Don’t worry. I don’t- you’ll be safe with me, with us.” He snorts. “Or as safe as you can fucking get nowadays.”

You can’t deny that you’re relieved and you nod, offering him a soft smile, “thank you, alpha.” You address him formally, wanting him to know how much you appreciate it. 

“Get some sleep.” Joel says, his stomach twisting at hearing you call him ‘alpha’ and he watches as you lay down to curl up around yourself. 

****

You wake up to Ellie screaming, fumbling to sit up just as she comes running out of the bedroom with Sam trying to bite her. “No!” You cry, hating that Sam was infected and you see the look on Henry’s face. He fought so hard to protect his brother, he did what he had to do, and in the end, it’s all been for nothing. 

“Joel!” Ellie screams and Joel holds his hands up when Henry grabs the gun. Shooting the floor when Joel tries to help Ellie. 

“Henry! Please!” You beg, knowing what needs to be done. Henry shoots Sam seconds later and you choke on the sob, holding your hands up when Henry aims the gun at you and then at Joel, switching between you.

His heart pounding, Joel hates that he can’t do anything. Helpless as Henry sways slightly holding the gun, eyes frantic. “Henry, give me the gun.” He urges quietly, edging towards him. He’s seen that look too many times. “Give me the gun Henry. Just give it to me.” His hands are still up and he’s trying to keep his voice calm, betas don’t respond to commands like an omega would. 

“What have I done?” Henry asks, looking at you desperately, and Joel swallows. 

“Give me the gun.” Henry shakes his head and lifts the gun up. “Henry no!” Joel cries right as Henry pulls the trigger and Ellie cries out again, making Joel close his eyes in defeat, failing again at protecting people.

You feel sick, losing your close friends in a matter of seconds has you rushing across the room to throw up, hands shaking and you know Joel and Ellie are affected. "Oh my God. Oh my God." You keep muttering, in shock as you stand up and you watch Joel make sure Ellie is okay before he's crossing the room to grab your shoulders.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asks and you shake your head, "I- I'm okay." You tell the alpha, his scent soothing you and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close so you can breathe him in.

Joel stiffens but he doesn’t pull away from you, knowing you need the comfort of his classification for the moment. Ellie is too shocked to smirk when he awkwardly puts his arm around you so he can rub your back. He feels guilty, wishing he had demanded that everyone be searched after the attacks, just in case. He could have talked Henry through the acceptance of losing Sam rather than the abrupt loss. “I’m sorry.” He manages, knowing they were your friends. “I- I’m going to bury them.” He promises, feeling the brothers deserve that at least.

You want to stay in his arms, feel that comfort that only an alpha can give you but he’s not your alpha, he’s stiff and awkward when you pull back. “Sorry.” You murmur and he clears his throat, turning towards Ellie to guide her out of the hotel room and away from the bodies. 

****

You sniff when you see Ellie place Sam’s board down on his grave with the word ‘sorry’ written on it. You glance back to see Joel waiting for you and you wipe your eyes, adjusting your backpack as you make your way across the country to Wyoming.

Joel walks silently for a long time, everyone lost in their own thoughts as the miles from the motel increase. He has questions, plenty of them, but he doesn’t voice them. Knowing that right now isn’t the time. Instead he glances around, looking for signs of game. There’s another mouth to feed and he wants to make sure that you have enough since it’s been a few days since you’ve had anything more than the jerky he had tossed you.

The walk is long and you try to keep up with your meds, rationing them to stretch them as long as possible but as the days turn into weeks, you’re starting to panic. The fall turns to winter and the snow is heavy this year, making you shiver under the coat Joel had given you. He found another coat but you love this one, how it smells like him, giving you comfort during the arduous journey. The relationship between you and Joel is tense, both of you fighting your instincts and trying to keep your composure for Ellie’s sake. It would be easy to give in but it would only lead to complications. The alpha is tough, emotionally stunted, and stubborn, but you see how he is with Ellie. The softness in his eyes for the girl. You can understand it, having grown affectionate for her. She is a wonder. Not alpha, not omega, not beta. She’s a perfect combination of all three. Her scent is muted and she bears the best of each status, like fire and ice. A juxtaposition in one little girl who plans on being the solution to all your problems. A cure to your status. A world where every person is equal regardless of their composition. It’s beautiful and you hope she’s right, that she could be their cure to a never ending biological battle.

“We need to find somewhere to shelter.” Joel grunts out, feeling the temperature dropping. There is a storm coming, he can feel the heavy ache in his knitted together knuckles at the joints that remind him how fucking old he is. Too old to be your alpha, as much as he craves it. Every day it’s getting harder to resist the lure of your scent, to stay away from you. You are kind and gentle, although there is a stiffness to your spine that he admires. You ensure and bear the hardship of this journey without complaint, and he hasn’t missed you slipping Ellie some of your own meal when there’s not enough to completely fill the girl’s stomach. He watches you, while you’re sleeping, hearing your whimpers and it makes him want to crawl into the sleeping bag he had given you. The pride of you curling into his scent and being comforted by it makes his need to care for you roar to life. “We need a fire. Snow’s coming in.”

You nod, glancing up at the sky. It’s been a long day, the wind has been brutal, hitting you in the face, and Joel is quick to find a cave near the river for you to settle in. You pull the coat closer around you, watching Joel start the fire, and you remember you need to take your meds. Pulling the last packet out, you curse, fumbling with the packet to find one last pill. “Shit. Shit.” You hiss and Ellie looks over at you, “fuck. I- I’ve run out.” You want to cry, certain that you had another week if you rationed and you know you’re screwed. In the middle of nowhere, without your meds, and you know you’re going to go into heat soon. “Shit.” You sob, knowing this is going to a hellish time.

Joel closes his eyes, knowing he needs to find better shelter for you than this cave. If you are out of meds, you will have a hellacious heat the first time. It would beckon any alpha for miles. An open cave is not where he wants you. “Heat up some snow for water.” He orders Ellie, picking up the gun again. You will need plenty of nutrients for the heat and he needs to see if there is anywhere around that would be better. “I’ll be back.” He raises his eyebrows at Ellie. “Get your gun out. Anyone but me comes, you shoot them.” He orders.

You cry, hating that you have run out of meds. You feel vulnerable and you know you’ll be surviving this heat alone. “I’m sorry.” Ellie says, holding her gun as she keeps watch while Joel heads out. 

“I- it’s okay. It’s just- I - I hate being an omega. I hate being this weak. I wish I could be stronger.” You feel sorry for yourself, knowing that you’ll need Joel’s sleeping bag and coat for his scent and you breathe it in from your coat, feeling a little calmer.

“What?” Ellie makes a face at you. “You aren’t weak. You are so strong.” She insists, turning towards you and cocking her head. “You have walked hundreds of miles with a strange alpha and even from the beginning, you trusted him. You take less food than you need when you think I’ll be hungry and you are not even a little irritated with me when I talk and talk and talk.” She rolls her eyes and grins at you. “Unlike him. But you are strong. You can’t help your heats, no more than alphas can help their ruts.”

Her words make your heart swell and you smile, “thank you, El.” You feel better from her words and you stand up, wanting to help by heating up the snow so you can have some water to drink. You pull Ellie in for a quick hug, “thank you, sweetheart.” You inhale her neutral scent and step back to get to work. “For the record, I think Joel likes your puns.” You tell her, making her smile and you are both quiet until Joel returns.

Joel has a pair of rabbits in his hand, holding them by the ears but there is something much more important. “Grab your packs.” He orders, immediately moving over to the fire to put it out. “I found a cabin. It’s- the roof is solid and the walls are thick.” He looks over at you with a knowing expression. “It has a bed and plenty of blankets.”

You want to kiss him in appreciation but you scramble to get your pack, Ellie following so you can make your way to the cabin. You can feel the tightness starting in your stomach and your clothes feel too tight, your brow starting to sweat as your heat starts to creep in, too long with too little medication has made it burn through your system. “We gotta go.” You rasp, needing to strip down and start nesting. “Now.” You tell Joel, knowing he can smell the change in you.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, nodding and picking up his pace through the snow as he treks back to the cabin he had found. He had already started a fire when he had checked it out, knowing it was perfect. The fireplace was in the middle of the cabin so it would keep the room you holed up for your heat warm. Now he just needs to get some food into you before you need to nest and he has to keep himself sane and try not to touch you. “Come on. It’s not far.”

