#the desire has returned tenfold

[spacecasette]

i have true detective brain rot SO BAD. rust cohle.. your offputting and condescending swag has captivated me for real 💯💯

want him to bully me and call me a stupid little girl and fuck me nasty :(

[alexiroflife]

"trance"

fluff, slight crack, modern!sukuna, whipped & clingy sukuna, itadori family!

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna, a man who rarely attempts to keep his thoughts to himself for the sake of others, makes his infatuation with you everyone else's problem when he's high

to sum it up: sukuna's fried, and naturally all he wants is you

WC: 3,258

Warning(s): mentions/use of marijuana, suggestive themes, horny ass sukuna who has no decorum in front of his family

You know Sukuna is no better than any other man who you have caught the attention of in the past. No matter the time of day or the occasion, the salmon-haired man is quick to intrude on your personal space, invading your unsuspecting body with the wander of his large hands over your frame until you find yourself returning to the default state of being at his will.

Sukuna proudly takes ownership of his infatuation with you too. Rather shamelessly, he's got an arm wound over your shoulders and locked around your neck or hands firmly splayed on your waist, bringing yours to his and keeping you there for as long as he deems necessary.

He would never say so out loud, but it is evident by his body language and the way he strays from being more than ten feet away from you that he is attached to you at the hip. Sukuna is an aggressively clingy man, for as long as you belong to him, he is taking advantage of your closeness, of your body, of your time, mind, heart, and soul.

Even so, when Sukuna is in the proper state of mind, he still remains somewhat calm with his actions and how he presses himself to you. He will appear almost angry with affection, but silent save for a few commands to relax your body or to stop stubbornly attempting to push away when you feel crowded, though you never have any luck in that regard anyway. He is more reserved, more contained with his confrontations as though touching you is the easiest, most soothing, and most familiar thing he has ever done. Sukuna has a tendency to skillfully mask his truest emotions with a viel of apathy and air of indifference, despite how his body speaks for the things he fails to verbalize.

And now, of course, while Sukuna is not at all in any realm close to withholding a proper state of mind, or state of sobriety more accurately, his body betrays him tenfold and acts on its own will while his mind is on the backburner, hazily numbing itself with the passionate buzz of the smoke that was dragging from his lips and past his nostrils.

Sukuna often fails to take into account the appropriate time and place to engage in or say certain things, for he feels that if there is something he wants to do or discuss, no company or environment could shift his will to do so. Arrogant with pride, Sukuna operates according to his desires, and all those who know him are quite familiar with his rather inconsiderate antics.

That is why the crimson eyed man is splayed out on his brother's sofa, legs spread dangerously far apart with his arms thrown over the back of the furniture. Blurry lidded eyes stare off in a heavy daze captured solely by you, who are maneuvering about his brother's kitchen alongside Choso, who is helping you locate the baking sheet for the cookies you have been yammering on about baking all day.

You can feel his eyes burning into your skull from a mile away, and you are wildly too accostumed to this routine of his for you to pay the notion any mind. You are far too focused on your own task at hand to meet the fiery, lust consumed gaze that your boyfriend has locked onto you.

His eyes, unfathomably red, trace the outline of your figure slowly as though drinking in the sight of you, savoring it so that he can taste it on his tongue long enough for it to linger until he can get his hands on the true, physical flavor of you.

There's a darkness in the way he checks you out from across the room seated next to Wasuke, who glares angrily ahead of him with a twisted scowl at whatever channel has been randomly flicked to in the stupor of Sukuna's high. It almost feels as though the room is charging with the volcaic tension that Sukuna's body emits from its place in the living room, for his obsession with you manifests into some sort of beast before everyone's eyes when he is under the influence of weed.

And despite being surrounded by family, Sukuna can do nothing but watch you with that hungry glint in those hues of blood red, paying no mind to how easily the room can read him.

Truthfully, Sukuna does not even feel that he should be blamed for the way he is eye fucking you now. You decided upon yourself that it was a good idea to visit the Itadori home with a thick cardigan slipping down the skin of your shoulder to reveal the tank top that hugs your midsection and tits tightly, which you only vurther expose when you decide to strip the outer fabric off with complaints of being warm. Your graceful arms stretch to grab the kitchenware out of Choso's hands to set aside on the counter, your bare neck craning gently with the tilt of your head and a concentrated pinch of your brow as you mix raw ingridients into a bowl with your hands, kneading the thick pasty mixture through your soft fingers. You have to be doing this on purpose, Sukuna decides, for you are far too captivating for him to turn away

Sukuna's lashes flutter with a slow blink and the stroke of his fingers over his mouth and chin. You look practically edible standing there, the overhead light of the kitchen illuminating your frame and epmhasizing your otherwordly, enticing beauty. Of all the many ways he has come to learn he can devour your body, each scenario flitters through his fuzzy brain the longer he stares at you, his pupils expanding with possessive want.

You flicker your eyes upward momentarily when you feel a particular shift in the atmosphere, and when you do, you meet your boyfriend's piercing eyes from afar. Your brows quirk and your lips tug to the side with nervous judgment when you catch that dangerous glimmer that can only mean you will not make it out alive when the two of you end up alone.

With slightly widened eyes, you slowly turn your eyes back to the cookie dough and a curious Choso standing beside you with oil spray for the pan.

"You okay?" the twenty-one year old questions slowly and you shake your head.

"Your uncle looks like he's gonna kill me," you exhale anxiously in response. Choso looks up to find what you are referring to, and his face sours when he catches wind of Sukuna's expression.

"Freak," he mutters under his broth with the clench of his jaw, passing the spray over to you amid his sickened glower.

As if beckoning him subconsciously, the brunette watches in something akin to horror when Sukuna lifts his arms from behind him and pushes himself up gradually to his feet. He appears to move in slow motion, hands tucked into his pockets and eyes still glued permanently to you as he saunters his way into the kitchen with heavy strides.

You keep your gaze down, pretending to be entirely too occupied as the salmon haired man slips into the space directly behind you, the strong scent of weed sinking into his cologne wrapping over you. Sneakily, warm palms snake over your hips. They still there a moment, gripping experimentally before trailing around and over your stomach, opting to cling to you this way as he steps his chest to your back and curves his nose toward you cheek.

He takes in a deep breath, inhaling you graciously as his hands wander over your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose and the whisper of his lips graze your skin as he lenas himself down toward the crook of your jaw and neck. His actions are sluggish, a representation of his current state of mind, and he pulls you into his embrace as though he had been seeking so for years on end.

"Can I help you, Kuna?" you murmur, gripping a ball of dough into your palms and rolling it.

He does not say a word. Only a low grunt escapes his lips and vibrates against you, his eyes falling closed. He seems to crowd into you closer, though you are unsure of how that is possible when he already has you tucked into him so securely.

"Just stand still," his voice rumbles into you, lips pressing to your ear in a soft kiss in between his slow words. "Let me feel on you."

You grunt softly when his lips touch your cheek, veiny hands smoothing over your abdomen in gradual circles, one hand sliding back to sooth down the top of your thigh and back up again. "Sukuna," you hiss as heat pinches your body. "Stop, I'm trying to bake," you lean over to shrug away, but he's following you, chasing your lips to the side and crushing his weight down into you, pecking over your jaw.

"No one told you to stop," he murmurs. "Keep going."

You bite down on your tongue, attempting to hide how flustered you have become by Sukuna's behavior, especially in such an open space. You expect nothing less from him, and neither does his family, but hell, he never knows when to quit and it absolutely kills you.

"Leave her alone," Choso rolls his eyes, shuffling away from Sukuna's bulky figure pushing past him to get to you. "She just said she was doing something."

"Yeah, and get a god damn room!" Grandpa demands bitterling from the couch with the raise of an agitated fist.

"You're scarring your family, Sukuna," you say flatly in between the uproar of hatred toward the salmon haired man, to which he lifts his head from you briefly with a mischievous smirk snaking onto his face.

"They'll live," he grins.

"At this rate, you'll be the very thing to keep that from happening and push me closer to death," Grandpa fumes.

"One could only hope, old man."

"Eat shit."

An amused chuckle rumbles through Sukuna's chest and against your back, practically rattling your ribcage. "Can't you all be nice to each other," you sigh as Sukuna turns his focus back down to you. His arms tighten around you, his caress of your stomach over your tank top ceasing to fasten his arms around your waist and drop his forehead to your shoulder. He sways you slightly back and forth, droopy eyes glazing over at the feel of your plush body against his.

"We can't be nice if we constantly get on each other's nerves, (Y/n)," Choso says tiredly. "Or more specifically, if Sukuna pisses us off."

"But that's damn near every day," you raise your brows with a twitch of an amused smile as you proceed onto rolling the next few balls of cookie dough.

"Exactly."

You shake your head, lifting your arms slightly as Sukuna's burly arms wrap up under yours. "Your family hates you, baby," you comment slyly.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, grumbling as he shifts with you. "I don't give a fuck," he murmurs. "What perfume are you wearing?"

"I'm not wearing any perfurme," you scrunch your brows in confusion at his abrupt shift. "Why?"

"Mm," he hums. "You smell good."

"Okay," you tilt your head away when his lips peck over your neck, his teeth eventually sinking down to nip at you. You flinch. "Get off, weirdo!" a giggle slips into your demand, your face scrunching when a hand comes to cup the side of your face to refrain you from moving away from the invasion of his kisses.

"For fuck's sake," Wasuke hisses under his breath.

"Let's go," Sukuna suddenly mumbles into you.

You turn your head to peek at him over your shoulder quizzically. "What?"

"Let's go, woman," he repeats, speaking directly into your ear. "Want to taste you. Now."

"Woah," your eyes go wide as Sukuna moves to feel you up again, thick fingers brushing the hem of your tanktop and grazing over the sliver of skin beneath. "You can't just say things like that," you scold, eyes darting over the room in panic though your own body is beginning to betray you. "Behave."

"Like hell you actually want me to," you can feel him smirk as the sly words leave his mouth, and you shiver, putting aside the last ball of dough you needed to roll. "Come on, peach," he urges rather gently, tilting his head over your shoulder to find the connection of your gaze with his red eyes. You look back up at him, eyes glassy enough for Sukuna to determine that he is getting to you. "Don't be rude."

"Sukuna, you're distracting me," you groan.

"Relax," he urges, "Enough complaining and relax."

His instructions fall on your ear as though he is attempting to coax you into submission, which he has a keen tendency of doing even when he is fully coherent. "At least have the decency to wait until we go home to act like this."

"I shouldn't have to wait for something I already have."

"Around your family, you should!"

"Quit worrying about them and focus on me."

"You make it impossible not to when you hover me like this."

"Good," he kisses the back of your ear. "Now let's go."

"Later," you smile with the emphasis. "I haven't even washed my hands yet."

Sukuna stretches his arms forward from under you, cupping over your wrists from either side and guiding your hands to the left whre the sink resides as Choso busies himself with tidying up a bit. You watch your boyfriend reach to flip the faucet on, then guide your dough coated hands under the water gingerly.

You inhale sharply, ducking your head to conceal your smile as his thumbs smooth your palms clean with the addition of some soap. You can feel his chest pressing into your shoulderblades and the weighted exhales the spread through his body. His head hovers over your own, eyes turning back to admire you as he mindlessly continues to wash your hands.

"God, is that (Y/n) over there? I hope that idiot isn't clobbering the poor girl," Jin's voice speaks up from behind you all at the front door, which had swung open moments before. You all watch him and Itadori shuffle into the space, the teenager clad in his baseball practice uniform.

"He's washing her hands," Choso deadpans, turning to greet Yuji as he walks into the space. The said boy furrows his brow and looks over at the huddled pair of the two of you.

"Really? Why? That's... oddly nice of him," he tilts his head.

"No the hell it's not," Gramps chimes in from the couch, having tuned into the family conversation with the return of his son and grandson.

