#reunion: song of the providence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitch-for-bo · 6 days ago

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"How Do Ya Like Me Now?" Tsundere Cowboy! Sukuna x chubby reader

All-size, friendly but written w a plus-size woman in mind.

Guys please humor me and listen to the song “How do you like me now” by Toby Keith b4 u read this because that’s the song that started my fever dreams about Tsundere Cowboy! Sukuna that bullied you in school cuz he was so in love with you until you left for college. But now ur back in town for a stupid reunion, and you’re different and he’s EVEN MORE different. He knows EXACTLY what he wants now ;)

this is a loooooooooong one.... enjoy if you dare ;)'

MINORS DNI!!!!! true form Sukuna but make him a sexy cowboy

It didn’t start here. Under the low lights, inside of a seedy, smoke-filled bar where he caught you trying to drown yourself in tequila and limes. No, it never starts in a place like that. It started years ago, back when you knew where your life was going, when you knew what you wanted and nothing would stop you from getting it. And nothing DID stop you from achieving your dreams. Here you were, not only a major success in your desired field but also voted the most successful superlative for your stupid high-school reunion.

THAT is where it all started. High school. And no not in the lame “the one who got away” way, it was in the whole “the one who tortured you half to death until you finally escaped to college” way.

See, you were always the perfect one, the valedictorian small-town, big-dreams sweetheart, and he was just the aloof, destined-blue-collar-worker-to-be boy with a mysterious vendetta to make your life absolute hell.

And he was successful to a fault. You remembered the countless times that he spray painted your number on the football field, writing “call for a good time ;)” under it with the singular goal of directing disgusting calls towards your voicemail to the point you changed your number more than once to avoid harassment.

To be fair, that was the worst of it, the majority only being psychological torture within the walls of the school. Stealing your homework answers, spreading rumors of either your lack of OR surplus of sexual encounters (all of which were completely fabricated and designed to drive good guys away from you and bad ones towards), and just your general bully activities.

And while things never got physical, sometimes you wish they would’ve. At least then you would’ve been able to provide some kind of evidence to the authorities. At least then they’d take you seriously, instead of shrugging you off, unconcerned because it didn’t impact your performance in school.

And of course it didn’t help that to everyone else, he was a perfect gem. It seemed like he was a gentleman to everyone BUT you.

And it wasn’t like you COULDN’T see the appeal back then, he was tall, strong, and good looking by all means. But the only thing you were focused on was school. Being raised by the parents you had was all the motivation you needed to push yourself, achieve, and get the hell outta dodge as soon as graduation ended.

So THAT’S where it began. And for all intents and purposes that's where YOU thought it ended. What you didn’t know was that he had MUCH different plans.

See while you hadn’t thought of Sukuna at all in the last 10 years, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Especially since every Friday night he’d sit at the bar and listen to your old man rant about you and your life choices, moving away from him and your mother, pursuing your passions, cutting them out of your life almost completely.

He couldn’t say he blamed you for doing so, he knew the kind of violent man your father was, seeing as he had the same Friday night plans as Sukuna for the last 15 years of your life. It seemed like they both were ashamed at how they treated you.

He was of course ashamed of how he’d treated you during the hormonal days of his youth. All of the torture he put you through, all because he didn’t know how to properly handle his feelings towards you.

And of course that was no proper excuse for how he treated you, especially considering that he was perfectly cordial to everyone else back then. But back then, he genuinely had no other way of getting your attention. Or at least that’s what he told himself back then, every time he caught you crying behind the bathrooms at the football games, your phone ringing with what he could only imagine were disgusting calls from disgusting men.

So that’s why, when he heard that you were actually going to attend the 10-year reunion of your high school class he knew he wouldn’t let his second chance go.

He’d had a lot of time to think about how he’d apologize to you. But unfortunately, the second he saw you step into the poorly decorated high school gym, his well-intentioned plan of genuinely apologizing was immediately overshadowed by all of his feelings towards you that he’d repressed over the years.

And suddenly he was back to his old self, thinking of any way to embarrass you as you walked around, conversing with people you hadn’t seen for the last decade.

He couldn’t identify the feeling that crawled up his body as he watched you. You were so much more gorgeous than he could’ve ever imagined. Was it jealousy? No… it couldn’t be.

Why would he be jealous of the people talking to you? Why would he want to see your eyes crease as you laughed at their jokes? He could make you laugh harder, he knew he could.

It couldn’t be jealousy…. If it were jealousy he would’ve simply interjected himself into your conversation and whisked you away to the corner of the room, to have you all for himself.

But he didn’t. Instead, he picked up a beer from one of the many ice-filled coolers lining one of the gym walls and sauntered off to make his OWN conversations with his OWN people. Obviously not giving you a singular second thought.

And while Sukuna was on one side of the gym, working very hard on not giving you a second thought, you were on the other side, actually not giving Sukuna a second thought.

You hadn’t seen your former bully yet, and you were better for it. It was actually one of the things that almost made you skip out on the reunion tonight, but you’d thankfully been convinced by a former classmate who told you that you’d been voted most successful.

Seeing as your classmates took their time to acknowledge your success, the least you could do was show up and hold some light conversation for an hour or so.

So you made your way to the reunion, and honestly… you’d been having a great time. Talking about your career and accomplishments with your former classmates, and listening to them talk about theirs in return was actually great.

Sometimes in your field, it was easy to forget the outside world, you were so busy all of the time that you rarely got to just relax and have fun chatting with people with different jobs than you, living lives differently from yours. It was amazing, you felt recharged.

You were smiling, laughing at a story told by one of the football players in your class, not missing the way his eyes kept darting downwards to linger on your chest. Not missing the subtle way he angled his body closer to yours, his tongue wetting his lips each time you laughed.

You were on a high. You felt unstoppable. But of course…. All good things end.

You were just by the coolers, getting the two of you a second round of drinks when you felt someone step a little too close to you.

“Good to see you're still getting along so well with the football team.”

You froze at the snarky, drawling voice of Sukuna who stood behind you, letting himself drink in the sight of your ass, looking quite grabbable as you were bent down over the coolers. His fingers itched to reach out and grasp your hips, feel the softness squish between them, instead they tightened their grip on his beer. What was this… his 5th? 6th? Who knows.

You straightened your spine, becoming aware of the position you were in, realizing just how vulnerable it made you.

“You’re drunk Sukuna.” you bite out, turning on your heel to face him, trying to hide your shock as you realized he’d grown even taller after high school, your eyes a bit below his chin, leaving you eye-to-neck with him. You quickly sidestepped him, doing anything to put a respectable amount of space between the two of you.

Your quick avoidance coupled with your accusation made him scoff, Sukuna wasn’t a small man, standing at 6’4”ish 270 pounds give or take, it took more than half a dozen beers to get him any further than buzzed, especially considering that drinking had been in his weekly Friday night plans for the last 15 years.

You rolled your eyes, trying to leave. He stepped into your way, effectively cutting you off, making it your turn to scoff.

“If I say I’m trashed will you walk me home?” he asked teasingly, his wolfish grin reminding you just how timeless his charm really was. If you were a woman of any weaker resolve you would’ve played along.

But this was Sukuna.

And as much as you’d love to play catch up and subject yourself to guaranteed ridicule, you had a different good-looking man waiting for your attention, and for another drink. Was he as good-looking as the tanned cowboy in front of you who had not only gotten taller but definitely hotter with age? Who cares? The important part was that the man waiting for you didn’t nearly single-handedly ostracize you from your peers whilst shredding your good reputation with teachers and parents alike when you were just a child.

And that’s what it was at the end of the day. Sukuna could grin down at you all he wanted, his reddish brown eyes burning holes in your face, looking for any exploitable weakness he could find. But at the end of the day, you were a strong, confident woman now. Not the poor young girl you used to be. You didn’t have to put up with his shit anymore- no you refused to put up with his shit.

“Hmm…I dunno…” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile, hoping an aloof tone would force him to leave you be. “Hell is a pretty long walk.”

That must’ve taken Sukuna by surprise, or at least enough surprise that it allowed you to slip past him. It wasn’t until you were a couple steps away did he respond with a deep laugh, one that came from his, and went straight to your core.

“Everything ok?” your slightly less hot prospect asked upon your return, you only nodded, hoping that the warmth you felt on your face hurriedly left as you handed him his refill.

“Just pe-”

“Hey. I wasn’t done talking to you.” Sukuna appeared again behind you.

Your smile fell again as you watched the two men greet each other.

As mentioned earlier, Sukuna was always good friends with seemingly everyone but you. That’s what made him so dangerous in high school, no matter who you told of his abuse you were never believed. And who would believe you whenever the boy you were accusing had such a dazzling smile and an equally agreeable disposition?

Sukuna watched you out of the corner of his eye as you zoned out, uninterested in the conversation between him and your one-night boy toy. You were shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortable with his presence.

It was obvious to him, unfortunately not to your conversation partner though, seeing as he continued to talk Sukuna’s ear off, asking about how things were on the ranch, how his business was going, how much he charged per cow, all while you shuffled your gaze from your feet to your drink to the wall then back to your feet.

A small part of Sukuna took a sick satisfaction in bothering you like this, bothering you in a way that if you acted out, accused him of instigating, or even spoke slightly ill of him, people would no doubt see you as the one in the wrong.

But his sickly favorite thing… truly the best way to put a smile on his face… was to embarrass you. That’s why he effortlessly steered the conversation back to you, specifically back to the fact you’d been talking to the same person for the last hour, specifically that it was a man you’d been talking to.

All it took was one little quip, one little “so I see you’re back for part two with the whole football team?” to freeze you like a deer caught in headlights.

You remembered that rumor, undoubtedly started by Sukuna, the rumor that you’d offered yourself to the high school football team in their locker room, the rumor that they (emphasis on they) had accepted your advances, and that’s why you had bruises trailing up your spine when you reached for a book on the top shelf, making your shirt ride up. And bruises on your knees when you wore your gym shorts. And bruises on your elbows when you rested your head on your hands during class.

And with that one little comment, it was like you’d been sucked back in time, especially when your potential one-night-of-fun laughed along with Sukuna, doing nothing to admit that the rumor was fake and he knew it.

Sukuna snickered, watching your eyes widen and your mouth drop open in surprise at the cruel reminder of perhaps his most regretted rumor ever. But while on the outside he laughed as your eyebrows knitted together and your cheeks darkened with humiliation, he kicked himself on the inside.

This wasn’t how he was supposed to get your attention tonight. What the fuck was wrong with him bringing up all of his past mistakes? Yeah he wanted to watch you squirm under his gaze, but not like this, not by bringing up all of the ways he used to torture you.

And it’s not like anyone at the reunion would put him in his place, he’d spend years building the reputation of the handsome, harmless, good-ole-boy ranch hand.

And you knew that too. No one would be on your side if you spoke up. You couldn’t even blame them. This was the first time you’d talked to ANY of them in the last decade, unlike Sukuna who’d stuck around the small town, building allyships with nearly everyone.

Without a word, you turned and left. Leaving your ruined prospect stumbling over himself saying it was “just a joke” as you calmly threw your drink away and began to exit the building. As you walked through the door, you looked back once more, catching Sukuna’s eye.

You hoped he could see the disappointment on your face, the hurt, and embarrassment that you thought you would’ve been able to escape by now.

And for a second, you were convinced that he regretted the comment, but then again, the look on his face was just too fleeting for you to decipher its meaning before you walked to your car, not looking back again.

That’s how you found yourself at the run-down bar that your father frequented. Thankfully he wasn’t here tonight, but that still didn’t ease the tension in your shoulders. But you’d decided that the need to get shit-faced off cheap tequila far outweighed your fear that your father would suddenly walk into the place.

The bartender asked what was wrong when he watched you down two shots, back to back, but he quickly lost interest when you just grumbled profanities under your breath all of which were aimed at Sukuna.

Fuck you hated him. You hated the way he made you feel like you were still that bullied little girl from high school, crying in the bathroom after hearing a rumor about you fucking the math teacher for an A in the hallways.

You hated the way everyone else just worshiped the ground he walked on, just because he had a nice smile and a banging body.

and fuck it really wasn’t fair how hot he was.

Once you were 3 shots deep you could feel most of your anger dissipating, and while the other patrons in the bar were thankful to be rid of your gloomy aura weighing the place down, you were fighting the good fight against the horny demons that had begun reminding you just how much Sukuna towered over you earlier that night.

You knew he was a ranch hand, and obviously, ranch hands have to be physically fit… but goddamn was he on another level. He looked like he could flip and fix a truck just to lift you in and fuck you in it.

He looked like he could ride a bull, wrestle it, and hog-tie it down before taking you to bed and doing damn near the same thing to you. Thick fingers gripping your thighs as he forced you to ride him, hissing at you through his teeth to roll your hips against him, letting your clit grind against what you could only imagine was an unruly bush. You imagined him flipping you over, trapping your hands behind your back as he pounded into you, forcing your face into his pillow, forcing you to feel, smell, and even taste his scent all around you.

Your head snapped up from its drunken position on the counter, sheepishly glancing around to make sure no one saw you, convinced that if they so much as looked at you, they would see your dirty thoughts about their town’s golden boy.

Sukuna watched you wave down the bartender from his position at the door. He wanted to act like he didn’t know you’d be here. He wanted to pretend that he didn’t drive around town for the last twenty minutes looking for your little car with your fancy out-of-state plates because that would be an insane thing to do.

But that's what he’d done, that's what you’d driven him to do.

His eyes followed you like a hawk as he stalked towards you, watching with the focus of a predator on prey as you took your shot, licking the salt off your hand, throwing back the shot, and biting into the lime. His eyes zeroed in on your lips wrapped around the lime wedge, your nose scrunching at the combination of burning liquor and sour lime.

Your eyes were screwed shut, trying to drive the thoughts of the cowboy out of your head, so you didn’t notice Sukuna’s presence til he opened his big fat mouth and spoke to the bartender, ordering a shot for himself.

��Kinda girlie ordering a shot isn’t it?” you scoffed, your eyes still shut as you let your head fall back into your arms that were slung across the counter. You didn’t have anything left in you to deal with the abrasive man next to you. In fact, you were afraid if you looked at him now he’d be able to see just how much you wanted him.

His body, to be clear. You only wanted his body. There was a reason you’d spent time chatting up that old football player before the whole fiasco happened, you were looking for a little fun as a reward for showing up to that god-forsaken reunion in the first place.

But alas, just as he did in high school, Sukuna drove your potential plaything away from you, leaving you hot, bothered, and as of now, a bit more than buzzed.

Sukuna just grinned at you, taking your acknowledgment as an invitation to move closer. He turned away from the counter, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bar, turning his head to watch you amusedly.

You tried your best to ignore him, but you couldn’t deny the warmth radiating off of him, not to mention the spicy scent of his cologne.

You bit your lip, trying to stop your imagination from getting away from you again.

“You think I’m girlie, Doll?” he asked, the rumble of his voice making your stomach twist.

“well its a girlie fucking drink.” you mumbled, not even lifting your head to glare at him.

“Tell you what Doll,” Sukuna drawled, leaning down to talk in your ear, pressing his lips to the outer shell of your ear, “say the word, and I’ll take you home and prove that I’m not.”

And despite the way you felt your heartbeat against the seat of your barstool, you kept your composure and offered him another unimpressed scoff, grateful his lips weren’t against your neck to feel the blood rushing to your face.

“God you’re a prick” you growled, pushing your head back up, turning to look at him, wondering if, in your drunken state, you were convincing him that you were “bored” with his banter.

In reality, you were ashamed to admit you wanted more. You could feel the fire burning in your tummy and you were too intoxicated to listen to the voice in your head telling you that it was a bad idea to do this with your present company.

“You’re beautiful, Doll,” Sukuna whispered, his eyes fixated on your lips, swollen from the way you’d been chewing on them all night trying to repress your dirty thoughts.

It was pathetic, but this was the only time Sukuna felt he could be honest with you. He felt like he could finally tell you how he felt but only because of the security of knowing the booze had created a rose-colored veil over his words in your memory.

He wished he could be this sincere with you when you were sober. But when you were sober, all you did was stare into his soul, your eyes piercing him, weighing him down with guilt.

“Shut the fuck up.” You spat at him. You didn’t know where the fuck that came from but you weren’t interested in finding out. If this went anywhere tonight two things had to be true.

It had to be a good old no-strings-attached hate-fuck.

You had to be at least 1 shot drunker to have the courage to do it.

The bartender set Sukuna’s shot down in front of him as you angrily avoided eye contact with him, pissed that he’d even dare to say some shit like that after what he pulled at the reunion.

“I hate you.” you threw that one in for good measure, reveling in the way it made the corners of Sukuna’s mouth turn down.

He knew you had every reason to hate him, if he were you he’d feel a lot more than hate towards someone like him. And yet still, the way that you said it, like there was no room for debate, like it was fact, not opinion, that got to him.

“Yeah I know,” he mumbled, taking his shot before fully turning towards you. “But I need you to listen to what I have to say.”

This was it. He was going to come clean. Apologize for everything he’d done, ask for your forgiveness, beg for it if that’s what he had to do.

You rolled your eyes, but you kept your mouth closed, intrigued at the very least at what he had to say for himself.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. It wasn’t right.”

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

“That’s it?”

“Huh?”

You stood from your seat, now standing face to neck with Sukuna.

“You're pathetic.” you bit out, gathering your purse and calling to close out your tab. The apology was not only disappointing but also disgustingly sobering. An hour ago you wanted to ride him til he cried, now all you wanted to do was get the fuck out of town as quickly as possible.

All of it would be better once you went back to your life, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you tried to blink back tears. You tried waving down the bartender again, but he was busy serving other patrons.

The stuffy, humid air of the bar was suddenly unbearable as fury settled in your chest.

Sukuna grabbed your wrist.

“Fuck- Doll just wait a second.” His fingers gripped your arm, pulling you back towards him.

You stopped yourself from colliding with his chest, pressing balled-up fists to his chest as you looked up.

“please…” the word came from him almost like a whimper, his fingers searching for a way to keep you from leaving, one hand stilling your hip as the other tangled in your belt loops, ensuring you couldn’t just run away from him.

And while you definitely couldn’t have escaped him physically, the pleading tone of his voice was enough to widen your eyes and stop you from even trying.

His eyes darted away from yours when you looked up at him, anger and hurt and disgust swimming in your eyes, making his stomach turn and his jaw ache.

He didn’t know what to look at, his eyes shooting from your lips to the crowd to your fists on his chest, back to your lips set in a hard line, no sign of wobble detected. He could tell you were over it. He was running out of time, he had to find some way to keep you here. To keep you with him.

You rolled your eyes, did he really expect you to take him seriously when he couldn’t even meet your gaze. Once again, pathetic.

“I’m….I’m…” What was happening to him? He got it out fine the first time, it was a bit of a quick and sloppy apology he admits, but he still did it. So why was he struggling now?

You could tell with the way he fidgeted, his face turning beet red, that he was trying to say sorry but the sad bastard couldn’t even do that right. You wondered if he’d ever had to apologize to anyone seeing as he’d been Mr. Prince Charming since birth. If you were being honest, that idea made you really happy. The idea that you were the only person that could fluster him like this, make him uncomfortable with just a stare.

“Are you trying to say you’re sorry?” You scoff, making the Sukuna’s blush spread to his ears.