You are feeling the ache, making it harder to walk, but you push yourself, knowing that you can’t just collapse in the damn snow. Joel’s back is rigid and you sigh in relief when you arrive at the cabin, entering and exhaling when the warmth of the fire immediately hits you. “I need to-” You shrug off his coat, working on stripping down to your t-shirt and leggings that you have on under your jeans. It’s still too many clothes but you can’t just strip off in front of Joel and Ellie.

“Ellie, go help her.” Joel urges, closing the door and barring it so he can get the food over the flames. You need to eat before it gets too bad. He knows he will have to go out to hunt often. For you, since you will require more food while you are nesting, and to keep from smelling your intoxicating pheromones all the time. “Get her ready. Take my sleeping bag too.”

Ellie is unsure of what to do but you are frantically pulling at your clothes until you’re in your underwear. Ellie grabs Joel’s sleeping bag and puts it down for you alongside your own on the bed. You grab the pillows, working fast to create a nest, grabbing Joel’s coat to put it in the nest. “I’ll be okay, El.” You promise, getting yourself comfortable.

“O-okay. I’m gonna- I’m gonna go out to Joel.” The younger girl is backing out of the room, unable to do anything more and she is wildly uncomfortable with the entire idea of a heat. Regular periods already suck, but she feels sorry for the pain you are going to go through. “I’ll get you water, too.”

As soon as the door is shut, you strip out of your underwear, your hand sliding between your folds to find you soaking wet and you can’t stop the moan of relief that escapes your lips when you rub your clit. Joel’s scent is surrounding you and while it’s not him, it’s enough for now. “Fuck.” You pant, rubbing your clit a little faster, wishing it was Joel, imagining his calloused fingers and his gruff voice telling you how good you are for him.

Ellie comes out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “She’s about to get bad.” She tells Joel, making him grunt as he turns the rabbits over the flames. He can smell the arousal and need pouring off of you, making his cock harden even as he tries to ignore the way that your scent is calling to him. He had promised you that he wouldn’t touch you and he meant it. Even if he had to go jerk off every hour, he wouldn’t touch you.

You bite your lip to smother your moan when you cum from rubbing your clit. The relief only soothes you for a few moments before the need flares to life again. You hear the knock on the door and you cover yourself up so Ellie can bring in the food. “Thank you. I- I need you to go into the room furthest away from this one. I don’t want you to hear me. I- I won’t be myself.” You tell her and she nods, setting the container of water down. As soon as she’s gone, you force yourself to eat, your hands shaking and your cunt dripping as the urge to touch yourself is almost overwhelming. The rabbit bones are pushed aside and you wipe your hands before your fingers push back into your pussy, a loud moan escaping your lips as you fuck yourself with your fingers, your skin is gleaming with sweat and you swear your heat has never been this intense.

Joel clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, hearing the needy moan coming from the room and his fists curl in on themselves. Blowing out a sigh, he takes a deep breath, pulling the air in from his mouth so he doesn’t smell your pheromones as strongly. You are already filling the cabin with your mouth watering scent. “Shit.” He hisses, feeling his cock twitch again, already straining at his jeans. “Fuck, I’ll be back.” He growls, standing and grabbing the rifle as he flees the cabin so he can find some relief.

Ellie decides to take her leave in one of the back rooms away from yours, not wanting to invade your privacy. You pant, curling your fingers but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You need an alpha. You need Joel. You whine, reminding yourself that it won’t happen but your mind runs wild, imagining him coming into your room, stripping off and sliding his cock inside of you, knotting you. “Oh fuck. Joel.” You choke as you cum around your fingers, unaware that he’s jerking off outside in the freezing cold, having hoped the cold would get rid of his erection but he is still hard even as his cum spills onto the snow. “Oh God.” You whine, rubbing your clit while your fingers are buried deep, using two hands in hopes of satiating the heat curling in your belly.

Joel growls as he tucks his still hard cock back into his pants. It hasn't helped much but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. Huffing from the cold, his breath shows in the air. He should hunt, but his instinct is to keep close to you so he stomps back into the cabin to shut the door and feed more logs onto the fire.

You’ve lost track of time. It could have been hours, maybe days. Ellie has brought you food and water, and cool rags to wipe yourself with, but the sweat still pools on your skin. You’re almost delirious with need, your hands aching and you can’t bring yourself to make yourself cum again. You need an alpha. You can’t deny it anymore. “Joel.” You call out, voice cracking. “Joel. Please. I need you.” You beg, needing to feel something, anything.

His chest puffing up in pleasure, Joel tries to deny that he had been anticipating this. He had melted more snow to bathe with, cleaning up for the omega in heat. Unknowingly preparing himself but still he shakes his head and closes his eyes. “You- you don’t mean that. It’s just the heat, omega. Be calm.” He orders you softly through the door, his fingers nearly digging into the wood as he stands there.

His words, his voice, soothe you for a moment until the ache flares. “No. No. Don’t go. Please. I- I need you. I need you so much Joel. Alpha, please. Please. I need you. My alpha.” You plead, thrashing in the nest you made as his scent lingers in the fabric.

Joel shudders, his entire body flooded with pleasure at being called your alpha. His control slips slightly and his hand moves down to the knob. “I- you don’t - you’re not thinking clearly.” He pants out, his heart pounding in his chest and his own pheromones flooding into the air. “I- I can’t- it’s been so long since I’ve had an omega.” He confesses, knowing he would never be able to pull out of you. He wants to knot you too badly, to fill your aching cunt with his seed.

“I know I need you. I need you now. Please alpha, it hurts. I can’t - nothing is working. My hands hurt.” You sob, growing more desperate for him by the second as you push your fingers back inside of you but your wrist aches, making it hurt. You know that Tess was an alpha, both of them taking their needs out on each other without the emotional danger. “Please Joel. Alpha. I need you.” You beg, smelling his pheromones and another wave of slick coats your hand as you try to make yourself cum.

His cock throbs in his jeans and his head hits the door with a thud. The sound of you whining is gorgeous, making him start to turn the handle but he stops. Turning around and making sure the cabin door is locked and barred takes precious few minutes but his entire body is primed, listening to the sounds of your fingers plunging into your cunt and your moans of his name. He grabs the water bottle and bursts through the door of your room.

When he enters the room, your entire body cries for him, aching and you keep pushing your fingers into your cunt as his scent floods the room. He slams the door behind him and tosses the water bottle down, striding over to the bed and he pulls your fingers out of your cunt, making you whine. When he replaces them with his own, you moan loud in relief, tossing your head back as you cry out, “yes! Alpha!”

Joel groans when he feels how wet you are, his fingers immediately soaked with you and squelch as he pumps them deep into your needy cunt. “I’m here, this what you need, omega? You need an alpha to take care of you? To fuck you until you scream?”

“Yes. Yes. I need you. I need you alpha. I can’t - it’s not enough. Never enough.” You whine, delirious as his fingers already make you feel better than you did before he came in the room. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whine, hips rolling up to meet his fingers as he pumps them faster. “I’m gonna - oh. Oh.” You gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he makes you cum for the first time.

Joel hisses as your walls clamp down on his fingers. You’re so fucking tight, imagining that you’re going to feel even better when his cock is inside you. When his knot is inside you. “Give me another.” He demands, pulling his fingers almost completely out so he can add a third finger. “Give me one more and I’ll fuck you.” Joel promises, wanting to make sure you are nice and prepared for his cock, “be my good omega.” He coos, watching you whine and preen when he calls you his.

It’s too much and yet not enough, making you pant as his fingers stretch you out like you’ve desperately needed. “Alpha. Oh fuck.” You whine, reaching up to squeeze your own breasts when he presses his thumb to your clit, those thick digits twisting inside of you. “Yes!” You cry, almost sobbing as you clamp down on his fingers again, soaking his wrist with your slick.

“Good girl.” Joel growls, curling his fingers one last time before he pulls them out of your warm, wet cunt. “Can I enter your nest, omega?” He’s aware that you are calling for him, but this is your space, your comfort is priority. Most alpha snow didn’t observe the customs of pre-outbreak but he wanted you to control this. “Will you let me take care of you, sweet girl?”