Sukuna ignores the comments getting thrown around about him, his mind's only sole focus being you and the way your hands trickle over with water within his own.

"All of you shut up. I'm speeding things up," Sukuna slurs, and all heads turn to him.

"Are you high?" Jin raises an unimpressed brow at his twin.

"Stay out of my business."

The living room and kitchen combined erupt into lively chatter as voices overlap one another and some argument about some sports team ensues after an argument about Sukuna's habits. The cookies long having been tucked into the oven flood the space with an intoxicating scent, and as you move around to make sure the space is tidy when you are done, Sukuna does not let go of you once. He's stuck to you, rolling his hands over your hips and kissing across your shoulder, performing rather uncharacteristically gentle as he handles you as though cherishing you in his senses' heightened yet blurred state.

The red eyed man is especially hot on your tail when you step away to the bathroom. The second you make it into the space to prepare to examine yourself in the mirror, the door is clicking shut behind you and Sukuna is making his way over with a gleam of entranced greed.

You go to press your palm forward to catch his chest before he can completely approach you, but your strength proves inefficient against Sukuna's as he pushes back against your hands, lips curved in a lazy smile.

"You need to calm down," you nod with a nervous smile, squeaking when he flies his hands downward to tightly clasp your waist and pull you into him swiftly. "Seriously! Stop looking at me like that. You're gonna get us in more trouble."

"Be quiet, gorgeous," he purrs when your body collides to his with a thud. He hums, sliding his fingers past your hair to settle on the back of your neck, his thumb clasping over the front in a soft squeezing motion. Your smile dwindles slightly as he drags your head forward, his lips parted with a toothy, satisfied beam as you melt down before him. "Give me a kiss."

"No," you breathe out as though you had been holding in air.

"Why? What's the matter with you, girl?" his sultry voice questions rather teasingly.

"It's never just a kiss with you," you whimper. "And I'm not doing anything at your family's house with all of them standing twenty feet away."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking about them? Hm?"

You chew down on the inside of your lip, eyes flickering to Sukuna's lips. "You never listen."

"I'm listening," he murmurs, brushing his mouth against yours. "To that little heartbeat of yours racing whenever I touch you."

"Kuna," you whisper, his hand giving your neck another soft squeeze. His heavy stare envelopes you in its fuzziness, his surroundings an air of buzzing nonsense yet you are the clearest thing that appears before him, your scent, your body, your face.

"Kiss me, peach," he orders lowly again and you shiver.

"Just one kiss-"

"Mhm."

Sukuna captures your lips in his before you can even finish your sentence, his aroma wafting into you so intoxicatingly that you believe that you yourself could get high off of your boyfriend's presence.

He melts into you, smoothing his mouth over yours passionately, firmly, softly. You cling to his back, leaning backward as Sukuna pushes further into you, his hand catching the back of your head so you don't lose balance with his weight. He's lethargic and heavy, slow with the prying of your lips apart and the slip of his tongue against yours, with the tilt of your head and the generous exploration of his hands over your frame. You almost do not think he can breathe, that he is fighting off air to keep his lips connected with yours.

You release a soft moan when his sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip to drag it out, eyes peeled open slightly to watch the blissful expression of your face.

"Sukuna," you mutter his name once more, only this time, you are unsure if it is a plea or another warning.

The salmon haired man bends down to tuck an arm under your butt, wandering you over to the bathroom counter and seating you atop the granite.

He cages you beneath him with his hands planted on other side of you. "That's right," he smirks. "Keep saying my name like that"

He presses back into you, and you wonder to yourself as you succomb to his will why anyone in this house allows Sukuna to smoke around you, knowing the recurrent outcome.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Vox Relationship Headcanons

Time to strike the iron while the hyperfixation is HOT!

(I mean come ON . Look at this fucking evil dork. I love him).

SFW

It goes without saying that Vox is HUGE on appearances. He does not make his relationships public lightly. His brand as one of the V’s after all is perfection, and he’s not going to go out arm and arm with a person unless they know that.

That being said, especially given his on again off again relationship with Valentino, I could absolutely see him as being the type to fall for a hot mess. 

A very different person with his partner in front of and behind the scenes. When the cameras are off, he’s warm, affectionate, and vulnerable. He’ll share his every insecurity with you, strip himself bare to the bone for you to love and comfort truly and honestly. And he’s an excellent listener too, always available to hold and talk through any problem you have. Your problems are his problems — you’ll work through them together.

When in the public eye however, he can be a downright prick — putting everything, and I do mean everything between you two on the backburner to keep up appearances. He will not hesitate to make jokes at your expense if it means his ratings will go up.

Fights with him are explosive. No, he’s not the type to lay a hand on you, but we’d be lying if we didn’t admit that he can scream at you within an inch of your life.

Words of Affirmation and Gift Giving are his primary love languages. Specifically, he needs words of affirmation and he loves to give gifts. And holy shit does he give the most uncomfortably lavish gifts. Diamonds, rolexes, new cars — no price is too high for his darling.

Surprisingly, he prefers home dates. Watching a movie on the couch or having a little game night with a bottle of wine. He does genuinely enjoy the authentic time you spend together and he wishes he could have more of it, so the more he can get of that private, intimate time together, the better.

And while he is a man of the future, so theoretically should like video games, I do think he has a certain soft spot for a good old-fashioned board game.

When it comes to video games though, he does tend to gravitate to phone games. 

Vox is from the 1950’s so I do think he prefers a more nuclear family and relationship dynamic. He wants to bring home the bacon and have his partner ready to fry it up in a pan with a dirty martini ready and waiting for him. That being said, he is a man that always looks to the future as well, so he’s by no means above doing chores of his own. At the end of the day, this desire for more traditional relationship roles really comes from a place of needing to be doted on rather than any views he actually has about gender.

The man’s a sucker for a good massage from his partner. This wired up workaholic has knots that you can’t even imagine, so please, offer him a nice bankrupt at the end of the day. He’ll be sure to return the favor tenfold.

A very lovey-dovey drunk. Oh my GOD, he’s so touchy-feely and weepy and just all the y’s. You want a guaranteed cuddle-wuddle session? Load him up with a couple glasses of scotch — you’ll have those chords coiling around you.

And yes, his alcohol of choice is scotch. Scotch, dirty martinis, or a nice oaky chardonnay.

This man wants to get married. Yes, even if he is in hell, the idea of not having to worry about who his next lay or source of connection will come from, having someone that will stand by his side through thick and thin, a partner? Now that’d be the (after)life.

NSFW

BIG fucking praise kink. This man NEEDS you to stroke more than just his bod and his cock, he needs you to stroke his ego too.

“God you’re so good”, “FUCK, you’re so big”, “Nobody can make me feel this way but you, Vox”.

Don’t worry, it’s not just for his own ego. He loves to give praise as much as he receives it. This man is a TALKER in the sack.

“Fuck, fuck yeah. Just like that, baby. You’re so fucking good, just like thaaaaat.”

He’s also got a little bit of a degradation kink — but in general, it still feeds into stroking his own ego. Loves to tease and taunt his partner once in a while about what a horny little slut they are, how he loves to see them so desperate and pathetic. Asking his partner, “you’d have anyone right now, wouldn’t you?” just for them to assure him that no, nobody but him will do.

On that note, the man can dish out degrading dirty talk, but he can NOT fucking take it.

Very much a switch. Sure, he loves to fuck, but he’ll just as happily let his partner bend him over his own desk and fuck the shit out of him. A good orgasm is a good orgasm, his ego may be big, but not big enough to get in the way of that.

Big fan of bondage, both on his partner and himself. There are few sights better to him than seeing his partner bound and shibari’d in his own cord and wires, holy shit. But he’ll also never say no when his partner breaks out their own pair of fuzzy handcuffs for him.

He absolutely short-circuits when he cums, so watch out. Sometimes, if he cums hard enough, he may just zap you a bit so watch out.

Favorite position is seated cowgirl. He loves the way he can hold his partner close while ramming as deep into them as possible. Not to mention the fact that either one of them can take over control at any moment. He can thrust up, they can grind down — it’s just the best of all worlds. Not to mention you can do it from his desk chair.

On that note, he’s a big BIG fan of cockwarming. 

LOTS of precum. This HD motherfucker is just a weepy mess.

I can’t explain why, but Vox just seems like an ass man to me.

He’s not necessarily a cuddler after, but he is something of a “savor the moment” kind of guy. He likes to lay in bed (or chair lol) with his partner for a good while afterwards, smoking a cigarette, reveling in some post-nut clarity conversation, just really taking in the moment. His life is so busy at all other times honestly, always looing and speeding to the future. Sex and post-sex are the times where he really does just like to stop and live in the moment.

[pearlessance]

Our Little Secret [part two]

[PART ONE]

Summary - Joel Miller has commited an act of sin with the girl next door and seeks out penance.

Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, angst, infidelity (not against reader or Joel), heavy on the breeding kink towards the end, jealousy, oral sex, unprotected sex

[crossposted on AO3]

Joel’s fears return with the sun and are amplified tenfold when he wakes up alone. 

You must have come to your senses, he thinks. Must have finally seen him for the terrible man he truly is and escaped while you still could. Like fleeing from a predator's clutches; because that’s what he was, wasn’t it? A predator? A man who exploits young girls for his own benefit, who takes advantage of them in an act of personal desire. His stomach turns. 

Except that isn’t the whole truth. It isn’t the plural form of girls, it’s just one. Just you. You, who he wants to nurture, to protect, to take care of in the way a man is supposed to take care of a woman. You, who entices him with short skirts and soft touches and tempting words about keeping you all to himself. They must have been words said in the afterglow of sex, Joel tells himself. They didn’t mean anything. Right? Endorphins were high because all of that long laid, pent up sexual tension finally came to fruition. But it was over now, and Joel was alone. Again. 

The abrupt shattering of glass slashes through his bleak thoughts. He wrenches himself out of bed, takes the stairs two at a time, and stops in the kitchen. 

You’re still here, and Joel can breathe a little easier, but there’s glass at your bare feet, and that’s a problem. “Don’t move,” he says. He turns to grab the broom, but out of the corner of his eye he sees movement and repeats a little harsher this time, “Don’t. Move.”

“I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed,” you say, your lips pushed out into the cutest little pout. 

He sweeps the glass away from you, careful to get every last piece, and dumps the shards into the trash can. It’s only then, when he knows for certain the risk of harm has well and truly passed and he’s the only threat to you left in the room, that Joel can appreciate the sight before him. There’s a heaping plate full of pancakes on the counter, a mug of steaming coffee, and the orange juice carton, unopened, is sitting beside two forks. The pancake on the top of the stack has chocolate chips in it. 

Maybe its because he never thought you’d actually do it, or maybe it’s because of the grim mood he’d just been in, but Joel finds himself feeling appreciative for more than just breakfast. It reminds him of that morning all those years ago, when you’d been in his kitchen wearing his flannel. He wonders if you still have it, if you still wear it, if you still put it on and think of him late at night. You’re wearing something new this time. It’s just an old, faded t-shirt Joel had forgotten about at the back of his closet, one he hadn’t worn in years. It swallows you up. It’s long enough to cover all of your most intimate parts, and yet somehow you still make it look sexy and erotic and slutty.

He knows it's wrong. He knows its a terrible, awful idea…but it’s the next morning and you’re still here and Joel just cant’t help himself. He smiles softly at you. “It’s okay,” he promises. He closes the distance between you, crowding you against the counter. He puts his hands on your hips and you look up at him with parted lips. “I won’t make it back upstairs anyway. I’m too hungry.”

You put your hands on his bare chest, delicate, red painted nails scratching softly against his skin. “Is that right?”