He was seriously losing this fight, and that was all he could think about. He wished he could just put you in his mind and let you see all of the thoughts that been plaguing him for the last 15 years of his life, the bitterness and jealousy and insecurity that lead him to bully you, he wished he could explain that teasing you was his awful way of showing you that he was obsessed with you. And he knew that wasn’t an excuse and he didn’t want to make it seem like it was, he just wanted to explain himself so that you’d know that he regretted it every single day of his life, and how he wanted more than anything in the universe to spend the rest of his life making it up to you. He wanted to grovel, to keep you locked away until you caved in and let him stand by your side for the rest of your days. He wanted to be able to buy you flowers to put on your kitchen counter in your dream home that he’d build for you. He wanted to cook you dinner every night, grinning as you ate it with a smile, even if he’d tried a new recipe that didn’t turn out the best. He wanted to do the dishes with you when it was dark outside, bumping shoulders as you washed and he dried, or he washed and you dried. He wanted to take you out dancing every Friday, show your old man that you escaped the life he tried to trap you in, that you’d found someone to worship the ground you walked on, that loved and respected you in a way he could never imagine.

All of these thoughts swarmed his brain and yet all he could do was stand there and sputter like an idiot, watching you lose faith that he could actually spit it out by the second. He knew if he didn’t hurry up and get his shit together you’d walk away, and you wouldn’t ever come back this time.

“It’s not that easy ya know?” he grumbled, removing his hat to run a hand through his hair nervously.

And while you knew you probably shouldn’t have, you let your eyes linger on his bicep as he raised his beaten cowboy hat, the contours of the muscles highlighted under the lowlights of the bar.

Thankfully Sukuna didn’t see your moment of weakness, because if he had you doubt he would’ve winced as hard as he did when you delivered your next line of,

“The fuck it is. You made my life unlivable for four years and now it’s ‘not that easy’ to stop choking on your big fat tongue and apologize properly? Bullshit” You rolled your eyes but, much to Sukuna’s surprise, made no move to walk away from him, allowing him to continue to tether himself to your side, his fingers instinctively tightening in your belt loops.

“What do you want me to do, I said I’m sorry,” he grumbled, avoiding your eyes once again.

“Well it wasn’t good enough” you growled, surprised that you were somehow still standing, even with the way his eyes bore into you before flickering down to your lips, making you incredibly self-aware, fighting the urge to run away, to kick and scream, to fight, to do anything but stand in the confines of his gaze.

Sukuna was quiet for what felt like forever for the both of you. He searched for the words to say, and in the ever so emotionally constipated fashion, came up dry each time. Why was this so hard for him? He knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, god he wished he could just touch your foreheads together and transfer it all so you’d finally know how he felt.

And while Sukuna, lost in thought, might not have noticed the way he was inching closer to you, you definitely did.

And don’t think you were spared of any inner turmoil, because while Sukuna was standing like a dope, fighting the good fight against his own thoughts and emotions, you had your own battle to engage in. Your voice of reason was screaming at you to run, to slap him and storm off, to not let him have the satisfaction of forgiveness but the damned horny monster was making its way to the surface, scratching and clawing its way to the top so it could convince you to stay.

‘Why waste the chance for a taste?’ it whispered in your mind, reminding you that this was your last night in town and Sukuna was undoubtedly the hottest possible man you could spend it with. You didn’t have to forgive him, use him, abuse him, leave him. Be gone forever, make him regret treating you that way, less than human. Treat him the same way, like he was just a tool at your disposal.

You were ashamed to admit how appealing that choice was. But could anyone blame you? You’d suffered at his hands for far longer, what would one night be in the grand scheme of things? If anything it’d give you some closure. Give you the power of knowing that you came out of this feud on top.

But of course, as earlier stated, you’d need to be at least one shot deeper.

Sukuna’s eyes found yours again when you cleared your throat, somehow looking down your nose at him despite the fact he still stood at 6’4” which was quite a bit taller than you.

“I need a shot.”

He continued staring, obviously confused at the near 180 of the conversation, that was until you cleared your throat, giving him ONE last chance to move his ass out of the way and lead you back to the bar, and that’s what he did, watching as you flagged down another shot for yourself, telling the bartender to put it on his tab.

“So…” you drawled, feigning boredom as you let yourself drink him in properly for the first time that night, taking your time as you dragged up and down his body, only flicking up to his face at the very end.

You almost smiled at the blush painting his cheeks, it was cute. You could tell he was nervous, squirming at the way you looked at him unabashedly.

Don’t get him wrong, Sukuna was ecstatic you were checking him out, in fact, he was hoping it could keep you distracted until he could come up with a half-intelligent sentence to say.

But his luck seemed to be running dry that night.

“If I were you I’d hurry up before my shot comes and I get bored.”

This time you let yourself grin at the way he started fumbling with himself, spitting out a couple of pathetic ‘umm… ya see’s before squeezing his eyes shut, taking a deep breath to regain himself.

When he opened his eyes, you were a bit surprised by the heat behind them, by the sincerity of what came out of his mouth next.

“I understand why you don’t wanna hear me out Doll, I don’t need you to forgive me right now, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. And I need you to know that I regret the way I’ve treated you, and I’ll always regret it”

If Sukuna was a confident man at that moment (which he uncharacteristically wasn’t) he would’ve smirked or maybe even commented on the way that your eyes widened, softening slightly at his more soft-spoken apology. But all he could do was look down at the scratched bar counter while his stomach twisted in knots, waiting for the green light from you to continue his groveling.

You were shocked, to say the least, the sincerity in his voice was enough to make you believe that this wasn’t some twisted way of embarrassing you.

And in the quiet of it all, the bartender slid your shot towards you, lime resting over the top. You thanked them, pulling the salt shaker you’d formerly abandoned back towards you as you stared at Sukuna’s side profile under your lashes. You wished he was brave enough to look back up at you. But then again, did you? Did you really want him seeing you this way? Softened by his sincerity? You could only assume that apologizing wasn’t in his usual routine, especially not with how poorly he’d done it the first two times. But something about that last time, something about the way he couldn’t look you in the face now, made you feel like it was the real deal. That he might actually regret what he’d done to you.

Did that mean you forgave him?

Fuck no.

“Look at me.”

Sukuna looked up like a lost puppy, brows knitting together as soon as he saw that glint in your eyes, a glint he could only assume used to occupy his eyes when he teased you. He found himself leaning closer, holding his breath as you saddled up closer to his side, your fingers gracefully plucking the lime off of the top of your shot glass.

“Open.”

You watched his eyes widen in panic, glancing around the room to see if any had heard your request. You followed his gaze, watching him realize that the bar was damn near packed (which wasn’t hard considering its small capacity), and that he’d unconsciously lead you to one of the darker areas of the bar. No one would notice if he did it. And honestly, he didn’t know if he would care even if they did.

And yet, that small, stupid, stubborn, prideful part of him still had to put up a fight. He rolled his eyes, trying to be nonchalant about it when he mumbled out “come on Do-”

But you were done taking shit tonight. You knew what you wanted by the end of the night and Sukuna could either follow your rules or go fuck himself.

“I said open.” You cut him off, smiling sweetly as your hand slowly grasped his jaw, giving him plenty of time to pull away, your sweet smile turning mischievous as he made no move to get away.

You pushed his cheeks together, making him groan as his lips puckered, face red as he watched you bring the lime up to his lips, grip loosening enough to let him open up.

You slipped the slice between his lips, telling him to hold it in his teeth by the rind for you as you prepared your salt, all the while batting your lashes at him, trying to work him up as much as possible.

And fuck was it working. Sukuna could feel his jeans getting tighter with every breath he took, your hand that held his jaw now resting surprisingly tenderly under his ear, your nails lightly scratching circles at the side of his nape. You had him pour the salt over the back of your hand by your thumb, which he gladly did, filling a little patch for you as he tried to focus on anything but rubbing himself against you.

He could…. you were close enough, so close.

You brought your hand up to your mouth. You licked the salt off. You downed your tequila, discarding the shot glass on the counter beside you. And then brought your now free hand back up to Sukuna’s jaw, bringing him forward before biting into the lime between his lips, making him groan deep in his throat, his hands desperately coming up to brace your hips as he felt your lips brushing against his.

You could feel him jerk against your hip, the stiff outline of him pressed between the two of you as he practically curled himself around your body, his hands wrapping their way to your lower back, pulling you towards him further, bringing your chests together. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, his breath jagged as he tried to maintain a slipping composure.

You could almost laugh at how pathetic it was. And yet, all you felt was fire licking its way up your core, the power you held over him was amazing and unlike anything you’d felt before and all you knew was that you needed more.

You leaned away, discarding the lime into your shot glass before turning back to Sukuna.

“Good boy.” you mocked, firmly patting his cheek and letting him dig his face deeper into your neck. You giggled, almost sadistically. You could feel how hot his face was against your skin and it was thrilling, to say the least.

“So…” you turn your head, whispering against his ear, “you gonna take me home?”

It was like he was short-circuiting, Sukuna couldn’t bring himself to remove his face from your neck, the warmth of your skin too inviting. And even if he could, he wouldn't want to, he couldn’t go back to the way he was before, callous and unwilling to bend to your will. It felt like you’d flipped a switch in his brain that he never knew existed. Now that he was here, in the warmth of your presence, feeling your pulse beneath his lips, he felt free, he felt free to admit his cowardice to you, to beg you for forgiveness, to grovel and whine beneath you until you felt he’d been punished sufficiently. Of course, wasn’t this punishment enough? Holding him in the small corner of the bar, making him grapple with the unsavory reality that soon he’d have to let you go, the reality that the two of you couldn’t stay like that.

And in his overthinking daze, he couldn’t form a proper response, leaning back with confusion painted over his face,

“Wait, what do you mean? Why?” his reply was quick and mumbled, as if he genuinely couldn’t fathom why you’d said that, his eyes were flitting over your face, almost frantic.

You just laughed and took a page out of his book, hooking your fingers through his belt loops, tugging him closer as you looked back up at him.

“You wanna apologize don’t you?”

And that’s how the two of you ended up how you were, Sukuna lying helplessly underneath you as you ground your hips against his, pulling pathetic little groans out of the man as he clutched onto your hips, not knowing if he wanted to stop you or go faster.

“Fuck…please….” he gasped, his brows furrowed as sweat rolled down the side of his forehead. His shirt had been discarded somewhere in the room as were his jeans, leaving him in his black boxer briefs which were struggling to contain his raging hard-on, not to mention soaked with both his and your arousals.

You giggled from your spot above him, digging your nails further into his thick chest muscles, pulling a little, poorly stifled moan out of him as you flicked his nipples, pulling the pretty pink buds while your still-clothed cunt dragged across him.

“Come on….” you teased, “you want me to reward you? You haven’t apologized yet.” you leaned down, biting his neck, stilling your hips much to his dismay. You grinned against his pulse, feeling it jump every time your canines dragged up and down the skin there.

“You really think you deserve pussy? After all the shit you’ve pulled over the years?” you bit out, crawling off of him and sitting beside him, leaning against the headboard as he lay there, whiplashed by your constant hot then cold attitude.

And while Sukuna might be pathetic, might be undeserving, might be a no-good piece of shit, he wasn’t dumb. He knew what you wanted, and he was more than happy to give it to you.

You hummed, watching him eagerly roll over, slotting his shoulders between your legs, resting your thighs on each side of his face, nearly cumming at the feeling of the fat of your thighs against his skin.

“Please…” he begged, his eyes hooded and his mouth hung open. He looked like a fucking dog, panting, his mouth dragging across your inner thighs as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for the go-ahead to feast on you.

“Fuck.” you mumbled, feeling your restraint slip, feeling the need to make him suffer, weaken. And it was all because of the way he was looking up at you, looking at you like he needed your permission to breathe. And subconsciously, you found yourself thinking that this wouldn’t be an awful thing to come home to each day. A nice, strong man made weak by you and only you.

“please… lemme taste you” Sukuna whimpered, pressing open-mouthed kisses closer and closer to his desired destination, making your hips jolt with each contact. It was like he knew exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, but you wouldn’t go down so easily… you couldn’t.

You combed your fingers through his hair, smiling at the way he leaned towards your palm.

“Fuck…” Sukuna groaned, pitching his head back against your hand as you pulled a little too hard at his hair, making his dick jump against the bed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“listen doll….” you whispered to him, mocking him with the pet name that he’d been throwing at you all night, “...I want you to beg for it…”

He glanced back up at you, eyes wide as he opened his mouth, you imagined to protest, so you beat him to the punch, pulling his hair again and successfully shutting him up with another sharp groan.

“Don’t you wanna apologize ‘Kuna?” you cooed, grinning as he shivered in response to your nails trailing through his surprisingly tame hair, nodding as he looked up at you through his lashes. You smiled, “....then beg.”

You waited for another second, Sukuna didn’t move from his place below you, and for a second you began to doubt if he still wanted to be there. Had you misread the situation? No, you couldn’t have… so did you take it too far? Was he waayy turned off now?

What you didn’t know was that the truth was quite the contrary. Sukuna was more so frozen from the fear that he wouldn't be enough for you, cuz shit with how close he already was, he wasn’t sure he’d last past eating you out, god the thought of feeling you on his tongue was almost enough to make him cum against the sheets before he could even start.

You went to close your legs, rethinking all of your actions up till now, “hey, listen-” you started…

But before you could get another syllable out, Sukuna was pulling you back against him, gripping your outer thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he finally sunk his teeth into you.

He keened at the sound of your sharp gasp, your hands tightening in his hair once more, pulling his face impossibly closer to your core as you felt his lips wrap around your clit.

“Fuck- ‘Kuna….. fu- ….. wha-.... “ you couldn’t think straight, every thought, every plan that you’d had to make him suffer was getting cloudy with every curl of his tongue against you, you could feel your eyes rolling back into your head, you felt possessed.

“Shhh….” Sukuna whispered, the veins in his forearms bulging as he fought to keep your hips against the bed and your legs spread for him. Now that you’d let him start he didn’t plan on stopping until one of you passed out from exhaustion, whether that would be you or him was up to the universe to decide, of course, he’d do his damndest to make sure it was you.

“Want you to use me….” he sighed, shivering at the feeling of your heels digging into his upper back, “want you to ride my face….. please….”

You felt your back bowing off the bed, his tongue forcing its way into you, his nose bumping against your clit as you unconsciously ground against him.

You were almost shocked at how close you already were, almost because who are you kidding, Sukuna was the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on, and the way that he was eating you out made you practically salivate at the thought of fucking him.

You couldn’t get over the way his back felt against your calves, the taut ropiness of the muscles, hardened by years of physical labor, fuck he felt so good against you, the way that his fingers wrapped around the backs of your thighs, gripping the tops of them as he kept your legs pried open, vulnerable to him and him alone.

And yet Sukuna knew you controlled him, every thrust of his tongue inside you, every catch of his teeth against your clit he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper under your spell, falling more and more in love with the way you moaned for him, sighing his name while digging your nails into his shoulders, your acrylics biting his skin in a way that made him pathetically hump against the duvet beneath him.

“Fuck….” he moaned, “you’re so fucking pretty doll…please-please pull my hair… please…. I wanna stretch you out…”

“Yeah?” you asked, cupping his jaw surprisingly gently as he looked up at you, desperation on his face and a borderline scary hunger in his eyes. “how do you wanna stretch me out baby?” you cooed, dragging your hand across his face, taking his jaw in your hand once again, encouraging him to come closer.

Which he did, of course, scrambling up to you, crawling to rest between your legs, the soft lighting of the room catching the way his chin was shining with your arousal.

You found yourself looking away, the sight of Sukuna, so eager to please you, being too much. This wasn’t how it usually went. Usually, you found a guy, toyed around with him for a couple weeks, and then you both went on your merry ways. No guy had looked at you like Sukuna did, like you’d hung the moon and the stars. Was this really the same man that had made your life a living hell for the longest time? That’d made you move states away from everything you’d ever known?

Sukuna frowned, watching your face tilt away from him, your eyes avoiding his as he felt your body stiffen beneath him.

“fuck…” he sighed, his forehead resting against yours as he watched a tear make its way down your cheek.

“I hate you.”

“I’m so sorry…” he breathed, closing his eyes, his chest heaving with adrenaline, all of the thoughts and guilt he’d been having for the 10 years pushing to the forefront of his brain.

“I hate you…” you repeated it, not knowing what else to say, your fingers found his biceps somehow, trying to anchor yourself as more tears started to fall. It was the worst-timed catharsis ever. God! All you’d wanted to do was fuck this man, get your closure, and get on with your life. But the son of a bitch just never let you have your way. He was always fucking everything up.

“I know Doll, god I'm so sorry…”

Was Sukuna… crying?

You opened your eyes to find the pink-haired man, eyes red and lined with tears, his jaw set hard as he looked anywhere but your face, the guilt eating him alive. You could tell he meant it this time. If he hadn’t meant it at the bar (which you were fairly certain he had) he did now. With the way that his tears kinda sparkled in the light, with the way that his chest pressed even closer to yours, you could tell.

“...just kiss me please…” you whispered, your hands coming down to hold his, your fingers intertwining with his, where they sat against the sheets, gently untangling the grip he had on the linens.

A broken sound came out of him as he surged forward, pressing his open mouth to yours heatedly. You moaned at the taste of you on his tongue as he forced it into your mouth, curling it around your own as he readjusted his body below you, your core, once again, pressed snuggly against his dick, still angrily trapped in his dampened boxers.

You could feel him moving, humping you against the headboard as he kissed you, the slow, almost yearning way his hips dragged against yours a stark comparison to the desperation of his mouth.

He raised his hands, wrapping around the back of your head, coaxing you further into the kiss, making your head fuzzy.

But Sukuna couldn’t forget that you were steering this ship, so when he finally got the willpower, he broke away from you, his cock weeping furiously as he buried his face in your neck.

“please…” if he was begging before, he was absolutely pleading now, “please… let me show you how sorry I am, lemme make it up to you please…”

And ya know, lust does crazy things to a person, so instead of kicking him to the curb and deciding to never talk to him ever again, you just dropped your head back, exposing your neck to him as if it was a peace offering.

“Fuck...” he whined, his lips attaching to you before you could even rest your head against the headboard behind you, making your breath catch and your hips involuntarily jump towards his. “... thank you… fuck thank you…” his words were broken between as he licked and bit as much of your skin as he could find, thinking that if he left his mark on you, you wouldn’t throw him out at the end of the night, he thought that if other men saw it, he’d finally have the chance to make you his and only his.

“Sukuna, shit- slow down- please..” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders making him groan against you but not stop his pathetic attempts to keep you.

“can’t… too pretty…”

you almost scoffed, but you were too afraid that all that would come out was something far more embarrassing than Sukuna’s unrivaled arousal. So you settled with squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lip to ensure you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.

You managed a “Don’t say that.” through gritted teeth, which just made Sukuna that much harder, especially when he managed to make you moan when his teeth dug into your neck.

Don’t think he didn’t notice how you were holding back, chewing on your lips instead of letting him hear you. That in itself was torture alone, and something that he was directing all of his energy towards correcting.

You felt his fingers, moving down your body, traveling from the back of your head to your waist to your hips, grabbing every square inch of fat he could find, kneading it in a way that was beyond embarrassing, and yet it was driving you insane.

His unabashed desire for you, undeterred by the extra weight around your midsection, was making your head spin. In fact, call you crazy but every time he felt you up, clutching at your curves, his dick jerked against you, telling you that he was definitely enjoying it just as much as you were.

And the truth was that he was enjoying it MUCH more than you were. The only thought running through his head being ‘don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum’

He knew he needed to make you cum first, needed to prove his worth as a lover before he could finally sink himself into you, he knew the second he did he’d be lost. He wouldn’t be able to stop, even if you begged him.