You reach for him, hands shaking a little with the need still overwhelming you. Yes, he’s made you cum twice but it’s not enough. You need to feel him surrounding you, inside of you. “Please, alpha. I need you. Come here.” You beg, patting the pillows and blankets you have gathered around yourself, most of it with his scent but it’s nothing like the real thing. He strips off and you eagerly watch, his shirt coming off then his jeans and finally his threadbare boxers. You are all wearing worn clothing now, but when he’s naked, your mouth waters. “So - so beautiful.” You gasp in awe of the strong alpha Joel is. He’s a paradox. A strong man, capable, and yet he asked to enter your nest when most alphas would’ve already been pushing inside of you. He’s soft and caring yet fierce and unforgiving.

Joel climbs into the nest of blankets and pillows you’ve created, groaning at how you are already spreading your legs and inviting him inside you. “I cleaned up, omega.” He promises, knowing that some might not have taken the time, but he didn’t want to risk your health. Hovering over you with his cock hanging between you, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair to try and pull him closer. His cock is pressed against your thigh and it’s not close enough. His tongue slides against yours and you reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him.

“Stop.” He commands, his tone rough. He knows he will cum if you touch him too much. It’s been so long since he has filled someone, even longer since he had had an omega. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. “Let me take care of you, omega. You just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

You nod, letting go of his cock and he shuffles to kneel between your legs, gripping his cock to guide himself to your entrance. He slowly pushes into you, making you moan at the stretch, the connection is instantaneous but you don’t mention it, knowing he will withdraw from you, physically and emotionally. “Alpha.” You sigh in relief when he is fully inside of you.

Joel groans, closing his eyes and feeling the shift in your pheromones. You change from desperate and needy to pleased, the sweet scent of it filling your nest. “I’ve got you.” He promises. “I’ll take care of you.” He grinds his hips deeper before he starts to slowly withdraw. He knows you need to cum again, your heat demanding it. His hand slides down your thigh and he pulls it up onto his hip. “Such a good omega for me. Letting me take care of you.”

You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he starts to move inside of you. "Oh fuck, alpha. Joel." You pant, feeling the fire that threatened to consume you dampen a bit. The slow way he moves inside of you is tearing you apart, piece by piece, and you tilt your head so you can kiss along his jaw and down his neck, wanting him to feel the same way.

He knows that it’s been a long time since you’ve had a heat, since you’ve had sex, so he keeps the pace slow. Knowing that he could easily hurt you and he doesn’t want to do that. Too often omegas get caught up in the desperation and the alphas are uncaring and they injure the omegas they are supposed to be comforting. He had never understood that mentality, while he was harsh in many ways, he would never abuse an omega like that. “Good girl.” He coos in your ear, voice slipping into something smoother, lower pitched. “You’re going to take my knot and then feel so full, aren’t you? That what you want?”

His voice makes you shiver and you wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck. Yes alpha. That’s what I- I want. I need it. I need you to knot me.” Your voice is whiny, displaying the need you have for him. “I need it over and over again.” You pant, his hips pushing against yours when he buries himself deep on each thrust. Your stomach twists as he pushes you higher, slow grinds making you pant, and you eventually fall over the edge with a soft cry of his name, clamping down on his cock.

“Shit.” He hisses, leaning down and pressing his nose against your scent gland, inhaling the scent of your pleasure as he rocks into you. Working you through the first of many times you will fall apart on his cock before you are done with your heat. Often days are spent in the nest when a heat is on, the alpha caring for the omega and making sure that they are not neglecting  themselves. It’s been a long time since he has wanted to do that. Since his ex wife. He hadn’t bonded with her because they were so young and she had left him for another alpha shortly after Sarah had been born. He had never gotten attached to another omega since then. Until you.

You moan at how good it feels, the ache abading for a moment so you can properly breathe. "Fuck baby." You murmur, caressing his back, "alpha. Taking - taking such good care of me already." You sigh, burying your face in his neck to breathe him in. The smell of smoke and whiskey combined with the strength of Joel has you clenching around him, the need returning within a few moments of your orgasm. You won't be fully satisfied until he knots you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweet girl.” He moans, his tongue tracing your gland as he rolls his hips. Shifting onto his side so he can slide one hand between you. Finding your clit with the rough pads of his fingers to rub tight circles on the sensitive nub. “You’re doing so good. So good for me. Taking me perfectly. Gonna knot you, make you feel even better.” He rambles.

“Shit, I - I - fuck. Alpha.” You whine softly when he rubs your clit, making you clench around him, and you pant as he starts to rock into you once more, the new angle making him hit even deeper inside of you. “Oh God.” You moan, heels digging into his ass as you try to push him deeper with each rock of his hips, his hand trapped between you.

Turning his head, Joel kisses you. Absorbing your whines and mewls as his tongue slides into your mouth, loving how you are responding to him. A part of him had feared that he had changed too much, given up too much of his soul to be a good alpha for an omega. You are wonderfully pliant under him, giving him so much of yourself as he works his cock deeper and deeper, feeling the base of his cock starting to swell as he gets closer to knotting you.

You are getting close again, feeling his knot starting to catch inside of you, and you desperately want him to fill you up. Neither of you are thinking about the consequences of him fucking you raw like this but you can’t bring yourself to care, just needing him to fill you up. “Baby. Oh Alpha, I - I’m gonna -” You choke when he hits just right and makes you cum again, soaking him and making you throw your head back to expose your neck to him.

The urge to mark you, to bond you to him is nearly overwhelming. Making Joel growl as he picks up his pace. Instead of grinding into you, he starts thrusting harder, driving his cock deeper in an effort to push his expanding knot into your narrow passage and lock you together for the next hour. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You pant, pushed through your orgasm as Joel starts to fuck you, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Yes! Yes baby. Oh God. Alpha. Cum for me. Please, need you to fill me up.” You beg, closing your eyes as you are pushed over the edge again.

He knows the basic biology of this, knowing that in order to make your heat as comfortable as possible, your body demands his seed. Nothing but that would truly make you feel good. There are a million reasons why he shouldn’t fill you up, but he can’t pull out of you. Pushing harshly when the knot starts to swell, feeling it slip inside you with a groan of your name.

You feel the relief when his cum starts to paint your walls, knot catching to keep him inside of you as his cock pulses, a groan of your name and “omega” leaving his lips. “Fuck. Joel, alpha.” You murmur, pulling him close and you throw your head back again as you cum once more, triggered by his orgasm.

He cums forever, his cock pulsing and pumping you full of his seed. Knowing that his knot will be keeping you full and he will cum several more times before it goes down. “Good girl, oh take it.” He grunts, feeling better than he has in a long time. He kisses along your throat as you squeeze him tight again, shaking underneath him.

You want him to bite you, to claim you as his to every other alpha out there but you know it’s not possible. You pant, turning your head so you can kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth as his cock finishes twitching and you relax beneath him, legs lowering from his hips to cradle him on top of you.

Joel makes sure that he keeps his weight braces so he’s not too heavy on you, stroking your side and kissing along your shoulder. He feels a connection, one that should terrify him, but he just closes his eyes. Breathing you in with a soft sigh. “How are you feeling, omega?” He asks softly, opening his eyes as he pulls back to watch you.

“I’m feeling good, alpha.” You smile lazily, running your fingers through his hair. The need has been satiated for now and you are enjoying the feel of him surrounding you, his scent is comforting. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

“Good.” He hums, kissing your lips again before he slides his arms under you so he can roll you over on top of him. He can bear your weight better than you can his. Letting you sprawl out on top of him while he strokes your back. His knot is still firmly embedded inside you, so you aren’t going anywhere. “You can sleep, sweet girl. I know you are tired.”

You hum, closing your eyes as he caresses your back. You feel safe and satiated for the first time since you can’t even remember when. “Love you.” You murmur, falling asleep within moments of your soft confession.

****

“Fuck. Joel!” You squeal as he pounds into you from behind. He grips your hips and your body aches from the days of fucking but you are still needy for more. You need him to fill you up. “Fuck. Oh shit! Alpha!” You squeal, knowing that later on, you’ll cringe about the fact that Ellie is somewhere in the cabin, having to hear you, but you can’t stop yourself. He growls, jaw clenched and you look over your shoulder at the alpha pounding into you. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” You cry, falling forward onto your elbows.

“That’s it.” Joel hisses, feeling like he’s going to cum, but he needs you to cum first. You’re still so needy for him, and he’s doing his best to make sure you are looked after. Only leaving your nest a few times over the past few days to hunt and make sure Ellie is okay.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whine, clamping down on his cock as you cum, soaking him and your cheek presses into the blankets beneath you, the material permeated with your combined scents and it makes you shiver as his hands squeeze your flesh.

