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ᶻ đ đ° .á đđąđ„đ„đąđ đđąđ„đąđŹđĄ
other girls
đđđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ - Smut,Dom!billie,cursing,eating out,fingering
"Long time no see, hm baby?" I feel her arms slide around my waist and her breath tickles the back of my neck as she places her head on my shoulder. Billie looks up at the girl I'd been talking to this whole party and smiles sweetly.
"Billie," I smile back, trying to keep my voice from giving away my anger, she always does this, leaves and talks to whoever she wants, reminding me of our friends with benefits agreement but gets angry when I talk to other girls. though she's so beautiful tonight. She's wearing this black suit that hugs her curves in all the right places, making my stomach flutter.
"So sorry I've been busy," she says, then glaces at the girl, "thanks for keeping my girl company."
The girl blushes and quickly excuses herself, leaving Billie and me standing there awkwardly.
"Why are you talking to her?" Billie's voice is low, almost a growl.
"I can talk to however I want. I'm not your girlfriend, Billie." I reply, trying to keep the edge out of my tone.
"No, but you're mine," she whispers into my ear.
Her hands are on my hips now, turning me to face her. I can't help but look into her piercing green eyes. "Friends with benefits, remember?" I remind her, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I do. But I don't like sharing." She says, her grip tightening.
"What do you mean by that?"
Her gaze is intense, and for a second, I think she's going to kiss me right here in front of everyone. But instead, she takes my hand and leads me through the crowd. "Follow me."
We push through the throng of people, the bass of the music vibrating through my chest, until we reach the bathroom. She locks the door behind us and turns to face me.
"I want you," she says simply. "Now."
The sudden aggression in her voice sends a thrill down my spine, and I know exactly what she means. I nod, my heart racing.
Without another word, she grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it up, bunching it up around my waist. "I should bend you over that counter and fuck you into oblivion," Billie get on her knees and parts my legs, her grip firm on my thighs, "but I'm not gonna do that."
"Why not?" I ask breathlessly, feeling a little disappointed.
"Because I want everyone to hear how much you want me," she says with a smirk, "and I want them to know exactly who you belong to."
Billie tugs my underwhere down and drapes my leg over her shoulder. She kisses my inner thigh, her hot breath sending shivers down to my core. "You're mine, aren't you?" she asks, looking up at me.
"Yes," I murmur, feeling my body responding to her dominance.
"Good."
Her mouth moves to my core, and she starts to kiss and nibble lightly before bringing in her fingers. They're gentle at first, but she quickly picks up the pace, making me gasp. Her tongue swirls around my clit, and she adds a second finger, pushing into me without mercy.
"Billie," I moan, my hand on the cool porcelain of the sink to steady myself.
"That's right," she murmurs, her voice a bit low, "let them all know."
The bathroom echoes with the sound of my moans, and I can't help but wonder if anyone outside can hear. It's so wrong, but so hot.
"I want to hear you,baby." she says, her voice muffled by my legs
And with that, she sucks harder, her tongue flicking my sensitive bud. My legs start to shake as the pleasure builds inside me.
"Oh god," I whisper, leaning back against the sink and I tug slightly on her hair.
Her response is to push in a third finger, stretching me and filling me up completely. I feel so vulnerable like this, exposed and at her mercy. But I love it.
"Billie," I call out louder, "please, don't stop."
"m'not gonna baby," she coos, "don't you worry"
I can feel my climax approaching, and I'm so close. "I'm gonna come," I whimper.
"That's it," she encourages, her tongue never leaving my clit.
The orgasm hits me like a wave, making my knees buckle. Billie holds me up, her mouth still working me through the aftershocks. She pulls away and looks up at me with a satisfied smirk.
"now, can other girls make you cum like this?"
#billie eilish#billie eilish smut#billie ellish lyrics#hit me hard and soft#hmhas billie eilish#billie eilish fluff
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I usually stay up late (right now is 3 am and I still have things to do) programming and doing stuff.
I thought about this fic idea and you popped into my mind.
How about we mostly work in IT for SHIELD/the avengers so we mostly stay with computers or we are in workshops. The thing is we are with yelena and in general we get along with everyone. Lately yelena has noticed that we are more tired than usual, because us being a workaholic person canât just stop working. One night yelena finds us sleeping on our computer while we were programming/hacking, she tries to gets us to sleep and we try to deny it. Next day yelena has some words with nick fury.
This is probably bad written but right now my brain is not braining sorry
Workaholic
Pairing:Â Yelena Belova x GN! Reader
Summary:Â Youâre a workaholic that doesnât realise how drained you can get.Â
Fluff & Tiny Angst
Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know. | 1.7K
Translations:Â Detka (baby)
AC:Â Thank you for sending this! I know it has taken me FOREVER & I do apologise for that. I hope you enjoy this! x
She watched in silence every morning when you would drag yourself out of bed to the kitchen for breakfast before leaving for work and she would watch again when you would finally come home late at night, hair slightly a mess before youâd take a shower and crash almost instantly the minute you sat down on the bed. She didnât know what was going on at work, but she knew it was draining any energy you had left.Â
Anytime she would meet you for lunch or when she would see you for the short period of time before and after work, you were just tired. Conversations were flat and short; you began to work later than usual which led to you going to work earlier than normal.
At first, Yelena just assumed it was something really important that Nick Fury, your boss, needed you to get done but when she found you one night, asleep at your desk, it raised more concern and worry for you.
Yelena sighed lightly to herself as she leant against the doorframe of your office, her brows frowning with concern at the sight of you slumped over your desk, the blue light from the monitors didnât seem to wake you, your fingers still lightly pressed on the last letters you had pressed before resting your head. Lines of coding ran across the multiple screen system surrounding you, these were things she knew she would never truly understand how they worked.Â
âDetkaâ she said softly, attempting to wake you. You stirred slightly, giving her a light groan but no real signs of opening your tired eyes. âLet me take you home so you can get some real sleepâ you heard her Russian accent ever so softly speak. Unintentionally, you groaned once more, this time your eyes flickering open, the brightness of your screen making them sting.Â
âI..Iâm fineâ you mumbled, sitting up straight, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.
âDetka, you canât keep doing this. What is so important to Fury that has you falling asleep at your desk?â Yelena asked, her brows frowned with worry.Â
âI just need like 5 more minutes, I promiseâ you replied in your groggy state.
âMore like another 5 hoursâ Your girlfriend muttered before she reached for your computer mouse before you could even string together where things were. âIâm not letting you make yourself sick for whatever this isâ Yelena added, her voice low but firm, âyou need sleep. No more hacking for tonightâ she said as you watched the little arrow on your screen close down your opened tabs.Â
âYelena!â You spat, âI canât! I have too much do to and you just shut it down?!â You added, annoyed by your girlfriends actions as you looked up at her. Yelena shook her head, âif you write another line of coding, youâre going to become the damn coding!âÂ
âYou donât get it, I need to get this done!â You frowned.Â
âAnd you get do it tomorrowâ Your girlfriend said, crossing her arms over her chest. Your eyes dropped slightly, there was no fighting her one this, not even you felt your eyes grow heavy once more.Â
âFineâ you sighed, tiredly, âjust let me close everything down properly before we go homeâ you added.Â
----
The next morning, you woke up in a panic. The sun light creeping in through the crack of the curtains, you reached for your phone to find out your alarm had been switched off. You sighed before throwing your head back down on the pillow before covering your face with both of your hands.Â
Yelena was giving her daggers a sharpen when you asked her why she had turned your alarm off.Â
âBecause, detka, you needed a real sleepâ she said, not batting and eye at you.Â
âYelena, you made me late for work! I donât even know what to tell Nick when I get thereâ you argued.Â
âI already told him youâd be running late todayâ Your loving girlfriend replied, looking up at you, âIâm worried about youâ she added. One look into her green eyes and you were reminded of the worried look she had on her face late last night when she found you at your desk, asleep.Â
âYouâre working yourself too hard, you come home and have a re-heated meal then shower and go to bed for a few short hours. Natasha and Wanda both said that you donât even leave the compound for lunch, not even to get some fresh air. You are consistently at that desk working until early hours of the morningâ Yelena said in a soft but firm tone.Â
âBaby, itâs my jobâ you said, leaning against the doorframe.Â
âYes, it is but your job isnât 16 hours a dayâÂ
Your eyes dropped to your feet, âI know, I justâŠ.i just want to make sure Iâm doing the best I can for Fury. All the coding and hacking I do, itâs not easy. Itâs time consuming and I need ot be on top of my game all the timeâ you explained in hopes it would help Yelena understand.Â
âYouâre not going to be on top of your game if youâre falling asleep at your desk and barely function outside of work. Detka, I hate to say it, but youâre a workaholicâ Yelena replied. You cocked a brow at the blonde, âI am notâ you said, making Yelena chuckle.Â
âYou are detka, a hard, smart working workaholicâ she teased, causing you to playful roll your eyes. âThink whatever you want Lena, Iâm going to go get ready for workâ
âIâm taking you todayâ Yelena said just before you pushed yourself off the doorframe, âand Iâm picking you up at 5pmâ she added.Â
âLena, you can trust me to come home at the end of my shift todayâÂ
âI know, but Nat is dragging me in to help her with some training thing so why not carpool?â She replied with a rather proud grin on her lips. You playfully shook your head at her before making your way to the bathroom to get ready for work.Â
----
You and Yelena walked into the compound, hand in hand before Yelena placed a soft kiss on your cheek and wished you a good day as you both parted ways, she waited until you were inside the elevator before she turned on her heels and headed towards Nickâs office.Â
Nick, busy as usual was sitting at his desk with a stack of paperwork beside him. His focus so deep on the document in front of him he didnât even hear the knock on his door.Â
âFuryâ Yelena said lightly, her accent coming in thick.Â
Nick looked up before leaning back in his chair, âBelovaâ he acknowledged with a raised eyebrow.Â
âI need to talk to you, itâs importantâ Yelena began, âitâs about Y/nâ she added. Fury nodded, âcome on, take a seatâ he replied. Yelena closed the large wooden door behind her before she took a head on the typical office style chair. âWhat can I help you with?â The head of S.H.I.E.L.D asked.Â
âTheyâre pushing themselves too hard for whatever it is you have them working on. This is shield, right? Not some tech startup company. They need a breakâ Yelena said firmly.Â
âRightâ Nick nodded, âand you think that Iâve been keeping them prisoner to their desk?â He added as he stood up from behind his desk and wandered over to Yelena, taking a the empty chair next to her, âY/n is one of my hardest working IT employees, they are dedicated to their job, I admire it, I will all my IT employees would put in half the effort Y/n does. This job isnât easy, there isnât a real shift time start or end. We may need them at 4am if a mission goes south and they know thatâ he explains.Â
âBut they are here early every day, and they leave later than anybody else. You canât tell me that every mission over the last month has gone to shitâ Yelena argued.