“Kuna…” you cooed, dragging his mouth back up to yours, taking his tongue in your mouth, trying to convince him to move on past kissing you. You needed more, and it looked like he was gonna make you ask for it. “want your fingers…” you watched his eyes widen before he nodded, his hand quickly dragging from your stomach to core, wasting no time before circling your clit, making you cry out against his shoulder, taking your turn at marking him as your teeth dug into the thick muscle.

“Fuck doll….” he groaned, wasting no time in pushing the first finger into you, making your tummy clench at the way it curled up into your walls, somehow hitting that soft spot inside of you in the first 30 seconds.

But you were still hell-bent on hiding how good you felt from Sukuna, he could tell with the way you only let out small ohs as he massaged the tip of his middle finger into your g-spot.

Not that Sukuna wanted to seem cocky when he said it, but it wasn’t like he was inexperienced with the ladies. He knew he was making you feel good, he could feel it with every warm pulse of your pussy around his fingers.

“Shit…” he whispered into your ear. You felt his nose drag down the side of your jaw, trailing against the outline, down to your neck once again. You almost interjected, thinking that he was gonna stop fucking you open on his fingers just to tease you again by literring hickeys on your neck, but the words died in your throat as he continued downwards, passing your pulse up before landing on the top of your breast, digging his teeth into the fat enough to make you squirm against him.

“Kuna stop…”

He grinned at the whiney tone of your voice, he couldn’t help it though, if this was the only way to break you out of your vow of silence then so be it.

“Shhh….” he switched from biting to running his tongue over your skin, moaning at the feeling of you arched against him when his tongue caught the edge of your nipple.

“Fuck baby, youre so fucking hot…” he mumbled, contining licking and biting, yet (much to your annoyance) avoiding sucking on your tit directly.

“You’re sucking me in so good…. so pretty..”

You could feel your orgasm building in the bottom of your stomach, especially with the way Sukuna's thumb kept drawing circles against your clit, alternating with the movement of now two of his fingers twisting and probing inside of you.

“shi- d-don’t say that.. ple-” the words died in your throat as the edge of his tongue accidentally caught the edge of your areola, dangerously close to your nipple, pearled and begging for his full attention.

“Don’t want me to call you pretty Doll?” he asked.

No response. He couldn’t tell if you hadn’t heard him or simply refused to answer him, so he stilled his fingers, going to make sure you were ok.

“wha-?” you all but whined, your head shooting up to look at him from its lolled position against the pillows of Sukuna’s bed.

“Need to you to pay attention to me, baby…please-” you could barely believe your eyes as you watched your childhood bully give you the most pathetic puppy dog eyes, resting his chin against your chest, panting as he laid his cheek against your skin, practically nuzzling his face into your tits.

“...please…all I ever wanted was your attention, fuck why da’ think I said all that shit when I was a lil snot nose fucker?”

With his words, you felt him start to move his hips against your thigh again, the wetness of his briefs making a sticky mess against your leg… so close to where you needed him, yet still too far for your liking.

And while you wished you could say that his behavior was anything but attractive, the way that you felt your cunt twitching, gaping with the loss of his fingers, made it very clear how you really felt.

“fuuuck…” you groaned, grumbling your frustrations under your breath, bringing your hands up from their positions tangled in his sheets to tangle them back in his hair.

“what was that doll?” Sukuna raised his head back up to look in your eyes, his half-lidded stare making you impossibly wetter.

“..was so close….” you mumbled, refusing to show any kindness towards him, you were back on your warpath, your ruined orgasm obliterating any empathy you had for him, you were again here for one thing and one thing only. Dick. not for him to call you pretty or kiss you til your head spun, you were here for a good unattached fuck.

And even though in the back of your mind, you feared that you’d failed that mission the minute Sukuna’s lips met yours, you could still pretend that there was only one thing he was good for.

“huh?” Sukuna was a bit taken aback, expecting you to whine about, or at least acknowledge his confession that he’d dreamed of this practically since he hit puberty.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not yet at least.

Sukuna whined at the abrupt sensation of you pulling his hair, making his eyes widen in surprise at your sudden aggression. He thought he had you right where he wanted you, he thought he’d warmed you up enough to stop acting so cold towards him, he genuinely thought the two of you were past just a one-night stand.

But you were here to remind him that this wasn’t what he wished it was, it wasn’t loving and tender, this was him begging, this was him groveling for forgiveness.

This was also a much-needed change of pace for you, seeing as you had started to lose your grip of control on the situation.

“Put your fingers back in me Kuna,” you said, your eyes flickering back down to his lips, watching him pant. You felt him nod against your grip, mumbling out a pitiful ‘fuck ‘m sorry’ before pushing his middle and ring fingers back up into you, all while maintaining eye contact.

You stared at his face, fucked out as he took his turn glancing down at your lips, obviously desperate for another kiss, a desperation you happily ignored, guiding his face into the crook of your neck as you keened at the feeling of him scissoring you open, finding your g-spot again in no time.

You whispered in his ear, making him whine with the way you gently bit it.

“Want you to fuck me real nice n hard with your fingers Kuna…” You arched into him, making his head spin at the feeling of your naked body pressed to his chest, “ ‘n I want you to make me cum while you suck on my tits.. kay?”

“Fuck….o-okay….” If you could believe it, Sukuna’s face turned an even deeper shade of pink, it was cute you thought, cute until, without another word he dove in, teeth first against the first nipple.

“Oh-fu-mm… good boy Kuna…. you like that?” you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders

“Mhmm… love it s’much” he panted, his tongue circling the bud before taking it back into his mouth. Sukuna swore he could’ve gone to heaven. If not from the taste of your skin against his tongue, then from the way your cunt kept sucking his fingers back in.

“So fucking warm….” he worked his way to the other nipple, feeling his cock jump as he flicked it with his tongue, drawing another embarrassing moan out of your throat. “.....so soft….”

You could feel yourself getting close again, the warmth growing in your core as Sukuna continued to pump his fingers into you, the tip of his middle finger prodding into your g-spot with each drag.

“Fuck…. come on Kuna…. make me cum… please”

And that’s all the encouragement he needed to abandon your breasts, bringing his free hand up to grip the nape of our neck before taking your lips against his, this time leaving you no room to reject him, pouring his soul into the kiss, panting as he forced his tongue against yours, overwhelming you with the sudden display of dominance.

It was unexpected but not unwelcome as you felt yourself fall over the ledge, gasping against his mouth as his fingers brutally worked you through your high, his hard chest caging you in, leaving you nowhere to escape to as chills wracked through your bones, your vision damn near turning white.

“Fuck please no…no more…too much” you begged when Sukuna finally gave you a chance to breathe, sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving (what he hoped) would be an everlasting hickey.

It was only when your hands shifted from pulling Sukuna closer to pushing him away that he realized that he still hadn’t stopped fucking you on his fingers.

“Shit…. sorry doll….” he mumbled, closing his eyes in ecstasy at the feeling of your warmth pulsing around his fingers, imagining how it’d feel if it were his dick being choked by your heat. “.....’m sorry…. just so pretty…”

You gasped, feeling him remove his fingers from you, watching through your lashes as he brought them up to his lips, moaning as he sucked your orgasm off of them.

“wanna taste?” he asked, grabbing your nape again, this time coaxing you into a kiss, just as deep but slightly less domineering, leaving you room to breathe as his tongue flicked into your mouth, his hips resuming a slow pace against you.

He hoped you could feel how badly he needed you, the sick stickiness of his crotch mixing with the slickness of your core, the fabric making you whimper and jump with each catch of your overstimulated clit.

“Fuck.” Sukuna whispered against your neck, drawing back to look at you, fully intending to beg you to touch him, just touching him would suffice, fuck he felt like he would burst with just a drag of your finger against his cock.

“Please…” you watched as he begged, his eyes red and…. were those tears? Had your childhood bully really fallen so far? Begging for your pussy as he humped your leg like a fucking puppy. “...please is it my turn?”

You smiled sweetly at him, cupping his cheek, letting him nuzzle his face against your palm.

“you wanna fuck me Kuna?”

Sukuna swore you were an angel with the way your eyes sparkled as he nodded, his eyes desperately flickering down to your lips.

“you need some pussy?” you almost giggled, watching his eyes widen, his eyes still transfixed on the way your lips moved, barely registering the words that came out of them.

“no….” he whispered, “no… just yours… only yours, please..”

You almost laughed, if only he didn’t look so pathetic… if only it wasn’t making you flood the sheets more than you already had.

“yeah?” you asked, “you just want mine? How bad d’ya want it Kuna?”

“S-so bad... fu… want you so bad…” his hips moved faster against you, making you worried he’d finish before you could get your fill.

Not that that would stop the two of you from going again, not that it would stop you from riding him til he cried for real.

“yeah?... “ you cooed, lightly slapping his cheek, grinning at the way it made him gasp, “...show me then…”

And with that, it was like a switch flipped in him, or rather it was like a starved man had finally gotten permission to eat. He sat back on his heels, wasting no time in pulling his boxers down, tucking the waistband under his balls, too impatient to take them off completely.

You wished you could say that you were surprised, but let's be honest, you knew that Sukuna was gonna be fucking strapped, even if he were to just be proportional to the rest of him he’d of been big. But this was just ridiculous, not only was he big… he was so pretty it had to be a crime.

The pink of the tip was almost shimmering with how wet it already was with his pre, if it wasn’t so heavy you bet it would’ve reached above his belly button, and the sight of the vein running up it was making your mouth water and your tummy flip. You could practically feel him inside of you already, fuck you could practically feel your next orgasm coming on.

Without a word, you turned yourself onto your stomach before propping up onto your knees, making his head spin at the sight of you offering your plump ass to him, pressing yourself into such a pretty arch.

It was tempting to fuck you like this, it really was… and if Sukuna was any weaker a man he’d of jumped at the chance to slam into you, to watch the fat of your ass ripple with each snap of his hips.

But Sukuna knew how he wanted to take you, he wanted to remember this forever, the first time he fucked you had to be memorable. You had the rest of your lives to fuck like rabbits, but this time he wanted to see you come undone, he wanted to look into yor eyes as he got to sink into you.

But you couldn’t see the gears in Sukuna’s head turning, all you knew was there were 2 fewer hands on your body than you wanted.

“Hey wha- hey!” your eyes widened as Sukuna grabbed your hips, flipping your body back over to face him.

“I wanna see your face..” he mumbled, leaning closer to you, his eyes flicking down to your lips., “please..”

You almost rolled your eyes, if not out of pure disbelief at his honey dipped words then in a lame attempt to cover up the fact that such words were starting to get to you, starting to make you picture something more with Sukuna, something that’d last past the next several hours.

You opened your mouth to taunt him, but as soon as Sukuna saw those pretty little lips of yours part he nudged your entrance with his tip, biting his lip with a cocky grin when your complaints died on your tongue, melting into a breathy ‘fuck’, pressing your eyes closed at the feeling of his fat tip running across your clit.

“fuck… please Kuna…” you brought his lips to yours, gasping at the feeling of him beginning to press into you, slowly stretching you out. “I need it in me…”

And that was all it took to make Sukuna lose the small grip he had on himself completely, driving into you in one swift thrust, making your eyes cross and your toes curl.

“Oh my god…” Sukuna moaned, his eyes closing in concentration, his whole attention focused on not coming completely undone the second he felt your warmth wrapped around his dick, the heat nearly choking him.

“Fuck…can I move? ple-fuck… please can I move?”

You almost wanted to make Sukuna suffer by saying no if it meant he’d look at you like this forever, his cheeks flushed almost as pink as his hair, his pupils blown so wide you could barely even tell his eye color. He looked at you like a churchgoer in prayer, like you were his world… It was honestly a little scary how it made you feel, how much you liked it, how much you could see yourself getting used to it, waking up to it every morning, falling asleep to it every night.

You brought your hand up to cup his jaw, smiling small at the way he turned his face towards your hand, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited expectantly for your answer, his breath catching at the feeling of your walls pulsing around him.

“Make me cum ‘Kuna ....please” you whispered, guiding his mouth back to yours, swallowing the groan that ripped through him as his hips started moving without his permission, making you cry out with the brutal pace his body set.

It felt like he was possessed, moving without any control over his body. He didn’t know how long he could keep himself contained with the way you were sucking him in. The feeling of your soft stomach and tits as he pressed his body as close as physically possible to you, only his hips moving to jackhammer his cock in and out of you, making your head spin with every catch of his pelvis against your clit and with every brush of his chest against yours, feeling his bounding heartbeat, threatening to burst out of his chest.

It was fucking hot, the effect you had on him, the way he could only hide his face in your neck, whimpering out pathetic “thank yous” against your collarbone, too flustered to do anything else.

Your arms had found their ways around his neck, your nails digging into his upper back, the bite of your nail making his cock jump inside of you.

“Fuck Kuna….” you moaned, you felt him in your throat, his tip brushing against your cervix with each snap of his hips, your hips doing their best to meet his thrusts. “feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he breathed, gritting his teeth, his quickly approaching end only driven closer by your praise. “I fucking love the way you feel around me doll, so fucking tight… fuckin’ perfect.”

The way his words came straight from his chest, the low tone, borderline growl making your walls tighten around him.

“Tell me how much you love it ‘Kuna…” your hands were on his lower back now, as if pushing him closer to you, letting him hit even deeper inside of you.

“Shit….” Sukuna choked, “oh my god… oh my god I love it so much… love it…. love you-fuck I love you”

And maybe if you were already fucked half to heaven you’d of noticed what he’d said… what he’d confessed to you, but you were so lost in your own lust all you could do was agree, blabbering in agreeance, your hips chasing his desperately, chasing the high that was starting to rise in your core.

“Love your cock Kuna…. please..please go faster.” it was your turn to beg, and god was Sukuna NOT ready for such a thing, nearly fainting at the sight of your half-lidded gaze.

Most men would give up, he’d been fucking you for a while now, supporting his upper body on his forearms as his hips pistoned into you, maybe if he’d a been any smaller of a man his muscles would burn with exertion, and they’d especially not be able to go faster.

But not Sukuna, not the man who threw around 100 pound haybales, two at a time all day for weeks at a time, not the man who could drive 50 posts a day, putting up nearly a mile of fencing all alone.

This was no sweat to Sukuna, if anything the burn in his thighs was a reward for the long insufferable days of work, which is why when his girl says faster, there's only one thing he can do.

“oh my godddd yesyesyess-fuck thank you…”

Sukuna grinned as you babbled out profanities, pressing your thighs to your chest, changing the angle of his hips to drill into you that much better, taking your lips in a bruising kiss, forcing you even deeper into a mean mating press.

“Fuck doll, youre so fucking beatiful, gonna make me cum…”

Your head was spinning, it felt like your heart was going to break out of your chest, the feeling of the fat tip of Sukuna’s cock pressing into your gspot with each jerk of his hips was making you lose your mind in the best way.

How were you going to carry on with life after this? You weren't quite sure yet, knowing that you’d never have this much control over a man ever again was an unfortunate thought. The power you held over this man alone was enough to nearly push you over the edge, that familiar rubber band drawn so tight within you, so ready to snap… you just need one more little push. You wanted to watch Sukuna fall apart first, wanted to watch him lose his mind from the way you made him feel.

“please…want you to come inside of me ‘Kuna…”

Sukuna swore he saw god, “fuck…wai-what about you getting pregnant?”

Sukuna asked, and he admitted that half of him hoped you were serious, he hoped that you were serious and that you weren’t on the pill. And while he was definitely just thinking with his dick, he couldn’t help but pray he’d knock you up first try. He knew it was barbaric and he was fairly certain you really didn't want that. But that didn’t stop him from fucking into you impossibly faster, making you cry out, digging you nails into his back, undoubtedly leaving angry red marks for him to admire tomorrow.

You giggled, the sound quickly melting into a moan with the way Sukuna’s hips quickened.

“Don’t worry… on the pill…” you managed to whimper out, getting sick satisfaction when Sukuna’s face dropped just the slightest bit before dropping down to your neck, biting and sucking a trail up to your jaw, whispering into your ear.

“fuck… you sure?”

Sukuna could feel himself on the edge, he was so fucking close, all he needed was to feel you come around him, feel you cream around his cock, paint his pelvis with your arousal. But before he could do anything else, before he could talk you over the edge, you tangled your fingers into his hair again and brought him against your chest, forcing his face against them, making his eyes roll back at the feeling of your fat tits smothering him.

“Come for me ‘Kuna.” you whispered in his ear before tossing your head back at the feeling of his teeth sinking into one of your nipples, the actions pushing you both over the edge at the same time.

“Fuuuckkkkk” you cried, white flashing behind your eyes, you body shaking, the only thing preventing your body from bowing off of the bed being Sukuna’s strong frame, pinning you down as he worked you through your high, forcing himself to fuck you through his own high, the hot overstimulation of your walls making him cry out against the skin of your breasts.

The two of you rode out your highs until you were both left sweaty, out of breath, and twitching, your bodies tangled in Sukuna’s sheets.

You finally gathered your breath, slowly regaining your composure, gaining consciousness at the feeling of Sukuna still slowly pressing kisses against your neck, already having come down from his high, choosing to happily bask in your presence for as long as he possibly could.

“Hey…” you mumbled, a sudden rush of embarrassment dawning on you as the gravity of what you just did started to weigh on you.

Sukuna let out a small ‘hmm?’ still not stilling his lips against you, something inside of him thinking that as soon as he stopped all of this would be over and you’d walk out of his life forever.

“Gotta pee.” you muttered, trying and failing to move your body under his, his solid muscle mass proving it pointless.

“I’ll carry you.”

It wasn’t even an offer, he just dragged himself up, gathering you in his arms like you were nothing, not even grunting at your weight as he proceeded to carry you into the bathroom attaches to his room, hesitantly setting you down on your feet in front of the mirror overlying the his and hers sinks in the bathroom, chuckling quietly at the way your legs shook, earning him a glare from you.

God you were beautiful.

And Sukuna was gonna marry you. He was sure of it.

“Thanks I guess.” you grumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself, avoiding his gaze now that both of you had regathered yourselves.

“Come back to bed when you’re done.”

You couldn’t tell if he was begging or telling, his voice just soft enough to make butterflies flutter through your chest.

“I don’t-”

His hand cupped the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his, locking with just as much passion as he’d had only moments ago, only making the butterflies worse.

He drew away, “please…” his voice was still soft, and his eyes shone with a vulnerability you couldn’t say you’d ever seen.

None of this changed what he’d done to you, and it never could. You didn’t know how you felt about Sukuna anymore.

He made your life hell for so long…. you didn’t know if you could ever forgive him…..

but it wouldn't kill you to stay the night….. maybe longer…

…who knows?

#jujitsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x plus size reader #jjk x chubby reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #chubby reader #chubby reader smut #ryomen smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x reader

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vettelsvee · 4 months ago

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GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET SERIES

f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

sebastian vettel x singer ex gf!reader | 2018 to 2022 f1 seasons

for more information to the reader: ❥ this series will include some flashbacks to get to know more the characters and their story. ❥ it contains right person, wrong time and friends to lovers tropes. ❥ taylor swift and little mix don't exist in this universe as y/n and her music is based on theirs. ❥ some parts might include sensitive content. pay attention to trigger warnings at the beginning of each part.

started: JULY 17TH 2024 currently status: on going | last updated: july 24th masterlist under the cut !

taglist: [@nhfls @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife @mploopssek @sleutherclaw @youre-on-your-ownkid ]

a/n: i couldn't keep it anymore. i just can't thank you enough to all of you who liked, reposted and commented on the very first part of goodbyes are bittersweet. i feel speechless because this story means a lot to me. hope you like the story of these stupid two as much as you liked the first part. hope to see your comments and feedback, and also hope we fangirl together over this two <3

SEBASTIAN VETTEL AND Y/N Y/L/N HAD BEEN EVERYTHING TO EACH OTHER SINCE THEY WERE LITTLE. The kids from Heppenheim became best friends as soon as their parents' friendship made it possible. To their surprise, but not to the rest of the world, the young pair formed an increasingly strong bond until, after years of internal suffering, they decided to confess their feelings to each other.