Every time he fucks you, he comes closer and closer to binding you to him, biting your gland and claiming you as his for everyone to know. Growling as he imagines it; he pushes his hips forward again, feeling his knot popping into your cunt as he starts to cum.

You whine when he starts to fill you up and you arch your back, loving the way his knot stretches you and his cum paints your walls. You moan his name followed by ‘alpha’ and you rest your cheek on the blankets, closing your eyes as you enjoy the feel of him filling you up. You’re not stupid, you know he’s likely gotten you pregnant during your heat with the amount of times he’s cum inside of you but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Panting, Joel collapses against your back, closing his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. Soon the three of you will need to move. To continue on to look for Tommy. “My good omega.” He murmurs softly, caressing your hip. He knows he needs to find a safe place for you. Somewhere that you can thrive, somewhere where omegas are treated with respect.

****

When the dog sniffs Ellie, your heart pounds in your chest, and you are glancing at Joel’s back, knowing he must be freaking out. Helpless to do anything when the alphas surround you. You close your eyes, not wanting to hear Ellie torn apart. She’s not an omega or alpha or beta like the dog is trained to identify, wanting to weed out the alphas who threaten most of mankind. When the world fell because of the virus, you knew that alphas had taken advantage, some feeling it was their right to take the world as their own, to bring society back to the old ways where omegas were second class citizens. When Ellie giggles, you relax a little and you sense the relief in Joel, connected after your heat. You’ve never spoken about your confession of love, just continuing your journey to find Tommy.

Joel feels lightheaded, heart pounding and he doesn’t know how you don’t smell the fear and desperation on him. Terrified that he can’t protect you, or Ellie from this group. He’s relieved when two horses are brought for the three of you to ride and he insists that you sit ahead of him, wanting you close.

You breathe Joel in as you enter the compound, wanting the comfort only he can bring and soon the horse is coming to a stop as he shouts his brother’s name. “Tommy!” He yells and you glance at Ellie, shocked to have found Joel’s brother.

After introductions are made, you are escorted to the cafeteria where the three of you dig into your meal like you haven’t eaten for weeks which is half true. It’s been too long since you had a proper meal and you are moaning when you shove the food into your mouth, feeling Tommy’s eyes on you.

Joel hisses at Ellie for being so crass, but he can’t reprimand you for eating vigorously. He knows you need the nutrients after your heat. You haven’t been able to properly have more than almost half of a rabbit or bird, Joel giving up most of his portions between you and Ellie. He’s stunned when he hears Tommy is bonded to the alpha at the table, Marie. His brother was never really cut out for the alpha designation and he frowns slightly at the two of them.

You want to comfort Joel, knowing it must be hard to know that the brother he has nearly died while trying to find is alive and well, thriving in a beautiful community. You want to reach for his hand but you aren’t bonded and you don’t want to overstep. Maria is quick to ask you and Ellie if you want to shower and you look at Joel for guidance, he nods and you all leave the cafeteria while Maria gives you a tour of the town. “Like communists?” Joel asks and you smother you giggle when his brother seems shocked by the phrase. 

“Joel. Can we talk?” Tommy asks and Maria says “I can take them to clean up.” 

You look at Joel who nods, “go on, omega.” You are anxious but you follow Maria to the house, glancing over your shoulder to see Joel one last time.

They have a bar. An honest to god fucking bar. Joel rubs the shiny, slick wood and shakes his head in disbelief as Tommy ambles behind the bar to pour him a drink. “Been a long time since we’ve done this.” He reminisces, unable to believe that he’s about to have a drink in comfort with his brother. Almost as if nothing has ever happened and the world wasn’t destroyed around this little community. “Surprising to see you bonded to an alpha.” He begins.

“Surprising to see you with an omega. Doesn’t look like you’ve bonded with her yet.” He says and Joel looks down at the bar while his brother pours a glass of whiskey with ice. 

“It’s complicated.” Joel murmurs and Tommy sets the glass down in front of him. 

“When isn’t it complicated?”

“She was with a couple of Betas in Kansas City. They- uh, when they were gone, I couldn’t leave her out there by herself.” Joel rationalizes. “You know what would have happened to her.”

Tommy nods, knowing how hard this world is for omegas. He barely manages as a beta and Maria saved him from the wilderness. “I can’t just leave.” Tommy says when Joel mentions going to Colorado, “I- I’m going to be a dad.” He reveals and Joel’s heart sinks, reminded of Sarah and how he failed her.

“I guess we’ll see.” Joel grunts after Tommy expressed that he’s thinking he’ll be a good father and that pisses his brother off. “We’ll see? I’m sorry about Sarah but-“ Joel’s heart clenches and he can’t even hear the rest of Tommy’s comment before he pushes away from the bar and storms out. Worried because he’s already failed once and there’s no way he didn’t get you pregnant when he worked you through your heat nearly two months ago.

****

You stare at the test in your hand, waiting for the result. When you walked into the bedroom to find the menstrual cup, you are reminded that you haven’t had your period for two months. Time tends to blur when you’re in the wilderness and you lost track, but you know it’s been about two months since you and Joel fucked. “Shit.” You groan when the test shows positive. You’d asked Maria for a test and her eyebrows had raised but she’d quickly located one for you and now it’s positive. You have to tell Joel.

Walking around has nearly ripped his heart out. Having a panic attack and Tommy finding him after he had seen a woman who from behind made him think of Sarah had been soul crushing. His fear of failure pulls tears out of the alpha and he feels like his designation had been wrong, he’s not an alpha. He can’t protect anyone. Tommy had talked some sense into him during his breakdown and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks to the house that he had been told that you and Ellie are in. Drawn back to you, and wondering how you are finding this little commune.

You look up when you see Joel walking into the room, your face stained with tears and you hold the test in your hand. His eyes flick down to it and he immediately knows. “I- I’m so sorry, Joel. This is all my fault.” You choke, knowing he won’t be happy about it. You’ve ruined everything. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want connections and you just created the biggest connection of all.

Joel closes his eyes, reaching for you blindly to pull you into his arms. “It’s okay omega.” He growls softly, aware that you were always going to end up pregnant after that week in your nest. Even if he hadn’t touched you since, he had filled you with his seed more times than he could count. “We knew it would happen.” He tells you softly, knowing you thought about it too, even if you hadn’t talked about it.

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in, and you let his scent comfort you. "I know but I - alpha. I know you didn't want connections." You murmur, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I'm so sorry baby." You choke, feeling guilty for making him fuck you during your heat when he tried so hard to leave you alone.

“I-“ Joel stops, thinking for a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m not.” He swallows harshly and reaches up, pulling your shirt down over your gland and rubbing his thumb over the skin. “Do you know how many times I wanted to mark you in your nest? Make you mine?” He asks softly. “You were desperate, needy for me, begging me to take care of you but I didn’t want to claim you when you were so desperate.”

Despite Joel being such a hard man, rough in so many ways, he’s soft underneath. His dark eyes meet yours and you cup his cheek, “I want you to make me yours. I’m not in my heat. If you want me, I’m yours, alpha.” You tell him, rubbing his jaw with your thumb.

His chest puffs up in pride, pleased with your answer even as he searches your eyes with a need to make sure you really want this. “I want you, omega.” He growls. “I want you to carry my mark, for everyone to know who planted their seed in your belly.” He inhales deeply. “Take me to the bedroom you claimed as yours.” He keeps the command out of his voice, giving you the choice to lead him to your room.

There isn’t a choice to make, you’ve been in love with him since before he marked you. You take his hand and guide him to the room you claimed as yours, down the hall from Ellie. He swallows harshly when you open the door and you turn towards him, wanting to be a good omega as you work on the buttons of his shirt, working on undressing him.

Joel lets you undress him, aware of what you are doing for him. What you are trying to show him. Watching you as every article of clothing falls to the floor, until you reach for your own shirt. Then he stops you. Wanting to undress you himself, he slowly lifts your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “My beautiful omega.” He groans, kneeling down and kissing your stomach before he starts to unbutton your jeans. “Took my seed and gave me hope.”

You look down as he kneels in front of you, pulling your jeans down, and you run your fingers through his hair, loving how he’s kissing your stomach. “My alpha. So strong. So brave.” You murmur, caressing his cheek and you step out of the jeans as he pulls them all the way down. “I love you, alpha.”

He leans into your touch, knowing that you won’t think him weak for taking comfort from you. Some alphas think that finding comfort in their omega beyond just physical is weak but he doesn’t. “I- I love you, omega.” He murmurs before he whispers your name. Peeling your panties down and he licks his lips. “Put your leg on my shoulder, omega.”