âNo, but, like I said they are dedicated to their job. Look, Iâll have a look at the clock ins and outs. If Y/n is doing too much unneeded overtime, I will have a word to them but if they arenât, Iâm not going to get in the way of somebody who has a drive to workâÂ
Yelena sighed lightly, âhave you even seen them lately? They are exhausted, last night when they didnât come home, I came here and found them asleep! At their desk! Iâm not asking you to check their clock ins and outs, I am asking you to give them the break they deserve and needâ Yelena said firmly, not backing down. âYou can go a few days without them here. A few days is worth it then not having them at allâ she added.Â
Fury remained silent for a moment, contemplating Yelenaâs request. He knew Yelena was right; losing a little of something is better than not having it at all. âOkayâ he said, finally breaking the silence, âI will speak to them on their lunch breakâ he added.Â
âThank youâ Yelena said, giving him a polite nod.Â
âYouâre just like your sister, stubbornâ Nick muttered with a cocked brow.Â
âI am when I need to beâ Yelena teasingly grinned.Â
----
When 5pm came, you didnât want to keep Yelena waiting, you shut down your computer and made sure your desk was tidy for tomorrow morning before you wandered the main hall of the compound. You smiled softly when you locked eyes on her leaning against her blue pick-up truck talking to Natasha, Bucky and Sam.Â
âWhatâs the gossip today guys?â You asked with a light chuckle.Â
Natasha was the first to turn and smile at you, âhold on a moment, are you unwell?â She asked, jokingly.Â
âHa, Ha, very funnyâ you replied, playfully rolling your eyes as you stood next to Yelena, leaning your head on her shoulder. âSomebody couldnât help themselves and spoke to Fury todayâ you added.Â
âOhhh! Yelena went to the big dogs!â Sam laughed.Â
âShe did and honestly, thank youâ you said, looking up at Yelena.Â
âYouâre welcomeâ she smiled softly.
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#yelenasdiary asks#living my marvel fantasy#fanfiction#yelena belova#marvel#Yelena Belova x reader#Yelena Belova x you
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PLEASE FEED US MORE JUST AS DOWN BAD GOLDEN CHEESE. PLEASE MORE YANDERE CHEESE
Did you send two asks in a row screaming for more Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese lol. Calm down brotato, Merchant is here. Merchant sees you (and everyone else in my inbox I swear to God Almighty I will address you all eventually). Let me see what I've got in my noodle for you
Under the cut because this is fucked and gets a little extra graphic at one particular point lol
Golden Cheese actually has tried to gather the identities of those Burning Spice has murdered. What she wasn't able to glean on her own, from her own personal knowledge of other lands and peoples (i.e. noticing certain traits she knows to be endemic to certain cultures, like a hair accessory or something), she found in books and scrolls in her kingdom's library that gave her a better idea. Whatever she couldn't find in those, she found via sending cheesebirds to travel far and wide in search of any kingdoms, cities, villages, families and friend groups with confirmed missing persons. They would report back to her and, with all the knowledge she's gathered, she's able to find a name, which she then wrote onto a label and placed under the person it belonged to. She's managed to eventually give all the heads their identities/personhood back, at least to some degree. And now, knowing who these people are/were, she can get them back to their loved ones easier. Right? ...Right? (She tries not to progress beyond being proud of herself for going that extra mile, because it just leads back to "ok so why are the heads still here, why haven't you returned them". In trying to do the right thing, she ultimately just does the WRONG thing again and reinforces her preexisting guilt and shame, because... she knows exactly why she hasn't returned them...)
Golden has started... experimenting with Spice, for lack of a better term. After she was proven correct about him paying attention when she mentions someone she doesn't like and later killing that specific person for her, she starts testing him in other ways. She makes subtle suggestions about how he ought to kill people, to see how he responds in the moment and if he actually ends up doing it later. She tries to coax him into going into detail about how the killing went, just to see if and how he does so (turns out he really does like to brag about his crimes, especially to her). She tries to hint at him giving her other things besides body parts, like certain trinkets (it... sort of works. If she asks for a watch, he... brings her a severed arm with a watch attached to it still, for example). She's observing how far he'll go and in which direction he's willing to travel in at her suggestion. (...And she revels in how much power it turns out she has over him. She really does have him at her beck and call. It's lovely.)
When her friends ask her how she's been managing her Beast (they are aware that hers is still actively targeting her, but that's it), she acts as nonchalant as possible. Burning Spice is nothing. He's just a fly buzzing around her head. She handles him just fine. When they ask her how they can help, she tells them she doesn't need it, because she doesn't want them anywhere near him she really is fine. It's fine. She's fine. When they suggest going after him themselves... thank goodness she's a good actress and a quick thinker, because her very first REAL reaction was seething fury that she had to keep under control until she was alone again - but then, when she finally is, she just has another crisis of conscience, because now she has to confront the fact that she can no longer tolerate the notion of him being harmed by anyone besides herself. She used to want him dead or imprisoned by any means necessary, but now... now, she lies about his whereabouts to everyone who asks (and she always knows where he is, she snuck a tracking device onto him), because she doesn't want anyone coming near him for any reason anymore, least of all to harm him. Because only SHE can harm him now. He still comes to fight her, not just to give her things. And she obliges him, albeit begrudgingly (never mind the sick satisfaction she feels when she hurts him or takes him down. She wonders if this feeling is what he's referring to in those letters about him reveling in their battles and how he enjoys her suffering). She... she won't let that end. She won't let anyone get in the way. In his way. In THEIR way. She can handle him by herself. Everyone else can stay home. They won't take him away from her. She cannot guarantee their safety if they try.
She once idly wondered about his past. About the people he likely once had in his life. About... if he'd ever been fond of any other women. She could hardly fathom the hatred that utterly overwhelmed her senses when the thought entered her mind. So angry was she that she broke the glass of water in her hand in said anger and injured herself. So haunted by this notion did she end up, that she tried to ask him about it the next time they met (as subtly as possible; she understands the implications of asking such a thing). He just shrugged and said he didn't recall; the only woman that mattered to him was her. She hated how relieved she felt when he told her that...
...but after that day, and for a good while, he only targeted women. He kept killing adult women and bringing their heads to her, and no one else's. She quickly surmised that he might have noticed her jealousy (or at least imagined she was jealous) and immediately set out to prove his devotion to her further than before by destroying those she feels threatened by - even if the threat does not exist, for she is all he ever wanted. He never told her directly, but she figured that's what it was. And she allowed herself to believe it. Because it made her happy.
(When the women-only killing spree eventually ended, she was struck with morbid curiosity and asked him about the men he killed. Was there anything behind the ones he chose? He revealed to her that, though his targets were mostly random, he would go out of his way to kill any man that he thought she might find attractive. He was capable of feeling threatened, just like she was. It was quite the surprise... a surprise she welcomed, a surprise she found deeply amusing. Because really, what was left for her to find attractive in anyone anymore, when no one went as far as he did to earn her favor?)
She actually does find him handsome. She always has, from the beginning. It was something she considered to be a great shame; such good looks squandered on such a horrible man. But now... with her greed slowly spiraling out of control thanks to him constantly overfeeding it the way he does with his violent extremism... she's starting to dare to find that extremism handsome, too. She's slowly but surely ceasing to find any shame in the circumstance. She's starting to think he's handsome... and that's it, that's the end of the thought. He's handsome, with all of that blood coating his face and body. He's handsome, puffing his chest out and beaming with such sick pride at the handiwork he performed for her. He's handsome, in his maddened, unwavering dedication to her. He's handsome... no asterisk, no addendum, no ifs ands or buts. He's handsome. Burning Spice is handsome. It weighs on her like a stone. And it only gets heavier each time he sees him and his handsome face again.
Sometimes... just sometimes... she'll reread those letters that are particularly... steamy. There's something rather fascinating about them, in a different way than the others. They're so... uniquely visceral. She believes him when he tells her he's starving; his hunger practically lunges at her from the page, claws at her, sinks its teeth into her, sets her body alight. Pure, unashamed, blistering hot lust and sexuality, with some of that same addiction to violence mixed in (he's a sadomasochist, go figure). People have flirted with Golden before... but not like this. No one on earth has ever dared to speak to her so brazenly, not even after several pints of liquid courage. He talks about wanting to break her bed as well as she herself. He tells her how often he touches himself to the thought of her. He details exactly where he wants to put his hands. Where he wants to put his mouth. What he intends to say straight into her ears as they go, and what he wants her to say back to him. How he doesn't want to stop until they both collapse with exhaustion. Just neverending feverish rants about he wishes to destroy her in more ways than one, and how he expects her to scream and beg either way. She won't admit it, not even to herself, the thought tried to make itself known inside of her head once and she shoved it down and tried to bury it under concrete instantly, but... she's almost... intrigued. She's flattered, of course. She relishes this aspect of his insatiable appetite for her alongside all the others. (She likes being told she's pretty. He does that and then some.) But... some small part of her is... curious. Curious about... if he really would follow through on what he says he wants to do, if he really had the chance. How it would feel. How HE would feel. What the difference would really be between him overpowering her to win a fight and him overpowering her to... to...
...there are nights where she lays awake, drilling holes into the ceiling with her bloodshot eyes, wondering where it all went wrong. There are nights where all that succeeds in putting her to sleep are the warm, bitter tears that stream down her face when the guilt and shame grow too powerful. There are nights where she just gets up and leaves, throws herself out of her own window and flies off somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter - it just had to be somewhere she couldn't feel dozens of empty, lifeless eyes watching her through the walls. Judging her. Condemning her. Damning her to Hell, where she and the monster who ended their lives belonged.
...and then, there are nights where she feels... strange. Where she notices how... big her bed really is, and how small she feels laying in it. She wonders how it would feel if he was there. If she could nest in his thick, strong arms instead of thin bedsheets. How much more comfortable his chest would feel, compared to her pillow. If his hair was as soft as it looked. How he'd react if she started tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. If sharing a tender moment like that would awaken something in him. If it would somehow help him realize how wrong all of this is.
...Or maybe it would just make it worse.
Maybe she doesn't care anymore.
#y'all gotta stop encouraging me like this lol#i TOLD YOU I love writing dark shit and crazy people. Stop enabling me#jk keep enabling me please this is fun#cookie run kingdom#burning spice cookie#golden cheese cookie#burningcheese#goldenspice#yandere beasts#suggestive
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So happy to read them again đđ
You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like himâlike the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.
This is so beautiful and vivid đđ
Thereâs something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesnât quite feel like your own right now.