However, a slip-up at the beginning of 2013 left Y/N pregnant with the RedBull driver's child. Knowing what it would mean for her partner to bring a child into the world, especially considering that his chances of winning his fourth Formula 1 championship were very high, she made the tough decision to hide the truth from Sebastian, cutting off all relations with him and his family.

Four years after the birth of little Emily, in 2018, Y/N worked tirelessly to provide the best possible life for her daughter in a small bar in her hometown as a waitress and occasionally as a singer, while composing songs that she thought would never be successful... or so she believed until a video of her singing one of the best songs she ever composed went viral on YouTube, reaching more people than she ever imagined.

Even Sebastian Vettel, who never stopped loving the woman who had been his girlfriend for six years despite having tried to forget her many more times that he could count.

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET MASTERLIST

part 1: y/n decides to break up with seb once she finds out she's pregnant part 2: seb finds out that y/n just went viral on youtube after posting a song that might been composed about him part 3: y/n discovers not only that she went viral on youtube on her birthday and that she's offered a reunion with capital records, but also has to face a possible reunion with seb after no contact with him for four, almost five, years part 4: seb comes back home as a surprise only to see that hanna and a little mysterious girl receive them... instead of y/n, who was supposed to finally meet him part 5: after not seeing each other in almost five years, seb and y/n finally meet with just one purpose for her: telling seb they have a 4 year old daughter. will y/n be able to tell him? part 6: seb just wants y/n to accept that contract, and he's going to do everything he can to make it happen. also... the sebastian vettel fandom goes wild when her ex girlfriend does her comeback

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒 + 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐱 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏)

“Athanaxious. We are going back right this instant!” An adult male siren called out to his brother. His beautiful gradient tail of obsidian to violet shimmered underneath the water filtered sunlight.

“Oh stop being a prickly pufferfish for once, Vasileios. We’ll be in the deep once again in a moment. I just have to—“ ‘Athanaxious’ replied with a huff. No matter the uncountable times he had come to the shoreline, it was still difficult navigating through shallow water on such a rocky beach. His tail, an exact opposite of his companion with its sandy ivories and gold, flicked in all directions as it tried to propel him away from harsh terrain.

His hands gripped tightly to a leather sling bag across his exposed chest.

“Have to wh—“ The albino creature attempted to ask but was thwarted by a hash tug on his arm, “Hey!” He stretched out his arm to slap Athanaxious in retaliation only to pause at the sound of singing.

“All I ever wanted was the open sea and sky; freedom from the life I always knew.”

Both men froze. A chilly delight crawled through their spine, their limbs and eventually the tips of their fingers and fin. Vasileious had never heard of a voice that entrancing. He has heard several of his fellow sirens luring humans to their demise, but none of them could even hope to compare to this sound. It echoed within the chambers of his heart, the matter in his brain, and the longing that lied dormant within.

But then he saw it’s source and the features on his face soured.

A human.

You.

“Now all I am is haunted as days and hours roll by…” You continued with your song, and then you abruptly halt. The next line wouldn’t come out properly. Your eyes run over the words, slowly getting frustrated with how it wouldn’t fit in.

Athanaxious doesn’t waste a beat. He knew that adorably annoyed sneer you’d make and what would fix it. “All I ever think about is you.”

Vasileious gasped. Athanaxious never sang. Always going on and on about the safety of the sailors on sea and how he didn’t want their blood on his hands. Yet here he was freely providing his — quite literally — magical voice to this human.

“Athanaxious, what are you—“

“Than! You’re back! I was just thinking on ways to improve that verse. Thank you.” You ran, the ruffles on your chiffon blouse flowed through the wind. You flinched and stumbled as the pebbles scraped the sole of your bare feet. Your luxurious leather heels long forgotten.

“Of course, your highness. I wouldn’t miss our reunions here for anything.” Athanaxious winked, just like how you taught him a while back.

You chuckled. The siren had noticed how the clothes you wore contrasted to those he’d usually spot at sea. ‘Couture’ you called it. But all he could think of was those pictures of human prince and princesses, and thus the little inside joke started. “I told you I’m not . . . “

Your eyes trailed from your raven haired companion to the albino. Athanaxious’ tail always fascinated you, but the new siren’s looked out of this world. Further reminding you of how different the worlds you lived in actually were. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, him?” Athanaxious rolled his eyes, another mannerism he learnt from you, “Just one of my older brothers.”

“You didn’t tell me you have an older brother.”

“Y-you didn’t tell me you were fraternizing with a- a- human! What would father think about this?Not to mention mother . . .” Vasileious’ fins shivered at the thought.

“Father knows.” Athanaxious shrugged whilst looking throw the bag he’d wrapped around him. You have gifted him many things, tangible or not, throughout your friendship. So he thought of bringing something back to you.

A pearl necklace. He was actually going to give you the clam it came from but judging from what fishermen looked for and spoke about, he thought giving you the biggest, shiniest pearl he could find would have been more appropriate.

As soon as you received the gift, you swiftly embraced him in an attempt to hide the empty look on your eyes before mustering the most sincere ‘Thank you.’ you could do.

“In any case, don’t humans have siblings as well? I just didn’t think it would be interesting enough to mention in our conversations. Our time together is often far too brief.”

“Far too brief it is.” You stared at the iridescent pearl. A sigh escaped your lips. “Than, I have an event scheduled on a beach—“

Vasileios attempted to cover his little brother’s mouth but it was too late.

“Magnificent! We’ll be there!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t agree to this—“

“—across the continent.” Your cheerful temperament dissipated.

Athanaxious asked, confused at why you seemed so upset about such a fact. Didn’t more events meant you get paid more in those currencies you spoke about? He shook his head, perhaps you were forgetting he wasn’t human like you always did and said, “Your highness, do I like I wouldn’t be able to swim there?”

“No, of course not. You seem quite capable.”

Athanaxious’ cheeks turned a dark shade of blue at your words.

“Besides you must have plenty of royal duties to accomplish.”

“I have no such thing—“

“Thank you for reminding me, human.” Vasileios’ patience had ran out. He loved his brother to pieces — he really, truly did — but feared the wrath of his parents much more. “Mother asked us to survey the reefs. If we come back without a proper report. . .”

“Oh fine.” Athanaxious slapped the other siren’s hand away, and then faced you with his sharp teeth. “Fare thee well, your highness.”

“You too, Than. Twas a pleasure to meet your brother.”

You sighed one last time. Annoyed at your lack of confidence in conveying the message you wanted to.

Athanaxious will find out sooner or later that it was your very own wedding he would attend by himself,

and the nickname he gave you? Might have some truth to it soon.

[ AUTHOR’S NOTE ] - status: unedited

Have an old ass draft that has collected dust atp.

If this gets idk, 1000 notes I’ll make artworks of our siren brothers and switch out the one I have featured on the header.

This fic will have three-five acts in total. Of which the story I’ve already planned out. It’s pretty much just a twist on the classic little mermaid story to end our pride month with a bang. We love our historic gays as much as our contemporary ones 🏳️‍🌈

reader is amab and will have more stuff alluding to their masculinity in later acts.

[ LINK TO NEXT ACT HERE ]

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere siren #yandere mermaid #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere various #yandere harem #yandere harem x reader #gender neutral reader #dom reader #amab reader

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 6 months ago

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Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ☟

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

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nerdytyrantphantom · 1 year ago

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shattered but not lonely (joel miller x f!reader)

This is my 2nd request! Hope you love it, anon 💖

request: hey!! could you do joel x reader (maybe smut) where joel gets super protective over the reader after saving them from a dangerous situation?❤️❤️ word count: 3.9k rating: 18+ explicit warning: SMUT. reader was kidnapped by raiders and joel rescues her and they have sweet, sensual reunion sex after she heals. soft!joel, pet names ("sweetheart" "baby"), light mentions of captivity, oral (f receiving), reader gets super fucking wet, joel is very into it, p in v sex (be smart etc.) a/n: my goal with this piece was to write the filthiest yet equally loving/romantic smut possible :o) i hope you like it! also, to the anon who made this request - i have a second (less fluffy) interpretation of this prompt i plan to post in the near future :) p.s. title is from the song "my favorite book" by stars

“Joel?” you whispered. If the figure in the doorway wasn’t who you thought it was, you prayed for a quick death.

But as the man’s silhouette approached, your breathing steadied; it was him. Despite your blurred vision from two swollen black eyes, your brain recognized the fragments that formed Joel Miller’s unmistakable presence: the broad shoulders, firm gait, and weight of his rifle slung over his shoulder. A hot wave of tears rose at the realization that Joel had found you. You were going to be okay.

Upon reaching your side, Joel sank to his knees. His battered hands carefully cupped your wet cheeks as his bloodshot eyes desperately searched yours. You’d never seen this Joel before – a Joel who was scared, whose vulnerability was laid bare – and your heart wrenched with pain at the tears threatening to spill from his own eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he choked, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. His bottom lip quivered as his thumb gently brushed your cheek, as if he was checking to make sure that you were real, that it was really you beneath the bruises and the bloodshed. His voice cracked with sorrow, guilt seeping through every word: “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

The iron fist that wrapped around your heart squeezed knowing that Joel blamed himself. It was in his nature to take on the weight of the world and responsibility for those he loved and you were no exception. You knew Joel and understood the depths to which he would punish himself for not protecting you. In reality, there was nothing he could’ve done. But in Joel’s tormented mind, such reasoning held no solace.

You struggled for the right words to take away his burden. “It’s okay,” you assured, your hands tenderly covering his that still cradled your face. “I’m okay. I promise.” Joel saw through your forced smile, but knew there was nothing he could say. “Let’s just go home.”

Silently, Joel cradled you in his arms, holding you close against his chest. As he carried you, he felt the weight of your body relax, surrendering to the comfort and safety he provided. Your head rested against him, your breaths becoming steady and peaceful as sleep claimed you.

Time blurred as the days passed. Hazy memories floated in and out of your consciousness — glimpses of Joel spoon-feeding you, of tenderly replacing bandages, and the featherlight touch of his lips pressing kisses to your forehead.

Finally, one night as twilight painted the sky in shades of purple, you stirred awake. As if on cue, Joel entered the room with a glass of water. His boots scuffed the hardwood floor as he approached and set the glass down on the bedside table. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Then leaning forward, his lips pecked your temple.

"Hey there,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?"

You took hold of his hand, bringing it to your lips, pressing a tender kiss to each knuckle. "Better," you whispered, as though the two of you were sharing a secret. Your lips trailed up his hand, skimming along the inside of his wrist until you found yourself pulling him closer, causing Joel to lose his balance slightly as he leaned in to embrace you.

You nuzzled into his neck, seeking the comfort that only he could provide. "Missed you," you murmured, your words vibrating against his skin, as you breathed in the familiar scent that defined him.

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you tightly against him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he promised, his fingers stroking your hair. "Never gonna change that." In that moment, time stood still as you both immersed yourselves in the simple joy of being together again. The outside world faded away – the QZ, raiders, the infected – and all that mattered was the warmth of your bodies and shared breaths and sighs between you.

As your lips brushed against Joel's ear, you confessed with a hint of playfulness: "I think I need a shower."

Joel's arms gave you one final squeeze before releasing their hold. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes still filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, as if he still couldn't quite believe if you were real. You gave him a small smile. "I'm here," you reassured him. “I’m okay.”

As you stood from the bed, a mask of determination veiled the pain that still raked through your body. Joel stood beside you, a silent pillar of support, guiding you with gentle hands to maintain your stability as you found your renewed sense of balance. Together, you made your way into the bathroom.

Joel reached out and turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the space, creating a soothing backdrop to the moment. He stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance as you prepared to cleanse away the remnants of your ordeal. With quiet care, he helped you disrobe, removing each piece of clothing with a delicate touch.

As you lifted your arms for Joel to remove your shirt, you couldn’t hide the whimper that escaped your lips, a sharp burst of pain radiating throughout your spine, as he tugged the garment over your head. You tried to quickly conceal the pain, but Joel saw through your facade – he knew you better than anyone.

To your relief, he didn’t scold you for moving into normalcy too fast or decide that the shower was a bad idea; instead, he held his hand under the stream of water, adjusting the temperature to ensure it was just right.

Then, you watched as he slowly shed his own clothes, standing before you naked and vulnerable, mirroring your own state of undress. He held your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, as you both stepped into the warm fall of the cascading water.

Under the torrent of the shower, steam billowed, welcoming you in a cloud of wet warmth. With practiced hands, Joel lathered shampoo in his palms, his fingers working their way through your hair, massaging and cleansing with a confident yet gentle touch. You observed him in silence, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement, displaying strength tempered with tenderness. The white suds built up, creating a frothy veil over your hair, as Joel carefully lifted your locks into the stream of water, rinsing away the traces of the past.

Gently, Joel turned you around so that your back was to him, his hands lathered in soap. With the utmost care, he began to massage your shoulders and trace a path down your arms, his touch both soothing and deliberate. He lifted your arms slightly, ensuring no part of your body was left untouched, as his hands moved down your back, tracing gentle circles and washing away the remnants of your captivity. Leaning forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, he guided his hands over your stomach and breasts, the suds gliding down your body, renewing your skin.

The moment held a sensual undercurrent, but it was devoid of pressure or expectation. This act of washing was an expression of pure love, a quiet gesture of nurturing your body back to health. Yet, even in this gentle intimacy, feeling Joel's body against yours, his hands caressing every inch and crevice of your body, a dizziness washed over you. A sense of lightheadedness and longing swirled within you, the desire to melt into his touch and be swept away.

After the shower, Joel wrapped you in a soft towel, cocooning you in its warmth. He then tenderly placed a second towel over your head, gently drying your hair, revealing your face with a renewed glow and cleansed complexion. As his eyes took in the sight of you, a mixture of relief and adoration danced in their depths, forming the first soft smile you had witnessed since your return. He leaned his forehead against yours, creating a sacred space between you.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered, his voice carrying a blend of tenderness and desperation. His commitment to taking care of you was unwavering, his desire to meet your every need palpable. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to provide solace and support, to be the anchor that would guide you through the storm.

Hugging your towel against you, you burrowed into Joel, a silent request for him to hold you that didn’t require words for him to understand. As he wrapped you in his embrace, you spoke into his bare chest, voice muffled: “You. Just need you, Joel.”

"I'm right here, baby," he murmured, his touch a comforting presence against your back. Your body stirred with a different kind of ache as you gazed up at him, a longing that transcended the physical. His soft, pillowy lips beckoned to be kissed, the scruff on his face tempting your touch. You could spend a lifetime tracing the lines and contours of his face, exploring every inch of him with a blind devotion.

Locked in his gaze, Joel understood the unspoken desires that flickered within you. Like a language only the two of you shared, he deciphered the quickening of your heartbeat, the subtle lick of your lips, and the faint furrow of your brow that betrayed both frustration and longing. He blinked, a silent affirmation that he felt it too, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

"Come on," Joel beckoned, his voice laced with a mixture of invitation and anticipation. You observed as he skillfully arranged the pillows against the headboard. He draped the towel that had once enveloped your damp hair onto the mattress, purposefully positioning it where your body would inevitably find its place. You then climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself with your back nestled against the plush pillows, your abdomen resting upon the soft towel, and the second towel still wrapped around your shoulders, offering warmth and security.

From this vantage point, your gaze fixated upon Joel, who stood at the foot of the bed, an arresting sight that never failed to steal your breath away.

No matter how many times your eyes met his, the effect remained unchanged—an overwhelming wave of captivation that surged through your veins. This moment was no exception. His hair, still damp from the shower, was slicked back, save for a single rebellious curl that dared to escape its confines. His flushed chest glistened under the subtle glow of amber light, adorned with droplets of water that cascaded over his skin. The only barrier between you and his complete vulnerability was the white towel that draped enticingly around his waist. Its snug embrace accentuated the contours of his hips, hinting at the sculpted muscles that lay beneath the fabric, while the mere suggestion of movement threatened to loosen its grip.

A tremor of anticipation coursed through you as Joel's eyes roamed over your form, mirroring the same intensity with which you had studied his. A slow, deliberate stroke of his jaw accompanied the journey of his gaze, traveling up your legs, lingering over the heat of your core, trailing across the curves of your breasts, until finally, his eyes connected with your own. His thumb traced a path over his bottom lip, an unspoken question hovering between you.

"Will you let me take care of you, baby?" he asked, a confident plea that resonated with sincerity. He closed the distance, taking a purposeful step toward the bed, his touch grazing over the delicate skin of your foot, tracing invisible patterns.

A lump formed in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as you nodded, your eyes conveying an unspoken affirmation. "Always," you managed to whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, sealing the unbreakable bond that bound you two together.

You bit back a moan as the towel wrapped around Joel’s waist teasingly fell lower, the outline of his half-hard cock rising beneath the white cotton. He then crawled up the bed between your legs until he was able to nuzzle his nose into the soft skin behind your ear.

“That’s all I ever want,” he murmured, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. He planted a small kiss onto your skin, humming with pleasure as he grazed your neck. “To hold you,” he continued, moving down to kiss the constellation of freckles that spanned over your shoulder, “to kiss you.”

As he continued his onslaught of kisses and pecks, you felt the heat rising within you. Finally, as though Joel could sense your desperation, he brought his lips to yours. He softly worked over them – the soft, wet sounds filling the air – before delicately swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. As you opened your mouth and permitted his entry, his warm taste filled your senses, igniting a carnal desire that only Joel could fuel. You moaned hungrily into the kiss and raised your arms to wrap around Joel’s chest to pull him closer, but then groaned as another shock of pain rippled throughout you.

“Shhhhh, baby,” Joel cooed, resting his forehead against your own. He fought back an amused smile as he lovingly stroked your cheek and pecked at the corner of your lips. “Can’t have you hurtin’ yourself on me, sweet girl.”

Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. You felt like your body was betraying you from what your mind – and your hormones – severely desired.

“Just lean back and relax,” Joel coaxed, returning to the spot where your neck met your shoulder. He planted more kisses, featherlight, as he continued, “Just let me take care of my girl.”

Closing your eyes, you forced yourself to relax under Joel’s direction. As you sank into the pillows, you concentrated on the touch of Joel’s mouth moving further down your body. “That’s it,” he murmured as your breathing steadied. “That’s my girl.”

Your heartbeat quickened as Joel’s hands gently pushed away the towel you had slung over your shoulders, revealing your bare chest. With great care, Joel cupped your breasts, massaging the plush skin soothingly beneath his fingertips, while his thumbs lazily circled each nipple. As they became erect under his touch, he popped one into his mouth, suckling the sensitive skin between his teeth.

“Oh, Joel,” you whispered, your voice both a warning and a plea. He knew what you liked. He knew exactly how to give you what you wanted. And right now was one of those moments, when he suspended the passing of time and acted as though his life’s sole purpose was purely to worship and please you.

His tongue continued to swipe over your nipple before releasing it with a pop and moving to the next one. When you looked down, butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him; he looked so content with his long eyelashes covering his shut eyes, his nose slightly squashed against your breasts, and his lips wrapped around your nipple like he could stay that way pacified forever.