You follow his order, body shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotion surging through you, and you stumble slightly as you lift your leg onto his shoulder. His nose trails along your thigh, pressing kisses on the flesh and you sigh, pulling on his hair to get him to move faster. When his tongue slides through your folds, you throw your head back with a moan of his name.

The entire time he had been in your nest, there hadn’t been time for oral. You had been too needy for his cock, tongue and fingers unable to do the job that his knot did. Now, he groans at the tangy taste of your cunt, enjoying the fact that you’ve showered and are ready for him. His nose presses deep into your curls as his tongue pushes into your soaked walls.

You whimper, looking down at him, and his eyes are closed as his nose presses against your clit. “Oh fuck, Joel.” You pant, moaning as his tongue pushes deep. You love the way he groans into your flesh and your heart pounds in your chest. “Oh shit. I- I need you inside of me. Please.” You beg, wanting to feel him.

Joel can’t deny you, not when he desperately wants to be buried inside you again. Taking one last, long lick of your cunt, he pulls away reluctantly. “Go lay down on your bed, baby.” He grunts, smirking up at you. “I want to mark you in a bed, be inside you when I claim you as mine.” 

You nod, shifting to lay down on the bed. Settled against the pillows, you look up at him as he stands at the foot of the bed. “Do you want me on my hands and knees?” You ask, wondering if he wants you in the traditional claiming position.

His cock twitches, imagining taking you from behind as he bites into your scent gland, permanently bonding you to him. But he shakes his head, wanting to look at your face when you cum, watch your face as you realize that you are bound to him. “I want to take you on your back.” He tells you quietly, waiting for your reaction. 

You nod, keeping your eyes on him as you spread your legs to show him your dripping folds, wet with your arousal and his saliva. “Take me, alpha. I’m yours. In every way.” You promise, caressing your stomach.

“I am yours too.” He promises, knowing that even if he claims you, you hold a claim on him too. He doesn’t want to just possess you, he wants to be possessed by you. He crawls onto the bed and drops another kiss onto your stomach, and he looks up at you. “You are mine and I am yours.” It’s the closest that he would get to marriage now, the institution didn’t exactly exist anymore but he knows he will try to find you a ring to wear. Something beyond his marks. 

You smile, tears stinging in your eyes as you watch the man you love crawl up your body until his cock is sliding through your folds. “I love you.” You sigh and he starts to push into you, making you whimper and you caress his neck, pulling him close so you can press your lips to his.

You smile against his lips when he kisses you, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer, and you love how he pushes deeper inside of you. You feel safe, his scent making you feel protected and loved. “Oh God, Joel.” You moan when he shifts onto his elbows, adjusting the position so he’s pressing against your back wall.

He feels the way that you yield to him. The scent of your happiness unfurling around him as he starts to rock into you. He keeps the pace slow, aware that you are more sensitive now that you are carrying. He doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby for his own needs. “My beautiful omega. My love.” He moans, kissing along your neck, straying away from the scent gland. 

His words make you preen and you slide your leg along his, wanting to feel closer as he rocks into you. Your hands caress his back and you whine when he pushes deep, “baby. Oh baby.” You pant when the hairs at the base of his cock brush your clit.

“Hmm.” Joel smirks against your skin, happy he can make you breathless. “You like that don’t you? Like the way I take care of you?” His tongue presses against your gland and he licks the clean skin and groans at the way you taste. The burst of pleasure flooding from your pores. “Always gonna take care of you.” 

You whimper, loving his words, the comfort coming from his scent, and you love his accent seeping through as he gets lost in the pleasure. "Fuck. I- I love you." You moan, so close to your orgasm. The pregnancy has made you sensitive. "Fuck, I - I'm gonna - Joel." You moan as you clamp down around him, your cry going silent from the pleasure coursing through you.

Joel groans, closing his eyes and shuddering as you clamp down around him. “Perfect.” He hisses. “My perfect omega.” His hips rock forward more eagerly, chasing his own orgasm as he lets his teeth scrap over your gland.

"Do it." You beg breathlessly, "make me yours. I'm yours alpha. Show the world who I belong to." You want him to sink his teeth into your gland, to claim you as his forever because you already belong to him in every other way.

Joel growls, pulling his lips back and with a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you. Sinking his teeth into your gland and breaking the skin to mark you as his. Filling you with his seed as he groans and the coppery taste of your blood hits his teeth.Joel growls, pulling his lips back and with a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you. Sinking his teeth into your gland and breaking the skin to mark you as his. Filling you with his seed as he groans and the coppery taste of your blood hits his teeth.

You cum again at the feel of his teeth in your neck, claiming you as his. You whimper, clinging to him as his cock pulses inside of you, filling you up, and you know this is where you've always belonged. In his arms. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel safe, protected, and loved. Something you never imagined before you met Joel.

[ermdotorg]

i rewrote newt's death scene when i finished reading the books awhile back. it's basically the movie and book death combined in flashback form from a little safe haven au i ended up scraping.

i did have to watch the scene in the movie and read the scene in the book which was actually awful— but i think it came out okay despite the sobs i had to write it through.

lmk how you feel about it lol <3

cw: canon violence, mean words, death, and tragic gays

“Shut your mouth you shuck traitor.” Newt rasped, chest heaving with exhaustion as he sat atop of Thomas, eyes mad and bearing into him painfully, “Didn’t you read my note? You couldn’t do this one last, lousy thing for me? I hate you, I’ve always hated you!”

The pair began wrestling, Newt fighting to strangle him and Thomas holding the wrists of the other in an attempt to save himself. He knew he didn’t mean it, but every word felt like a bullet to his heart, “Newt, please, please stop.”

“You could’ve stopped them, the Creators, you could’ve figured out a way. But no! You had to keep going, try to save the world, be a hero. And you came into the Maze and never stopped! You only ever cared about yourself, admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one they worship! We should’ve tossed you right down the damn Box Hole!” Every word seemed to tire him further, but he kept going nonetheless, fighting Thomas with monstrous strength.

“I hate you Tommy!” he cried, “After everything I did for you, everything, you can’t even do the one bloody thing I ask? I don’t even want to look at your shuck ugly face!”

“Newt,” he muttered, pain overrun by fear, “I can’t-”

“I should rip your eyes out.” the sick boy seethed, bearing teeth, “Teach you a lesson in stupidity.” he paused, fighting Thomas’ grasp for a moment, “Told you about me jumping off the bloody walls, didn’t I?”

He nodded, entirely engulfed by terror as the other continued, “I hated that place Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was… all… your… fault!”

His friend suddenly dropped his arms and reached for the gun holstered on Thomas’ side, pressing the nose of it to his own temple as he squeezed his eyes shut, ready. Thomas shouted and lurched forwards, knocking it far across the pavement before shoving Newt off and scrambling to stand.

“Kill me Tommy!” Newt called hoarsely, struggling to his feet.

He shook his head violently as the other unveiled a knife from his belt, one he'd recognized as his own, “I– I can’t.”

“Make amends!” he screeched before hurling towards Thomas, the blade swinging in every direction as he narrowly avoided it, horrified at the words, at what the other wanted from him. “Repent for what you did! Kill me you shuck coward! Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.”

He trembled as they circled one another, the weapon still clutched in the sick boy’s hand, “Newt maybe we can-”

“Shut up! Just Shut up! I trusted you, only you, with the note. Just do it!”

How could he possibly ask this of him? How could he say such things? “I can’t! I can’t.”

“Do it!”

“I can’t!”

Newt ran at him again, this time successfully throwing both of them to the ground as he fought to drill a knife into the flesh over Thomas' heart. He gripped his friend's wrists, groaning with effort as the other fought against him, “Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters!”

“I can’t.” he rasped, attention locked on the losing battle between them. He felt the tip of the blade push into his skin, and he cried out as it shoved further in. He felt the pain, the sting of something foreign breaking through flesh, but nothing could compare to the fear of not being able to hold his friend off any longer.

Suddenly Newt released his hold, the weapon thrown a few feet to their right as Thomas hissed in pain, looking up to see his friend examining their state, eyes clear. “I’m so– I’m sorry Tommy.”

“‘Ts okay, it’s okay Newt.” he murmured, hands still clenched around the others forearms as Newt gripped at his shoulder, breathing heavily. The clarity vanished once more, sickness returning and bidding the blonde to jump off and reach for the blade again. Thomas was on his feet as the other got ahold of the weapon, and there they stood, a short distance between them that felt like worlds away.