Joel nods, and decides to soak up the moment. Your hair is tangled around your shoulders, and you smell like him, and your makeup is smeared around your eyes, and he thinks you’re beautiful. He never wants to forget the way you look right now, in his clothes, in his kitchen, in his hands. He can’t help himself from leaning his head against your shoulder and kissing the juncture of your collar bone. He can’t help himself from tasting you, from using his teeth, from leaving a bruise to make certain he’s in your head for a few more days. He wants the sound of your breathy moan embedded in his fucking brain, wants it stamped in his skin. “Yes,” he answers, lifting you up with his big arms around your waist and setting you on the counter. “I’m starving, actually.”

Starved is such a perfect term for it, he thinks. Because Joel lowers himself to his knees before you, and his mouth waters like he hasn’t eaten in days. He massages the supple flesh of your thighs, presses his mouth to the inside, and leaves marks there, too. He has suffered for so, so long without you. And if you come to your senses, he wants you to think of him every time you look in a mirror. 

He wants you to think of him and the way he makes you feel, wants you to think of the way your legs part for him on instinct, like your body knows him. If you come to your senses, Joel wants you to remember for the rest of your fucking life how it feels to have his tongue inside of you, to have your clit between his lips, to have your hands in his hair. 

He wants you to remember what it’s like to grind your pretty pussy on his face, what it’s like to have his fingers inside of you, what it’s like to shake and tremble at his touch and whine when he pulls away moments before you cum. He wants you to remember the lingering taste of yourself in his mouth when he kisses you, wants you to remember how fucking perfect it feels when he pulls his cock out of his sweatpants and buries it deep inside you. You like it when he pushes in so far there’s no telling where you end and he begins, Joel knows. You make the prettiest sounds, and your hands grip his shoulders a little tighter. You’re so needy for him it’s unreal, so reactive, so perfect. He wants you to remember what it feels like when he kisses you with all the love he has left in him, hoping you can hear the words in his movements. He wants you to remember what it feels like to cum on his cock and leave a mess on the counter.

Joel wants you to remember what it’s like to be so desperate for him you call out for God.

When the two of you finally get around to eating the breakfast you spent all morning making, the pancakes are cold and the coffee is tepid. Joel wonders why it’s still the best cup he’s ever had.

After breakfast, your cell phone buzzes. It’s a voicemail from campus housing, and Joel realizes you can’t stay here in his kitchen forever. You help him clean up the dishes, and the counter where he made a mess of you, and then you abandon his old, faded t-shirt and pull your dress back on. He helps you find your shoes (and conveniently fails to mention the pink panties still stuck between the couch cushions. Joel is a terrible, sordid man, and stealing a bit of lace is the least of his recent transgressions). You pick up the Evil Dead DVD, and start to leave. 

But just as your fingers touch the handle, the door is swinging open and Sarah is standing in the threshold.

Joel doesn’t know what to do. His heart is stuck in his throat, and he sort of feels like a kid again, being caught by Tommy while sneaking back in through his window. He doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t know where to begin, is terrified his daughter will begin to see him differently, or— 

“Perfect timing,” you say, and Joel is more confused than he’s ever been in his life. “Here.” You hand the DVD to Sarah, who’s face splits into a grin the moment she reads the title. “I have to head back to campus today, but wanted to give this to you before I go. Figured you’d get more use out of it than I would.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

“Language,” Joel chastises. 

You and Sarah both turn your heads to him simultaneously, and shoot him mirrored dismissive looks. Joel knows his only child is older now, growing into a young woman with a colorful vocabulary, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear it.

Sarah turns to you, cheery demeanor falling away. “I wish you could stay,” she says. “I miss having you around.”

Joel does too, but he keeps his mouth sealed firmly shut. 

When you’re gone, he feels empty. He falls back into his normal routine of work and beer and pool, and you leave town to finish up your school year, and the only time he ever hears about you is when your dad drinks a couple too many and talks about you over the football game on TV. Joel hears about how you finish your junior year of college, still with those straight A's, and he feels the need to express how proud he is of you. Because he really, really is…but it’s your dad’s job to gush about what an extraordinary woman you’ve become. Not Joel’s. So, he keeps his mouth shut about that, too. 

He thinks about the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder, and thinks it’s such bullshit. Because the longer you’re away, the more he realizes how stupid he’s been. How dispicable and sleazy he’s been, how he could have potentially fucked up not only his relationship with his very best friend but with his own daughter, too. You deserve more than what he can offer, Joel knows. You deserve someone to experience being a young adult with, someone who you can relate to, someone who can take care of you for the rest of your life. You deserve someone better than Joel, and even though it hurts to admit, he does it. Distance has made his heart grow smarter.

Sarah graduates, and you stay in town for only two days to attend her graduation party. Your dad offers to host the celebration in his backyard, and Joel reminisces about your graduation party. He remembers how pretty you looked, how happy you were that day. And when you come back to town to celebrate his daughter, he loves that you’re still so bubbly and airy and carefree. He loves that you spend an entire day with Sarah picking out decorations and hanging up streamers and ordering cupcakes and making a poster board filled with Sarah’s favorite pictures.

During the party, you’re leaning your shoulder against the fence, red solo cup in hand, talking to Tommy. You’re wearing a black skirt that’s too short, too tight, and you have a pretty pink blouse tucked into it. When you cross one leg casually over the other, Joel realizes you have a run in your sheer, black tights. How did that get there, he wonders? He wonders too, why you’re giggling like that when Tommy just isn’t that fucking funny. 

Joel crosses the yard and twists off the top of his beer. “You two enjoying yourselves?”

“Yeah! It’s been a great turn out, and she seems happy,” you say, nodding to Sarah on the other side of the yard. She’s talking to a group of girls in her class.

“You did great with her yesterday, you know,” Tommy tells you. “You’d be a great mom. When’s it your turn to have babies?”

“Oh, God,” you say. Joel hears the echo of a very, very different sounding ‘oh, god,’ and takes a hefty sip of beer. “Probably not anytime soon.”

“No? Why not? Finish college first, of course, but after that?”

You only have one year left of school. There’s no rush. Why is his brother so interested in your contribution to procreation, anyway? It’s fucking weird, Joel thinks. 

“Maybe one day. I’d have to find the right man first,” you say. “You know, do it real traditional.”

“Any prospects lined up?”

“Christ, Tommy,” Joel sneers. “Leave the poor girl alone, would you?” He has no room to talk, Joel knows…but he can’t help himself. Not around you, anyway. His self control goes out of the window. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “And…no. No prospects.”

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. “Now I know you’ve got all those big city boys up there waiting on you to give them a little attention. A girl like you?” He sucks in an exaggerated breath. “You’d get scooped up real fast.”

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it,” you say dismally. “They’re all boys. I said I want a man.” 

Joel can’t believe the words he’s hearing. Can’t believe how you could be so obvious, but how Tommy could still manage to look completely oblivious. He’s relieved when Sarah steals you away to introduce you to a friend. 

Joel helps your dad prepare the grill, and they talk about how crazy it is that both of their girls are grown up now. They talk about how old they’re getting, and how fast time flies, but Joel can’t pay attention because he can feel you. Can sense when you steal a glance at him from across the yard, because goosebumps break out across the back of his neck. He watches you disappear into the house, and excuses himself to follow you. 

He shouldn’t. Joel knows this. But, Christ, is he bad at following his instincts. He finds you on the tips of your toes, hands in the liquor cabinet, and wants to laugh at the irony. History repeats itself, it seems. He stands behind you with a hand on your hip and reaches for the half empty bottle of tequila. He sets it on the counter and when you don’t even turn to look at him he says indignantly, “You’re welcome.”

You wiggle the cork free and take a swig straight from the bottle. “You want me to thank you? For what, exactly?”

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t understand your bad attitude. He doesn’t understand why you’re so happy and bubbly to everyone else, but for some reason seem so… dissapointed with him. Joel might be a pervert when it comes to you, but he’s never, ever done anything you didn’t ask him for first. And it’s not fair, he thinks, that you get whatever you want. You get to go off to college and fuck boys that leave you unsatisfied. Because Joel knows Tommy was right — he knows they’re lined the fuck up for you. He’s not stupid. You get to leave him, and live your life, while Joel is forced to stay right where he is and think of you. You, you, you, all the fucking time. It’s not fair. If anyone should be angry, it’s him. “Oh, I dont know,” he says sarcastically. “Maybe for keeping all of your secrets.”

You turn to face him and lean your back against the counter. You’re in the same exact spot you were the first time you kissed his cheek, except this time you’re narrowing your eyes at him instead. “They’re your secrets now, Joel,” you tell him. “Not mine.”

“How are they not yours?”

“Because I don’t give a shit if the whole world knows them,” you say. “I don’t care if everyone here finds out what a slut I am. I don’t care if my dad finds out I fucked his best friend. But you do. Which makes them your secrets.” 

He doesn’t understand. “Are you saying you want him to find out?” The thought alone chokes him with anxiety. It would change everything — everything. No one would ever look at him the same. His perversion would be loudly on display. “Are you insane?”

“No, Joel,” you say. “I’m not insane. I just don’t lie to myself.”

“I don’t—”

“Then tell me right now you don’t want to be with me.” 

He’s in way over his head, Joel thinks. He doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know how to explain to you that it has nothing to do with what he wants and everything to do with what he is. He can’t lie, not to you, so he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing.

It’s answer enough, though, and when you speak again your voice is a whisper, a breath of life into a brand new secret. “You can have me,” you say. “I want to be yours. I think I always have been. Please, Joel… please.”

He hates the way you sound. He wants to fix it, but doesn’t know how. So, he does what he’s good at, he does what he knows makes you feel good. Joel kisses you hard, and savors the taste of cherry because something tells him this might be the last time. Your mouth opens, and your tongue is so soft against his, and he can’t get enough. Does it make him a bad person to want you so badly? Twenty-one-almost-twenty-two is a fair bit of life lived, isn’t it? Maybe it could work. Maybe he wouldn’t drag you down or keep you in Texas when you’re meant for far bigger things.

Joel slips his hand between your thighs and lets out a ragged moan when he realizes that you’re wearing nothing beneath your skirt. It’s just the nylon fabric of your tights, and he can feel the wetness gathering, can taste you on the tip of his tongue like a word he can’t quite remember. Joel wants a refresher. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to be real quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?”

You nod frantically, and Joel gets on his knees. He pushes the fabric of your skirt up your legs and it bunches around your hips. He rips the nylon tights apart, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of your pussy, shiny with desire. Desire he created, desire that belongs to him and him alone. Pride fills him when he thinks about it for too long. 

He doesn’t waste a second. Joel worships you like a man starved, and wonders if he’ll ever be satisfied. Wonders if he’ll ever get his fill of the sweetness between your thighs, wonders if he’ll ever tire of hearing you whimper. He licks at your clit, leaving no part of you untouched, and his cock strains in the confines of his jeans. Just tasting you has him teetering on the edge of release, but he wants this to be about you. He wants to show you how much you mean to him, wants you to know that just because he can’t be with you doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be. He slips two fingers into you and curls them upward, and you have to cover your mouth with your hand because you promised to be quiet. 

Joel makes you cum in his mouth, and feels like maybe his place in the world is right fucking here, on his knees for you, because its the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Better than cherry, he thinks. But not as good as it feels to be inside of you. 

He turns you around and shoves your chest down against the counter. As he unbuckles his belt, he presses a kiss to your spine and says, “You want a real man, is that right?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “Yes. I want you.”

Joel slides the tip of his cock through your slick, lips turning up at the corners as you roll your hips back towards him. “I know you do, sweetheart,” he says. “Slutty girls need a little bit more, don’t they?”

You nod, a desperate whine coming from your chest. “Yes, yes—please, Joel, please.”

His name in your mouth is the end of his restraint. He eases into you, memorizing how it feels to stretch you out, memorizing how tight your pussy is, how fucking perfect it feels wrapped around him. Joel kisses your cheek softly and buries himself inside of you completely. “I want you to think about me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, hips rolling against yours slowly. “When you go back to school and do this with all those other boys, I want you to think about me.”

He pulls out at an agaonizingly slow pace, and slams into you without warning. Your hand over your mouth barely muffles the sound. “Fuck.”