I loved all of this. Reading her emotions, feeling them. Poor baby đ„
"Whatâs her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. Youâre careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.
omg this is beautiful. I love how careful she is
"Named after my grandmother. She isâ" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."
I didn't plan to have my heart broken on a wednesday afternoon after work oh nooooo đ„đ„đ„
"Sâbeen tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goinâ. Life doesnât stop, even when you wish it would."
And this?! This hurts so much, and, it's so true...
When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly, the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment youâve shared. "Thank you darlinâ," he says again, his voice steady but soft. Thereâs something in his eyes nowâsomething lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."
â€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïž I love this so much
And then heâs gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish youâd said echoing in your mind. "Stay. Please stay." But you didnât. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally.
Why didn't youuuuuuuu đđđ
"I... I donât know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someoneâletting youâ"Â Â Â "You donât have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."Â Â
omg what? đđđ Odiiiiii you have me on an emotional roller coaster what are you doing to meeeeeeee
âShouldâve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,â he mutters to himself.
uuuuuh you're really trying to kill me here
Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. âYou think this is about you beinâ a burden? Dammit, I donât care about that! I care about you not gettinâ yourself killed because youâre too damn stubborn to listen!â
I ALWAYS love when Joel tells someone they're stubborn. I always cackle, cause LOOK WHO'S TALKING, SIR đđđ
âIâve been where you are,â he says, his voice low. âIâve lost too much. And Iâm not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.â
Damn. Speechless. Odi if I catch you!!! (I'm gonna send you a lot of gifs to take revenge đđ)
Howdy Honey II. Beautiful Mess
Series Masterlist * Masterlist * Wordcount 6.6K
Summary: Joel grapples with his frustration and fear after you push him away
Warnings: the fluff before the smut! Some angst and mentions of loss
Notes: Thank you for the long wait for this chapter. Getting back into it with these two has been so much fun! I am very excited for the next chapter heheh. I can foresee three more chapters, which I will hopefully have out at a decent pace. Ty @evolnoomym for reading this over âïžđ
You
The first rays of morning light filter through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. The ranch outside is waking up, the sounds of hooves and rustling hay mingling with the birds' early songs, but inside, there is a stillness. The air is cool, soft, and peaceful before the day fully begins. You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like himâlike the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.
The potted plant in the corner catches your eye as its leaves flutter in the breeze coming through the open window. The subtle movement is a welcome distraction, drawing your focus away from the twinges of pain in your side, from the dull ache thatâs become your constant companion. It's not the worst pain youâve felt in your life, but right now, in the stillness of the room, it feels like the only thing that matters. You wish you were in your own bed, in the comfort of your familiar space. You can almost picture itâyour room upstairs, the soft quilts, the shelves filled with books you've collected over the years. But the reality of your situation makes that impossible. The mere thought of climbing the stairs sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, reminding you that independence is a luxury right now, not a reality. Youâve always been fiercely independentâtoo proud, maybe, to admit when you need help. The idea of relying on Joel, especially now, when every moment around him seems to stir something inside you, feels almost too much to bear. When you were healthy, those stairs were nothing. You could run up them without thinking twice, bounding up two steps at a time. Now, the idea of even attempting it is enough to make your chest tighten, a reminder that things have changed. You canât ignore it.
Joel has offered more than once to carry you up to your room, insisting that youâd be more comfortable in your own bed. But each time, you've turned him down. Itâs not because you donât trust him. You know heâs kind, that he genuinely wants to help, but the thought of him lifting you, of feeling his strong arms around you... it stirs something in youâsomething complicated. It's not just physical pain you need to recover from. Thereâs a tangle of emotions you can't unravel yet, especially not with Joel so close. Instead, you remain on the couch in the living room, finding comfort in its familiar layout. The space is small, but it feels like everything you need is within reach. The kitchen is just a few steps away, and the thought of being able to grab something to eat or drink without too much effort is a small but significant source of relief. You don't have to ask anyone for help every time you need something. The books and movies you've scattered around the room are close enough that you can slip into another world with little more than a turn of your hand. Thereâs something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesnât quite feel like your own right now.
But perhaps the most comforting part of this setup is Joelâalways nearby. You know heâs there, moving around the ranch just out of sight, yet still within earshot. You can hear the faint sounds of him tending to the animals, the creak of the barn doors, the rustle of hay and boots on the dirt. It's not quite company, but it's enough. If something were to go wrongâif the pain in your side flared up again or you needed assistance in a way you couldnât manageâJoel would be there in an instant. The thought of him close by, ready to step in, is both a comfort and a quiet reminder of how much you rely on him these days. You tell yourself that you donât need him, but there's an undeniable warmth that settles in your chest knowing heâs just a room away. Still, the idea of needing help from him, especially in such a vulnerable state, stirs something deeper in you. Something that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly, a feeling that you canât quite define. Itâs easier this wayâon the couch, within your little bubble of semi-independence, where your emotions can stay tucked away, just like the soft blanket Joel brought you.
You glance over at the cover of one of his daughterâs western novels, the title catching your eye. There's something about it that piques your curiosity, stirring questions you hadnât meant to ask. Who is she, this daughter of his? Was she older? And then, the question that sits uncomfortably in your mind: Is Joel marriedâor was he? Youâve never seen a wedding band on his finger, never heard him speak about a wife. The mystery about him lingers, unresolved. You know you should be resting, but your mind refuses to settle. You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket as you try to distract yourself. Your eyes drift back to the book on the tableâa well-worn copy of Lonesome Dove, its spine cracked and pages dog-eared. Something about the worn edges calls to you. It's a link to the world you grew up in, a reminder of the ranch life, of the toughness and independence that runs through your veins. You never could quite leave the ranch, even when you tried. You reach for the book, your fingers brushing against the paper's texture, the act of holding it feeling almost like coming home. You open the cover to the first page, the familiar scent of ink and aged paper filling your senses. As you dive into the world of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, the stories of cowboys and cattle drives pull you in. Youâre captivated by Gus and Woodrowâtwo men bound by their pasts but so different in their approach to life.
As you read, you find yourself identifying with Lorena Wood, Gus's girlfriend. Her fight for her place in the world, her refusal to let others define her, resonates with you deeply. The scene where she insists on joining the cattle drive despite the objections of the men speaks to something inside you. The words, âI ainât afraid of a little hard work,â echo in your mind, a mantra of defiance that you wish you could adopt fully. You canât be weak. You wonât be.
"Dreaminâ is free, Lorena," Gus says to her, his voice a mix of wisdom and weariness. "It donât cost nothin' extra to dream good dreams."
The words settle over you, and for a moment, you close your eyes. You think of Joelâhis gruffness, his strength, the way he moves through the ranch with a quiet intensity. Heâs always there, a steady presence in your life. You canât help but wonder what kind of man he was before, what dreams he once had, what kind of life he led. Your thoughts drift, pulled back into the story before you can get too lost in them. The sun climbs higher in the sky, its light streaming through the windows, warm now, settling into the room. You glance at the book beside you and set it aside with a small sense of pride. You've made it through several chapters without letting your mind wander too much.
Your side aches more now from sitting too long, and you know itâs time to try standing. Itâs been too long since you felt any sense of control over your own body. You push the blanket back, and slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. The room tilts slightly as you plant your feet on the floor, and you take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sharp twinge in your side. You hate this. Hate feeling weak. Hate needing help. But you canât let that stop you. You refuse to let it define you. You're determined to regain some independence, to show Joel that you're not just some fragile thing that needs constant watching over.
You push yourself up, wincing as another wave of pain stabs through your ribs. The movement is slow, deliberate. Each step feels like an accomplishment, even as the pain pulses beneath the surface. You make it to the kitchen, though you're panting by the time you reach the counter. You grip it for support, feeling the cool edge beneath your fingertips. The simple act of pouring yourself a glass of water feels like a triumph.
Then you hear the creak of the front door. You donât have to look to know itâs Joel. The sound of his boots on the floor, the low murmur of his voice as he moves about the ranchâit's all so familiar now. You hear him pause, then step into the kitchen. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, gripping the counter like itâs your lifeline.
"Well, look at you," he says, a note of surprise and admiration in his voice. "You're up and about."
You offer him a small, self-conscious smile, glad heâs not rushing to fuss over you. "I thought it was time," you say softly, setting the glass of water down with careful movements. "I can't just lie on the couch all day."
Joel chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with that same intensity that sends a warm flutter through your chest. He steps closer, cautious. "Reckon not," he agrees, voice low. His eyes linger on you, and you can't tell if it's concern or something else. "But donât go pushinâ yourself too hard now."
"Iâm fine," you insist, a little too quickly. "But you look like youâve been at it all morning. Would you like something to drink?" You try to sound casual, but the offer feels like an excuse to keep him there, a way to ease the tension building between you.
"Sâalright, I can get it," he says, but his voice is strained, tired. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a visible sign of the work he's been doing.
Before he can protest, you start toward the fridge. "Shut up," you say with a teasing smile. "I got it. Iced tea, right?"
He chuckles softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thatâd be perfect, darlinâ."
The fridge door opens with a soft creak, and you pour the tea, the cool liquid filling the glass with a satisfying sound. The simple act requires more focus than it should, but you take your time, savoring the moment of normalcy. You hand him the glass, your fingers brushing his ever so briefly. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends an unexpected jolt through you, a spark that neither of you can ignore. For a moment, you both stand there, neither of you speaking, as if waiting for something to break the silence. His gaze flickers to the floor, then back to you, and he clears his throat, taking a small step back.
"Thanks," he says, his voice steady but low, and his eyes meet yours briefly before he raises the glass in a small salute. He drinks deeply, closing his eyes as the cool tea washes over him.
"You're welcome," you reply, your voice quieter than usual. You busy yourself with straightening up the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly as you try to ground yourself in the mundane. But even in the simple act of tidying, you can feel his gaze on you, the weight of it making you feel exposed in a way you can't quite understand.
"Youâve found some use for the blanket and books, I see," Joel says, his voice soft, but you catch the hint of something more in it, something like pride.
"They've been a good distraction," you answer, a little more casually than you feel. "I'm curious about your daughterâs books. Sheâs got good taste."
At the mention of his daughter, Joelâs face softens, a wistful look crossing his features. "She always did love a good story," he says, his voice quiet, distant. "Used to read to her every night when she was little. We'd get lost in all sorts of adventures together.â
The conversation takes a quiet but significant turn, pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. You sense it the moment Joelâs expression softens at your question, his guarded demeanor cracking just enough to let a sliver of vulnerability through. It feels fragile, like holding a bird in your hands, its rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath your fingers. You tread carefully, hoping not to press too hard but unwilling to let the moment pass unacknowledged. "Whatâs her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. Youâre careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.