As you melted further into the pillows, Joel’s kisses moved down your belly. “My sweet girl,” he murmured – more to himself than to you – as he reached the pubic hair covering your mound. He pushed himself lower onto the bed and arranged himself so that he was neatly between your legs, before carefully lifting your thighs over his shoulders. As you settled into the position, arousal pummeled into your core at the touch of Joel secure between your legs and your bare feet grazing the muscles of his back.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Joel repeated, his voice just a muffled murmur as he continued to plant kisses over your thick curls of hair. He turned his head to skim the tip of his nose over the inside of your leg, before dipping himself into the deepest crevice of your thigh, where he dragged his tongue along the crack. “My baby,” he whispered.

Joel hadn’t even touched you where it counted yet, and already, your core was dripping. Hearing Joel’s whispers of sweet nothings, tickled by his hot breath ghosting your skin, smelling the soap and shampoo mingle with the scent that was pure Joel, and feeling his plush pillows hug you from behind – it was all building so fast to be too much for you to take. Without a second thought, you spread your legs further, exposing the slick web of arousal between your legs to Joel.

He groaned with ravenous desperation, the sound only turning you on further. He squeezed the dough of your thighs over his shoulders as he buried his nose between your folds, the sticky spread of you smearing onto his face. Your breath hitched as you felt him deeply inhale your scent, before dragging his tongue along your folds. “Give you anything you want,” he mumbled, gently gliding his tongue up and down your slit. His tongue worked lavishly against you, slowly, with deliberate movements that were in no rush. As you felt his tongue dip into every curve and crevice of your core, your fingers found their way weaving through his hair.

“Joel,” you whimpered, wanting to buck your hips into him further but knowing your pain wouldn’t let you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with pleasure.

Joel shushed you as he continued to lick, his scruff tickling your skin and the sensation electrifying you more. “Sweet, sweet girl,” he continued, a groan pouring from his throat as he licked up a stripe of slick that oozed from inside you. With someone else, you may have been embarrassed or ashamed by how wet you got. But Joel treated it like a gift, like he’d discovered a secret that was all his, and he never failed to express how much he enjoyed it.

For what felt like hours, he stayed like that, his fingers gently massaging the dough of your thighs while his mouth sucked and slurped every part of your core. As perspiration formed on your forehead and your cheeks began to flush, you squirmed with want under Joel’s touch. But like always, he understood.

“You ready to cum, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up at you from between your legs. Despite what he was doing, his brown eyes looked so innocent. As you eagerly nodded your head, Joel pecked up your folds tenderly until he reached your clit. “Okay, baby,” he said soothingly. “You can cum whenever you want.” And with that, he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your stomach churned at the sensation of his tongue toying with your clit like it were candy, his soft strokes perfectly brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with kitten licks.

“Joel,” you cried, cradling his head in your hands. You felt white hot flames licking you from the inside out as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap. Heat rose into your chest and your cheeks as you fell deeper into the pillows, the cushions swallowing you whole.

Your hips rose just an inch, and though it hurt, the pleasure far outweighed the pain. At this perfect angle, Joel continued to swipe his tongue against your clit until all at once you were seeing fireworks bursting behind your eyes, a wave of euphoria rippling throughout your body. You cried his name as tears streamed down your cheeks.

As the aftershock continued to radiate throughout your body while you tried to catch your breath, Joel crawled up so that he could face you again. His dark eyes were blown out, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your slick. You whimpered as you watched him greedily lick his lips.

“Thank you,” you choked, wiping the tears that streaked your face. Joel kissed your face and hummed with content. “Still want you, though,” you sniffled, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed in a mix of pain and arousal. “Are you sure, baby?” he asked, breath hitching, as your hips rose to grind against his. His towel had since fallen off and now you could feel it, his hard length begging to be buried inside of you.

You nodded confidently. “I’m positive,” you assured him, nosing into his neck. You nibbled his skin, the perfect button you could press to get what you wanted that would drive Joel crazy and whispered, “Please. Want you to fill me up.”

Joel groaned at your words; there was no way he could argue with you, and he didn’t want to. He fisted his cock in his hands and guided the tip along your folds. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he commented, his eyes staring straight into yours.

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking your lips. “All for you,” you promised him, studying every scar and scratch that etched his face.

You watched as his jaw fell slack as he pushed himself in, his entire cock filling you up with ease. You moaned instantly. Joel was accustomed to the way you’d mewl for him to fill you completely. He knew how much you loved his cock – the length, the girth, the way it filled you to the hilt – and he could read it on your face every time he had the chance to enter you. As his pubic hair came to brush against your clit, his cock completely sucked inside you, he murmured into your ear: “That’s it, sweetheart. S’all yours.”

As your moans grew louder, Joel pistoned himself deeper, maintaining a steady pace that wasn’t too fast or too slow, but just enough to savor the sensation inch-by-inch. Your nails dug into Joel’s forearms, too weak to wrap around his back, as you clung to him with desperation. “Joel,” you whimpered, not knowing what to do with yourself underneath them. The pleasure was building quicker than you had anticipated. “Joel, I–” you started to say, before sinking your teeth into his arm. You clenched tightly around him as he continued to thrust inside you.

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” Joel whispered sweetly, holding your chin in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes searched your red cheeks, furrowed brows, and watery eyes. As you desperately nodded your head, Joel’s lips frowned. “Yeah?” he asked, stroking your chin, unable to resist just a second of teasing.

But before any frustration could build inside of you, Joel’s hand was between your bodies and his thumb was drawing circles against your clit. “It’s okay, baby,” he encouraged, his own words struggling to come out of his mouth as his jaw became slack watching the pleasure wash over you. As your face contorted in pleasure, the coil in your belly threatening to snap for a second time, fresh tears began to roll down your face. Joel shushed you and kissed them away. “It’s okay, baby, it’s all for you,” he said, his words gradually coming out through gritted teeth as he fucked you deeper. “All yours, baby, every part of me.”

All at once you broke, crying out as a second seismic wave of pleasure erupted in your core and rippled throughout your body. As you gushed around Joel’s cock, his pubic hair drenched and the wet squelch penetrating the room, you felt his movements grow sloppy as he burrowed into your neck. Then he was emptying himself inside you, his warm cum seeping out of your aching hole.

He allowed himself to collapse beside you, careful not to hurt you, his sweat-slicked chest panting. His hand skimmed your chest, cupping your breast, while his face nuzzled into the other one. “My baby,” he murmured, kissing over your areola. He nuzzled into you more. “Never gonna let you go again.”

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic

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welcometothejianghu · 7 months ago

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 重啟之極海聽雷/Reunion: The Sound of the Providence/The Lost Tomb Reboot/this thing has too many names

Reunion (I'm just going to call it that) is a 2020 action drama about the most specialest little babygirl in the tomb-raiding world, his two husbands, and the cadre of assorted weirdos they pick up as they try to follow a set of directions left by a dead (?) man in the thunder.

Imagine if someone showed you the Mandalorian, and you were like, gee, that was a neat little sci-fi one-shot! because you'd never heard of Star Wars. That was basically my experience watching this show, having no idea that the Lost Tomb franchise (DMBJ) was even a thing. Turns out that not only is there a whole big continuity out there with these characters, but that Reunion takes place a few years after the main story's resolution. Don't worry, though -- Reunion doesn't spoil you for that resolution. It doesn't spoil you for much, period. Look, DMBJ has a weird relationship to endings, okay?

I have written a more thorough where-to-start guide for DMBJ as a whole, so if you want to consider other entry points, well, that information is there for your consideration. Yet it is my opinion that this is the best entry into the overall franchise, and a fun thing to watch just in general, and I'm here to make my case for both of those.

The rest of this rec will assume that you have no familiarity with the DMBJ series. That's okay; you don't need any. All you need is to trust my five reasons you should watch this.

1. Old Man Yaoi

As you begin this show, you are introduced to the Iron Triangle. That's them in the picture up there. Left to right, you have: Xiao Ge, magically tattooed immortal hottie who just got back from ten years in [scene missing]; Wu Xie, our protagonist, who's just a little guy and it's his birthday; and Wang Pangzi, the literal best.

(And yes, Wu Xie is in his 30s and Pangzi is in his 40s, which is not technically old man anything, but ... look, if you watch, you'll see why I think I'm justified in calling it that.)

They are extremely married. They are a disaster trio of disasters so disastrous that no one else should ever be subjected to their chaos. They're going to make sure lots of people are, though, don't you worry about it. Sometimes those people even deserve it.

However, because the show (tragically!!) decides that Xiao Ge has somewhere else to be like 95% of the runtime, most of the relationship you get to see is between Wu Xie and Pangzi.

I'm saying this now as an old gay nerd who just this year celebrated her 15th wedding anniversary: I have never, never felt so represented in media as I have watching Wu Xie and Pangzi interact. There's a little wake-up song they sing together near the end of the show, and it just ... it packs so much character development into thirty seconds. These boys have been living adjacent lives for so long that they've made up their own little shared songs about the mundanities of daily living. That is just what happens when you marry your best friend and then decide to get old and weird together. Ask me how I know.

Look, if you want to know whether this show is for you or not, watch to the end of the first episode, to the part where Pangzi flips over the table. If your heart is filled with joy (as it should be), keep going.

Love makes a tomb-raiding syndicate family.

2. A fun-filled action-packed romp of nonsense!

If you're familiar with Hellblazer canon, this will make sense to you: Reunion is Dangerous Habits. If you're not familiar with Hellblazer canon, try it like this: Reunion is a terrible place to start because it plays on your extant affection for a character who gains a terrible status effect almost immediately. It's a also great place to start because it throws you right in the action with measurably high stakes and gives you a reason to build that affection very quickly.

I'm also going to warn you right off the bat: The plot of this show got cut to ribbons by censors.

See, the DMBJ books, being books, are allowed to get away with supernatural shit! So you've got zombies and ghosts and curses and monsters and immortality and all your other standard ooky spooky semi-urban fantasy trappings. But the DMBJ adaptations, being live-action, are heavily regulated in their content. This is why, in the early Reunion episodes, our heroes are menaced by human-looking creatures that are actually ancient mannequins made of leather that are piloted, mecha-style, by evil clams. Because evil clams are more scientific than zombies. I guess.

So yeah, the plot of this book already had to get mangled into a more "science"-compliant shape even before it made it to filming. The real problem is that a whole lot more of it got cut after it was all filmed and put together. I have read an explanation of what the actual storyline was supposed to be, and yeah, if you know what you’re looking at, you can see (and hear) the scars where major elements got hacked out with a weed whacker.

Therefore: You cannot expect this plot to make sense.

But that's okay! You're not here for the plot to make sense! You're here to watch some characters you love run around through ridiculous and sometimes beautiful labyrinths, trying to solve puzzles you're never given enough information to understand, all in search of the resolution to a mystery that had half its guts torn out before you got to see it -- and you are here to love it. If you have ever laughed and cheered your way through a Mission: Impossible film without pausing to care too much about the plot holes it’s dodging left and right, you are in the correct frame of mind to appreciate this. Just believe that whatever engaging nonsense the show tells you is correct for the time being and go with it.

You cannot watch DMBJ and care about the laws of physics. You simply cannot.

Do not, however, let me give you the impression that the shoddy plotting is accompanied by equally shoddy performances. A major part of this show’s incredible watchability comes from how the cast is shockingly good. There are some serious heavy hitters among the actors. A major part of why this Wu Xie and Pangzi are my favorite together is the incredible chops both Zhu Yilong and Chen Minghao have, to say nothing of their real-life affection for one another. (See that scar on Wu Xie's neck? That scar is there because Zhu Yilong commits to the bit.) Effortlessly charming Mao Xiaotong turns potentially irritating wunderkind Bai Haotian into a perfect precious weirdo baby. Wu Erbai's entire second-season character arc could have been unintentionally comedic, but veteran of queer cinema Hu Jun sells even the undignified moments as relentlessly tragic. And of course Baron Chen absolutely kills it with...

3. This giant fucking loser

This is Hei Xiazi. That's not his name, but it's close enough. Allow me to do a dramatic reenactment of my watching his first scene:

[camera pans over to him]

me: Ugh, I recognize this kind of wannabe badass character design. I hate his type. He's self-important, hyper-masculine, and just a big jerk, and the show thinks he's soooo cool. Barf.

[thirty seconds later]

me: Oh no. I was so wrong. I love him forever now.

This is because he is (as indicated above) a giant fucking loser. Yes, he's a good fighter who knows lots of things. He's also a wet potato chip of a man. Sure, he can get you into a headlock, but he can also annoy you into submission, and that's honestly more fun for him. My wife has used the phrase “Vash the Stampede-coded” to describe him. My wife is not wrong.

And the kind of ridiculous thing is, being such a loser is what wraps back around to making him cool again. He's a loser because he just doesn't fucking care. His masculinity is the opposite of fragile. You tell him to wear a dress and makeup, he'll do it -- and sure, he'll complain, but only because he enjoys complaining. He has no dignity. He’s tits-out. He's gender. He's the worst and also the best.

Hei Xiazi is a major character in the other installations, to the point where he and his boyfriend (more on him later) even have their own movie. But of course, I did not know this on my first watch, so I kept expecting the show to explain his whole deal. It does not, but you don't really need it to. He sees better in the dark. He doesn't age. He's a thug for hire. There, that's all the bio you need.

One of the things that makes him great is that he is the least sexually threatening person ever. Across all the properties he's in, he spends a fair amount of time with women -- sometimes in very close quarters -- and they are perfectly safe around him. I actually wrote a whole post about it once upon a time (warning for tiny spoilers for a series that isn't this one) wherein I claim that not only Xiazi but Reunion in general is the television equivalent of the shirt that says I RESPECT WOMEN SO MUCH I DON'T HAVE SEX WITH THEM.

That said, this loser does get a sort-of romance plot here -- and honestly, I find it very cute! It's not even the only instance in this series of a bisexual guy in a long-term same-sex relationship getting a girlfriend, and I like that other one too! Look, the handle of my DMBJ sideblog is @katamaricule because I joked that Wu Xie treats polyamory like a katamari, and if you don't move fast enough, you're going to be rolled right up into his gay little cuddle puddle.

This is not a show for exclusive ships; this is a show for inclusive ships. The Jiumen Association is a polycule. You don't even have to know what the Jiumen Association is to know it's true.

4. The power of friendship

This show has a lot of characters.

I'd say the supporting cast is divided into three categories: characters who have been in previous installments, characters who have not been in previous installments, and characters who probably should have been in previous installments (or at least mentioned) but who were only created for Reunion so we have to pretend like we've known about them all along.

There is no way to tell which is which -- which is part of my argument that this series makes a good entry point to the franchise.

Take Huo Daofu. Huo Daofu is a brilliant doctor masquerading as a donut stand operator who treats Wu Xie with all the cold disdain of a man confronting the person who left him at the altar years ago. On the one hand, yes! We do know Huo Daofu from a previous series, and we've known he's both a doctor and a bitch. On the other hand, oh, we have no idea why he's like this about Wu Xie, and we probably never will. The show just treats it like it's for an excellent reason, and you know what, from what you know about Wu Xie, it probably is.

Consider also Jiang Zisuan. One of the show's principal antagonists, Jiang Zisuan turns out to be the brother of ... well, let's just say it's someone whose having a brother really should have come up before this. It has not come up. (And that's even before we get into the issue of his surname.) His stated identity as that person's brother is so bizarre that my favorite interpretation is that he isn't actually that person's brother -- all the flashbacks we see are just his delusions about a relationship he's completely invented. But there's no way you'd know how fucking weird this is on your first run.

Then there's our friendly little support himbo, Kanjian, who shows up to all occasions with two tickets to the gun show and not a thought in that beautiful head. (His name just means "vest," which is par for the course when it comes to the author's naming conventions.) He was a lot more menacing in the last series (where they kept putting sleeves on him, geez), where most of what we learned about him is that you can loan him out to other tomb-raiding families. Now he's a golden retriever with great aim and a slingshot. It's an upgrade.

The trick is, you cannot be surprised when someone shows up and the show treats them like you should know who they are, even when there's no possible way you could know who they are. I mean, for heaven's sake, Liu Sang arrives in the middle of an obvious beef with Pangzi, the origins of which are never satisfactorily explained, while also having a giant do-I-want-to-fuck-him-or-do-I-want-to-be-him crush on Xiao Ge, which is also never satisfactorily explained. Whatever, you just roll with it. He's got good hearing, a bad attitude, and questionable taste in idols. Now you're good to go.

(I should throw in a special note here that Liu Sang is many, many people's little meow meow, and not undeservedly. For a fuller explanation of why that is, please consult this other post I made.)

Part of the fun of this big cast is the adorable interactions you get. All the characters have appropriately big personalities, and the show loves letting people you wouldn’t expect bounce off one another. It’s not your typical action-hero show where nothing happens without the protagonist in the room. There are lots of exciting combinations and tons of charming dynamics! Unlikely friendships form all over the place! Enemies become allies! Allies become friends! Friends become friends with other friends! Some friends become enemies again! You'll need a scoreboard to keep up!

This is not to say the show treats all its characters perfectly or equally -- one of the precious few main female characters doesn't even get a real name, for heaven's sake, and the less said about the brownface racism, the better. It is, at its heart, a dude show for dudes made in China, with all the troubling decision-making that implies. Where it does deserve credit, though, is in understanding that its supporting characters are actual people with personalities apart from their function in Wu Xie's narrative. Sometimes the show just asks "what if [random character A] and [random character B] had to interact?" and has fun considering the answer! Which is almost always a delight to watch, and sometimes even breaks your heart.

5. Amazing rewatch value!

And by this I mean the experience of watching this show is remarkably different once you have any understanding of the rest of the DMBJ universe.

For instance, there's a point where two characters are scuba-diving past some submerged coffins, and one character tells the other whose coffins they are. Working only on information Reunion has given you, you're like, oh, that's where they buried the guy who built this creepy place, that's a little weird. Once you recognize that name from other series, though, your reaction is far more, excuse me, they did WHAT to WHOSE corpses?

Or another point where a character you've already met is on a train, and there's a handsome gentleman who just happens to be riding with her. He hands her his business card! Aw, that's sweet, he seems like a nice guy! Well, no, Xie Yuchen is not nice, but he is one of our allies, and he's Hei Xiazi's boyfriend, and a lot of what he's doing hits real different when you have a fuller grasp on why he's doing it and for whom. (Honestly, a major reason to watch Reunion first is so you're not fully and appropriately upset by how your black/pink gays merely have one teeny tiny scene together.)

From the way the series treats the persistent absence of Wu Sanxing, Wu Xie's third uncle, I absolutely, 100% assumed that he was a completely new character to this installment of the series, an extremely long-lost relative that we've somehow conveniently managed to never talk about before now. So imagine my gobsmacked surprise when I went to watch a different series, set much earlier in the timeline, where the opening scene prominently features Wu Sanxing as an actual character in the present-day narrative! ...Well, sorta. Look, there's a lot of fuckery with his identity in earlier parts of the story, and fortunately you need to know none of it to understand Reunion. But when you do, it suddenly makes a lot more sense why Wu Xie talks about someone who was a major part of Wu Xie's adult life like he died when Wu Xie was nine.