“They can’t make you feel like this, can they, baby?”

“Mm’no,” you answer, and Joel rewards you with another hard, deep stroke. “Just you, Joel, just you, just you, just you.”

It’s a prayer, he knows. He can feel the devotion in your words, and the piety makes him ache. Is this how it’s supposed to be? Is it supposed to feel like this? Like pain, like loss, like finality? Like intensity, like consumption, like religion? Joel wants to say it. He wants to say it so fucking bad. He says something disgusting instead. “This pussy was made for me, you understand?” He reaches beneath you, and his fingers swipe over your clit, and your legs start to shake. “It’s all me, pretty girl. It’s all fucking mine.”

You clench around him, and he has to hold you up to keep you from falling. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and Joel wants to stay inside of you forever. “Yours,” you say softly. “I’m yours, Joel.”

Oh, how pretty you sound, he thinks. He’s going to miss this. He’s going to miss you so fucking bad. And because he may never get another chance to say it, Joel decides to make one more really fucked up, awful decision. 

He decides to tell the truth. 

When he spills his cum inside of you, he buries himself as deep as he can. He kisses your forehead and murmurs, “I love you, baby.”

He feels lighter, now that the words are no longer trapped in his chest cavity. You don’t say anything, and he’s not sure what that means, but Joel knows it’s not smart to stay like this. So he pulls out of you, tucks himself back into his jeans, and fixes your skirt.

The door flys open, and Joel is absolutely fucking mortified to see your father and Tommy walk into the kitchen. 

You uncork the tequila and raise the bottle to the air, cheeks flushed but easily passable as a buzz. “To growing up,” you say proudly. You take a swig and gimace at the taste.

Joel pulls the whiskey from the cupboard and pours shots for himself, your dad, and Tommy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you pulling at the ends of your skirt, barely covering the rip in your tights. 

“To graduations,” your dad says. “Sarah’s today, and another one of yours next year.” He tilts the shot glass toward you before tossing the liquid back. 

Tommy raises his glass. “To hopefully getting little nieces or nephews soon!” 

Joel thinks his brother is drunk on shitty beer. Joel also thinks about his cum between your legs. He raises his glass. “To getting old,” he says, though he’s not particularly happy about it. The whiskey feels good going down. It acts as a buffer to shield him temporarily against the truth that gnaws at his psyche; he’s going to lose you. 

Sarah decides to attend college at the same university as you, and Joel can’t help but be a little nervous. It’s your senior year, and Sarah’s only a freshman, and Joel knows she’s going to cling to you, and you’re going to let her, and he isn’t sure how he feels about Sarah hanging out with people older than her. 

It turns out okay, from what he can tell, though. It’s weird to have an empty home, but he fills his time with work and helping your dad renovate your house. Joel doesn’t hear from you. Even when you visit during Christmas break, you barely manage to look at him. He doesn’t force the conversation, either. He knows it’s for the best. And that deep, aching feeling in his chest is just something he’ll have to find a way to get over. 

Sarah drones on and on about how much she loves college, about how many friends she has, about how you’re tutoring her in English and how thankful she is when you help get her a job as a barista.

And when the holiday is over, you’re standing outside beside your car, saying goodbye to your dad while Sarah hugs Tommy beside you. Joel approaches, holds his daughter tight, and reminds her to let him know if she needs anything. 

There’s a weird, uncomfortable moment when your eyes meet for the first time all week. It would be weird if he didn’t say goodbye to you, wouldn’t it? It would prompt questions from both Tommy and your father, because the two of you had once been so close. 

You move first. You plaster an awkward smile on your face and wrap your arms around his neck. Joel’s shoulders relax for the first time in months. 

It feels so right to hold you, as easy and painless as breathing. He puts his hands on the small of your back, and his fingers twitch with the urge to slide them down and grab a fistful of your ass. Instead, he holds you tightly and relishes in the feeling of your head on his chest. He lays his cheek against your hair and breathes the sweet scent of vanilla deep into his lungs. “You too,” he says. “Call if you need anything, alright? Anything at all.”

You nod and pull away, and Joel wonders if you know how much he means it. A single phone call and he’d be on the other side of Texas in an hour, because that’s what you mean to him. You’re not his, but he wants to love you like you are.

And he’s given the chance to prove himself just a few short days later. 

He’s watching the soft flakes of snow fall from the sky through his bedroom window when Joel’s phone rings. It’s an unknown number, which he’d normally ignore and block in the morning, but something tells him to answer it. Just this once. So he does, and he’s getting ready to tell the telemarketer to fuck off, but then he hears your voice. 

“Joel? Are you there?”

“What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, and he’s throwing the blanket back and searching for his jeans on the floor. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s…it’s nothing. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you crying? And why are you calling from an unknown number?”

“My phone’s dead,” you explain. “There’s, uhm—there’s a pay phone outside of my dorm. I didn’t want to wait for my phone to charge.”

Something is off, Joel can feel it in his bones. He holds his phone with his shoulder and pulls on his leather boots. “Talk to me,” he says. 

“Actually, I—I’m sorry. It’s late. This is stupid. I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry. Have a good night, Jo—”

“Baby,” he interrupts. “Baby, baby—don’t hang up. Talk to me. Please talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, yeah? Tell me.”

You don’t say anything, but Joel can hear you breathing on the other end of the phone, can hear you teetering on the edge of a decision you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. He understands. He really, really does.

Finally, you sigh heavily and say, “You told me you loved me Joel. You said…you said that and then you just let me leave. You just—you—you…God!”

The hands of guilt wind themselves around his neck and squeeze as realization hits. He is the reason you’re upset, the reason you’re crying, the reason you’re hurting. He hates it more than he’s ever hated anything in his life.

He doesn’t speak. He lets you get it all out, lets you purge your anger and disdain, your disappointment. It’s all rightfully placed, Joel thinks. “You asshole! Why would you do that? How could you say that and then go back to acting like it changed nothing? I’ve tried to get past it but I can’t, Joel! You never should have let me leave or—or you never should have said it if you didn’t mean it! It’s just—I don’t…it hurts! It’s mean! You’re being so—!” 

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. Rightfully placed or not, he’s not strong enough to hear the sorrow in your voice, not strong enough to hate himself more than he already does. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. He’s not apologizing for it. Joel’s not sorry at all for that overwhelming feeling you elicit in his chest. He’s only sorry he said it, sorry it’s caused you so much pain. If he’d known it would hurt you this much, he would’ve swallowed those words and kept them locked up for the remainder of his life.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” you say. “I want you to say it again and mean it this time.”

Joel doesn’t understand. It’s cruel, isn’t it, to ask him to do something knowing it will hurt you? He can’t. He’s already done enough damage. He can’t.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Joel.”

He runs an exasperated hand down his face, and pressure builds behind his eyes. He can’t. He can’t. How is he supposed to live with himself? How is he supposed to hurt you, this little girl whose life has been made miserable because he couldn’t resist your temptation? 

Joel knows he loves you. And he thinks you know it, too. But saying it opens a wound better off sealed, and he wants to watch you flourish. He wants to watch you become your own person, wants to watch you live a full, satisfied life. And you can’t do that with him. He doesn’t think it’s possible. 

You let out a breath. “It’s snowing,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, he wants to say. Instead he says, “You deserve someone better.”

“I don’t want someone be—”

“You deserve someone you can relate to, someone you can grow old with.”

“I can grow old with you, J—”

“I’m already old, god dammit. Listen to me. You deserve something that doesn’t hurt,” he interrupts. “You deserve someone who’s good to you, someone your own age who doesn’t make you cry in the middle of the night. You deserve—”

“I don’t care about any of that, okay? All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

You’re making this impossible, he thinks. He drags a hand down his face. The forbidden fruit is in his hands, begging him to take a bite, and he nearly does it. He opens his mouth to say it, to damn all of the consequences and succumb to whatever hellish fate awaits him in the afterlife all to have you for himself, and then—

“Please insert twenty-five cents for an additional three minutes.”

“I have to go,” you say, voice cracking. “I guess I only wanted to say that I love you more, Joel Miller. Because I would have never let you walk away.”

The line goes dead, and Joel’s sitting there in complete silence with one boot laced, and for the first time in all his life he feels himself swell with grief. The loss is so heavy, so final—and he can’t breathe. His lungs are filling up with all the words left unsaid, and he’s afraid that if he digs out the roots you’ve grown in his chest that nothing will ever feel quite the same again.

The pain is there, and it’s smothering, but if not the pain then what else would he have left of you? 

He doesn’t sleep that night. Or the night after that, or the one after that. It takes less than a week of canceling plans and insisting he just has a cold before Tommy is pulling into the driveway and slamming his fists against the door, demanding to know what the hell is going on. 

Joel tells him. Over six shots of whiskey and a panic attack, he confesses all of his sins at the kitchen table to his little brother. He expects Tommy to be angry, or disgusted—but he isn’t even surprised. He says, “Well, shit, Joel,” and runs his hands through his hair. “Now what are you going to do?”

A million dollar question, it seems. He wants to drive up to that big university of yours and knock on every door until he finds your dorm room. He wants to exhale all those words trapped inside his chest cavity and keep you for himself like he’s always wanted. But that’s such a selfish thing to do, Joel thinks. It’s not what’s best for you, or him, or anyone. 

So he does nothing. Even on his fortieth birthday, when he gets a text message that reads Happy Birthday. I still love you more. He doesn’t reply, because he doesn’t know what to say. 

Well, that’s not entirely true—he knows exactly what he wants to say, but chooses to say nothing because if he does it would change his life, your life, the lives of those around you. So Joel suffers in silence and dreams of you instead, repeating the same old habits. 

You and Sarah come home for spring break together. And a boy your age gets out of the passenger seat. You introduce him to your dad, and Joel doesn’t catch his name but doesn’t really want to know, anyway. 

He tries to swallow the anger in his chest. He can’t expect you to live an empty life that mirrors his. That’s not what he wants for you. The whole point of his avoidance was to make sure you were able to live fully, happily, with someone your own age. Even though his brain is calm enough to rationalize this, it doesn’t change the fact that Joel thinks the boy is a terrible match for you. 

Joel’s helping your dad renovate the kitchen, and he’s waited a month so he could get your opinion on a couple things. At the hardware store, the four— five —of you are debating between three different backsplashes. Joel and Sarah stand a foot behind, watching the scene unfold. 

Your dad has a single white, porcelain tile in his hand. “It’s nice and bright,” he says. 

“But you painted the cabinets white,” you argue, holding up the sage green ceramic piece. “Change it up a little. The green would look better, I swear.”

The boy at your side holds a piece of sand colored masonry, and says, “You’re crazy. White on white is no good but neither is green. What is this, a soup kitchen?”

From a contractor’s standpoint, Joel agrees that the  warm toned green would look far better than the cool toned masonry—but it’s not his place for input. He’s only here to help haul the tiles home and grab the tools they need. And even though the way your little boyfriend speaks to you grates against his nerves, Joel says nothing. 

Your dad ends up going with the masonry, calling it a happy medium, but Joel can tell that you're the least happy out of the three. He doesn’t mention it.

Everyone decides on pizza for dinner, and Joel teaches Sarah how to grout tile, and for a single moment everything feels good and normal. Tommy comes over to help with the project, and you’re laughing at something he’s saying with your hands covered in masonry dust, and you seem content—but then your eyes meet from across the room, and Joel feels the Earth tilt on its axis. 

Your smile falters, and your jaw feathers, and you quickly look away but not before he catches the flash of hurt in your pretty eyes. It makes him feel nauseous. Joel abandons his tools and heads for the front door. Sarah asks if he’s alright, and he says he just needs some fresh air. 

Joel can feel the panic attack coming from a mile away. His palms begin to perspire, his chest constricts, he can’t suck in air fast enough. He reminds himself that you’re here—here, and safe, and happy if not for him. You’re fine. Even if he’s not, you are and that’s all that matters. That thought combined with the cold night air helps a little, abates the fingers of grief around his neck, but then he hears it. 