He hesitates for just a breath before answering, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes. "Sarah," he says, his voice tinged with warmth and something deeperâsomething bittersweet. "Named after my grandmother. She isâ" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."
The weight of that single word, was, hangs in the air between you like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of meaning outward. It cuts through the small warmth his smile brought, replacing it with a heaviness that settles deep in your chest. Your heart clenches, the realization landing like a blow. You try to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists. "Was?" you venture cautiously, the single syllable feeling heavier than it should.
Joelâs expression shifts immediatelyâhis jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if bracing for an impact. You see the pain flash through him, raw and unguarded, before he wrestles it back under control. For a moment, you think he wonât answer, that heâll shut you out completely. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and steady, though it trembles at the edges. "Sarah passed away a few years back." The words are spoken simply, but their weight is unmistakable, each syllable heavy with grief heâs learned to carry in silence.
The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thinner. You struggle to find something to say, some way to acknowledge the enormity of what heâs shared without reducing it to a hollow platitude. "Joel, Iâm so sorry," you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in your words is palpable, your own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of his loss.
Joel nods, his gaze distant, focused on something you canât see. He doesnât brush off your condolences or wave them away as you might have expected. Instead, he accepts them with a quiet grace thatâs heartbreaking in its simplicity. "Sâbeen tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goinâ. Life doesnât stop, even when you wish it would."
His words linger in the air, stark and unvarnished, and you feel the ache in them like a bruise pressed too hard. Thereâs no bitterness in his tone, no angerâjust a quiet resignation, a weariness that feels like itâs etched into his very being. You wonder how often heâs spoken these words, if at all, or if heâs kept them locked away until now. Your gaze drifts to his handsâstrong, calloused, and steady even now, despite the weight he carries. You reach out before you can think better of it, your fingers brushing against his forearm in a gesture that feels both small and monumental. "I canât imagine," you say softly, your words feeling inadequate but heartfelt. "Iâm sorry you had to go through that."
Joel looks down at your hand, his gaze lingering there for a moment before he lifts his eyes to meet yours. Thereâs something in his expression that makes your breath catchâa flicker of gratitude, of recognition, and something else you canât quite name. "Thank you," he says simply, his voice rough but sincere. He shifts slightly, covering your hand with his own. The warmth of his touch is startling, grounding, and youâre acutely aware of how solid he feels, how present. "For listening," he continues, his voice softening. "I donât... I donât talk about Sarah much. Itâs hard, you know?" His eyes hold yours, and you see the weight of the years heâs carried this pain, the quiet strength itâs taken to keep moving forward.
You nod, unable to look away. "I think youâre stronger than you give yourself credit for," you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "Just... holding onto her memory like that. Letting her still be a part of you."
His brow furrows slightly, his gaze searching yours as if heâs trying to decide whether to accept your words. "Donât feel strong most days," he admits after a pause, his voice so low you almost miss it. "Just feel tired."
The honesty in his words makes your chest tighten, and you press your hand against his arm just a little more firmly, as if to anchor him. "Maybe thatâs what strength is," you offer, your voice soft but unwavering. "Getting up every day, even when it feels impossible. Carrying her with you, even when it hurts."
Joel doesnât respond immediately, but you see something shift in his expressionâsomething almost imperceptible but deeply significant. He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. "Maybe," he murmurs, the word more of a concession than a conviction.For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You let it linger, sensing that Joel needs this space, this moment of quiet connection. When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly, the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment youâve shared. "Thank you darlinâ," he says again, his voice steady but soft. Thereâs something in his eyes nowâsomething lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."
â-------
As you prepare to settle onto the couch for the night, the creak of the wooden floor under Joelâs boots pulls your attention. Before you can process whatâs happening, heâs beside you, scooping you into his arms like itâs the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his hands against you and the solid strength of his hold leave you momentarily breathless.
"What are you doing?" you protest weakly, though your body betrays you by instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders for balance.
He doesnât stop moving, his tone gruff but resolute. "Takinâ you to your room. Youâll be more comfortable there, and itâs about time you used it again." You start to protest again, murmuring something about being too heavy, but he only huffs. "You think this is the first time Iâve carried someone? Youâre fine. Quit fussinâ."
Before you know it, heâs carrying you up the stairs, each step steady and sure despite the burden youâre sure you must be. The faint scent of leather and woodsmoke clings to him, grounding you in a way you hadnât expected. When he reaches the top, the hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit and quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.
Your bedroom door creaks as he nudges it open with his foot. The room feels foreign, almost untouched since your injuriesâa time capsule of your life before everything fell apart. Joel sets you down on the bed with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior, his hands lingering briefly to ensure youâre steady before he pulls away.
"There," he says, adjusting the covers around you with meticulous care that makes your chest ache. "Now you get some rest. Iâll be right downstairs if you need anything."
You watch him turn, the broad slope of his shoulders framed by the faint hallway light. A sudden unease wells up in your chest, irrational and overwhelming. The thought of being alone in this room, in this moment, feels unbearable. The words leave your lips before you can stop them.
"Joel, wait."
He stops in the doorway, his silhouette pausing against the light. "What is it, darlinâ?" His voice is calm, but thereâs an edge of concern beneath it.
Your fingers grip the edge of the blanket as you force yourself to speak. "Could you... stay? Just for a little while. Until I fall asleep."
For a moment, heâs quiet, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the shadows. He looks at you like heâs weighing something heavy, something heâs not sure he can carry. But then he nods, his voice softer when he speaks. "Yeah. I can do that."
He grabs a chair from the corner of the room, pulling it close to the bed and settling into it with a quiet sigh. The room feels smaller now, his presence filling the space in a way that should be comforting, and yet... you feel the weight of it pressing against you.
Joel sits silently, his hands resting on his knees, the flickering light from the bedside lamp casting deep shadows across his face. His gaze flicks toward you occasionally, careful and guarded, as if afraid to linger too long. You watch him through half-closed eyes, noting the subtle lines etched into his featuresâlines of exhaustion, loss, and something else you canât quite place. Thereâs a tension in his posture, a quiet restraint that makes your chest tighten.
"Joel," you say softly, the quiet sound of his name pulling his gaze to yours. He raises an eyebrow, waiting, but the words you wanted to say catch in your throat. What could you even say? Thank him for his kindness? For caring when youâd tried so hard to convince yourself you didnât need it. Instead, you settle on something you instantly regret. "You donât have to stay, you know. Iâll be fine."
His expression shifts, the corners of his mouth tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, he doesnât respond, but when he does, his voice is quieter, almost unreadable. "If thatâs what you want."
You open your mouth to correct yourself, to say something that might soften the blow, but the words donât come. Joel stands, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to change your mind. You donât.
"Goodnight, then," he says, his tone even, though thereâs a weight behind the words that you canât ignore. Joel stands, the chair groaning slightly as he pushes it back. He doesnât move hurriedly, but thereâs a deliberateness in his movements that makes your chest tighten. The air between you feels heavier, laced with something unspoken, something youâre not ready to name. And then heâs gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish youâd said echoing in your mind.
"Stay. Please stay."
But you didnât. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally. The warmth of his presence lingers faintly, like the scent of his leather and woodsmoke, but it isnât enough to fill the void. The ache in your ribs pales in comparison to the one in your chest. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, what was this feeling that had taken root inside you? It wasnât just gratitude anymoreâit was something else, something harder to define. Youâd always prided yourself on not needing anyone, but Joel had a way of making that wall crumble, brick by brick. It was confusing. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Or maybe... maybe you were just afraid to hope again. But the way heâd left, the quiet disappointment in his eyesâit made you feel small, stupid even. What were you so afraid of? You hated yourself for pushing him away when all heâd ever done was try to be there for you. But it was too late now. The door was closed, and so, it seemed, was he.
The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the moonlight spilling in through the curtains. You hadnât noticed Joel still standing there, silent as a shadow. He lingers by the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. Heâs watching you, his brow furrowed, torn between staying and leaving.
âWhy do you do this to yourself?â he mutters, more to himself than you.
You turn your head slightly, startled. You thought he'd left. His gaze meets yours for a moment, but the weight of it is too much to hold. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. âIâm fine,â you say, your voice tight and unconvincing.
Joel lets out a low scoff, shaking his head. âFine,â he repeats bitterly. âThat your favorite word or somethinâ?â His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the room, sitting back down on the chair beside your bed. His presence is overwhelming, filling the small space like a storm cloud about to break. You feel the heat of him, as you try to keep your breathing steady. âI know what you're doin',â he says quietly, his tone softer now. âPushin' me away. But you donât have to.â
You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put. His words are gentle, but they cut deep, peeling back the layers you worked so hard to hide behind. You struggle for words, your breath uneven. "I... I donât know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someoneâletting youâ"Â Â
 "You donât have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in." Â
His voice is steady, but thereâs an edge to it now, like he's fighting against his own limits, his patience fraying. You want to reach for him, to let yourself lean into him, but the weight of your own walls is too heavy. You want to let go, but something inside you holds you back, paralyzes you with fear. Fear of what letting him in might mean. Your throat tightens as you try to form the words, but nothing comes. His gaze sharpens, but he doesnât push youâhe waits. The tension hangs thick in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. But the longer he waits, the more it seems like heâs losing the battle inside himself.
You finally meet his eyes again, but itâs like somethingâs shifted. Thereâs still care there, but itâs mixed with frustration, something raw and real. He stands, his movements slow but resolute. "You canât keep doing this," he says, his voice low but intense. "I canât keep doing this. You want me to stay, and then... then you push me away.â
His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You donât know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and youâre helpless to stop it.
The chair scrapes against the floor as he moves it back, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You donât know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and youâre helpless to stop it.Â
He moves toward the door, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and you want to screamâto tell him to stay, to tell him youâre not fine, but the words are lodged in your throat, like youâre choking on your own fear.
You sit up in bed, your breath shallow, but you donât call out. You donât stop him.
Joel pauses at the doorway, his back to you. For a long moment, it seems like he might turn around, like he might say something else, something to bridge the gap between you. But he doesnât. He just stands there, his shoulders stiff, his head slightly bowed as though heâs already made his peace with walking away.
Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "You need anything, you holler. Iâll hear ya."
And then the door clicks softly shut behind him.
You sit there, staring at the empty space where he was, the weight of his words still pressing down on you. Your fingers curl around the blanket, but it offers no comfort. Your mind races, a mess of emotions, regret, and frustration. You want to call him back, but it feels like itâs too late.
The room is silent once more, and the emptiness is suffocating. You close your eyes, your chest aching, and for the first time in a long while, you realize how alone you truly are..