AND THE FLASHBACK SCENE WHERE A-NING GETS KILLED BY THE SNAKE, AND YOU'RE LIKE, OKAY, AND THEN YOU WATCH ULTIMATE NOTE AND IT WASN'T LIKE THAT AT ALL look, I know there are kinda reasons for this, different production companies and all, but seriously, what the fuck

All of which to say is that the experience of watching Reunion the first time is, hey, this self-contained romp is a lot of fun! The experience of rewatching it after watching any of the other DMBJ installments is a transcendently wonderful head-clutching avalanche of one moment of recognition right after another.

And here's the thing: You will watch more. Reunion is a gateway drug. If you are interested enough to make it through all 62 episodes, you're going to be interested in watching more. Which is great. The English-speaking fandom needs more people. Come down into the tombs. It's great down here. We've got snakes and arguably unintentional homoeroticism. Join us. Join usssssssss

Are you ready for an aventure?

There are a couple different ways to watch the first half, but there's (weirdly) only one way to watch the second, so for both of them, I'm going to send you straight to iQiyi: Season 1 (32 episodes) and Season 2 (30 episodes).

And just so you’re ready when Reunion is done, here’s how you find the rest of the DMBJ series, in the absolutely non-chronological order in which I, personally, think you should watch them:

The Lost Tomb 2 (AsianCrush, YouTube)

Ultimate Note (iQiyi)

The Mystic Nine (iQiyi, Viki)

Sand Sea/Tomb of the Sea (Viki, WeTV, YouTube, also YouTube)

Also, there's a lot of movies and side series and other pieces that are worth seeing, and even a couple of full series I've left off the list, and you can just slot them in wherever. And maybe we'll get Tibetan Sea Flo-- IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! And someday maybe I'll actually have time to watch it! What a concept.

They're so perfect. Perfect triangle. Perfect boys.

#dmbj #重启 #重启之极海听雷 #盗墓笔记 #Reunion: The Sound of the Providence #the lost tomb reboot #rec post #i made this

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

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Leave a Light On {vol. ii}

Summary: Of all the sounds you would have expected to hear in the hazy, quiet small hours of the morning, the gentle rasp of Bradley’s voice wasn’t one that you ever could have anticipated. After three months away, he is finally home.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(read vol. i here)

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

That voice. His voice.

You’d been running your fingertips over the smooth keys of his piano, just about to settle them back into the starting position of the part of the song that had tripped you up in the first place. One breath away from launching into that tricky portion yet again, when you were nearly startled out of your skin. Surprise and shock shooting up your spine, the pencil in your hand sent flying.

Of all the sounds you would have expected to hear in the hazy, quiet small hours of the morning, the gentle rasp of Bradley’s voice wasn’t one that you ever could have anticipated.

Your pulse is pounding wildly, in your chest, in your throat, in your ears, as you swiftly spin around towards his front door.

And there leaning against the wooden doorframe of his house, wearing his green flight suit with a canvas seabag still clutched in hand, is Bradley.

Healthy, whole, and here.

“Bradley!” You’re up and off his creaky piano bench in less than half a heartbeat.

You had wanted to be the one to surprise him, but here he was surprising you. His arms wide and welcoming.

If his body was any less solid you might have knocked him over in the way you collide as you throw yourself at him. His bag hitting the floor with a thud as he drops it to hold you properly for the first time in three months.

I’ve missed you.I’ve missed you.I’ve missed you. your heart taps out against your ribcage.

I’m here.I’m home.I’m yours. you feel his beat in reply.

He has you so tightly pressed against his chest, holding you so close within the safe cocoon of his sturdy arms. Your face is buried in the side of his neck, breathing him in. He doesn’t smell like the sandalwood scent you’re used to, but rather some sharp astringent smell from whatever taxpayer funded soap they provided on the carrier. But underneath that, there’s something that’s just so Bradley.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says almost incredulously into your hair, his arms tightening around your waist. “I thought about you all the time. I missed you so much.”

Still in too much shock to speak, still too overwhelmed by him, you just rapidly nod your head in agreement and burrow yourself closer into his warmth. Your fingers combing through the fine hairs at the base of his head in that soothing way that you know makes him sigh. Smiling to yourself when you get the reaction you were hoping for, when his exhale ghosts down the side of your face as you hold each other.

Your perfect Bradley. Your Golden Boy.

You’ve thought about your reunion with him so many times over the last few months.

Visions of you picking him up, waiting for him by the Bronco wearing that sundress that drives him wild. Of him surprising you at work after some meeting that could have been an email, standing head and shoulders above the gray drab cubicle walls of your office. Of him lingering outside the door of your apartment with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, just like he had after that comically bad third date, but this time without the bug bites littering his thick forearms.

And even though your hair is probably a mess and you’re in an oversize threadbare shirt and wearing slippers that had seen better days, this is better than anything you’d imagined. Because this wasn’t some delicate daydream spun together in your mind to keep ache of missing him at bay.

In the early hours of the morning, it’s not a lyrical vibrato and swell of strings that serves as the soundtrack to his homecoming like it would be in the movies. It’s the percussion of the drip from the kitchen faucet, the low hum and rattle of his refrigerator, the melody of your mingled breathing. These were the sounds of the score to your reunion with Bradley, a domestic symphony.

The quiet, steady ticking of the clock mounted on his wall is the only acknowledgement of time passing as the two of you stay wrapped up in each other. The only indication that this moment isn’t suspended in time like the way it feels it is. A sign that while the sky is still inky and dark outside his living room window, that soon enough the birds will be chirping and the sun will be rising. And for the first time in a long time you will not be waking up in a bed alone.

Because he is here, he is here.

“Your heart is still beating so fast,” Rooster whispers lowly. His thumb is skimming the side of your throat as he cradles the back of your head with his big, warm hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart.”

You place a gentle kiss to longest scar that decorates the skin of his throat before pulling away to get a good look at him. He’s wearing the softest smile for you as you take his face between your hands. His hair looks a shade darker than his usual sunkissed bronze and his skin a bit paler than it was before he’d left. And your heart squeezes in sympathy as you note the deep, dark purple circles beneath his eyes and the weariness he carries around the edges of him.

The little lamp with its soft glow was the only source of light in the room, but his exhaustion clear as day.

You could feel the worry creeping up on you, making your eyebrows pull together with unease, “Is everyone-”

“Everyone’s fine, baby,” he hushes you reassuringly. His family in San Diego had become yours as well. You care about them all. “Everyone’s home. Safe and sound.” The relief you feel drifts over you like a gentle breeze.

“I’m so happy to see you,” you say as you pull his face to yours. “I missed you too, Bradley. So much.”

His lips are a little dry, a little chapped, but the way he kisses you still takes your breath away.

You can taste the burnt coffee he must have had after landing, the perpetually scalded kind from base that’s terrible regardless of who makes it. He’s told you about how he always waits to cool just enough so he can throw it back in one go, not wanting to draw it out. You’ve never had it yourself, but you don’t mind the bitterness when it’s off his tongue.

There is nothing hurried or desperate about the way you reconnect with one another, nothing like how you imagined it might be after being apart for so long. Not the hungry mouths or frenzied touches you’d thought about late at night while looking at the pictures and videos on your phone that he had so generously left for you, with only your own hands and imagination to keep you company.

It’s easy to lose yourself in him, making up for lost time and lost kisses. Normally his attentions set your pulse racing, but the longer he kisses you the steadier the beating in your chest becomes as he pulls soft sighs from you. He kisses you slow and deep, like he is savoring the slide of your lips against his. His hands smoothing up and down your back and along your waist, as if he is luxuriating in the feel of your body under his warm palms.

“Bradley,” you breathe contentedly.

“I’m here,” he says.

The simple statement has your mouth breaking out in a wide grin, you can feel the matching one he’s wearing against your lips as he pulls away.

“You’re back.”

“I know,” he says teasingly, running his finger down the bridge of your nose.

You huff a laugh, “No, you’re back early.”

“Mhm,” he hums happily, “And you were playing something really pretty on my piano.” He drops a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips again. “And here I thought”- a kiss on your right cheek- “you said you couldn’t”- a kiss on the left one- “play anymore,” he murmurs as he kisses your forehead. The coarse hair of his mustache feeling rougher than you remember against your skin after so many days without it. “You’ve been holding out on me, sweetheart.”

Your hands slides down from around his neck to rest on his chest. “I’ve been taking lessons,” you tell him. Feeling a bit shy now as you glance up at him from beneath your eyelashes.

“Yeah?” He pulls his head back to look at you, there’s surprise there in his eyes but also pride, “For how long? When did you start?”

If Bradley hadn’t been gazing at you with such genuine affection in those brown eyes of his, you might have been much more nervous to admit just how long you’ve been keeping this secret from him. Even so, you still feel like you’re holding your breath as you reply, “Since you got back from that first deployment.”

You can tell he’s trying to school his features, but his eyebrow still jumps up a bit as he does the math. And as he blinks at you, you can’t help but feel like for all your good intentions that you’ve let him down.

Six months was a long time to keep something like that to yourself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him, it had been on the tip of your tongue on more than one occasion. He was the only person you’d been wanting to tell, but waiting for the right time had turned into a three-month deployment.

There’s already an apology about to work its way out of your mouth when he cups your cheeks in his hands, “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have been practicing here the whole time. That piano is basically fifty percent yours anyways, since you were the one who found it.”

“I just- It needed to be mine, just for a little bit,” you say quietly, hoping he understands. Your fingertip anxiously traces around the edges of the patch that rests over his heart. “And I wanted to surprise you. But, then…” You nod your head to the green seabag forgotten on the floor.

The kiss he presses to your lips makes your knees weak with its softness. With its acceptance. With its understanding.

“Well, consider me surprised. You play so lovely,” he says with a gentle smile to put you at ease. And you feel instantly lighter, the pressure that had been building in your chest now just a memory. “I swear, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in months. What were you using to practice with before? The piano at the Hard Deck?”

That he was so invested in this because it was something that mattered to you soothed that tender part of your heart.

His enthusiasm made you want to tell him more, to tell him everything, “I bought an electric keyboard for my place.”

“Wait, really? Where?” he asks, looking adorably confused. You can see him trying to search his memory, as if he’d somehow missed a big rectangular black and white thing pressed against a wall in your tiny apartment. “I swear I’ve never seen one there. That’s something I definitely would have noticed.”

“I would hide it under my bed whenever you were coming over.” Saying it out loud makes you feel a bit sheepish about the lengths you took to keep it a secret until you were ready.

“Under the bed, she says,” Rooster repeats with a shake of his head, clearly amused.

“Well, we’re usually busy on top of it, so it seemed like a good place to keep it hidden,” you say with a little shrug, biting back the smile at the memory of the one time he’d shown up unannounced catching you off guard. And how flustered you been trying to shove it under your mattress as he recovered from the blowjob you’d given him on the couch as an attempt to keep him from going into your bedroom before you could put it away, but also because he really had such a nice cock.

He throws his head back to laugh, the deep sound of it fills the living room. Hearing it for the first time since he’s been away makes your smile grow wider until your cheeks hurt. You love that sound. You love being the one to make him laugh.

But something still tugs at you, something you need to know, something you need to hear.

“Bradley- You’re not…” you trail off.

Mad. Disappointed. Or worse, hurt.

“No. No, I’m not,” he says earnestly, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone softly. “I mean, yeah, I wish I’d known sooner. But only because I would have loved to be the one turning the pages for you and supporting you. I know what this means to you.” He pauses for a moment, that thumb still caressing the curve of your face, “But will you do me a favor?”

ofcourseofcourseofcourse

“Anything.”

That soft smile of his gets bigger and brighter, “Will you play a song for me, sweetheart?”

Some winged thing inside of you takes flight at the sweet sincerity laced between the syllables and the consonants his question.

He’s asked you to play for him so many times. And it had always hurt to deny him what should have been such an easy yes to such a simple request.

But now it didn’t have to be some lonesome dream. Because you’re there and he’s here and it’s all you’ve been wanting.

“Yes, Bradley,” you beam, “I can play something for you.”

You take his hand and pull him further inside the house from where you had been standing in the open doorway. He kicks his duffle bag out of the way, so that he can close the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.

It’s just you and him. Together.

In the comfort of his cozy living room, the light from the lamp on top of his piano wrapping you both up in its warm, golden glow.

His piano is no longer daunting the way it used to be. Instead, it welcomes you as you approach it with him in tow. Familiar and friendly.

He lets go of your hand and crouches down next to you. When he stands back up, he shows you the pencil in his hand that he’d picked up for you before tucking it behind your ear, back to where it had been earlier. And you’re dying to know just how long he had been standing in that doorway listening with you completely oblivious to his presence.

You watch with your heart in your throat as he straightens out the previously askewed bench and motions for you to take a seat, dropping a kiss to your cheek.

The creak of the bench not cold and mocking as you sit down, but rather a cheery acknowledgement of your return and of the hours you’ve spent there sitting and practicing together.

You close the open booklet in front of you, to clear up space on the shelf to swap it out for the other sheet music to the song you were planning to play for him, the one you had wanted to welcome him back with. Just as you’re reaching for it, Rooster stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist.

“Wait.” He’s looking down at you with his head tilted and a slight pinch of confusion between his eyebrows, “Why are you putting that one away?”

The song you’d been playing when he’d arrived wasn’t as rehearsed as the other one you’d been reaching for. It wasn’t something you’d ever meant for anyone else to hear, that is other than your piano instructor as she helped to guide you through the tricky parts.

“Oh, um, that one’s not ready,” you falter over the words just a bit as you try to hedge the question. “I have a different piece I wanted to play for you.”

You hold up the sheet music to him and his eyes soften when he sees the title of the song you purchased and practiced with only him in mind. It was polished, it was ready.

You’d had three months to get it ready for him, and you’d made sure to play it through at least once a day. You had wanted it to be perfect, he’d waited so long. He deserved the best and you wanted to be the one to give it to him.

He holds your gaze for a few moments. There’s a questioning look in his eyes, but he must find whatever answer he was looking for written on your face. Because instead of asking you the question seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, he just clears his throat with a little shake of his head.

“You learned this just for me?” he asks, his voice thick and raspy.

And when you bob your head yes, there’s a brief moment where it almost looks like he is struggling with himself. His eyes bouncing from you to the sheet music in his hands to the piano.

“I can’t wait to hear this. Truly, sweetheart. It’s just- the other one is the first thing I’ve ever heard you play...”

It’s not even a real question, but there’s a gentle request ripping in the wake of the way he trails off. There’s no pressure behind the ask that’s not an ask.

But still, there are butterflies fluttering around in your stomach now.

“Ok, Bradley. If that’s what you want to hear, then I’ll play that one for you.” You would do anything this man asked of you, you would do anything for him.

“Yeah?” The grin on his face could power the whole city when you nod your agreement.

He takes a few long strides around you as you work on reopening and flattening out the sheet music to the song he asked you to play for him. Out of the corner of your eye you see him grab and turn the wooden spindle framed arm chair, bringing it closer and situating it in just the right spot next to the piano.

“Look,” he says gesturing to it, pleased with himself as he settles into the chair, “A front row seat.” He is close enough that his knees are hugging either side of the piano bench.

The genuine excitement in his voice makes your heart stutter and skip a beat.

That the anticipation of fingers on keys and hammers striking strings is better to him than any jackpot or trophy could ever be. He makes you feel like this moment is his lucky lottery ticket. That this is his winning championship game.

You.

You seated at his piano bench with sheet music stretched across it and hands that can make music again.

And you would learn all every song ever composed just as long as he keeps looking at you like the way he is now, eyes bright and with a boyish grin on his face.

“Will you turn the pages for me?” you ask him, even though you already know what is answer will be.

“I would be happy to,” he says with satisfaction. And you know he means it.

You’re nervous now seated on the bench with a different song waiting to be played with the black and white keys under your fingers. As you feeling the warmth of Bradley’s presence next to you and the intensity of his gaze on you.

And with shaky fingers, you begin.

All Bradley had craved when he was on that carrier was for some silence.

Just for a moment where he could hear the sound of his own breathing, where his thoughts weren’t overwhelmed by all the other commotion.

And the closer he got to his house, seated in the back seat of the white Prius that had picked him up from base, the more he wished he was headed somewhere else. To someone else.

It had been three months of endless noise.

Three months of the relentless humming and buzzing and rattling and shaking of the USS Theodore Roosevelt. Of planes taking off for night hops and the explosions of jet fuel and machines banging on deck and the clang of metal on metal.

Three months of endless voices. In his ear from over the radio. Bouncing off the walls of the dull gray passageways. Layered and loud on top of the clatter of forks and spoons on plates and bowls in the mess hall.

Three months of sharing a room with Payback, who was considerate and tidy, but snored louder than anyone he’s ever bunked with. In such tight quarters it was hard to get a moment to himself, let alone a sliver of some peace and quiet.

With over a decade of service under his belt, Rooster would have thought it was something he’d get used to. And while it got more bearable over time, it never seems to get any better.

Sleep ‘til you’re hungry. Eat ‘til you’re tired.

That was the motto most of them lived by when they were aboard the ship.

His schedule shifting depending on the day, at the will of whatever commanding officer was in charge. Lunch became breakfast, the leftovers from previous dinner service that they ate during Midrats gave him just enough energy to make it to dawn. He often had stretches where he’d go days without seeing the sun, it was just another reminder that his time didn’t belong to him. There were moments when it felt like he wasn’t even his own person, but he’d known what he was signing up for when he inked his name on those papers.

Those first few weeks on a carrier were always the worst, when sleep would escape him just when he needed it the most.

He was either doing the midnight hops or being woken up by them. Trying to sneak in naps whenever he had more than twenty minutes of free time. More often than not he’d be right on the precipice of falling asleep when his alarm would go off and he’d have to rush off to the Ready Room for tactics trainings or the flight deck for practicing inflight refueling and aerial combat maneuvers.

Bradley loved flying.

He loved that moment when he climbs in the cockpit of his F/A-18 and everything just clicks into place. When the edges of the world around him sharpen, when the contrast is increased and the clarity heightened. That feeling of surety that washes over him every time from knowing that his actions matter, that what he does matters, that he mattered.

It was the way he could honor the man who made him and to solidify his bond with the one who raised him.

He understands his place in the world the best when he is thirty thousand feet in the air.

In the past, it had been easy to put his head down and get through his deployments because his career gave him purpose. His temporary discomforts and the high-stakes risks he took were worth it for the sake of the greater good.

But things were different for him now because he had you. You were always on his mind.

The two of you have been together for a little less than a year, but it feels like he’s known you forever. You make him feel seen and understood in a way that he’s never experienced before.

Bradley knew how lucky he was to have you, he’d almost blown it one too many times for his comfort in the early days of your relationship. His anxiety nearly derailing one of the best things that’s ever happened to him.

But luckily for him, you wanted him.

Even with all his flaws and scars and baggage.

And for you, he wanted to be a man worth waiting for.

That first deployment was harder than he could have ever anticipated. Not only because he’d never had anyone to miss before, but also because he’d never had to carry the weight that came from knowing someone else was missing him just as much in return.

The way he felt as he held you and danced with you in his living room, with that record you’d found spinning in the background, was a moment he wasn’t ever going to forget. It had felt just as special then as it does now. It’s the memory he replays in his mind over and over again on the nights he can’t sleep.

He’d ordered the sheet music to “Make Love to Me” during those final few hours he had left with you the night before he was due to leave. The screen brightness on his phone turned down all the way so that he didn’t wake you up as you slept soundly, soft and naked, next to him in his bed.

The anticipation getting home to you and learning it for you was the only thing that helped to get him through those six weeks when he felt like the walls were closing in on him from the way he missed and wanted you.