“I know, babe. I’ll be back in town soon. I just need to get through this week and then I’ll take you out to make up for it, alright?” 

Joel freezes. He strains his ears, trying to pick up the rest of the words as his anxiety hones itself into fury. 

“You know I love you more than her. Of course I do.”

He’s off the porch before he can think better of it. The boy you brought home is standing on the side of the house, cell phone pressed to his ear, and his eyes widen when he sees Joel. “I’ve gotta go,” he says quickly, but before he gets a chance to hang up the phone Joel grabs him by his shirt collar and slams him up against the side of the house.

The words come out slow, even—despite the seething rage that fills him. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t knock your teeth down your throat.”

He laughs, actually laughs in Joel’s face and says, “Cause I’ll air out all those dirty little secrets our girl keeps.”

Joel’s grip tightens. The word our grates against his spine.

“What? You don’t like it when people refuse to mind their fucking business? Me either,” he says. “So let me go, or I’ll tell them everything.”

“Let me tell you what’s actually gonna happen,” Joel says, slamming him against the siding, relishing in the gasp of pain he makes in response. “You’re going to go in there and apologize for being such a scumbag. You’re going to come clean, beg her forgiveness, and if she forgives you maybe—maybe then, I’ll let you walk out of here with no broken bones. Do you understand me?”

“And why would I do that? You think she deserves an apology? We’ve been together for over a year, you know that? When was the last time she spread her legs for you, huh?” The timeline slots together in Joel’s brain, and his jaw ticks. “I’m not apologizing for cheating on a slut.”

Joel’s fist flies across his face, leaving a split lip and blood in its wake.

He doesn’t understand what the fuck you even see in this guy. You obviously care about him enough to bring him home, to let him meet your dad, to stay with him for so long, but God —this is the worst person you could’ve ever picked. 

“Ooh—good one! Does it make you feel better to hit me ‘cause I can have her and you can’t? Wanna know another one of those dirty little secrets, Joel?” He tilts his head forward and whispers. “She can’t get off unless I let her call me daddy. And ya know, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think her daddy issues come from her real father, do they?”

Joel hits him again, an elbow to the jaw this time. 

“Dad!” Sarah’s panic stricken voice cuts through the fog of Joel’s rage.

He just doesn’t get it. You’re smarter than this. You deserve way fucking better than a half-assed relationship with a boy who—Joel stops.

In the dim glow of the porch light, he sees it. He finally fucking sees it. The boy has dark hair, has messy curls on top of his head, has tanned skin and calloused hands and warm eyes. It’s all vaguely familiar.

He looks like Joel. Or, what he looked like twenty years ago, anyway. 

Tommy grabs his brother by the shoulders and hauls him away, giving you just enough room to swoop in and coddle your little boyfriend, dabbing at his split lip. Tommy’s shoving Joel backwards, away from you and towards his house next door, but the force isn’t necessary. Because now he knows your newest secret, a real one. He knows you don’t care about this boy—you only care that he looks like Joel, and it brings him a strange satisfaction. 

“What the hell is going on?” Your dad asks, standing between the two families.

For a moment, he thinks about outing the bleeding boy to your father. Thinks about telling him how, at the hardware store, he sided with a boy who cheats on you, betrays you, disrespects you. Your father would be just as furious, Joel knows. 

But then he thinks about last summer in the kitchen, less than a year ago. He thinks about your phone call in December, he thinks about the look you shared inside moments ago and how deeply that pensive sadness seemed to run. And then he decides he’s already caused enough suffering, and so Joel shrugs and says, “Honest mistake. I thought he was an intruder.”

It’s a shitty lie, and no one believes it, but Sarah has her arm around Joel’s elbow and leads him home before anyone can ask any questions. Tommy says he’ll come over tomorrow to finish the backsplash, and Joel is thankful because he won’t be able to look at you and see that sad look again without crumbling. 

Joel’s sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and a bag of frozen peas on the other when Sarah sits beside him with a scolding look on her face. “You don’t get to fuck this up for her.”

“But I didn’t mean to—”

She holds up her pointer finger. “Stop talking. I’m not finished.” Sarah waits until Joel sighs and shrugs his shoulders before continuing. She leans on the table with her elbows and says, “She told me everything.”

His brows pinch together as he searches his daughter's face for something, for anything—but it’s completely blank. “What do you mean?”

“Cat’s out of the bag, dad,” she says. “I know about all of it. The night she brought over that DVD, the night of her grad party, the night of my grad party, the phone call. I know all of it.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t angry with you for telling Sarah. You should have someone to turn to, after all. He doesn’t fault you for that, but Joel also understands how it likely appears. He doesn’t know where to begin, how to apologize and explain that what you mean to him is so much more than attraction. “Sarah…Sarah, I—”

“Stop. Talking,” she repeats, and Joel silences. “I honestly was hoping you would tell me before I felt the need to do this,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But you’re a typical man so I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, to offer an explanation, but promptly closes it when she narrows her eyes. 

“I can get over the fact that you’re…I don’t know, involved or whatever with my best friend. I can get over that. What I can’t get over is you being a dick to her.”

Joel doesn’t get it. He’s never, ever been disrespectful towards you. He doesn’t have it in him. And the pain he has caused you has always been for your own good— never out of malicious intent. If anything, he’s been nothing but selfless with you. He’s suffered in your place, and he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you’d end up happy in the end. He gnaws on his bottom lip as Sarah continues. 

“She has spent half the semester crying over you and just decided recently that she’s ready to leave the past in the past. She likes him.”

He can’t stay silent any longer. “He’s not good enough for her. You didn’t hear—”

“I don’t care what he did or didn’t do,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. “Right now, we’re talking about you. If you don’t want to be with her, if you don’t love her, then let her have this. Even if he breaks her heart, let it be her decision to be with him. Not yours.”

Joel picks at the peeling label on the glass bottle. He stares at it as if the answer to all his problems lies underneath. Quietly, he asks, “And if I do?”

“Do what?”

He swallows, and asks a little clearer this time, “If I do love her, what do I do then?”

“Then you man the fuck up and put your money where your mouth is.”

Joel can’t even be mad about the crude language, because it sounds like advice he would give. There’s so much of his stubborn, loyal attitude in his daughter, and he can’t help but be proud of the woman she’s become. He nods stiffly. “I get what you’re saying. I really do, but—”

“But nothing. If you love her, then love her, dad. It’s not complicated.”

She makes it sound simple, Joel thinks. He wishes so badly that it was. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

He’s afraid of losing the friendship with your father, worried about tarnishing the relationship you have with him, terrified of getting old while you continue to exist in your youth. There’s a million things he’s afraid of, but he settles on the biggest one, the fear that sits like a brick in his stomach. “I’m not good enough for her, either.”

Sarah snorts. “You can’t be serious.” When Joel says nothing, she shakes her head in annoyance and says, “Honestly, dad, I don’t understand how you can be so blind. Let me put it in a way you can understand; you love her, and she loves you. Everything else? Get rid of it. It doesn’t matter. Her dad, her boyfriend, Tommy, me—none of us have anything to do with it. You’re both adults, and you’re doing nothing but hurting the both of you trying to be the good guy. Get it now?” 

He still doesn’t think it’s so simple, so black and white. But it doesn’t matter what Joel thinks, because there’s a knock at the door and you’re standing on the other side when Sarah answers it. She invites you in, but you insist it isn’t necessary. 

“It’s alright,” you say. “I just came to say goodbye.” There’s a sadness in your voice, a familiar sound of longing. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

Joel clenches his teeth and looks away when Sarah glances back at him. He can’t see you, and wants to steal one last sinful glance, but thinks better of it.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, yeah—I know it’s early, but I don’t…I don’t know. I thought I was ready but now I’m not…I’m not so sure.” You sniffle, and Joel feels his chest crack wide open. “I’ll come back at the end of the week to drive you back to campus. But you’ll call me every day, yeah? So I won’t miss you so much?”

Sarah laughs softly, and disappears from sight. Joel can hear your soft sigh of relief, and finds himself thankful that it’s his daughter you seek comfort in. He’s thankful Sarah is able to provide that for you, even if he can’t. 

Because he can’t.

When you leave after promising Sarah you’ll let her know when you’re back to your dorm, safe and sound, she returns to the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest. 

Joel can feel the irritation, the disappointment. Sarah goes up to her room and slams the door, and Joel feels the reverberation of the wood in every disc of his spine. 

He sits there, in the deafening silence, and wonders where the hell he went wrong. He wonders why doing the selfless thing feels so awful, wonders if he’s destined to live an empty life and die an empty death. 

It isn’t until three hours later that Joel gets up from the kitchen table. It’s after midnight, and he drags his weary body upstairs. He has every intention of crawling into bed and slipping into a peaceful oblivion for as long as his body will allow. 

Except, Joel finds himself hovering in the hallway just outside his bedroom. He’s afraid to move, because if he walks through the door he’ll never be able to go back. He knows it, can feel the truth of it in his bones. But if he doesn’t…if he doesn’t, everything changes. And it might turn out bad—it might end up being the biggest, most selfish mistake of his life. 

But one aching, terrifying thought nags at him; what if it doesn’t?

“Joel?”

It’s as clear a sign from the universe as he’s ever seen. He makes his decision, and begins to feel at home within his own body after feeling so displaced for so long, and Joel’s so grateful for it. He’s even more grateful he never moved the spare key from under the welcome mat. 

This feels familiar. It feels like an echo of a time years ago, when he thought he ached for you but had no clue how deep his longing would one day be, a time when the scent of vanilla perfume wasn't a shock to his heart. It feels like an opportunity to do things right. It feels like a second chance. 

And he’s not going to fucking waste it. 

It’s his turn to confess his mistakes, though they’re not tequila induced and instead made completely of his own stupidity. 

“I just came to get my phone charger from Sarah,” you say. “I’ll just be a sec—”

“I mean it,” he blurts, swallowing his nerves. He repeats it again, clearer and more precise because it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. “I mean it.”

You wringing your hands around one another in front of you. And he can sense the buzzing of nervous energy, and even though you both know exactly what he means you still ask timidly, “Mean what?”

His heart is pounding in his ears. “All of it. Everything. You might not see it, Sarah might not see it, but you…you deserve better than anything I can ever give you,” he says. “I’m old and I’m tired and I don’t have anything but this house to my name. I can’t give you anything you can’t find a better version of after ten seconds of looking.”

“Joel…I—”

“Hold on. I need you to hear me right now, baby, okay?” His hands are shaking. When you nod, he continues. “I mean it when I say I’m no good for you. I never have been. I’ll just drag you down and hold you back from better things. All of that is true. You and I both know it, but god dammit, I mean it when I say I love you, too. I love your laugh and I love your smile and I love your heart. I love everything about you, and it makes me an awful person because I’m not supposed to feel those things for a girl half my age. But I do, I do—and fuck, baby, I know I’m a bad man, but I’m…I’m yours.”

The words are out. He’s said them, and there’s no going back. Everything he’s held inside for so long is sitting on the floor between you—the entirety of Joel’s perverted heart. Your eyes are glassy, and you're breathing slowly like it’s suddenly a task, but you’re saying nothing and he starts to fill with fear. 

Joel is seconds away from begging you to say something, to say anything—but then you’re there, you’re there, in his arms with your hands in his hair and your lips against his. Your body slots perfectly against him, and Joel thinks that if this is his greatest sin then God can cast him out of the heavens for all eternity and he’d say thank you on his knees. 

Your tongue is so soft, and Joel bites at your bottom lip, savoring the sweet and sugary taste of cherry. He lets his hands roam down your back, allows himself to grab hold of your curves and squeeze the supple flesh. Nothing has ever felt this good, he thinks. You pull away first, and you’re panting hard, and you whisper, “Prove it. Show me, Joel. Show me how much you love me.”