“Kill me, or I’ll kill you.” Newt rasped, every word looking painful, “Kill me! Do it!”

“Newt…”

“Do it before I become one of them!”

“I-” he bit down a sob, taking in the other and praying for Minho to return quickly, “I can’t.”

Newt stepped to him, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, “Kill me.”

Thomas shook his head, unmoving despite the urge. Newt closed the distance until they stood less than a foot apart, the weapon held out at Newt’s side, “Kill me, Tommy.”

“No.” he muttered.

“Kill me!” he shouted, splattering spit over Thomas’ face. It seemed as though it took all of Newt’s efforts to keep himself still, his entire body trembled violently, until it suddenly fell still. Newt met his eyes, which had found sanity once more, and in the lowest, most pitiful voice he whispered, “Please, Tommy. Please.”

He yearned for mercy, and Thomas wanted to grant him it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t live without him, he couldn’t have done anything without him. He needed him. “Newt I can’t, you’re my–”

Newt gave a guttural cry as the Flare overtook him again, raising the knife which Thomas barely blocked, throwing the blonde away from him as he stepped back, putting as much distance between them as he could. Newt seemed to have lost his voice, because he only watched him with animalistic rage as he turned to face him once more.

Without a word he lunged, slashing the blade over and over until finally they collided, sharp gasps sounding from both of them as they met in an embrace. Thomas wrapped his arms around the other, just for a moment, before he’d have to continue on fighting him until their friends returned with the Serum.

Newt fell still though, ragged breaths turned mute as he leaned away a bit. Thomas pulled back, staring into the boy’s face before turning his gaze down to see the butt of the knife sticking out from Newt's chest, the sheen of metal concealed in his flesh.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 5

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Curtis takes your plate and empty glass. The tension thickens as your impatience mounts. You really just want to get out of here. You want to go home and wash the night off of you.

You struggle to come up with a smooth exit line so you grab your phone. You have a voicemail from Andy. You hit one to listen to it and put the speaker to your ear. It’s the typical far, call back if you’re available to come in. You really don’t feel like it but it would be a good excuse. Too bad you’re a bad liar.

You hit delete and lean your arm against the side of the couch.

“Boss calling again? Sure seems desperate.”

You look at Curtis sharply, once more frightened by his silent entrance. Your lips part as you weigh the lie on the tip of your tongue. You just want to go, no need to make it that complicated.

You stand up and squeeze your phone tight, pressing it against your skirt, “thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, no problem, it was good?”

“Very, uh,” you gaze around and try to wet your dry mouth, “it was nice. All of it, but I should get go–”

“I can drive you home,” he offers, “I’d hate for you to waste the money on a cab.”

“N-no, that’s… that’s fine. I couldn’t–”

“You know, you don’t have to go right away,” he gets closer, “I don’t know…” he’s right in front of you, closing you in by the couch, “I had fun, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” your words squeak thinly, “but I…”

“We could have a bit more,” his eyes plunge down hungrily.

“I… right,” you giggle softly, nervously, “I really think I should shower–”

“I have a shower,” he insists. “Come on, Bunny,” he reaches out to pinch a fold in your skirt, “just a little more…”

“Curtis, I… you’re a really nice guy…”

“And…” he brings his other hand up and frames your hip, his eyes stormy as he watches how he touches you, “...I got a really nice…” he urges you back until your legs touch the front of the sofa, “mouth…”

He squeezes your hips and sits you down. You find it hard to resist as his warmth swallows you and his thumbs press into you, sending a fiery twang through you. You catch yourself against the couch and gasp.

His hands quickly glide down and he bunches up your skirt in his fists. He squeezes and gives a growl. You spread your hands across the fabric to keep him from pushing it higher.

“Curtis, please,” your voice warbles, “I don’t–”

“Please,” he bats his dark lashes up at you, “I’m not ready to let you go, bunny.”

“I…”

You don’t know what to say. You’re tired, you feel dirty, and quite frankly, you’re not sure how much more you can take. More, deep down, you’re a bit scared. He’s awake now, he’s sober, he’s seen you, and you’re just waiting for him to realise what you are.

“I want a taste, bunny,” he leans forward to nuzzle your chest, “Can I…”

You’re frozen. Your fingers tingle and wiggle, your heart hammers, and your head spins. You’ve never had a guy act this way with you. Insatiable, almost desperate.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he trails a hand up to cup your chest, “Didn’t I tell you that?” He fondles you and kisses your chest through your shirt. “You want me to tell you again, you’re so beautiful, so sexy…”

He squeezes your chest and nudges your back against the couch. He bends his neck as his other hand inches up your thigh, parting it from the other. Your leg twitches and you hold your breath. Protests shriek in your head but they just won’t come out.

He flips up your skirt and you let out a pathetic noise. You clutch the pleating of your skirt and the cushion beside you. He bows and you feel his breath as he opens you up to him. You watch him, a vibrant sensation rolls over you and it’s as if you’re both trapped in your own body and watching yourself from afar.

His fingers flutter along your folds and exhales over you, his heat dampening the trim of hair along your cunt. He spreads you with his rough touch and glides his tongue between your lips. He flicks down your clit and back up, swirling around your cluster of nerves until you buck. You moan as ripples radiate from your core.

“Please…” you give one last weak plea.

“You’re so good, baby,” he speaks to your cunt, his lips tickling you, “fucking delicious, you know that?”

He spreads his tongue and tastes you, lapping as his other hand grips your side. His long thumb digs into your stomach as he holds you in place. You quiver as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, pressure pinpointing at your most tender spot. You whine and stretch your hand over the soft hair at his crown.

He hums and delves into your more eagerly. He wiggles his head empathically as the noise of his mouth underlines your droning mewls. You sink back into the couch, almost vibrating as you’re overcome by his diligent doting.

[gaysindistress]

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest Warnings: Nothing is explicit, but since Bucky is lowkey inspired by Hans Landa, take care of yourself and skip if you need to. Mentions of being stabbed/stabbing someone. part one - untitled

Tag list: @learisa @svtelliteseb

A sharp pain struck his chest from deep within. Perhaps this pain was in his heart but that would require such an organ to still be beating there and the shriveled piece of flesh in its place had died long ago. 

One hand reached for the stability of a wall while the other clasped his face in agony. Desperate for some form of relief, he clutched at the bleeding wound but he knew that it was in vain. Instead he ignored it, working through it, using it to fuel strength that would provide him with a way out of this mess. But nothing seemed to work. For a moment he thought about everything he might lose if he gave in to the pain and everything that would come of it. The war had already started and the nation he worked for was quickly advancing, their plan moving faster than the leadership was prepared for but greed powered them. A greed that was as old as time itself; the desire to dominate and obtain power. He never believed in any of it. He had an understanding of how the world worked and knew that his survival in this dog eat dog world depended on his ability to blend in. Their symbols meant nothing to him. Their ideology was not his driving force and if anyone dared to slander him with their name, he would calmly remind them that only the uneducated and ignorant fall prey to the pretty words of the powerful. 

Just because he wore the uniform did not mean he, himself, was one of them nor did he believe in their ideology. 

However it seemed as though he was the only one that shared that sentiment and the evidence was in the way pain laced through his face and blood poured down his hand. He had tried to explain to her, his sweet Fräulein, that he was only breaking his promise to protect her and himself. It was a matter of safety and concern that he went back on the one thing that he had, his word. She had not seen it that way and was sooner to slit his throat if he tried to speak again. 

She had stumbled into the wall across from him and was failing at keeping herself upright as she stared at him. Hot tears filled her eyes as she held that dagger in front of her and stared at him. Hatred, fear, judgment, and most importantly dying love swimmed in her eyes. The last emotion hurt him more than the blade that sliced his face and eye. 

“Fräulein,” he muttered as he too struggled to keep from falling, “let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she spat at him, “You want to talk?”

“Please.” It was unlike him to beg or plead or even ask but for her he would. 

“No.”

“Fräulein.”

She pushed up against the wall with her free hand and slowly inched her way to the door that led to her freedom. She watched him with an unwavering gaze as she slipped further and further from his grasp. 

“No, I do not want to talk to you. I do not want anything from you ever again, James.”

She was only feet from the door when he spoke, “Don’t go. I can keep you safe. I can care for you now.”