And once he was back, in between the hours he spent at work and the hours he spent tangled in bed with you, he’d go to the Hard Deck before it opened to use Penny’s old upright to practice. Thinking about how nice it would be to have one that he had a place to call his own. Then flipping off Hangman every chance he got when he’d groan about having to hear the song again.

Rooster had been able to bribe his team with the promise of free beer for a month in exchange for their participation when the song was finally ready for you. He’d known that their over the top antics would make you laugh. And the smile on your face when he’d serenaded you with it for the first time had been worth every penny of the hefty credit card bill he’d received the next month.

It was just as hard this time.

It had taken him a while to realize what exactly that feeling was that had settled heavy on his chest.

Homesick.

He’d never known he could be homesick for a person until he met you.

Time seemed to move faster when the two of you were together. And when he was away from you, the hours and days felt long.

It was harder to let the little things roll off his back because he couldn’t look forward to seeing your smile after a long day when he was thousands of miles away. He couldn’t decompress the way he was used to, the burn he worked up at the weight bench in the gym wasn’t nearly as effective as sitting at the bench in front of his piano. Even if his biceps were reaping the benefits.

On more than one occasion, he’d caught himself absentmindedly tapping out unheard tunes on the sides of his thighs.

Bradley hadn’t realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders until he’d felt it release at the sound of your laugh on one of the rare instances he’d been able to call you over the satellite phone on board.

“Have you been wearing the sunscreen I sent with you, Golden Boy?” you’d asked him.

“I promised you I would, didn’t I?” he’d replied, even as he rubbed at his sternum in discomfort at the not quite lie. When the reality was he didn’t need it when he was on such good terms with the moon. But he didn’t tell you that, didn’t want you to worry about him more than he already knew you were.

“That’s good. Because Lobster Boy just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” He could hear the smile in your tone, could feel it as it traveled over the electrical currents.

All the sounds and noise that seemed to follow him around, all the thoughts that circled and spiraled in his head, they faded when he got to listen to your sweet voice. As you told him how much you missed him and how proud you were of him and how much you loved him. Everything he’d never had before. The one thing he’d never let himself hope for.

Someone who cared. Someone who loved him. Someone who was waiting for him.

It was the first time in weeks that things had felt quieter. That he could finally breathe a little easier.

Until they’d told Bradley and his team that the mission they had spent the better part of two and a half months preparing for was getting moved up. And then the sound of the pounding of his heart was drown out by the ringing in his ears.

And on the night, during those pivotal moments where the minutes stretched on like hours, they’d flown it as damn near perfect as could be.

The feeling of sweat dripping down his back as his team had made their way back to the carrier an uncomfortable, but welcomed, reminder that he’d made it. That they’d all made it. That he would be headed back to you soon.

They did the fly-off two days before the carrier was due to dock back at base. Unlike usual, there wasn’t a fanfare of family and friends ready to greet them at the hanger. Normally, their return was a big event. Their formations immaculate as ever as they showed off for all of the important people in their lives before landing.

With all his other deployments, it was the moment that Bradley did is best to avoid thinking about, as he tried and failed to ignore the dread that would settle deep in the pit of his stomach.

Knowing that he’d have to watch as members of his squadron were met with a cheerful homecoming of handmade signs and smiles and laughter and hugs. Watching their tearful and happy reunions, watching as some of his teammates met the newest members of their families for the very first time. All while he’d gather his things and shake the occasional hand, only leave alone.

With this one, it was something he’d been looking forward to for the first time in his career. The idea of you being there to greet him, that big beautiful smile on your face just for him. Of getting to hold you in his arms for the first time in months in the bright golden California sunshine.

But he didn’t mind missing out since it meant he could be home early. He’d trade all the hoopla and hubbub for any extra minute he could have with you.

After all, there was always next time.

Because there would be a next time.

They’d gotten in sometime after midnight, the flashing lights on the runway guiding them in. The diet of stale coffee and adrenaline that he’d been living off of for the last few days finally catching up with him as he worked his way through the final check list of things needing to be done. The brief wrap-up that Cyclone wanted to have ended up going longer than originally planned.

And the longer he had sat there, the more the bone-deep weariness had set in.

His boots felt heavy on his feet as they’d all shuffled out the door to collect the rest of their belongings to head out. Everyone eager to get back to their own homes, back to their own beds. And for the lucky ones, back to the people in those homes and in those beds, who would be excited to see them.

Reuben had offered to give him a ride. He’d snuck a call to his wife the moment they’d gotten service to let her know he was coming home, and she had been there in the parking lot waiting for him. But Payback’s classy condo was on the other side of town from his own Craftsman bungalow, and Rooster wasn’t going to have his now former roommate drive out of his way when he had an app on his phone that could drop him off without inconveniencing anyone else.

So he’d bluffed and said that you were on you way, and then lingered in the break room with another cup of terrible coffee for an additional twenty minutes until everyone cleared out before ordering his ride.

He had been so close to putting in your address for the drop off when he’d booked the Lyft. He really wanted to see you, he’d missed you so much over the last three months. But had decided against it at the last minute, when he realized just how late it was. Thinking that maybe he could surprise you at work and take you out for lunch after some much-needed sleep, when he wasn’t so dead on his feet.

He wanted to be at his best for you.

But the longer he sits in the back of the white Prius, with his knees crushed against the back of the seat in front of him, sipping on the little eight-ounce water bottle the man had blindly tossed in his direction when he’d climbed in, the more he was realizing just how big of a mistake it was to give the driver his own address instead of yours.

The roads were mostly empty, only a few cars here and there.

It was sometime when night met astronomical twilight. The sun hovering somewhere between twelve to eighteen degrees from the horizon. Some stars visible in the night sky even with all the light pollution from the city.

Too late for the people from the bars to still be out and too early for the stirrings of the early commuters who had a long journey into work ahead of them.

Bradley had spent months wishing for the quiet. And he finally had it.

It was silent in the car.

His driver has his AirPods in- which he knows is illegal in California, but he wasn’t going to press it when the roads were this deserted- and the man hadn’t bothered to turn the radio on, so he was left on his own with his worn and well-used duffle bag, an empty water bottle that looked comically small in his hand, and his thoughts.

That quiet he had been so eager for wasn’t the peaceful kind he had hoped for. It is a lonely kind of quiet. It was one that pointedly reminded him that no one would be waiting for him at the end of his destination, when he finally reached that dot at the end of the purple road on his app.

The white static in his ears gets louder with every passing mile. As he watches the minutes tick down until the end of his ride. Where he would get out, and the driver would move on with his night, and he would still be on his own.

He was so tired of coming back from deployments to an empty space. Just like it had been at the barracks. Just like it had been at the minimally furnished apartments he’d rented before he’d been relocated.

This felt too close to those hollow, lonely homecomings of his past.

And while he liked his house, with its wooden shingles and original windows and warm charm, it was just building with four walls and a roof. The rooms held his things, but they didn’t hold anyone.

His dark, empty, quiet house.

It wasn’t a home if he was there alone.

He’d be so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he’d missed the fact that the driver had turned up his street. He’d missed the tree lined suburban blocks leading up to his small Craftsman, until the car slowed down and came to a stop in front of it.

Bradley can feel the guy’s eyes on him in the rearview mirror as he waits for him to grab his things and get out. That homesick feeling in his chest that he’d carried with him for the last ninety days, now back in tenfold. The weight of it keeps him sitting where he is.

He is so much closer to where he wanted to be when he was out in the middle of the ocean, but still too far from who he needed to be with.

As he is opening his mouth to give the driver the address to your apartment, his eyes catch on a light that’s been left on in his house.

That gentle, warm glow of the small lamp above his piano illuminating his living room against the shadows. The curtains still pushed to either side, so he can see in from the outside. Where he can see his piano and a figure curved over it.

And then he’s out of the car and standing on the cracked sidewalk with his bag in hand and taillights rounding a corner before he can fully even process it.

He almost doesn’t want to believe his eyes, the dried out and tired things that they are. Not trusting that in his sleep deprived state that they aren’t playing tricks on him, conjuring the one person he wanted to see the most.

It’s not until he hears the faint sound of his piano calling for him to come closer that it hits him in the chest with as much force as it does when he’s pulling G’s.

That his favorite daydream was now his reality.

His pretty girlfriend, the one who said she couldn’t play, was the one who was sitting at his piano making the music that was welcoming him home.

But as his feet carried him up the walkway, up the stairs, and across his porch to the front door, the music had only gotten louder and clearer. Fishing out the key from his pocket, he slips it into the lock as quietly as possible, opening the door ever… so… slowly… and with more patience than he knew he had in him.

He is too captivated by the curve and shape of you sitting there to try and figure out what that familiar tune is that you’re playing. There’s a cup of tea resting on top of the piano, sitting on one of the coasters you’d got for him when you realized he didn’t have any. You look so soft and perfect wearing a t-shirt of his that he thought he’d lost, a pencil adorably tucked behind your ear.

The picture in front of him is easily the best thing he has seen in months.

Bradley loves that piano. You were the one to find it for him.

It’s his favorite thing that he owns, because when he looks at his piano he thinks of you and the fact you were thinking of him.

It was always something he’d meant to find the time to research, to look into. He knew he wanted one, but he’d never taken the initiative to actually shop around for one.

It had been a dream of his for years, but he’d never had the opportunity to even consider it until after the Uranium Mission when they’d all been permanently relocated to San Diego. And even after he’d bought his house, it was something that sat in the corner of his mind rather than in the corner of his living room.

Instead of putting roots down, he felt like he was waiting for the rug to get pulled out from underneath him. Yet again.

Until one night at the Hard Deck, after he’d played a few of the crowd-pleasing tunes he kept in his back pocket, you’d passed him your phone to show him something. It had been picture of a gorgeous mahogany console piano, just the right size for where he’d been imagining one would go in his house.

“You’ve been telling me you want one of your own for ages, so I set up a few alerts just see what was out there,” you’d told him a bit shyly, almost like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping. “That one just came up, it looks like it’s in really great shape. And that price is better than what I’ve been seeing from some of the other ones I’ve looked at. So I sent the seller an email- just in case- and they replied. They’re not too far away, you’d just need to move it yourself. But you’ve got first dibs on it if you want it.”

His eyes had bounced back and forth between pictures and your beautiful face, “You did that for me?”

“It seemed like something that would make you happy,” you’d replied simply.

He can still remember the way his heart had pressed against the ribs in his chest.

“This is- It’s perfect. Thank you for finding this. Will you ask them if they want a deposit?” he’d asked, watching as that tentative, hopeful smile on your face grew bigger and brighter. “I don’t want to lose it. This is the one for me.”

He’d been sure of it. He was still sure of it.

A couple hours later and standing in front of Penny’s jukebox, he had still been buzzing from the find. The seller had taken down the listing, the deposit had been sent, the pick-up time was set, and he’d even managed to rope Jake into helping him move it in exchange for a bottle of whiskey. And you, you were the reason for it all.

He didn’t mean to play the song, didn’t even remember selecting it.

One minute he was looking through the catalogue of songs and the next you were in his arms as he twirled and spun you around on the scuffed wooden floors of the Hard Deck. He knew you weren’t the most confident of dancers, but loved that you trusted him to lead you in a slow easy rhythm.

Enjoying the feel of you in his arms, his lips pressed against your ear as he whispered anything and everything that came to his mind, the words all honey-dipped, as the song played on in the background.

“My girl likes sweet nothings?” he had murmured teasingly at the way he’d felt another shiver dance its way down your spine.

“They’re not nothings, Bradley. They’re sweet somethings,” you’d murmured back, settling your head on his shoulder. “It’s never nothing with you.”

He took your hand and placed it on his heart and he leaned back in. Whispering more sweet somethings into the shell of your ear. He didn’t stop until the song ended, but he could have gone on for hours.

Later that night, Mav had slid up to him at the bar as he was cashing out for the night. He was having a hard time focusing on the conversation the older man was trying to have with him because his eyes kept searching out you from across the room.

And you kept catching him looking.

“You going to marry that girl?” Mav had asked him with a knowing look in his eyes.

He knew the meaning of the song Bradley had selected better than anyone else. Pete been there the night his parents had gotten married, watching on from the sidelines as they’d had their first dance to the crooning voice of Sam Cooke.

“I sure hope so,” he’d answered.

He’d been feeling it for a while, but that was the night he knew.

Now he feds Penny’s jukebox his quarters and plays that song on purpose at least once a week.

For how tired he had been in the back of the Lyft, he feels like he could stand here and watch you for hours.

You’re humming to yourself as you play. Shaking your head when your finger hits a wrong key, slowing down to repeat it, before continuing on. Nodding along when you get through a portion, like you must have practiced that part in particular and were proud of yourself to get it right.

It’s the best thing he’s ever heard. Even when your fingers slip up and play a string of wrong notes.

“Fuck me, F Sharp not F,” you huff.

And he has to bite his lip to keep from chuckling and giving himself away.

Stopping this time to pull the pencil from out behind your ear, you bend forward making some circles on the sheet music in front of you for the spot that had tripped you up. Grumbling some other expletives lowly under your breath as you work.

His studious sweetheart.

Bradley is hit was with a tidal wave of affection so fierce that he knows he can’t stay quiet anymore.

You’ve made your marks and are setting your hands back on the keys about to start over again when he decides to ask you a question in-person for the first time in three months, “Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

“Bradley!”

He loves the way you say his name. He loves the sound of your voice. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

It’s almost an out of body experience to have you in his arms.

To kiss you. To taste the hint of chamomile on your tongue. To feel your heart beating against his chest. To tease you. To touch the soft skin of your face with his fingertips. To talk to you. To listen to you as you tell him about when you started taking lessons.

Because he still can’t believe you’re here, it still feels too good to be true.

He doesn’t feel the gravity settle back into his bones until you say you’ll play him a song.

Feeling oddly anxious when he notices you closing the booklet that was in front of you, in favor of putting it way and reaching for something else. But then you smile up at him as you show him the sheet music for song you told him you’ve been practicing.

There’s a look in your eyes that tells him you know exactly why he feeds Penny’s jukebox his quarters and plays “You Send Me” when he wants to dance with you. He knows in his gut that Mav must have told you, probably an intentionally unintentional slip of the tongue.

And god, he really fights the urge to ask. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or for you to think he’s taking this moment for granted or that he’s ungrateful for the work you’ve put into learning that song just for him.

A song that meant something to him.

But he is so desperate to hear you play the other one, the one that welcomed him home, the one that’s the first song he’s ever heard you play. It’s already so special to him in a way that he can’t put words too.

When you agree, Bradley’s chest swells with warmth and he can’t hold back his excitement. He pulls up a chair next to you as close as he can get without getting in your way.

And he swears he falls in love with you all over again when you ask him to turn the pages for you.

He hasn’t proposed yet, but if he is lucky enough to look in your eyes as he vows to spend forever with you, he knows he is going promise to turn your pages for the rest of your lives together. That is, if you’ll have him when the time comes.

His eyes catch the way you squeeze and flex your hand, the faintest hint of trembling in your fingers before you set them on the ivory key. The only thing giving away your nerves. Then after a deep breath, you’re playing for him.

And he gets to hear your song, from the beginning, for the very first time.

It starts of soft and melodic, almost like a lullaby. The timbre of the lower notes would sound almost melancholy if it weren’t for the uplifting lyrical, melody of the treble clef. The juxtaposition makes his heart ache and soar at the same time. He knows this song, even if he’s still having a hard time placing it, the title just out of reach.

When you had first told him that you’d forgotten how to play, he’d felt so guilty for all the times he’d tried to get you to play something for him. Kicking himself when he offered to help, not knowing even if you wanted to play anymore. He didn’t want to ever be the one causing you pain.

He knows better than anyone the bittersweet and complicated relationship that you have with the instrument. So the meaning of this gesture isn’t lost on him in the slightest.

He can feel every ounce of love and effort that has gone into this. And all because you wanted to wanted to share this part of yourself with him? Because you loved him?

Bradley wants to absorb every detail of this moment, wants to carry it with him always. The sound of the rich and round notes from the keys your fingers are gliding over. Your sweet face as you read the sheet music in front of you.

He only glances away every now and then to keep track on where you were in the song, so that he can fulfill his duties and turn the page when you’re ready.

You surprise him when you start singing along quietly. And he can’t help but lean in.

He’s always liked the sound of your pretty voice. He loves when he’s able to catch you singing in the shower, when he’ll linger in the doorway and listen. You’ll sing along with him in the car when the winds are whipping from the highway or when you’re tipsy. But it’s rare that he gets to hear you so sing so freely.

It’s not until he hears the words that it clicks for him, that he finally recognizes the song. It’s one he’s heard hundreds of times before, but never like this. There’s a sense of sincerity in it that feels new to him, but that seems entirely perfect for the piece. It’s like he’s hearing the song and understanding the depth of the lyrics for the very first time.

And the more you play, the more overwhelmed he’s getting. The lump in his throat growing in size with every passing measure. The pressure building behind his eyes isn’t from the lack of sleep, but something else entirely. The words you’re singing to him landing and making a place at home in his heart.

You’re approaching the chorus again. He knows where the song is building to. And he wants to meet you where you’re at, wants to show you he hears you. The one thing he’s always liked about the original is that it’s a duet. It’s a conversation.

Rooster realizes now that it was never the quiet he had wanted. It wasn’t the lonely sound of silence. All he wanted and all he needed was you.

Licking his lips, he waits for the right moment and then joins in with a low whistle.

Your head whips towards him and the brilliant smile on your face looks and feels like home.

This.

This is what you had wanted.

His harmonizing whistle was something you didn’t know you’d been hoping for until he joined in.

A part of him, a part of you. Something to be shared.

As you’d gotten yourself situated, smoothing out those pages in front of you, you’d felt your nerves trying to get the best of you.

Thinking about Bradley’s pretty brown eyes on you as you played versus actually having his steady gaze pinned on you were two very different things.

You’ve always had a hard time being the center of attention.

At your birthday, he had so flawlessly distracted everyone from that moment you always dreaded so much, sparing you from having everyone sing and watch on as the candles on the cake were blown out. Because he knew you and cared enough to want you to have the best time. It was the first birthday you’ve had where you were entirely out of your head for the whole evening.

However, he did play it for you himself on the piano much later that night when it was just the two of you, as you ate leftover cake wrapped up in his sheet.

And even those times when he’s serenaded you during crowded nights out at the Hard Deck, it was fine because while his eyes were on you, everyone else was busy looking at him.

But in his small living room, there wasn’t anything to distract him with or for you to hide behind.

The rapid sixteenth notes had been turned into more manageable eight notes with the help of piano teacher. Her tidy markings simplifying and streamlining the music to make it easier for you to learn. Done in pencil, she’d pointed out to you when she returned the sheet music back to you the next week after you’d given it to her, so that you could easily erase it when you were ready to tackle the more difficult portions.

Even so, there had been a brief moment where all the notes seemed to bleed into each other on the page.

It was as if the words of a book had been scrambled and rearranged just as you were getting to the best part. Just as you were about to find out who did it, just as they were about to kiss, just as the heist was about to be pulled off.

Your shaky fingers landing on the edges of a couple of the keys rather than in the middle of one.

But Bradley didn’t care that you’d fumbled over the opening. From the corner of your eye, you’d been able to see the way he was looking at you. It was like you’d hung the moon and the stars just for him.

He wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, because his feelings were always worn so openly on his face.

All those butterflies that had been swarming in your stomach took their flight, and a gentle warm wave of contentment filled you up instead.

You didn’t need the perfect notes when this was the perfect moment. It felt real, it felt right.

The urge had snuck up on you without warning. You hadn’t meant to start singing along, but once the first few words had come out of your mouth you were committed.