It’s the easiest request he’s ever wanted to fulfill. He grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He uses one hand on the small of your back to hold you close, to press his lips to yours again, to moan into your mouth. He uses the other to open his bedroom door, the prospect of closing it behind him much less daunting now that your limbs are wrapped around his.

Joel lays you gently on the mattress, and straightens his spine to look at you. He soaks it up, memorizes the sight of your hair splayed out around you, your thighs parted for him, the pink flush on your chest. Nothing has ever been so beautiful, he thinks. Nothing and no one will ever, ever compare to you. He sighs blithely, licks his lips and says, “Fuck, baby.”

Through a soft giggle you ask, “Do you think I’m pretty, Joel?”

He pulls the collar of his shirt over his head and discards the fabric on the floor, leaving him in nothing but his jeans. He crawls between your legs and leans on his elbows, placing them on either side of your head. “Yes,” Joel says, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “I think you’re the prettiest.” He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek. “D’you wanna know what else I think?”

You can feel him smirk against your skin as you run your hands along the cords of taut muscle in his abdomen. “Yes,” you answer breathlessly, resisting the urge to lift your pelvis against his. “Tell me everything.”

Joel obliges. He kisses the tip of your nose. “I think you were made for me.” His kisses grow hotter, wetter, as his mouth graces your jaw, your neck. “I think I’ve loved you since you were eighteen, since the first moment I saw you.” He tugs at the seam of your t-shirt, and you lift your spine slightly so he can pull it off. You’re not wearing a bra, and seeing you bare again after so long makes his mouth water. 

He kisses your sternum, the soft tissue of your breast, and then sucks your nipple between his lips. He doesn’t realize until now how much he craves the taste of you—how much he’s missed it. 

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day, baby,” he says, pressing his mouth to your other nipple. He can feel the vibration of your laughter in his mouth, and his heart constricts at the sudden happiness it brings him. 

“Marry me?” Your hands are in his hair, giving him the slightest direction in the form of light pressure, and Joel is all too happy to follow it. But he does it slowly, giving himself enough time to drink you in.

“Mmhm,” he says, peppering kisses down your belly, across the plane between your hips. He hooks his finger into the waistband of your sleep shorts and pulls them down your hips. “I think I’ve wasted enough of our time. Don’t you?” Gently, he runs his fingertips over your panties. They’re pink, of course, with red polka dots—and Joel groans at the sight. It’s a ghostly touch, but enough to pull a strained gasp from your throat. Your hips buck towards his hand, and Joel reminds himself to take his time even though his cock is throbbing painfully in his jeans and every instinct in him begs to ravish you. 

“Yes,” you agree. “But…maybe we go slow.”

There’s a slight hint of unease in your voice, and Joel rushes to fix it. He reaches up and wraps his big hands around your ribcage, stroking the skin softly with his thumbs. He presses a kiss to your panties, right above your clit, and says, “Relax, baby. I don’t mean right now. Soon though, yeah?”

Your body loosens beneath his touch, and a pretty smile breaks out across your face. “Soon,” you breathe. “But right now, I need you to touch me. Please, Joel.

The sound of desperation in your mouth is so pretty, he thinks. And you deserve anything you want, and Joel intends to give it to you. He pulls your panties down your legs,  pushes your thighs apart, and keeps his eyes trained on yours as he slides his tongue through your slit. You’re so wet, and the sound you make in response to the feel of his hot, wet tongue is the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard. He licks and sucks at your clit until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. And when your breaths turn shorter and more labored, Joel slips two fingers inside you and curls them to meet the sweet spot that makes you writhe. 

One hand is in his hair, pulling at the strands desperately, while your other is twisted in the sheets. In his sheets. Joel can’t keep his hips from rolling against the side of the mattress at the sight of you, at the taste of you, at the feel of you in his hands. Because you’re here, in his bed, and he can taste your cum in his mouth, and fuck he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts.

When your body falls limp, only then does he come up for air. He cleans you up with his tongue, not wasting any of the sweet nectar you’ve cleansed his sins with. Joel stands up slowly, raking his nails across your sensitive flesh. “Does that prove my love, pretty girl?”

He can see the wicked gleam in your eye, and he knows it wasn’t enough. Of course it’s not. You prop yourself up on your elbows and confess timidly, “Maybe I need a little more,” you say. “Some more proof.”

Joel unbottons his jeans. “Hmm, I guess I should’ve known better.” He pulls the denim off and kicks it aside, delighting in the slight parting of your lips as you take in his cock, heavy and hard between his legs. “Slutty little girls always need more, don’t they?” 

You nod, and Joel returns to his rightful spot between your legs. He’s so close—so, so close to home, to resting his weary heart…but your body is his confessional, and Joel isn’t done repenting. 

He rests his calloused palm against your throat gently, a caress. “You wanna know what else I think about?”

You’re squirming beneath him, hips lifting desperately. “Please, Joel,” you beg. 

And he knows you’re not begging for his thoughts, but he gives them to you anyway. “I think about putting a baby in you,” he confesses, laying his free hand flat against your abdomen. He smirks when you let out a shallow breath and your hips start to move faster, seeking him out. 

“Oh—God, fuck,” you whimper. 

“Aw, I’ve hardly touched you yet,” he teases through a soft laugh, drawing his fingers against your ribcage delicately. “You like that idea? Hm? Want me to fill you up with my cum ‘til your belly’s swollen with my baby?” 

You’re nodding, and he can feel your quickened pulse beneath his hand, and Joel decides he’s put you through enough. “Yes,” you tell him. “Yes, yes—please, Joel, please please please.”

He reaches down and guides his cock into you, and your pussy takes him so eagerly that he can’t help but mirror your low moan. “Fuck, baby—you feel so good,” he murmurs. 

Slowly, he rolls his hips against yours. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your arms are around his neck, and he kisses your bruised lips until all the air has left your lungs. “Oh, God—!”

“Shh,” he coos, moving his hand around your neck and instead using it to grasp your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me. Quiet now, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes are glassy and wide and beautiful, and Joel picks up his pace. His cock slams into you, filling you up, and it’s impossible to keep quiet. “I can’t,” you whine. “I can’t, Joel—it feels too good, it’s too much, I—!”

He kisses you hard, swallowing up your cry of bliss when he reaches down to circle your clit with the pad of his middle finger. “I know, baby, I know,” he soothes. “It’s okay, you can take it.” 

The prettiest sounds are falling from your mouth with each deep thrust of his hips, sending shivers down his spine. Joel wishes he could be here, be inside of you forever. He wonders how he’s ever going to get his fill, wonders if it’s even possible. You’re so fucking perfect and you’re his and God—he wants to eat you the fuck up. 

He can feel your pussy constrict around him, and he lets out a probably-too-loud-moan that mirrors yours in response. He knows you're close, can feel the rush of heat, can feel you tremble around him. “You gonna cum for me? Hm?” 

Joel slams into you relentlessly, obscene sounds filling the space of his room. Your second orgasm is impossibly stronger, sending electricity dancing across your skin.

You open your mouth to tell him, but Joel seems to know your body better than you do and before the words are out of your mouth he’s whispering in your ear. “There you go,” he says. “I love you so fuckin’ much baby, my good little girl. Give it to me. Thaaat’s it.”

His hips slow just slightly as you come down, but his thrusts are no less punishing. You press kisses to his collarbone, his neck, his chin—every place you can reach. Your mouth is desperate and needy and shameless, and there’s no better sin than the divinity of your lips, he thinks. 

Joel’s pace falters and becomes frantic, and he groans into the crook of your neck as he fills you up. You whisper, “I love you, Joel,”  and it does him in completely. 

He collapses on top of you, unable to move, but you don’t seem to mind. You stroke his spine lazily, tracing soft patterns into his flushed skin. He could sleep just like this, he thinks—but it can’t be as comfortable for you. So he pulls himself out of you wistfully and helps you crawl under the blankets. 

With a blissful sigh, he pulls you close and holds you against his chest. 

“What now?” 

Joel doesn’t know, if he’s honest. He knows he wants you, knows he has you, knows he’s unable to go on without you by his side any longer. But the rest? It’s all uncharted territory. “You go back to school,” he says. “You only have a few months left. Get that fancy degree of yours.”

You let out a soft groan. “I have to leave in the morning. I promised.”

He should feel bad for your boyfriend, most likely sleeping in the spare bedroom in your dad’s house that Joel just refurbished two months ago, but he doesn’t. There’s not an ounce of sympathy for him. But he does have sympathy for you, which is why he asks, “You want me to take care of it?”

“Like you did earlier tonight?” You snort, and the sound is light and airy and carefree and Joel is so happy to hear it. “No, I got it.”

“You gonna break up with him?”

“Mm. Haven’t decided yet,” you say. The sarcasm is thick in your tone, but Joel can’t help the slight panic that erupts in his chest. But the second you notice he isn’t laughing with you, you quickly amend, “I’m kidding. Of course I’m going to. First thing, okay? I promise.”

He nods and kisses your temple. “Okay. And while you’re gone, I’ll talk to your dad.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow. “Alone?”

“I’ll probably use Tommy as a buffer,” he says. “But you shouldn’t have to deal with it. He’s going to be upset with me—not with you. You’re not the bad guy here.”

“I don’t think you are either, Joel,” you say. 

But he doesn’t agree. And he never will, no matter how many sweet words and even sweeter touches you offer. “I’ll take care of it.”

You lay your head back on his chest, and his panic eases until it withers away into nothing. “Okay,” you say. “And…and after? After I finish school, will you still be here?”

Joel can sense the hesitation in your voice, can feel the sudden rigidity in your limbs. He caresses your face and promises, “Yes, baby. I’ll be here.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

He’s not sure what he expects your answer to be, but he definitely doesn’t expect the stab to the chest when you say, “Whenever I leave, you change your mind about me. How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“Look at me,” he says. When you do, his eyes are molten with affection. “I will be here,” he repeats. “I will be here, and I will still love you. Do you understand me?”

You nod let out a long, sleepy breath. “Good.”

That night, Joel sleeps better than he has in years. So much so that he’s up before you, and this time it’s his turn to make the pancakes. He doesn’t do nearly as good as you, burning half of them and undercooking the other half, but he doesn’t worry about it because he realizes he has so much time to perfect it. Time he never had before. 

You pad barefoot down the stairs wearing your sleep shorts and the t-shirt he discarded last night. Joel wonders if he’ll ever grow tired of seeing you in his clothes.

When you notice Sarah and Tommy sitting at the kitchen table with plates pooled with syrup, your eyes widen and your cheeks grow crimson. “Uhm—morning,” you murmur, sliding into the seat at Sarah’s side. 

“Morning,” Joel responds, sitting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “Coffee or orange juice?”

“Uhm…orange juice,” you reply timidly. 

Joel pours you a glass, and joins you at the table, and doesn’t know how to break the weird silence that’s settled over the room. 

Thankfully, though—his daughter volunteers to do just that. “It’s gonna take me a second to get used to this,” she says. “And I will, I swear—but I’m just telling you now that I’m never gonna call you mom.”

Laughter breaks out in the kitchen, and the smile on your face brings Joel so much joy he can hardly contain himself. 

“That would be so weird,” you say. “God—could you imagine?”

“Fuck that—can you imagine living together, dude? It’s going to be amazing! I’ll always have someone to hang out with. Plus I won’t be the only one in this house with decent film taste anymore,” Sarah says. 

“Don’t you dare throw me in with this guy,” Tommy says, pointing a finger at Joel from across the table. 

“No, no—you like terrible movies too,” you argue. 

It sparks a heated debate, and pancakes get flicked from a fork across the table, and there’s a giant mess to clean up afterwards, but Joel Miller has never been so content, so at peace, so happy.

When you take your little boyfriend back to the city, Joel reminds you to call him if you need anything. He uses the opportunity of your absence to do the scariest thing of his life. 