Joel
The soft glow of the kitchen light spills across the empty room as Joel leans against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee he doesnât really want or need at this hour. He stares into the dark liquid, his thoughts elsewhere, running over the events of the evening like a song stuck on repeat.
He shouldnât feel disappointed. Youâd made it clear you didnât want him there, and he respected that. Hell, heâd been in your shoes beforeâpushing people away because it felt safer. He couldnât blame you for it. But that didnât make the sting of it any easier to shake.
Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Heâd seen the hesitation in your eyes, the conflict. Heâd wanted to tell you it was okay, that heâd wait as long as you needed. But the truth was, he wasnât sure how long he could wait. Every moment he spent with you, every quiet exchange and fleeting touchâit all felt like it was building toward something he wasnât sure either of you were ready for. "Shouldâve known better," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fridge. But even as he says it, he knows heâd do it all over againâbecause for you, he would wait.
The coffee in Joelâs mug has gone cold by the time he finally pushes himself off the counter and trudges to the living room. He sits heavily on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the darkened television screen. Sleep isnât comingânot after the way the evening ended.
He rubs a hand down his face, trying to shake off the frustration welling in his chest. It wasnât your fault, not really. Joel knows that better than anyone. But the way youâd looked at him, the way youâd pulled back, it felt like a door slamming shut in his face. Like he was stupid for even hoping.
âShouldâve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,â he mutters to himself. He knows better than to get too close, to expect anything. Itâs not fair to you, not when youâve got enough to deal with. And yet, here he is, hoping like a damn fool.
The faint creak of the floor above reminds him youâre still there, probably lying awake just like he is. Joel shakes his head, dragging a heavy quilt over himself as he stretches out on the couch. Tomorrow, he decides, heâll keep his distance. Let you come to him if you want.
But the hollow ache in his chest says that might never happen.
â
The next morning the shutting of the door pulls Joel from a restless sleep. He stretches, his back protesting the hours spent on the couch, and grumbles as he sits up. The smell of coffee drifts through the house, but itâs faintâlike someone turned the pot off before it finished brewing. Joel frowns. He knows youâre still stiff from your injuries, and the thought of you moving around too much sets him on edge. He stands, rubbing a hand over his face, and heads toward the kitchen.
The sight of the empty space only deepens his unease. The coffee pot is half-full, a mug sitting beside it untouched. He glances out the window, his gut twisting when he spots you trudging toward the barn, determination in every step.
âWhat the hell are you doinâ now?â he mutters, already grabbing his jacket as he steps outside.
The morning air bites at his skin, but Joel barely notices as he closes the distance to the barn. By the time he reaches the open doors, youâre already climbing onto the tractor, one hand on the seat and the other gripping the wheel.
âHey!â Joelâs voice echoes sharply in the quiet.
You freeze, your head whipping around to face him. âWhat?â you ask, your voice defensive, though thereâs a flicker of guilt in your eyes.
Joelâs chest tightens, but he doesnât let it show. âWhat the hell do you think youâre doinâ?â
Your brow furrows, and you straighten your shoulders, your stubbornness flaring to life. âIâm trying to help. Youâve been doing everything, and I thoughtââ
âYou thought wrong.â His tone is sharper than he intends, but the sight of you on the tractorâthe very image of Sarah in her last momentsâsends a cold wave of fear crashing over him.
You bristle at his words, swinging your legs over the side of the tractor to face him fully. âExcuse me? Iâm not a kid, Joel. I can handle this.â
âNo, you canât,â he snaps, his voice louder now. âYou donât even know how to work that damn thing, and youâre in no shape to be tryinâ!â
Your eyes narrow, hurt flashing across your face before you mask it with anger. âIâm just trying to pull my weight, Joel. Iâm not some burden you have to carry! And yes I can fucking drive the tractor.â
Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. âYou think this is about you beinâ a burden? Dammit, I donât care about that! I care about you not gettinâ yourself killed because youâre too damn stubborn to listen!â
The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. Joelâs breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep the memories at bay. Sarahâs laughter, the hum of the tractorâs engine, the sickening sound of it tipping overâitâs all there, clawing at the edges of his mind.
But he doesnât tell you. He canât.
Instead, he swallows hard and steps back, his jaw tightening. âJust⊠donât do this,â he says, his voice quieter but no less firm.
You stare at him, confusion and hurt written all over your face. âWhy are you acting like this?â you ask, your tone softer now, but Joel shakes his head.
Joelâs chest tightens, and the fight in his voice only deepens. âDoesnât matter,â he mutters, but youâre not about to let him brush this off.
âWhy the hell not?â You step off the tractor, your foot hitting the ground with a thud, your breath a sharp inhale from the pain and ragged in the cold air. âYouâre acting like Iâm a damn liabilityâlike I canât handle myself. You think I want to sit around doing nothing while you work yourself to the bone?â
Joel shakes his head, his eyes dark with frustration. âThat ainât it, and you know it. You think I want to be overprotective? You think I donât see you fightinâ through every goddamn thing just to prove youâre not weak? I get it, alright? But thisâthis isnât the way to do it.â
âYou donât get it,â you snap back, your voice growing more desperate. âI donât need your pity, Joel. I donât need you to hold my hand or protect me like Iâm some fragile thing you have to save. Iâm fine. I can do this.â
âYouâre not fine!â Joelâs voice cracks, his patience running thin, and the raw emotion behind it makes you pause, your anger faltering for just a second. He steps closer to you, his face inches away. âYouâre not fine, and Iâm not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself just because youâre too damn proud to accept help.â
Your ribs ache as you take a step back, your hands trembling at your sides. His words, his proximityâthey feel like theyâre suffocating you, pulling you into a place you donât want to go. But you canât stop yourself. âI donât need help,â you mutter, though the words come out unconvincing, jagged.
Joelâs gaze softens, and for a brief moment, itâs like youâre both standing in some kind of fragile truce. But it doesnât last. The distance between you, emotional and physical, feels too heavy to bear, and Joel moves in again. His voice is quieter now, but thereâs a deep, aching sincerity in it. âI donât want you to need help. I just donât want to see you get hurt.â
You swallow hard, your chest tightening with something you donât know how to name. Itâs the space between your stubbornness and his care, the tension of wanting to push him away but knowing deep down that you canât. You want to break, to let go, but you wonâtâcanâtâshow him how much youâre falling apart.
You both stand there in the cold, the world around you feeling distant, like itâs no longer real. And then, before you can stop yourself, you say something that takes both of you by surprise. âWhy do you care so damn much?â Your voice cracks as you finally let the wall down, the question raw and vulnerable.
Joelâs eyes darken, his breath catching at the depth of the question. He looks at you, really looks at you, and thereâs a long silence that stretches between you, thick with everything unspoken. Then, his lips curl slightly, the ghost of a sad smile on his face, but it doesnât reach his eyes.Â
âIâve been where you are,â he says, his voice low. âIâve lost too much. And Iâm not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.â
You donât know what to say to that. For a moment, your anger falters, replaced with something deeper, something you canât hide anymore.
Before you realize whatâs happening, youâre the one reaching for him, your good hand finding his shirt, pulling him toward you. He hesitates for a secondâhis body tense, unsureâbut then he moves, just like you knew he would. The kiss is sudden, urgent, and the world tilts with it. Your ribs protest, but you donât care. His hands cradle your face, his lips pressing against yours, rough but soft, like heâs trying to steady himself just as much as you are.
Your heart races in your chest, the ache in your ribs fading as the heat of him seeps into your skin. For a brief, fleeting moment, everything else stops. The fight, the stubbornness, the fearâit all disappears in the space between your mouths. Itâs like heâs holding you together, like youâre finally letting him do the one thing heâs been begging you for - to let him in.
When you break away, itâs slow, your breath ragged, but neither of you moves far. Youâre still closeâtoo closeâand yet, somehow, it feels right. Joelâs forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your skin. He doesnât speak at first, just keeps you there, close enough to feel the weight of his every breath. Finally, he whispers, his voice hoarse. âYouâre not alone, you know that?â
You nod, the words too hard to say, but the truth of them sits heavy between you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe it.
Taglist @akah565 @anoverwhelmingdin @brittmb115 @hannah9921 @maried01
@mermaidgirl30 @red-red-rogue @wintersquirrel
#jmrecs#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#tlou fanfiction#odi
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Hey!! I need some advice lol. So i fast almost everyday and most of the time i end up binging afterwards especially at night..(I can't skip dinner cuz of my parents) do you have any tips on how to stop it? Please and thank you :))
Hii!! Thank you for sending an ask â€ïžâ€ïžâșïž
There might be two issues!
obviously youâre not getting enough calories because your fasting and eating probably like a 300-700 calorie omad and so your body is going into shock thinking, âoh whereâs my food?? There needs to be another meal!â So to combat this you should try to add as much vegetables to your dinners as possible, or, make yourself fuller during them. I always get microwave bags of vegetables (seasoned or lightly sauced. They usually have the calories listed on the front) and I make them for myself and for anyone to take as a âside dishâ and whenever I feel hungry for seconds, I go back for the leftover vegetables. Another way to make yourself fuller is have a small âsnackâ before dinner like a bread crust, or a fruit, or maybe a bite of meat. Itâll help make you feel fuller faster and like youâve already eaten. And of course, drinking water and carbonated drinks will fill the void in your stomach. â€ïžâ€ïž
The second reason why you might be doing so good and then binging is that youâre waiting too long to eat! I always eat breakfast under 300 calories to help keep me full until dinner comes. While Iâm doing a little like 7-10 hour fast, I burn around 400 active calories to burn off my breakfast so I start on a clean slate for dinner. I obviously try to burn off at least half of my dinner on the days I can. You donât have to fast to loose weight, as time between meals didnât correlate with weight loss any differently than portion control correlates to weight loss.