And then he’d leaned in.

He was already so close, you could just barely feel his knee brushing against the outside of your thigh from the way his legs were bracketing the piano bench. But there he was trying to get closer still.

Only you would know how many hours you’d spent behind your little electric keyboard and in Mrs. McMullen’s cozy music room and at Bradley’s house seated on his creaky piano bench.

Only you would know after he’d left, you’d driven right back to his house, the smell of his fancy coffee and sandalwood scent still lingering in the air. That you had pulled out the music to “Make Love to Me”, thinking that trying to play it for yourself on his piano would make you feel better, only to end up missing him more than ever when he hadn’t even been gone for an hour yet.

Only you would know many times you’ve tried, and made mistakes, only to try again. Once more, once again.

But in that moment, you didn’t want him to hear all the hours of lessons or all the hours of practice.

You wanted him to hear your heart.

And when he turned the page of your music for you, you couldn’t help but smile.

You wanted this song to speak to him like it had spoke to you the first time you’d heard it. The way it still speaks to you. How it made you think of him, every time you played it and every time you heard it.

You hoped he could feel it through the keys beneath your fingers and the pedal under your foot.

When Bradley joins in, quietly at first before getting a little louder after you grin at him, you know it’s his way of telling you that he does.

And it is everything.

He follows the lead of your fingers as they glide over the keys. The ebb and flow of his whistle, coming in and tapering out. Your melody strong on its own, but made better with his counterpoint.

For him, you were up for it all. Those quiet periods were just beats of rest that dotted the staff of your life with him. There were so many more notes in his song to look forward to.

Because he was worth the wait.

Those combinations and arrangements of notes that had once been fed your yearning were now fueled by your joy.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, it dawns on you that this was the first time that you weren’t playing the piano not to mask the loud or to cover the quiet. You weren’t playing because with a self-imposed pressure to make something perfect. You weren’t playing as a way to try and ease the longing that had taken up residency in your chest ever since you’d dropped him off at base nearly one hundred days ago.

You were playing because he made you happy and it made you happy to finally be able to off this little piece of your heart to him. He knew you in every other sense, but all you had wanted was for him to know you in this way too.

You were playing because it made you happy.

The rhythm of your left hand sure and steady like a heartbeat, while those soaring winged notes of your right sounded like the way you felt when he was near. When he was here with you, when he was home with you.

It feels like time isn’t being marked by the ticking second hand of a clock, but rather by the passing of beats housed within measures. Dictated by tempo of your own choosing.

You let yourself float in the moment, in the music. Of the feeling of the keys under your hands, of reading the notes on the page. No longer a random series of dots scattered along five lines on a page. Their language unlocked to you once again. Of the pride you can feel radiating off the man who loves you as you are. The one who made you want to try. The one who helped you find this part of yourself again.

Those two parallel lines that mark the end of the song inch closer as he turns the final page for you. And you find yourself playing just a bit slower. Trying to draw out every note and chord, soaking up the way they filled every nook and corner of his living room with their sound.

It’s inevitable when you come up on those few closing measures. All good things come to an end, but it doesn’t mean there won’t be more good things to come. You can have this whenever you want. You have all you need.

You and Bradley and a piano.

Your fingers hold down the keys of those final notes, pulling out every last bit of sound that can be let from them. The sound waves bending and spreading, their energy passing through his home until they can’t be heard any more.

Holding on. Holding it. Before finally, letting go.

And when you turn to Bradley, his arms are already open and waiting for you.

His piano bench announces its displeasure you’ve stopped playing for the moment when it groans and creaks as you get up in favor of tucking yourself into the comfort of his lap.

He wastes no time pulling you into him and wrapping you up. Encouraging you to nestle your head into his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek on the top of your head. His hand slipping under the hem of your t-shirt to run soothingly up and down your spine as you breathe him in.

You’re feeling exposed to him in a way you’ve never felt before. It was your turn to put all your cards on the table. But you know you’re safe with him, your heart is safe with him. Just as his is with you.

Neither of you say anything as the weight of the moment relaxes into something softer. As you felt the essence of the notes you’d been playing settle around the two of you from how they’d been silently lingering in the air.

It’s quiet, but there is peace to be found in it.

Bradley is the one to pull away to take your face between his large hands. His brown eyes brimming with warmth.

“I love you so damn much,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you. Delicately, softly, tenderly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you say running your fingers through his curls. Your heart swells as he leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter close in contentment. Your Golden Boy. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be than here. My home is with you,” he sighs, sleepy and satisfied. But the sincerity in his statement wraps itself around your heart.

“Bradley.”

“Mmhm,” he hums, his eyes still closed.

“Let’s go to bed,” you say softly as you gaze at him. Even half asleep, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And he’s yours. “It’s still too early for even roosters to be up.”

He huffs a little chuckle, cracking one eye open to squint at you. The side of his mouth pulling up on one side in amusement.

You move to climb off of him, but he hooks his hand underneath your thighs. Waiting for you to thread your arms around his neck before he stands up with you in his arms as he starts walking towards his bedroom.

Looking over his shoulder, you notice that little light above his piano is on.

The sky outside Bradley’s window is beginning to lighten now, the dark of night has given way to a dusky navy. There is the gentlest tease of wispy pink and purple cotton candy clouds, a sign that a sure to be stunning sunrise that’s on its way.

And you already know, it’s going to be a good day.

Thank you for reading, friends! This soft little piano fic has been living with me since January and I'm so thrilled that it's out now! I loved getting to share this one with you!

And a sincere thank you to @gretagerwigsmuse, @callsignspark, and @laracrofted for the support, and for letting me send endless snippets and the feedback! I appreciate you so much!

I purposefully left out the song that Bradley's Sweetheart plays, just in case anyone wanted to imagine their perfect song. But if you’re curious, here’s the one that I had in mind when I was writing this: Home (slowed) by Edith Whiskers 🤍

You can read some of my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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tadpoletiddles · 3 months ago

Text

𝑷𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏

PART 1

Brozone x Reader (fem)

WARNING: NSFW

~takes place after the Brozone reunion

~neither Bruce nor Branch are with Brandy/Poppy btw

(sorry if there are any typos)

°:. *₊ ° . *₊ . ° .•*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *

Brozone had always had some 'crazy' fans during their early days. It was normal for fans to send gifts like cards and various memorabilia; however, every once in a while, the boys would get odd fan mail.

This one time, when the boys were in their younger Brozone days, Floyd received a rather raunchy love letter from a fan, which entailed all the dirty things they wanted to do with Floyd. After the boys had split up, you had tried to keep in touch with each of them. Gosh, were you so happy to see them reunited again, not just as brothers, but as Brozone. The band's reunion sparked an uproar among their fans, who were so excited to see them perform again. Of course, some of the crazy fans also came back with much more creative 'gifts.' You attended every show because you were so close to the boys and remained friends after so many years. They even allowed you to act like a manager most of the time, even giving you one of those little headsets with the microphones. During their shows, you would be behind the scenes, ensuring everything went smoothly. Tonight was no different than any other night. As the boys finished their last song, you heard one of the stagehands come through your headset, "That's a wrap! shows over, security, make sure everyone makes it out safely, and- woah, what?" You peeked from behind the stage curtains, seeing what the issue may be. A squealing fan was Among the crowd; from where you stood, you could see them pushing their way toward the front of the stage. "Security!" came through your headset once more. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw the troll throw something, a blur of color flying towards the boys. A gasp escaped you as the projectile made contact with Brozone. The boys coughed and sputtered as a milky, powdery cloud misted over them. Just as you were about to step out from the curtain, you realized what had been thrown at them and sighed in relief, "the fan threw flowers," you spoke through your comm.

Security was able to wrangle up the crowd and escort everyone out of the concert area while a guard escorted Brozone back to their private pod where they were staying for the night. Everything had been cleaned up rather quickly, and you left the little that was left to the stagehands so you could go and check on your friends. You waved to the crew, and you began to head to the pod. You hadn't seen this pod yet, but it didn't look much different on the outside from the other ones that were provided for Brozone by the venues. All was quiet outside, aside from the chirping of a few crickets and the sway of the breeze. However, you could pick out a slight groan or two from inside the pod as you neared the door.

You raised your hand up and knocked twice on the door of their pod, "Guys, it's me, Y/N, let me in." It took a moment before someone shuffled towards the door to open it. The door opened slowly, and Bruce peered out at you, "Y-Y/N." "Bruce," you responded to him, a hint of worry in your voice at his unusual tone of voice. His face was freckled with what you assumed to be remnants of the pollen cloud from the flying bouquet earlier. Something seemed off about him; he usually had a pleasant aura to him when he saw you, but right now, he seemed stressed like he was hiding something. "Are you guys okay?" you put a hand on the door to open it the rest of the way and push past him. You could have sworn you heard him let out a gasp as you slid past him; what the hell was going on? You looked around the pod to the rest of the boys. Branch and Floyd were not in the living room area and must have been in one of the other rooms while Clay and John Dory were on the couch. Clay was lying on his stomach on one end of the couch, and John Dory, on the other, slumped over with a hand in his hair. Bruce was shutting the door as you turned back around to him. "What's up with you guys?" Before Bruce could answer, JD tilted his head up to look at you. He held a strained expression as he spoke, "It's the pollen." You think back to the cloud of it that had sprayed over the boys as JD muttered something, then sighed as he looked at your confused state. "The flowers, they um, their pollen is..." he stumbled over his words, and you were wondering where his sudden nervousness came from, "an aphrodisiac." Your mouth opens to ask another question, but he answers it for you, "you learn a lot from hiking the Neverglade trail." It wasn't until now that you realized Clay had been staring you down this entire time, his eyes lacking typical shine and instead glossed over. Your eyes shifted to look back to John Dory, who you realized shared the same countenance, then finally to Bruce, whose eyebrows were furrowed when his eyes met your own. They were eyeing you like a predator does its prey, ready to devour it. Bruce stepped towards you, "you should leave," he said, swallowing harshly. "How long does this last, John Dorry?" you redirected your attention back to the eldest brother, who just frowned at you, "Days, unless..." He was being so cryptic and it was starting to frustrate you, all you wanted to do was help, "unless what John, spit it out." Bruce grabbed your arm, "Y/N," his grip didn't hurt, but it was firm. You put two and two together, flushing as soon as you did. You were a big girl, though, and were capable of making your own decisions. Besides, it wasn't like you'd never thought about them in that way before, even if sometimes it felt wrong. "Is that what you want, for me to leave?" you said, not asking either in particular, but rather both of them. "Y/N," Bruce repeated your name again, his eyes no longer pleading with you but warning you of what could be to come. "That is your choice, sweetheart," John said, which made you quiver a bit at this new nickname; looking at Bruce one last time, you locked the door.

"You know what you're getting yourself into?" Bruce let go of your hand, taking another step towards you. He walked you backward to the counter, where he placed a hand on either side of you, boxing you in. A small whimper left your lips at his sudden closeness. John Dory chuckled, "I'm not sure if she does," he got up off the couch and sauntered towards the two of you, "How about we show her." Your eyes flickered between JD and Bruce. "I think we'll save the best for last for you," JD hummed, and you nodded your head in response, making him smirk. Clay now sat up from his place on the couch, and JD looked over his shoulder to him, "Clay, you wanna get our girl here started?" Your core quivered at his words, and you took notice of the growing heat in your underwear. Bruce hooked a finger under the waistband of your pants, "Let's get rid of these, shall we," and gave them a tug down, helping you step out of them; off next came your shirt. You shivered from the new coolness that came from your lacking clothing. "Alright, sweetheart," JD huffed, placing his hands under your thighs to lift you up, "Comere, you wanna help, then you've got a lot of work to do." You were hoisted up into John's arms, which pushed your body forward, pressing your nose against his, making John smile. He brought you over to Clay, who had already stripped his wool romper off to expose what the pollen had done to his member, which was bobbing up and down as it throbbed. Clay was laid back against the couch cushions, legs spread, awaiting you. Before John could set you down, he placed a kiss on your cheek, and you responded with a kiss yourself, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him in. He wasn't expecting it but very quickly dove into the kiss and was soon holding you up while the two of you sloppily made out. Bruce came from where he was leaning on the counter to sit on the couch, not far from Clay, watching the scene unfold, "I guess we aren't the only ones pent up, hm?"

Clay took the opportunity of having you held up to pull aside your underwear; he then looked over to his brother beside him, "Oh Bruce, look at this; she's soaking fucking wet." Bruce raised an eyebrow and leaned over to see your pussy practically drooling. Bruce clicked his tongue, "Our poor girl," you moaned into John's mouth at Bruce's words. John Dory's lips separated from yours and moved their way across your jaw and down your neck before he started to pull you off him to set you between Bruce and Clay. You were now at eye level with JD's tented shorts, your eyes widening at the sight. He took a hand and grunted as he adjusted himself. The cushion bowed as Clay slid over closer to you, his hands sliding around your waist. He shifted to pull your back flush against him, his cock coming to rest between your thighs. You let out a sound of surprise at his actions, looking up to John Dory, who leaned down to your face. His hand tilted up your chin, "I'll be back. Be a good girl, won't you?" he winked. Your cheeks flushed, not just because JD had been so forward but also because Clay had pulled your thighs farther apart, allowing his cock to slide against the lips of your pussy through your underwear. John Dory walked off to another room, glancing back at you again and smiling.

A hand came up to the front of your bra, where it was hooked together, and unclasped it. Your breasts bounced out, revealing, "Nipple piercings didn't take you for the type," Bruce chuckled, his eyes raking over your body. He watched as Clay's hands ran up your sides, one going up to play with one of your breasts, the other going down under your panties. His fingers grazed your clit, making you jolt slightly. "Don't tease the poor girl, Clay," "Alright, alright," Clay giggled. In an instant, you were shoved down on your stomach, letting out a yelp. Clay yanked your hips up, grabbed your tail, which was flicking back and forth to keep it still, and pulled your panties down your thighs. "So pretty," Clay hummed, running a finger up and down your folds. You whined, "Clay, fuck me already," arching your back into his touch. "Ask nicely," he said in a more stern tone, holding your hips still. "Please," you begged him, "please fuck me so good." The grip on your hips adjusted slightly, "There you go~." Not a minute more was wasted as Clay lined himself up, the tip of his cock prodding your folds. He pulled your hips back into him as he slid in slowly, "Ngh, fuck, she's so tight, " Clay said to Bruce. There was a moment when he was fully in, and he stopped to let you adjust. However, it wasn't long until he began to thrust into you. You tried to hold in your moans, but it was becoming harder as Clay's thrusts sped up. "No need to be quiet, we wanna hear that beautiful voice," it was John Dory, who had returned from the other room. Following behind him were Floyd and Branch. Floyd watched in awe as you took Clay so nicely, smiling, while Branches' face was priceless, with his mouth agape practically to the floor. You turned your head from where it was buried into the couch cushion, seeing the three standing there through your half-lidded eyes. Your hands dug into the fabric of the couch, hanging on for dear life as Clay plunged deep inside. The only thing you could think about was his cock stretching your walls. You were the only thing the boys had their attention on, all eyes glued to you. Your moans grew louder as your stomach tightened.

"Aww, someone's getting close~," Floyd cooed as his tail wagged. Clay grunted as he thrust deep into you once more, "She's not the only one." A few more thrusts and your walls were clamping down on him, your thighs shaking. It wasn't until you were coming down from that high that you noticed Clay's thrusts getting faster. "Can I-" "Y-Yeah," you stuttered out. Clay almost came right then and there hearing your words, although it took a few more thrusts before he did. He yanked your hips to meet his last thrust as his thick, milky cum shot up into you. The walls of your pussy fluttered around him as the warm sensation oozed through it. "Fuck," was all he said as he pulled out, his cum already leaking out of you.

You pushed yourself up and leaned back against the couch, your legs splayed out, showing your pussy, which still oozed out cum. Your eyes flickered to JD, who stared at you with a smug expression, "One of you wanna clean her up," he said suggestively. Floyd jumped up at the opportunity, eagerly shuffling forward from where he sat on the floor to sit in front of you. "May I?" Floy asked politely as his face nuzzled against your thigh. The way he looked up from between your legs made your heart flutter. Floyd was always so sweet, even now, cutely cuddling into you, nearly drooling over your pussy. Taking your hand, you ran it through his pink hair, lightly tugging on it, "Mhm." His tail flailed around wildly, and he nuzzled his way closer to your pussy. His lips peppered kisses along your inner thighs, giving a soft nip to the sensitive skin. Floyd's tongue darted across your slit, erupting a moan from you. As he continued to slowly lap at your pussy, you glanced around at the others. JD was palming his bulge through his pants, still holding a smug little smirk on his face, and Bruce was intently watching your hips buck up into his younger brother's mouth. Your eyes flickered to Branch last, who was trying his best to hide his obvious boner with his hands. "Branch-ah," Floyd's tongue swept over your swollen clit, and you peeked down at him for a second, seeing his giddy little smile and his tail still thrashing about. "Branch, let me help you," the troll glimpsed over at his eldest brother, who tilted his head, ushering him to go to you. Bruce got up from beside you to make room for Branch, tilting in to move your hair out of your face, his hand stopping to hold your cheek, "You're doing so good." He's a heartthrob alright. A whine left your lips as he pulled his hand away and went to sit beside Clay.

Branch stumbled over to you, kicking off his pants along the way. You pat the spot on the couch where Bruce had been to your right. Branch kneeled beside you, the cushion sinking in under his weight. You gave him a reassuring smile, "You can use my mouth," he chocked up at how bold you were being. He eased closer, and you ran your tongue over the head of his cock, his hand instantly going to your hair. He gingerly pushed your head onto his cock, letting it slip past your lips. Pretty soon, both of his hands were clutching your hair desperately, dragging your head into every thrust as he fucked your face. Floyd had sped up his ministrations, hooking his arms under your legs to get better access to your pussy. His tongue delved into you, and your grip on his hair tightened. Floyd road you all the way to another climax, your legs closing around his head as he let out a blissful hum, kissing your pussy and laying his head on your lap; all the while, Branch continued to face-fuck you. It wasn't long until Branch buried his cock down your throat, and you were swallowing his cum as it spurted out in thick strings. His cock slid from your lips, and he plopped down on the cushions in a heap. Floyd went to get up, "Floyd, do you-" "No, no, helping you did me good," he referred to the new wet splotch on the front of his shorts.

Branch swaggered back to the other room where he previously was. Clay waggled his fingers at you, and Floyd blew you a kiss as they followed him. They seemed drained, "are they gonna be alright?" you asked as they disappeared around the corner. John Dory huffed as he got up from his chair and plopped down on your right, wrapping an arm around you, "yeah, the pollen leaves ya pretty spent." You merely hummed in response and rested your head against him. Bruce came over to you, a glace of water in hand, "Here, why don't you take a break for a minute," you took the water from him and sipped it slowly. "You're gonna need it," John Dory chuckled, ruffling your hair lightly. You handed off the water back to Bruce and he sat it down on the table beside the couch, then came to sit at your other side. Both Bruce and John had you snuggled between them as you took a breather.

A quiet chuckle echoed from you, "The two of you have some damn good self-control for being under the effects of that pollen." However, your laughter faded when you realized they were both looking at you with the same lustful eyes as when you first entered the pod. "Oh, you have no idea."

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.. • .

hope you like this part :))))

#trolls brozone #trolls band together #trolls bruce #trolls branch #trolls clay #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #john dory x reader #spruce x reader #smut #fluff #x reader #one shot #floyd x reader #clay x reader

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