He’s playing a game of pool in your dad’s garage, and Tommy is leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, and Joel decides there’s no time like the present. “I have to tell you something,” he says. 

Your dad doesn’t look up at him. He lines up his cue and lets out a heavy sigh that sounds so similar to the ones of your frustration that it’s startling. “This about my daughter?”

Joel and Tommy exchange a look of uncertainty. “Uh—yeah,” Joel prods carefully. “Yeah, it is.” He doesn’t know where to begin, so he decides to only say what he needs to say, to say it firmly and without room for question. “I’m, uh—I’m in love with her. And after she graduates she’ll be coming home and we’re…we’re going to be together.”

He doesn’t say anything and at first, it unnerves Joel. He simply draws his cue back, shoots, and waits until the ball falls perfectly into the table’s pocket. He calmly lays his cue at his side, picks up the black eight ball from the table, and chucks it at Joel’s head. 

It misses him by an inch, and something shatters behind him, but Joel is too busy running from your father to look back and assess the damage. 

“You motherfucker! I should kill you! That’s my fucking kid—!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tommy is stepping between them, shoving your dad back. “Just hear him out, man! It’s not what you think!”

A warmth erupts in Joel’s chest to hear his brother’s words, to hear him defend his atrocities so easily. Joel knows exactly what thoughts are going through your fathers head, because they went through Joel’s first. He knows it looks like he’s just an old man trying to get his rocks off with the first pretty, young thing that ever looks his way, and maybe there’s some truth to that, but it’s also so, so much more. Still, Joel has a daughter, too, so he understands. “I swear I love her,” he says as if it’s some sort of consolation. “I really do.”

The vein in your dad’s temple protrudes as he shoves past Tommy and gets in one good punch, splitting the skin of Joel’s cheek. “Get the fuck out! Get out of my house before I break your fucking jaw!”

Joel listens. He slips through the half-opened garage door and goes home, adrenaline coursing through him. There wasn’t a lot of blood, and he considers that a win. He cleans out the cut on his cheek, orders a pizza, calls you to tell you how it went. You’re angry at first, when he tells you about his small injury, but Joel assures you that it’s the least he deserves. He says he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you’d be coming home to him.

Tommy comes through the door a couple hours later with a weary look on his face. He flops down on the couch beside his brother, grabs a slice of cold peperoni pizza and says, “Fuck you for that, by the way.”

“How is he?”

“Fine for now. I think he’ll come around. Just give him a bit of time.”

They polish off the pizza, Tommy crashes on the couch, and Joel sleeps well with the scent of vanilla still lingering in his sheets. Several days later, he’s mowing the front yard with his t-shirt tucked into his back pocket when your dad gets home from work. 

When he crosses the yard and approaches him, Joel turns off the mower and prepares himself for another swing. Except, your dad only raises a hand and says, “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to see it. We’re neighbors, Joel—keep the fucking windows closed or so help me God.”

“Done,” he agrees quickly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“And I swear to Christ, if you break her heart—”

“I won’t.” It’s the truth, and Joel thinks your dad knows it, too. He shakes his head and says it again, firmer this time. “I won’t.” 

There’s a second of silence, and it’s thick and heavy while your dad debates on whether he should hurt Joel again just for good measure. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “There’s a Longhorns game tonight. Tommy’s coming. You can…you know, you’re welcome to come too.”

“I’ll be there,” Joel promises. 

It takes a few weeks, but the comfortable energy between the three men returns, and one night your father even tells Joel, “Better you than that asshole she brought home for spring break. Kid was a cunt.”

Joel agrees, and all that’s left for him to do is wait for you. It’s only a few months until graduation, but it feels like a lifetime when he’s wasted so many years already. He calls you every night and his thoughts never stray far and for a little while, it’s enough.

He busies himself by finishing the renovations in your dad’s house, and then turns to his own to do the same. 

Joel starts with the kitchen, painting the cabinets and switching out the hardware. He clears out half of his closet for you, buys pink hangers to sit beside his black ones, buys a two pack of toothbrushes and sticks yours in the cup on the sink right next to his. Your dad offers to help when Joel says he wants to build a deck for the backyard, and they use Tommy’s truck to bring home new lawn chairs that recline so you can tan in those tiny bikinis comfortably.

He puts cherry chapstick on your nightstand. He buys pancake mix and orange juice and a bottle of top shelf tequila. And when you finally graduate and walk across the stage to receive your fancy degree, Joel is the second loudest person in the crowd. (The first is Sarah, who greets you with a flower bouquet bigger than your head.)

When you finally, finally come home to him, your eyes turn glassy when you discover what he’s spent his time doing in your absence. You say, thank you, Joel and throw your arms around his neck and drown him in kisses and he feels religion stir in his chest.

He asks you later that night what your favorite thing is, asks you whether it’s the deck or the tequila or the pink hangers. Your favorite part is him, of course it’s him, but you say instead that it’s the remodel in the kitchen. 

The backsplash is sage green.

[masterlist]

divider by @thecutestgrotto <3

a/n; i seriously cannot thank you guys enough for the unending support on this, i love you all so much <3

taglist; @aamatis-blog1 @goldenispunk @storytimeblog @locaparapedrito @bluesweaters15 @ace-27749 @joelmillerlover123 @shivkillian @bbyplutosblog @tiredbuthappy @samsamsantos @elegantduckturtle @pinkiec6-rubi @pascaltesfaye @pedropascalsbbg @heheheilovepedro

[heehoonies]

messy

description: literally just a heejake pwp threesome

work count: 5k

warnings: dom!heeseung, switch!reader, sub!jake, member on member (heeseung and jake are boyfriends and act as such), pussy drunk jake, cock drunk jake and reader, subdrop, fluids (jake drools a LOT), dacryphilia, spitting, mean dom and soft dom heeseung, dp, cumming untouched, overstimulation, creampie, cum eating, squirting, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, degradation, praise, breeding kink, pet names, puppy as a term of endearment, fluff. they're in love idk what to tell ya!

* only minimally proof read! excuse any mistakes bc im too damn tired to proof it all *

a/n: dedicated to my bff @sjyfave who gave me the pairing to work with. i'm popping my smut cherry with this one! i hope y'all enjoy, it's literally just pwp so i hope it suffices as my (semi) return to writing hehe

heeseung really shouldn't be enjoying this this much.

jake is acting like he always does, hanging off of heeseung’s tall frame as they stand beside the bed, waiting for you to pick a movie for the night. but as he watches jake’s eyes twinkle as he looks up at him, heeseung can't ignore the way he urges so desperately to see them flutter shut. heeseung imagines all the ways he could cause that, his cock twitching beneath his sweatpants at the imagery of jake lying, pliant and needy beneath him, shaking from the desperation of waiting ever so patiently to be touched.

you glance over at them from your spot on the bed, the lack of noises coming from your boyfriends strikes you as strange, with jake’s giggle being a commonly heard noise in your apartment. you see jake staring up at heeseung, eyes shining at the mere thought of simply being around him. the sight brings a smile to your face, seeing jake’s pure adoration for the faded cherry red haired man shining through his gaze.

jake and heeseung have always been this way. jake’s smiley, bouncy, puppy-like behavior increasing tenfold whenever he's around heeseung. jake loves heeseung, and heeseung loves jake. when heeseung discovered your love for jake that mirrored his own (feelings that he had only recently begun exploring as beyond platonic, once you expressed similar feelings for your shared best friend), it was a no brainer to ask jake to join your relationship.

and he made the perfect addition to your relationship. jake’s hyper personality works well with two partners, the two of you are thankfully able to keep up with his energy as a team. jake is the sunshine beaming through the blinds on a summer’s morning, brightening the lives of everyone around him. jake makes both you and heeseung happier than you’ve ever been, and in return you give him the love he deserves but has never received. and you can’t help but wish that you had infinite amounts of love to give him, it never feels like enough for your bright eyed, bushy tailed boy. you would give him the whole world if you could, and most days you wish you could, doing practically anything to keep the sparkle in his eye.

if you could read heeseung’s mind right now, you’d hear similar sentiments in his brain, wishing he could give jake whatever he desires, and hoping that he is enough for him.

heeseung can see jake’s clingy nature rapidly evolving into something he knows all to well - jake’s insatiable sex drive is kicking in and beginning to take over his entire body. jake holds him tighter, pulls him closer, practically trying to crawl into his skin (heeseung wouldn’t mind jake crawling into his skin, if he’s being honest.)

you hear a small whimper and glance back over at them from where your gaze had zoned out on the television.

“what is it, jakey?” you hear heeseung’s voice quietly ask, watching as jake just continues to stare.

okay, maybe he should be enjoying this. because heeseung always enjoys toying with his boyfriend, the way jake doesn’t even bother to hide his quickly reddening face or his growing hard on from him. heeseung knows jake like the back of his hand, and right now he needs attention.

jake doesn’t respond, prompting heeseung to hold the side of his face, thumb running gently across his cheek. “tell me what you need, puppy.”

jake’s entire body is buzzing with anticipation and pure want. wanting heeseung to touch him further, wanting be sandwiched between the two of you, needing so deeply to be shaking and sweating from the overstimulation you both constantly provide him with. he shivers at the thought, dick swelling further in his sweatpants, poking more into heeseung’s inner thigh. the closeness of their cocks makes heeseung’s twitch once more, overcome with the need to capture the two in his large hand. if only jake knew the restraint it took for heeseung to stand still like this, urging jake to make the first move.

jake opens his mouth to speak, nothing coming out but a small squeak as a small smirk envelops heeseung’s lips. he doesn’t move, watching as jake’s gaze drifts lower and ghosts a hand over his cock. heeseung nearly jumps at the sudden touch, grabbing jake’s larger hand and holding it up by the wrist, bringing it up between them, their gazes meeting on the limb held in the air before settling back on each other. “use your words, angel.”

you watch silently, shutting the TV off and tossing the remote onto the side table and shimmying yourself closer to them, perching yourself on the edge of the bed, legs hanging off the side. heeseung glances back at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes alongside a glimmer of discomfort from how painfully hard his dick sits in his basketball shorts. you reach your hand out, gripping jake’s hip lightly from behind him.

“tell heeseung what you need, baby boy.”

jake whimpers at the nickname, one that’s only used when you and heeseung both know he’s very needy. you feel your own wetness grow in your panties at the sound, waiting until you can pounce on the energetic boy standing in front of you. but you wait for heeseung’s lead first, knowing that you’d be in trouble for making the first move. heeseung loves playing this game, teasing jake within an inch of exploding, knowing how it makes both you and jake feel. he loves the way you take control with jake but still yield to him, and loves watching the two of you come undone simultaneously, the sight often times spurring him into his own orgasm shortly after. watching the sight of two pairs of eyes fluttering shut, rolling back, bodies shivering and shaking, fluids spilling everywhere; knowing how jake will watch with hooded eyes and a sleepy gaze after two orgasms as heeseung collects cum from all three of you just to force jake to suck it off his slender fingers.

jake knows if he doesn’t say anything, heeseung will drop his hand and leave all three of you unsatisfied, barring jake from touching himself at all.

“please kiss me,” jake pleads, “please, heeseung.”

heeseung smiles lightly before obliging, capturing jake’s oh so plump lips between his own. jake slots his lips against heeseung’s in return, hands unmoving even as heeseung drops his wrist in favor of gripping his free hip roughly. your lust begins to take over, needing to feel someone’s hands on you in the moment, and the noise that slips from your mouth causes heeseung to pull away preemptively, lingering close to jake’s face.

“you’re working our girl up over there so easily, pup.” heeseung watches jake glance back towards you, smiling as he can feel jake’s already impossibly hard dick get even harder at the sight of you with blown out eyes, watching in awe as your two boyfriends kiss. you didn’t mean to make a sound, wanting to watch a little longer and hold back your need to be touched if it meant being able to witness the two men you adore loving on each other. “bet she’s so wet for you, jakey.”

the tips of jake’s ears get redder than before, if possible, as he can’t take his eyes off your wide eyes and hard nipples poking through your (jake’s) thin t-shirt. “pants off. now.” the authority in heeseung’s voice leaves no room for argument and you can already feel that you’re absolutely soaked, panties sticking to your core as you try to tug them down.