(https://newsroom.heart.org/news/reducing-total-calories-may-be-more-effective-for-weight-loss-than-intermittent-fasting)
I hope this could help!! Please stay healthy and safe!! â€ïžâ€ïž
#tw ana blĂžg#tw ana rant#@na motivation#skinandbones#tw 3d vent#0rthor3xia#0rth0#th1ghspĂž#tw 0rthor3xia#orthorexx#@n@#@n@ tips#@n@ buddy#@n@ diet#@n@ meal#light as a feather#male ed#âïžve#@n@ fast#tw ed ana#ed but not ed sheeran#4n4t1ps#4n4blr#4n4rexia#4n4m1a#4n4buddy#0rtho#orth0#orthorexia#tw orthorexia
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ââo slytherinslut0âs blog rules
just a reminder that this is an 18+ blog.
please ensure you have your generalized age somewhere visible on your blog otherwise i cannot interact with you. đ€
all comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. this is a hobby for me, something i love doing and i expect nothing from yall but seeing your reactions makes my day. thank you to those that go out of their way to leave them. đ€
do not repost, republish, or redistribute my work anywhere without my consent. all my work belongs to me.
in regard to requests:
i keep my asks open all the time (unless probable cause to do otherwise) so feel free to send in whatever youâd like, whenever youâd like.
however, itâs not a guarantee i will answer it.
please have patience and understanding. you know i appreciate all your asks so very much. đ€
when sending a request:
going forward iâd like to ask anyone that sends in a request to please categorize it by including the following:
blurb / drabble â if youâd like something short; please specify that in your request :)
full fic â if youâd like a whole fic surrounding your idea, please mention that in your request :)
a lot of times i get hung up on requests because iâm not sure how much detail yall want me to give (no fault of yall, just my own insanity lol) so i feel as though this would help me immensely. đ€
my boundaries:
i donât have very many rules, quite frankly i canât think of anything to put here other than the two topics i know i will not write for, and those are:
noncon.
incest.
i also wonât write any sort of aggressive or abusive!character, childish reader, or period sex. no suggestion is necessarily a bad suggestion, you are free to speak your thoughts here. but please donât take it personally if i donât fulfill it. đ€
ââo this will be updated frequently.
#please take note of the request rules !!! just for my own mental sanity#donât mind me just updating my masterlist before repinning it#thank you babies#someone asked for rules so here they are#slytherinslut0âs blog rules#emâs yappery#harry potter#slytherin boys#slytherinboys
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#8 Headcanons for Charles? â°(âžâžâžÂŽêł`âžâžâž)âŻ
Sorry for taking time to answer!
Ohhhh. Charles my love!
Well this aren't my personal headcanons but they're one that I adopted.
Well demiromantic Charles, I talked about this before and I think this posts explains it pretty well and I completely support it.
Also using suspenders as a replacement for belts because belts reminds him of his dad.
ADHD Charles! Oh I love this ADHD messy boy and I resonate with him so much.
Also dyslexic Charles!
I think those hcs makes the fact that he and Edwin has their thing where Edwin is reading him stories even cuter.
I totally see how no matter how hard he tried to overcome his disabilities he was never good enough which made his home life more difficult (projecting? Whattt).
Oblivious bisexual Charles rights. Not really a hc but yeah, that boy is dumb he's just completely oblivious in the moment he just never considered that because of the heteronormative society he was raised in, it just never crossed his mind. I'm a full believer he's just slow in understanding stuff and he wants to take things slow with Edwin.
He's screaming bisexual we all in the fandom clocked him right away it's nothing special really. We all know he's bi. That's a bisexual disaster if I have ever seen one. (Emphasis on the disaster).
Also, Charles kept the lantern from when Edwin found him! And that was the lantern he used when he went back to hell. And another detail I didn't see anyone talking about he also kept the book Edwin read to him without he knew. Actually he kept following the next books coming out in this series.
I also love any type of hc that gives him any artistic hobby- artist, dancer, or anything really, any reason that he didn't fit the stereotypical masculine gender roles, and made him even a larger disappointment in his dad's eyes. Anything that made it harder for him. I'm a slut for angst what can I say. (Like I'm a Charles Rowland kinny it's pretty much obvious).
This is pretty much it I think!
Mostly I just love the work the show did with him. I don't feel like large and elaborate headcanons are needed him- the canon is already amazing. I just love some small pieces that gives even more depth to the canon lore.
This show is so good I don't need really big headcanons. I don't think I can top the canon.
I love people sending me asks! Pease send my more if you have anyđ«¶
#dbda asks#dead boy detectives headcanon#dead boy detectives asks#dead boy detectives answers#dead boy detectives asks game#dbda#Charles Rowland#charles is so ADHD#thank you so much for sending me asks! please keep sending them!#i love to get themđ#dead boy detectives#charles rowland#dead gay detectives#charles dead boy detectives#dead boy detective netflix#dead boy detectives agency#the dead boy detectives
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totally lore-accurate swanqueen screencap redraws 4/â
they're on their first date :3c
#swan queen#swanqueen#regina mills#emma swan#once upon a time#ouat#my art#sq art#sq redraw#i wanted to draw this scene mainly because regina just looked SO PLEASED WITH HERSELF i love her face#but i'm not super happy with the result :<#shoulda picked a different scene after all i felt like i couldn't really do much with this one#(or maybe i'm just not good enough at drawing her yet she's so difficult aaaa)#but i still wanted to finish this anyway!!#i hope you enjoy :>#thank u also for sending me asks with recommendations for scenes for me to redraw!!#i'll keep them in my inbox until i get around to them#thank you so much for the warm welcome to this space ; -; đ#i'm so happy to see this ship still very much alive after all this time
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HEY!!! just wanted to say that i am sooo sorry to the people who have been waiting on a response to their ask đ you guys ask way too good of questions where i have to sit down and really think before i can give a response im happy with SFDIUHSFDI
#ESPECIALLY THE LORE AND RELATIONSHIPS QUESTIONS#I LOVE THOSE QUESTIONS SO MUCH#BUT IM EXTRA AND WANT TO DRAW FOR THEM#SO IVE BEEN PLANNING THEM OUT#BUT I ENCOURAGE YOU TO KEEP SENDING THEM#PLEASE KEEP SENDING THEM ACTUALLY DFIUHDSI#i just so happen to get lost in the sauce#but by no means does that reflect on anyone else but me#i love u guys and i love the questions you ask#and i thank u guys for being curious on my characters#just know that i have seen ur ask and i am very enthusiastic about getting to it#thank u and sorry again#bob talks
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Tender ZoSopp moment after a big fight with a wounded Zoro resting on Usopp's lap, and he's giving him a light massage to his temples and neck and Zoro wakes up to Usopp smiling at him because he protected them all again
"You look... safe... " Zoro says
And Usopp laughs a little "I am safe, thanks to you"
"I mean... you... safety" and Zoro falls asleep again (Chopper nearby still treating his wounds probably)
And Usopp's words caught up on his throat because being the protector's safe place means so much to him
đđ I'm not a writer, if you or anyone else wants to expand on that, pls do, I just always get really emotional to the thought of Usopp being (any of the Monster Trio)'s person they feel safe with, specially after a big fight
Oh this is sođđđ Usopp being Zoroâs safe space is everything to me omg!!! Thatâs so!!! Just thinking about Usopp never having thought about Zoro romantically until that point not until getting hit with a line like that and being thrown completely off kilter like wtf is that supposed to mean?? That was a joke right right? he was just joking around he couldnât really have meant that he Usopp was making him Zoro of all people feel safe?? But then he remembers the utter sincerity in his voice as he said it. Zoro doesnât lie. So what does it mean??
Usoppâs heart is just a mess after that and he cannot stand being around Zoro. It might just kill him. Just a brush of their hands was almost enough to send him into a cardiac arrest and then thereâs his laugh.
Usopp fears it might be enough to end him.
You would think a stoic serious guy like Zoro wouldnât laugh that much if ever but he does and itâs often at the stupidest things. And those stupid things sometimes happened to be him. Usually Usopp wouldnât stand for that but now he thinks he can afford to be a little stupid if it means he gets to hear Zoro laugh.
Even if it kills him.
So he cannot be around him. And so Usopp does what he does best. He runs away. Not completely. Heâs still there at the fringes. Has his foot just inside the room so to speak. He will still see Zoro at the dinner table, in their room and other places on the ship as long as others are around. They just canât be alone.
That just means that he wonât be working on the grassy deck of the sunny and suddenly find Zoro leaning into him asking him what heâs up to or just falling asleep against him. Nor will they nap together under the shade of a tree. Nor will he let Zoro use his lap as a pillow. Nor will they be shooting the shit late at night looking up at the stars. Nor will Usopp get to laugh as Zoro tries and fails to map out constellations. Nor will he get to tell him how hopeless he is and that it doesnât matter if Zoro doesnât know his left from his right because Usopp will always be there to find him.
He will lose a lot of things but he thinks that what heâs protecting is more important right?
Itâs after another fight. Zoro is lost again. No one can find him. Usopp isnât worried because why would he be? This is par for the norm. But then Usopp does find him and his heart drops out of his chest.
âZoro?â
Heâs on the ground looking badly injured completely still. It almost looks like heâs napping. Almost.
Usopp kneels down beside him and tries to shake him awake.
âZoro?â
He does not answer.
âZoro this isnât funny open your eyesâŠâ Usoppâs hair is loose itâs all in his face. âYouâre supposed to be the strongest of us what are you doing.â He tries to brush his hair back but it keeps falling back clinging his face. âYou canât just let a chump like that take you out.â Great now itâs getting all in Zoroâs face but Usopp lets it maybe itâll annoy him enough to make him wake him. âYou havenât become the worldâs best swordsman remember? You still havenât bested Mihawk yet so you canât just not⊠Wake. Up!â
Usopp does not want his last words to him to be⊠when was the last time he actually talked to Zoro?? Had he been avoiding him for so long that he couldnât even remember?? Was his last words just⊠nothing?
Usopp doesnât realize heâs crying until he sees his tears splatter all over on Zoroâs face. Fuck.
Usopp regrets so much.
All the moments they had are overshadowed by all the ones they didnât get to have because he was coward and so so afraid. Of what? Of being found out? His stupid feelings shouldnât have prevented him from just being his friend. Just being his friend had been enough and should been enough. But now heâll never even get that. Now all Usopp gets all the things he is left with are those moments that could have been, the ones that should have been and all the ones that will never be.
He gets nothing.
Usopp crumples. He gathers Zoro up in his arms holding him and placing his head in his lap just like that moment so long ago. And says âplease donât⊠not yetâŠâ
He feels a hand on his cheek sweeping away his tears and his eyes snaps open and he sees Zoro looking grouchy and confused and so very awake and he screams.
âZoro!â
âArgh donât be so loud Iâve a headache.â
âStupid you donât get say that after making me think youâre dead!â
Zoro cracks a smile. âIs that why youâre crying? I was wondering who I had to beat up.â
Usopp grabs the hand that still on his face. âDonât be stupid. Youâre not beating anyone up the way you are now.â
Zoro just hums as he closes his eyes and just nuzzles closer and gets more comfortable. âI missed this.â
Usopp ruffles the green his hair and smiles. âMe too.â
âFinally gotten tired of avoiding me.â
Usoppâs grip tightens in his hair but he immediately lets go once Zoro bristles with pain. âSorry.â
"Sorry for pulling my hair or sorry for avoiding me?"
âItâs not you.â
âWhat is it then?â
When Usopp doesnât answer Zoro just pulls him close until their foreheads are almost touching.