“I will kill you if I ever see you again,” she whispered as she dropped the pathetic shard of glass she’d used as a dagger and ran. 

He let out a pained yell and called out her name but she was gone. 

“No, Fräulein. There is another way but you will not like it.”

Her nose twitches at the underlying message behind his words. Of course he would threaten to kidnap her. She wasn’t surprised, more disappointed that he had fallen so far into the clutches of their enemy. 

“And what exactly is this other way?”

James thought for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette and let the smoke sit in his mouth. He let it slowly flow between parted lips before he inhaled it again through his nose and blew it back out. The silence felt like an answer to her question but she was a naturally curious person and would demand words instead of his chosen quiet. 

“I should be thanking you.” he says as he snuffs out his finished cigarette, “Your lovely parting gift has worked in my favor.” She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. 

“The new recruits seem to think I earned it during a fight with our enemy.”

Our. 

She rolls her eyes at him and pulls her cardigan around her tighter as the early morning breeze sweeps in. With it are ashes and the smell of fire, no doubt coming from the fire outside. 

“Although I wouldn’t call you an enemy. An annoyance, a thorn in my side, maybe but never my enemy.”

The confidence in his voice is astounding and it gets worse the more he speaks, “The other way isn’t favorable but you know better than anyone that I will do whatever it takes to get what I want.”

“And that is why you don the uniform of a Hydra officer? A pathetic Nazi swine nonetheless?”

His jaw tightens and his fingers that rest on the table beside him tense. The chair groans once more as he stands and circles the table to stand next to her. They hold each other’s stare as he pushes her chair back and forces her to make room for him to kneel in front of her. He peels the glove from his left hand where a thin silver band rests on his ring finger; a twin to the one that she wears on chain around her neck. He takes her left hand in his and rubs his thumb over her ring’s indentation has long faded. 

She wants to tear her hand away and slap him but she can’t. She’d lost her husband that night two years ago and in his place is a monster that wears his face and uses his voice to seduce her. What a sweet death it would be to allow herself to fall into his arms and let him make good on his promises. Instead her vision becomes blurry as tears fill her eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from her side and threatens to crush her insides from within. Her mind races, half panicked, half confused, as she stares at James in disbelief. There must be an answer to this pain and she looks down to see find a knife sticking out from her side. An endless sleep begs for her to close her eyes. Her head feels light, everything around her starting to spin and a feeling of nauseousness keeps up slowly as she weakly shoves at him. He grabs the back of her head and shushes her while pulling her into him. Tears pour from her eyes and her hands become wet with blood, trembling and her teeth are gritted. 

“I am sorry, my sweet Fräulein. A world without either of us is not worth living in so you’ll have to forgive me for ensuring that we will not be apart.”

Such pretty words from such a powerful man.

[alilbatflies]

Hi there, just found your "just cake" fic and I am interested in how it continues.

What i'm saying is, please continue this fic, villainxhenchman is now one of my favorite writeblr tags.

-@the-agency-archives

Hi! I'm glad you liked part 1. Now get ready for...

...

Just Cake #2

The commonly known thing about old-fashioned traps was that when they failed to trap you, you got to tease the creator of it relentlessly. A net, seriously? People have tried before, sweetheart. Better luck next time.

The inconvenient thing about old-fashioned traps was that when done properly, they did their job damn well. It was exceptionally embarrassing to get caught in one. You should have seen that coming. Alas, you didn’t. Fool.

The henchman had tried pushing the villain out of the way once they noticed the trap. So now they were both caught. The villain hovered over them in the really quite cramped space of the net. Wasn’t that wonderful?

The villain gave the net a testing jerk. It didn’t do them any good.

“Who the fuck even uses nets these days?” the villain hissed.

“It does seem we’re quite literally trapped, boss.”

“No, we’re fuckin– not–” the villain tugged on the net violently– “UNSTUCK YOURSELF!”

“That’s not how traps work, boss.”

It was a definitely never to be mentioned ever again kind of situation, really.

The villain settled into a relative silence. They clawed at the net with one of their blades while growling and cursing occasionally. They tended to be silent most of the time, but the henchman knew very well just how varied their cursing vocabulary was.

They were sure the villain had far exceeded their word limit for the day. Their voice was furious. Cutting.

But not cutting enough to slice through the ropes.

Henchman smiled at their internal commentary; glad they didn’t blurt it out like they so often managed.

There was nothing better to do, and so they watched the villain struggle. They hung really quite skillfully above the henchman, somehow not falling down on top of them. Not that the henchman would especially mind. It was quite cold out there.

They briefly wondered who would even set up a trap that far out in the woods. The obvious answer was someone who lived around. Secret hideouts and all that jazz.

The thing which bothered them the most however was that whoever set the trap up was skilled. Skilled enough to have them both trapped. The villain especially was not easily trapped. Once that whoever came around, they would still be stuck and practically at their mercy. The henchman doubted there would be mercy to be found.

The net moved under the villain’s persistent attempts.

Cold air breezed past. The henchman came to the conclusion that someone showing up was better than freezing to death. 

The villain’s yell startled them out of their thoughts.

“SCREW THAT!”

“Screw me,” please.

The villain obviously stopped themself from cursing again, turning to look at the henchman. “Hm?” they said, which henchman translated as ‘you’ve said something?’

“Nothing.”  Here we go again. Saying stuff.

The villain measured the few nicks they managed to inconvenience the rope with. They huffed an exhale. “That’s not going to work, is it?”

“I’d presume we won’t be able to get out of a net specifically made to capture and hold magical things, boss.”

The villain huffed another exhale. They hid their knife. Then they looked down at the henchman, slumping slightly.

“Do you suppose I could sort of hm… flop down on you? Really uncomfortable up here.”

“Conserve your energy.”

The villain slumped on top of them.

The net was quite uncomfortable under their back even before, but with the added weight, it reached a whole new stage of discomfort. There was nothing the henchman could do about that. Except for maybe miraculously breaking them both out of the trap and acting like it never happened. A minion could dream.

“You’re warm,” the villain said.

“Huh.” The henchman didn’t really manage to figure out a better reaction. They felt too warm entirely, just about bellow the boiling point. It definitely had nothing to do with their proximity. Nope. Not at all.

They both stayed perfectly still.

The henchman considered shuffling, but they had a feeling it would be even more uncomfortable than before.

“Do you regret anything?”

The villain seemed to mumble that mostly to themself, but given the whole situation, the henchman caught it anyway.

“Don’t think about dying yet, boss. We’ll have plenty of chances to make it out.”

The villain hummed, unconvinced.

The henchman hardly convinced themself, so it was no surprise. They decided to answer the villain’s question at least. Death loomed over them with the deft finality of a trap shutting down with chilling-to-the-bones precision. Just like it did.

Nothing to lose but the vague concept of dignity, huh?

“I regret ruining your birthday cake.”

The villain was perfectly still for a moment. Then they lifted themself to look the henchman in the eyes. “My what?”

“Well… you see, the thing that splattered on your doorstep… on your birthday day?”

The villain blinked.

The henchman looked away. It was such an awkward thing, wasn’t it? Of all the things they could have chosen… then again. You make someone cake and then you drop it like a clumsy tool. The sole act of baking the villain cake was borderline ridiculous and entirely unprofessional, too.

“You know when my birthday is?”

“You mentioned you were born on Vampire Day once, in relation to the Candle Parade, so that’s a day after the autumn equinox, so… That’s that.”

The villain hummed quietly, thinking. They rested back down.

The henchman held perfectly still, as if that could somehow remove all of their embarrassment. They measured their breathing, for all it was worth. They had a feeling the villain could sense how uncomfortable they were anyway, but hopefully played it on the whole stuck-in-a-net situation.

“Nobody’s ever given me birthday cake before.”

“Oh, really?” The henchman tried to see the villain’s face. It was a whole new of an uncomfortable movement, so they stopped.

“You’re the first.”

“But I’ve…” Ruined it. Splattered it. Fucked up spectacularly. “…dropped it.”

“Worse things happen,” the villain said. “I appreciate the effort.”

“I didn’t even wish you… anything.” It had been a busy day. The henchman forgot about the villain’s birthday, except for all of the inconvenient times when they really couldn’t say their thing. Like in the middle of a fight, when they were in the bathroom, or when the villain finally fell asleep and the henchman didn’t want to wake them up.

Might as well fix that now. “Happy belated birthday.”

“Hm. Thank you.”

It made the henchman very comfortably warm. Convenient for the villain, they supposed, since they were being used as a personal heater at the moment.

“What’s your regret?”

“Hm?” The villain sounded almost startled.

“Your regret.” Henchman tried to adjust their head to get at least a little bit more comfortable. It only got worse. They rested back to the way they were. “You know my regret. I want to know yours.”

It took the villain a long time to make a sound again. The henchman thought perhaps they crossed the professional line too far, stepped just beyond the acceptable. They prepared their sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that but the villain spoke first.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

They are very fidgety all of a sudden. But at least they sounded like the henchman’s head might stay on their neck.

“So.” The villain cleared their throat. They searched for words and seemed to come out short.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I’m…” The villain inhaled deeply. In a wave of composure, they spoke at once: “Actually, it partly involves you—I mean, it entirely involves you—and the thing is that you, sincerely–”

The villain’s attention shifted.

The henchman felt the silence settle over them. The last words were like stones falling into the lake, vanishing to leave but circles running on the surface.

In the silence, the henchman finally registered the someone moving closer.

The villain shifted in an attempt of a defence position despite the power-suppressing net and the inconveniently squished henchman underneath them. They bared their teeth in a snarl.

“Look who we’ve caught,” an entirely too sweet voice said. “Well, aren’t you two adorable?”

...

Part 3

[onigiriforears]

After approx. 2-3 months of studying Japanese I started to read free graded readers online and then graduated to a collection of short stories that I purchased off of Amazon. I thought that the reason I was starting to have trouble understanding sentences was because I didn't know enough vocabulary but it was because I neglected grammar completely. It was sorta drilled into my head off of Youtube creators to just study kanji, vocab and simple sentences as much as possible before even touching grammar. I feel absolutely lost, dude. I am at the 5 month mark now. I can "breeze through" kanji for the most part. (as in, I can actually retain it in a decent amount of time) I decided to study grammar about a week ago. It is SO FREAKING HARD. I don't know if there's something wrong with me or what. I don't know if it's supposed to feel like what I thought I knew is being ripped apart at the seams, stapled together, and then torn apart again....but it does.

Do you have any tips for learning grammar? Is this feeling normal? Can you tell me when the pressure in my skull will subside? I am using Bunpro's free trial but I'm unsure if this tool will actually help me. I write tons of notes to flip through but I still fail to give them the nuanced answer they're looking for. I really enjoy the setup of Bunpro and I want to like it since it's similar to WK but I'm not sure if I'm going too fast or there's a better way to learn. I stopped learning 5 new grammar points a day and started doing only 2. (I also have Genki I and watch GameGengo. He explains things in a way that's easy for my brain to understand.) Sorry for the long post but any insight would be appreciated. I'm a bit nervous asking people in the language learning community for help or insight because a lot of them treat it as a way to show how fast they learned/1-up others. Tumblr's langlearn community is a lot different with what I've seen (or maybe I'm just following the right ppl lol)

Hi! Thank you so much for waiting for this response--I'm sorry it took so long. Your message was one of the ones that popped up when they locked my ask box (they actually still haven't answered me on why it was locked so 🤷‍♀️). To make up for that, I'm gonna be longwinded because I think that this is a super valid and important question that others may also want to know the answer to!!

Pls pls PLEASE DM me if none of this is helpful or if you'd like to talk more about what you think you need help with!!

I think that sometimes when we're learning a new language that we know is so overwhelmingly different from our own language, we focus on the things that we think will be the main hinderance and sometimes we forget the key points. You might be thinking "how did I forget grammar?" but I would say don't beat yourself up about it! Many of us focus on the things that we think are our problems(--the last time I studied for the JLPT, I focused on my weak point too much and then was frustrated with myself during the exam bc I neglected the other areas.)

I don't want to lie to you and say that learning grammar will is going to get easier because that's not the case for everyone. Think of learning grammar vs everything else as learning different types of math or science--have you ever had a friend that was absolutely phenomenal at algebra or calculus but couldn't do geometry? Or a friend that was wonderful lab partner in chemistry but struggled in biology? They're struggling in biology because it requires a ton of rote memorization in comparison to practical application and math that's present in chemistry and rote memorization may not necessarily be their strong point. Personally, I think that's also why a lot of us struggle with certain grammar points. There are some that just click with us immediately and then there are others that we have to see over and over and over and over and over--you get the point--just for us to find a single sentence with it that we understand. If you're math oriented, we need to figure out a way to no longer make grammar points rote memorization for you, but to turn it into a formula of some sort. I actually write my notes out in ways that are like that--I use plus signs (+) in my notes not because the textbooks use them but because my brain genuinely reads it as "noun + particle + grammar point = a sentence that makes sense" because, for me, formulas don't fail. Your weak point doesn't have to be your weakness--you can turn the weakness into a strength that works just for you.

I've been going at this for years and every single professor or Japanese friend (or even people from the discord server) I have can tell you that I've struggled with pretty much any grammar point that included ~ように--and it wasn't because I wasn't trying, but because I couldn't find myself using any sentences that with those grammar points because I found the alternatives/similar ones to make more sense. Surprisingly, it wasn't until I was reading 夜カフェ for our book club that I was actually able to start grasping the meaning (ngl, I still haven't used it myself--I'm notorious for using alternatives); I was finally witnessing it being used in a way that made sense in my brain.

The frustration you're feeling when you encounter a new grammar point or overload yourself with too many things in one go is completely normal and I promise that a ton of us in the Japanese langblr community have definitely experienced it too! It probably feels like everything you know is being ripped apart because your native language may have a SVO (subject-verb-object) format while Japanese has a SOV (subject-object-verb) format--your 1-to-1 translations for your notes may not be helpful in the beginning because you're still trying to wrap your brain around the fact that your words still need to go in another order than you're used to. And then you add the new grammar points and concepts on top of that (like particles and other things) and it can become overwhelming and frustrating. Sometimes, you're going to find some grammar points just downright annoying--especially when you find that there's no equivalency to it in your own language. But don't give up!

I know this is a super cliché thing to say, but practicing them will help. If you can, I would make note of the grammar points that you're struggling with, try to make sentences with them, and ask somebody to check them and explain exactly why (or why not) they're working and then ask them for examples because they may have an even better way of explaining it to you than what you've come up with for yourself!

I can look back at old notes and see when I wrote a sentence as an example just because a textbook/professor used it but I didn't actually understand why it worked at the time and then I can also find notes where the sentences written as examples were added once I finally found something that clicked for me.

You've already done yourself a favor by learning a lot of vocab, kana, and kanji because now you'll be able to try out an array of ways to pick up grammar instead of just a textbook. (I will make a note that if you're looking to take the JLPT, I would recommend having a list of grammar points that you would need to know for the level that you're planning on sitting for because there's no guarantee of what will or won't pop up on the test.)

Another important thing while you're practicing: be comfortable with making mistakes. We all make them, but when you're learning a new language it's important to be ready to make mistakes and to welcome them with open arms because it gives you a chance to experience and learn in real time.

ALSO: for you specifically--because you're interested in reading, you might enjoy learning grammar through tracking the different grammar points through what you're reading and using the sentences as your examples because they're all going to be cohesive. And if reading books or other things totally turn you off right now, maybe games? Animal Crossing and Pokemon are very nice games to play in Japanese for people that are just starting out! You may also enjoy using Lingo Legend--it's an JRPG language learning app that I beta tested and I think that it's a nice way to review (it has some fun incentives). I'm not a big gamer, so I struggle with learning through games, but I've been picking up a lot of grammar through reading because I focus on finding things that I'm interested in, rather than things that are "at my level." When I start a manga, I will scour a ton of websites and forums and bug a ton of people when I come across a grammar point that I can't wrap my brain around because I want to be able to understand what's going on.

We have book clubs and gamers in my discord server, as well as places for people to post what they're practicing or to ask for help. We have people of all varying levels and different skillsets that love to share their wisdom with others.

I haven't used Bunpro, but I know that @sammilearns has, so she may be able to weigh in on that! And @tokidokitokyo @nihongoseito @chouhatsumimi @kanpeki-bekki @burgeoning-ambition probably also have even more tips that me--I'm trying to tag people that I know we all learn in different ways, so their tips and tricks might be just what you need!

Please weigh in, fellow langblr members! How have you been learning grammar? Are you game-ifying it? Have you turned it into math equations? Have you managed to tie it in with your special interest? I can't wait to see what people add to this post!