âTell me.â
âItâs stupid.â
âI want to hear it.â
âIt doesnât matter-â
âIt matters. To me.â
Usopp twists his lips. But thereâs only so long he can lie. So long he can withhold the truth. So of course it comes gushing out when he least wants it to. The dam thatâs his lie finally gives. It has been breaking for a long time now. It just takes just one nudge from Zoro and that look in his eye and that hand thatâs still wiping away his tears. And he breaks.
âI love you.â
Zoroâs eyes widens and Usopp knows heâs made a mistake but then they soften so maybe not and oh he laughs and maybe just maybe this is worth everything.
âTook you long enough.â
Usoppâs eyes well up with tears again. âI fucking hate you.â
âNo you donât.â
Then he kisses him. And they kiss again and again. Because theyâre happy to be alive. To be here together and with each other and in love and because when Usopp isnât busy being a coward he can brave. Usopp can be brave. And he gets to have this and all the moments that could be, going to be and will ever be. Now and forever.
âOh before I forget.â
âWhat?â
Zoro smiles so softly and also so smugly because heâs a bastard and yet Usopp canât help but love him because heâs stupid and also the smartest man alive.
âI love you too.â
Usopp smiles.
He gets to have it all.
#reading this ask actually made my heart squee omg#and please donât say youâre not much of a writer no one is until they decide they are#just this little bit you wrote was enough to move me#just write it might suck in the beginning but itâs going to get better I promise#take this from someone who didnât start drawing until their twenties#also thank you for sending this it was awesome!!!#asks#zosopp#i write sometimes#I might enjoy writing like this too much so please keep sending me these little hcs and I might try to turn them into a little somethingđ„°
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Gronk is dummy thicc and Tom is HERE FOR IT
HELL YES, ANON!!!!!!
YOU GET IT!!!!!
What I love the most about Tom is how he really doesn't try to hide his affection(s) or feelings towards Rob. đ„șđ„čđđ€§
Tom usually looks at Rob like this whenever they're together:
Also, on a thirstier level...đ
Rob always looks so, so good đ„”đ”âđ«đ
As somebody who is big about "Rob is more than his body! And he's not as dumb as y'all think, either!", that also doesn't mean that I don't find him to be ridiculously attractive. đ€€
He is a fine looking man indeed and I'm always thrilled to see and listen to Tom talk about about Rob's various physical attributes. đ€©đđ„đŻđ„
Tom is DOWN BADDDD for Robbie G and would likely do anything in order to please him. đđđđ
#asks#askbox#anon#asked and answered#I LOVE THAT THIS WAS SENT TO ME ON THE LAST DAY OF PRIDE MONTH!!!!!#amazing đđđ»đđ»#iconic đđđ»đđ»#incredible đđđ»đđ»#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING ME THIS ANON!!!!!!#I love your thought process; you are SO RIGHT!!!!!!!#NFL asks#Please keep sendin' me asks like this; I have so much fun reading#them and responding with y'all#Anon is always on so don't be afraid to be bold and get a little crazy!!!#Tom Brady#Rob Gronkowski#Tom/Rob#Rob/Tom#TB12#RG87#Bad Boys for Life#babes#love
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Please do not send me asks for donations
Here's why:
I have NO money to give you
I'm not a popular enough blog that I will give you any reach
I am a minor, and most of my followers are too
It makes me feel extremely guilty
Seeing pictures of injuries or hospitals etc are triggering for me (which are in most intro posts for this sort of thing)
They are always worded in a way that makes me feel like I am a murderer if I don't donate
It makes me feel uncomfortable
I said I don't want them, and my boundaries should be respected
I can't tell what is a bot and what isn't (although I know a large portion of them are NOT bots)
I get a lot of spam from this. It is disappointing to see 10 new asks in my inbox just to be the same ask for donations over and over
Please, just respect the fact that I have said this.
If you want this in your pinned post, please don't credit me. You can copy the words or take a screenshot with my username cropped out. You can reblog this but please don't go on about how awful you find it. I get it, but also if you spiral two much you might end up accidentally saying something bad. This post has led to a lot of hate anons and harassment, so I would rather not have too much attention. Thanks...
Edits, boundaries and facts below (probably for the best if you read them too- especially if you are considering sending me hate)
Edit: To all the people reblogging this, I'm sorry you have had to deal with this too. And yes, you can put this in your pinned post! Stay safe <3
Edit 2: I am pro Palestine and want to do everything I can to help but I'm not financially or mentally well enough to do much. I'm not in support of these people dying. Also, this post isn't just about Palestine. It's about ALL asks for donations. I'm not doing favouritism or racism. I just can't deal with it. Don't harass me for expressing boundaries.
Edit 3: Yes, this post might seem controversial. But I did literally make this for my own personal experience and didn't expect it to get more than 12 notes or so. You can agree with this post, pin this post, reblog this post, I don't care really. But don't add opposing views because quite frankly, it's none of your business. It's not my problem and I didn't mean for this post to get so many notes. Edit 2 mostly covered what I'm trying to say here, but don't use the number of notes as an excuse to fight me. I just want a peaceful Tumblr experience. Also, if you are reblogging this, don't trauma dump. I keep notifications on for this post so that I can block people harassing me before shit escalates, so I can see every reblog. You can screenshot and repost if you want to talk about your problems, but honestly its no better seeing people saying "I'm bankrupt and I just got kicked out by my family. I also have a history of abuse and those images are so triggering that I want to die". That doesn't help me. Make your own post to say that. Please
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how about competition plays? not overcrowded, but like three or four queens meeting up just to have this kind of fun. all of them have one vibrator/buttplug at one point for example, and who cums last (or first) is the winner.
This is an interesting question anon, and not something I have ever thought about. The concept of competition play is admittedly foreign to me, but it is not something that could be seen as that uncouth to be fair. Obviously, the structure of competing with someone else would be done in a very playful manner. Amongst the queens, none of them would really want to proverbially tarnish the fun they are having with a pressure to win / lose. Not that they would in all fairness.
Given you mention toys with this anon, I do implore that you read over some previous posts about toys / fucking machines when solo, toys with a partner, pussy pumps, and / or bigger toys. Those are not all of them either, as there was one about Vic and Rumple having some fun with toys (that will probably end up being a fic at one point), or one about the queens pegging their partners. Perhaps surprisingly, all of those were / are considered new ideas on the blog at the time, much like this ask (so thanks as always for dropping new ideas to explore anons).
The whole competition angle would be between friends, so I do appreciate the idea of only three or four queens being involved with this anon. More than that makes it too much and not really fun anymore, at least for me. I would like to think it would be between Vic, Rumple, and Tanto. I cannot really think of who could be a fourth when considering the other queens mentioned regularly on this blog, as none of them would mesh well with the three already mentioned.
For the purpose of this ask, and for relative simplicity, they will all have the same dildo / vibrator between all three of them for this 'competition'. If they would want to use their paws and fingers as well, I say it is fair game. The only real rule would be that the vibe has to be used the whole time, either in them or against some part of their pussy.
Anyway, all three of them would be quite turned on and excited about the whole thing when they do meet up. They all mutually lust after one or both of the two queens that are joining them, so the opportunity to see and hear them in such a tantalizing way is even more of an incentive to participate. I am trying to think if they would all line themselves up side-by-side on a bed or if they would arrange themselves in a triangle of sorts, legs all facing the other. Either would work, but I do like the triangle idea anon, because they get the wonderful visuals of seeing the other queen's pussies and asses as they are being pleasured.
Vic is unsurprisingly the first to win / lose. She simply is too sensitive, and does not have the stamina to go for long. Especially with a vibrator, she would be cumming with satisfied squeaks shortly after they begin. The constant stream of overwhelming pleasure focused on her pussy and clit is something she is not used to either, as she tends to prefer pauses and slower pacing so she does not get (over)stimulated easily. Being the loser is not that bad though, as she gets to watch the other two, particularly excited by being closer to Tanto in such a situation.
Adding to the fun, Rumple would grab Vic's vibe and put it in her mouth, delighting in the taste of the white queen as she continues to squirm under the pleasure from the vibrator. The smaller queen would start rubbing at herself, clearly encouraged by what she just did. Little moans, muffled by the mouthful, escape her pretty mouth as she continues. It is impressive in a way how much she can take and still remain relatively calm under the barrage of pleasure, choosing to tease the other two by letting Vic know how good she tastes as she pulls the vibe out of her mouth and just how hot Tanto's strong body is.
Rumple is not the second queen to lose though, as Tanto, who has lasted quite a bit longer than Vic, is unable to hold it off much longer. Zoned out up to this point as she focused on the building pleasure, the torbie breaks her concentration as she pulls her legs up with her arms to change her position. As her asshole and pussy clench hard with the constant buzz from the vibe, Tanto starts cumming in strong waves. He pussy pulsing uncontrollably, it gets forceful enough that she inadvertently pushes the vibrator right out of her. With a strong heave and a high pitched yell that pulls even more attention toward her, Tanto squirts over the other two astonished queens in multiple small sprays as she groans through the end of climax.
Needless to say, Rumple wins the contest, but for all of a few seconds. Little is a hot to the calico as what Tanto just did, and she savagely rubs herself off in excitement. With her little body shaking at all the pleasure, Rumple cums with desperate squeals due to her new efforts, but leaves the vibe in. She turns onto her stomach, fucking the vibe with slams of her hips. Very quickly, her body is heaving again as she is pushed into overstimulation by the buzzing vibe.
It is too much for Vic to sit idle at the turn of events, and with some meaningful fingering, she cums again with a squeal. Seeing Tanto squirt (for the first time or not) leaves sultry thoughts swimming through her head, and watching Rumple fuck herself like that is just too good to ignore.
Between all three queens, there are no losers, and maybe this little competition is justification for more. None of them would complain if they got their own attempts at seeing how quickly (or not) they could get the other two to fall apart. Maybe it is immediately following this or in the future. There is only more winning to be had.
#oh no anon this is really starting to sound like a hell of a concept for another fic#it is a pretty fucking good one so we will see#this got away from me very quickly once I started writing it out so yeah#no idea when the next fic will be out regardless so i appreciate all of your patience and of course all of the wonderful asks like this#i do not have much time off in the foreseeable future to focus on writing a fic but you never know when the initiative will hit#i keep (reportedly) upping myself with them so the pressure is on to make each new one better#in any capacity please send more thoughts and asks because they always brighten my day / week / month / life#thank you anon(s)
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<yunho x fem!reader>
well, pining after your brotherâs fucking attractive best friend isnât a sin if he doesnât know right? nobody has to know.
nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.
nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.
Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk
Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee
đ©· back to staying perverted
A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting â€ïž
Undoubtedly, itâs either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brotherâJeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an armâs length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off.Â
Whatever it was, you couldnât deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated.Â
âA chalet?â You repeat. âWhatâs the occasion?âÂ
âJust a weekend outâ, your brother replies. âA couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.â
âAre you going?â Yunho suddenly asks.Â
You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. âNo. Iâm going on a date.â
Yunhoâs eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it.Â
âWith who? How come I didnât know?âÂ
You cast a confused glance at him. âWhy would you need to know?â
That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.
âYeah, you didnât tell me?â Your brother echos.Â
âAs if youâre interested in my love lifeâ, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again.Â
Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that youâll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. Heâs running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious?Â
âAnd why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?â You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it.Â
âItâs dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!â He was really dramatic about too, might you add.Â
You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. âIâll be fine, Yun. Youâre on my speed dial if anything happens okay?âÂ
For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didnât existâthe both of you caught in between each otherâs gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that heâs your brotherâs best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat.Â
Fuck. Looks like heâs the one losing now.Â
It doesnât help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever youâre supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switchesâto you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.
Thatâs when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank.Â
How fucked is he?
Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself.Â
Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriendâs legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at.Â
âYour roomâs to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard thereâ, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.
Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. Youâre seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you.Â
There is a long moment of silence between the both of you.Â
âCan I help you, Yunho?â You break it.Â
âNoâŠisnât this my room?â Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug.Â
Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest.Â
His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face.Â
âHold on. Werenât you suppose to be on a date?âÂ
You shrug again. âYeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-â
âN-no. You can stay, since youâre already hereâ, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. âYouâre okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.â
Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun.Â
You force a small smile. âItâs fine. Itâs not like we havenât shared a bed before.â Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time.Â
Yunhoâs signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. âRight. Then Iâll use the bathroom to wash up.â He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly.Â
Nothingâs gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasnât Jeon Yunho.Â
Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldnât simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that youâd end up falling asleep.Â
And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.
âSorry. The bedâs a littleâŠcrampedâ, you hear Yunhoâs voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours.Â
You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage.Â
âItâs fineâ, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you werenât in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that heâs just a friend, that heâs just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least.Â
You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. âHow was your date?â
You donât want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though thatâs literally impossible.Â
âIt was fineâ, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms.Â
âWhat did you think of him?âÂ
âI think heâs okay. Heâs quite a decent guy. Then again, itâs just the first dateâ.
The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression heâs making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked?Â
Oh, you were definitely about to find out.Â
âYouâre planning to see him again?â Heâs closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?
âI havenât decided on that yetâ, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, âbut whatâs it to you? You usually donât care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.â
This time, itâs Yunhoâs turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that heâd shifted away from you, and maybe heâd let the matter die off.
âWho said I didnât?â
Now heâs completely pressing his body against youâyou feel his lips just a hairâs length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back.Â
His crotch right against your ass.Â
âYunho-â, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.
âIâll stop if you donât want to, and Iâll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I wonât force you if you donât want to.â
Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they arenât registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now itâs just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.
âIâm not doing this without your consent, my dearâ, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body.Â
All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such temptation.
But you should still probably stop this-
From the way youâre staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, heâs not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-
Until he feels your hand cup his.Â
âI wanna feel you, Yunhoâ, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room.Â
Yunho feels like heâs not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evidentâpressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. Itâs driving up the wall.Â
Another thing he doesnât expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again.Â
But he doesnât want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and itâs overtaking his rationale.Â
You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actionsâwriting, typingâlook so attractive.
And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.
His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way youâre drenched for him.Â
âFuck. All of this for me?â He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt.Â
Heâs not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while heâs finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.
âYouâre so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking badâ, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to.Â
âYour cockâ, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. âFuck. Need you to fuck me so good.â
Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.
Heâs so tempted. But not yet. He desperateâdesperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.
So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever.Â
He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when heâs done with you.Â
Youâre spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so heâs definitely able to see your pussy in full view.
âY-yu-â, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids.Â
The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny.Â
âY-Yunho-â you try again. âOh god. Feels weird.â Nonetheless, you donât say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing.Â
âThatâs it. Let it go for me, baby. Itâll feel so fucking good.â
Oh fuck. You donât even register it before it happensâit totally washes over you, and youâre just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up.Â
When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he canât help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was.Â
He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You donât know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and heâs bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy.Â
âLift your leg for me, babeâ, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more.Â
Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips.Â
He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.
âOh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and softâ, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt.Â
Your mind is complete mush by thenâcombined with Yunhoâs cock thatâs stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunhoâs cock almost taking them all away.Â
âShit. Youâre fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,â Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses.Â
âYou wanna move now?â You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now.Â
âFuck, yes, please,â is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again.Â
You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunhoâs glazed out expression is what comes into view. Heâs looking at you like youâre his fucking treasure.Â
âDoes it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.â
âYou canât be asking me that when youâre fucking the thoughts right out of meâ, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.
âEven better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?â He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.
And when you donât answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp.Â
âAnswer me, pretty.â
âYes, fuck yes. Donât need anyone elseâs when youâre fucking me so goodâ, you cry, relishing in the way heâs gradually cutting off your oxygen supply.Â
His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.
âThatâs my good girl.â
And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now itâs on his cock this time.Â
âF-fuck. Oh, thatâs it. Thatâs a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like thatâ, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. âIâm gonna cum. Make sure youâre full and dripping when Iâm fucking done with you.â
And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, thatâs for sure.Â
The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. Heâs the first to let go, and youâre about to say something until he turns you around, and itâs then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.
Your hand grabs onto his arm thatâs snaking around your waist.Â
âW-wait. We need to talk about my broth-â, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way heâs littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now youâre nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.
âThat can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that Iâll make sure youâre full and dripping once Iâm fucking done with you right? Well, Iâm not done fucking you yet.â
#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez smut#smut#ateez fic#kpop smut#jeong yunho#y/n x yunho#yunho ateez#ateez jongho#ateez yunho#yunho x reader#yunho smut#Spotify
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I asked my brother to send me pictures of our home to see how it looked after the destruction. Among the photos he sent, one stood out to meâa picture of my little brother sitting amidst the rubble, drawing the Palestinian flag. Despite the devastation surrounding him, his only focus was on our homeland.
This image renewed my sense of hope and resilience, reminding me that our love for our country remains strong despite all the challenges.
As I look at this picture, I am reminded of the strength and spirit of my family, even in the face of the harsh conditions they are enduring. But they need more than just resilience to survive. They need help.
I have launched a GoFundMe campaign to help my family leave Gaza and secure a safer future. Your support can make a real difference in their lives. Please consider donating and sharing the campaign so we can bring them to safety.
âŹ8,830 raised of âŹ50,000 goal
We are now very close to reaching the second goal of my campaign, with âŹ8,830 of 10,000. This brings us closer to securing the safety of my younger brother and sister.
Thank you so much for your generosity and for helping us keep hope alive.
#free palestine#palestine đ#across the spiderverse#free gaza#artists on tumblr#all eyes on palestine#donald trump#asexual#barbie#easter
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Prettied Up - Chris Sturniolo
Smut, dom!chris, sub!fem
Summary: you and Chris are getting ready to go to dinner with Nick and Matt when he sees you doing your makeup in the mirror, he decides to eat you out while you do your makeup.
Contains: smut, sub!fem, dom!chris, oral (fem!receiver), almost getting caught, pet names (ma, pretty girl, etc)
Authors note: I am so sorry I put this story off for so long, here it is đ
Divider Credits: @bernardsbendystraws @adornedwithlight and @cafekitsune
Chris and I were getting ready for dinner with Nick, Matt, Mikayla and Nate, we were in Boston for a few weeks and we wanted to get together with our old friends. I was standing at the mirror starting my makeup, Chris was in the shower.
âMa, can you hand me that towel, please?â He asks me his finger pointing through the shower curtain. I walk over to the towel and I hand it to him. I quickly go back to doing my makeup, we only had twenty minutes left before we had to leave.
Chris comes behind me and wraps his arms around my stomach and he lays his head on my shoulder.
âChris, youâre getting my clothes all wet.â I say pushing him off my slightly.
âThatâs not too bad though right-â he says hugging me from behind again. This time his hands trail to my bare waist. âClothes will dryâŠâ he reaches up and cups my breast.
âChris.â I warn as I watch him run his hands all over my body in the mirror. âIâm trying to do my makeup.â I say blending out my blush trying to shake off the goosebumps. I could feel myself throbbing in need and I took a deep breath.
âYou gettin all prettied up fâme?â He says as he puts on his underwear and then his pants. I grin and turn around. âChris stop making me-â
He gets closer to me and grabs my jaw. âStop making you what?â He says in a husky voice. My knees buckled. His grip on my jaw was light and soft but it still put a huge effect on me.
I look up at him with puppy eyes and he lets me go.
âCan I make you feel good babyâŠgive you a little rewardâŠâ
âFor what?â I ask quietly.
âYou deserve itâŠbut keep gettin prettied up for me ma.â
He gets down on his knees in front of me. This was a new thing from him, itâs always me getting on my knees for him, was he really going to make me feel good with no returns at all? I feel his hands fiddle with my button on my pants and then he unzips them, pulling them down to my ankles and then pulling them all the way off. His eyes trail up to mine and he places a soft kiss to my lower abdomen.
âKeep doing your makeup donât watch me.â He says pulling my underwear off and throwing them somewhere with my pants. He doesnât even hesitate, his mouth quickly attaching to my clit, I let out a gasp and I hang my head back. He taps the back of my thighs telling me to continue doing my makeup, so I do, trying to line my lips with all of this pleasure is not working, so I move on to my mascara.
âOh my-fuck ChrisâŠâ I say as my legs begin to shake, I canât focus on just my makeup, the image of him pumping his fingers in and out of my wet pussy while his mouth abuses my clit was way too much. âIâm gonna cum, Chris! Oh my fucking god, ChrisâŠâ I say grinding my hips on his face.
âMmm yeah grind my face ma, cum all over me.â I continue grinding my hips reaching closer and closer to my high, with a final cry my legs jerk and I cum all over his faceâŠluckily my makeup was fully finished, it didnât look exactly how I wanted it to, but I did my best.
âChris! Y/n come on! We have to leave!â Matt yells, in a daze I put back on my pants and he puts on his shirt, and puts on deodorant and other things. He wraps an arm around my shoulder.
âDonât let it affect you too much baby.â He says kissing my temple âwe still have dinner to eat, and then you can have me.â
This was a lot of fun to write, and thank you sm for all of your support lately (I recently did a face reveal) so thank you for all of your compliments on that. Thank you for reading my fanfictions and if you ever have a request just send me a silly little message.
#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#sturniolo triplets fanfic
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