“look at that,” heeseung taunts you, reaching down to sit eye level with your pussy before blowing on it. “baby’s soaked, jakey. look what you did to our girl.” he glances back at jake, watching as his hands shake slightly, holding himself back from pouncing on you instantly, waiting for heeseung’s instructions. jake tears his gaze from your dripping core, looking up at heeseung for permission. “clean up the mess you caused, jake.”

jake falls over himself, landing headfirst in your pussy. he sets an insatiable pace, licking a long stripe all the way up to your clit before sucking it harshly. your body reacts in tandem, back arching as you look down at the way he devours your pussy. he wastes no time, slurping up all your juices before dipping his tongue inside. the sensation has you fighting to close your legs, but a hand from your side holds one open. jake is rutting against the floor like a dog in heat, the friction from the carpet and his sweats doing little to help the untouched dick between his legs. the drool from his mouth is falling down past his chin, soaking you even further as it slides all around your dripping cunt and spills out onto the floor.

“is our jakey making you feel good, angel?” your heart stirs at the nickname, tearing your gaze from the man between your legs to look up at heeseung, a soft smile on his face. you nod earnestly, “yes, feels so good, hee.”

“be a good girl for me and keep your legs open.”

you nod again as heeseung captures your lips in a kiss, his lust beginning to take over as he bites on your plush bottom lip, hard but not hard enough to draw blood. the painful sensation shoots right between your legs and you moan into his mouth. jake moans beneath you, tongue still buried deep inside, and the vibrations make you whimper. heeseung dips his tongue into your mouth with fervor at the opportunity, his free hand reaching down to pinch your clit harshly between two fingers. jake pulls back and licks heeseung’s hand, the pressure on your sensitive clit doubling as you lurch forward, losing connection with heeseung’s lips. he chases and recaptures your lips in another kiss, his fingers getting harsher before moving to slide two fingers inside of you. he curls them just right, hitting your g-spot instantly. you moan against his tongue as jake follows his fingers, licking over heeseung’s hand as he drools all over them, dripping down past the back of his hand and over heeseung’s wrist. heeseung nearly chuckles at the action, knowing jake is a drooler, but continues his onslaught against your g-spot, prodding the spongy wall with his skillful fingers and rubbing your clit with his free thumb. the hand on your thigh grips harder, and the pain only further fuels your desire. your body tenses suddenly, an orgasm about to crash into you.

heeseung smirks as your lips stop moving against his, eyes fluttering open to watch you come undone on jake’s mouth and his fingers. “go ahead, princess.” at the sound of his permission your orgasm hits, body seizing as you stare at heeseung, eyes rolling back as cum gushes out of you, onto heeseung’s fingers. jake never ceases his actions, slurping and licking still as cum coats his face, still incessantly humping the floor. you reach down and attempt to push jake away, heeseung uses his hand that was on your thigh before to grab your wrist, halting your actions before bringing it to his own clothed, neglected cock. he removes his fingers from your pussy, reaching up and shoving them harshly past your slightly parted lips. you suck on them instantly, eyes fluttering open as your thighs shut around jake’s head. your tongue swirls around in tandem with jake’s, not halting his actions as your legs clamp his head in place, doing the exact opposite of what you need right now, eyes brimming with tears from the overstimulation.

“you can take it,” heeseung tells you, “take it, baby. let jakey make you feel good.”

more drool and cum dribble down jake’s face, surely making a stain in the floor that heeseung will clean in the morning. his dick is impossibly hard in his sweats, begging to be released, yet he continues licking and sucking and prodding into your already spent pussy.

heeseung smiles at the tears that are now streaming down your cheeks, removing his fingers from your mouth after you’ve sucked them clean of any fluid. he smacks your clit with the wet digits, your body jumping at the action. he chuckles at your reaction to the pain. heeseung thinks you look so beautiful like this, writhing and squirming under jake’s tongue, wetness sliding down your cheeks and landing on your t-shirt. he loves seeing you lose control under him and jake.

“jakey,” jake doesn’t respond, and heeseung moves his stare down to the boy between your legs. “jake.” he repeats, opting to grab a handful of his hair and yank him off of you, your back falling onto the bed once no hands are on you.

jake tries to lean back in, and heeseung is marveled once again by how absolutely pussy drunk jake is right now. heeseung knows jake would eat you out for hours if given the chance, never halting his actions even when you cry and beg for mercy. heeseung thinks jake would live with his head between your legs, if only you’d let him. little does he know if you could, you’d let him settle in there for all of eternity.

jake’s gaze moves up to heeseung, loving the pain in his scalp that comes with the harsh tug of his brown hair.

“you best remember who’s in charge here, puppy.”

his warning sends a shiver down jake’s spine, nodding incessantly in order to please heeseung, jake only ever wanting to be a good boy for him, and for you.

“get up on the bed,” heeseung lets go of jake’s hair, pulling away to take his own shirt off and toss it somewhere in the room. jake obeys instantly, sitting on his knees next to your lying down figure. jake leans down and plants a single kiss on your cheek, his plush lips soaking up a few tears still sitting on your skin. jake’s hands roam your body, grasping at your tits and fondling them in his large palms. heeseung watches intently, shedding himself of his basketball shorts and tugging upwards on his cock a few times. jake moves to straddle your waist, grinding down on your exposed cunt as he gropes at your boobs underneath the fabric of your shirt. he holds you up in order to take off your shirt quickly before returning his hold to your flesh, burying his head between them. you groan at the feeling as he begins to drool once more, rutting incessantly against your pussy, still fully clothed, sucking and licking and biting on your tits. he chases his own high, and heeseung can see how close he is. he holds back, watching as jake drools all over your upper body, loving the mess he makes before jake is stilling suddenly, cumming completely untouched inside his sweatpants. his head never once rises from your chest, slobbering everywhere and leaving no expanse of skin untouched by his tongue and full lips. you think he looks adorable, becoming drunk on loving you right after being pried up from between your legs, where he was pussy drunk not even moments before.

heeseung lets go of his hard dick, watching as jake never even feels an ounce of shame for cumming in his pants like a teenage boy, continuing to drool everywhere. you coo at him, holding his cheek in your hand before pulling him up into a sloppy, warm kiss. spit spills from the corner of his mouth as your capture his velvety lips in your own, slipping your hand beneath his pants and grasping at the base of his cock, stroking upward with a quick tug. jake whimpers, and you push further against his mouth, shoving your tongue past his lips as you continue to overstimulate him from two points.

“what a needy puppy we have here, y/n.”

you nod, pulling away from jake to stare into his blown out pupils, “such a needy boy, isn’t that right baby?”

jake nods intently, “so needy,” he whimpers, practically already fully hard again from your constant strokes of his overstimulated dick.

heeseung lowers himself onto the bed, lying back against the pillows perched against the headboard. “take off your pants and come here, jakey.” jake pulls away from you, tugging his pants and boxers off before coming to sit on heeseung’s thighs, staring down at his boyfriend casually resting against the pillows. you crawl over to sit beside the two of them, arousal growing between your legs once more at the thought of being able to watch again. “i’ll take care of you, puppy.”

heeseung surrounds both of their dicks in one hand, beginning to jerk the two of them off at once. you groan at the sight, reaching over to tug jake’s shirt up and over his head. you toss it aside, taking one of jake’s nipples between your fingers and pinching harshly.

“ah— y/n—” he gasps out between needy pants, never tearing his eyes from where heeseung holds both of them in his hand. “more— please more—”

you shake your hand, snaking your other hand down your body, drawing lazy counter clockwise circles against your clit. “you’ll take what i give you, baby boy. got it?”

he nods with earnest, moaning loudly and mumbling incomprehensible words.

you continue tweaking his nipple between your fingers, eyes returning to the show in front of you. you reach forward, licking from base to tip right where their cocks meet. heeseung moans loudly, stirring an equally as desperate moan to slip from jake’s bitten lips. you reach beneath them to grasp heeseung’s balls, squeezing them lightly and watching for his reaction, pleased when he groans and dips his head back, eyes fluttering shut.

“so sensitive, hmm, heeseung?”

“watch who you’re talking to.”

your pussy drips as you abuse it further, dipping your hand between your folds before smearing your arousal on both of their dicks. jake lurches forward at the sight, letting out a tiny “fuck—” that affects both you and heeseung. jake’s reaction stirs something in you, patience giving way, despite the enjoyment you derive from simply watching. you need to feel full, and you need to feel full now.

heeseung’s eyes flick over from his hand to your face, shaking his head, “god, you’re a fucking menace. you’re gonna get it, you know?”

you nod, knowing your punishment would arise soon enough, not caring enough as you whine out to no one in particular, “need you inside,” you grab heeseung’s hand to halt his movements. heeseung lets your interruption slide, letting go of his grasp on his and jake’s cocks before sitting up, tugging you with him. he pushes jake to lie down, “flip around,” he instructs, to which jake instantly obeys.

heeseung picks you up and manhandles you down onto jake’s rock hard length. you hiss at the pain mixing with the pleasure, loving when heeseung uses you and jake to make each other feel good. you love relinquishing control to him, and jake loves it doubly so, allowing the two of you to boss him around like a toy, knowing he’ll always get his release if he’s a good boy for you both. jake groans at the feeling of your walls suck him right in, “fuck- so fucking tight-” he pants, “oh my god—” he glances up at heeseung, tongue lolling out as his brain shortcircuits from the feeling of your pretty pussy that he loves oh so desperately fluttering around his length, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth as he pants.

“god, just as tight as the day you met her, isn’t she, jake?” heeseung degrades you, shoving you down to lay against jake’s chest before inserting three fingers alongside jake’s dick, pumping in and out to prep you minimally as his other hand continues to yank you up and down along jake’s aching length. you fall further onto jake at the intrusion, “tight like a fucking virgin even after having two dicks to stretch her out, isn’t that right? our baby’s just a needy slut, jakey, taking all that we give her.”

you nod profusely, open mouth panting against jake’s chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. heeseung grips your hips, prodding his tip inside with a tight stretch that reverberates through your body. jake holds your hip gently trying to ground you before taking his second hand and shoving two fingers into your mouth. “greedy y/n,” he whispers between his own pants and gasps as heeseung pushes further, relishing in the feeling of your walls paired with his boyfriend’s cock sliding in alongside his own.

“too fucked out to even speak, hmm?” heeseung pulls all the way out, leaving just the tip in before sheathing himself in you to the hilt, the three of you all groaning at the action. your mind begins to feel fuzzy, unable to focus on anything as you continue to swirl your tongue around jake’s fingers as if it were his dick down your throat, shoving deeper and deeper until you gag and spit dribbles around them. heeseung can feel jake’s cock twitch at the sight, knowing your boyfriend loves it absolutely filthy and messy. “she can take it,” heeseung assures jake who continues his assault on your mouth as heeseung continues to rail into you, balls slapping against your ass as you squeeze tightly around he and jake’s lengths. heeseung reaches over you, shoving a thumb into jake’s mouth, who mimics your actions of sucking on the finger diligently. after getting it sufficiently wet enough, heeseung snakes down to reach your clit, beginning his relentless assault on the hard bud. you clench around him with his action, “fuck, your pussy is a dream. bet you’d love to be stuffed full twenty four-seven, never a moment without a cock inside one of your holes.”

“god, you’d love that so much— i’d never leave you alone, between jake and i, we’d keep you plugged up all hours of the day.” heeseung rambles, more for his own desire than either of yours, knowing both of you are nearly gone. the thought of stuffing you full every hour of every day making his need grow further. “fuck, my perfect girl. this pussy was made to take us, wasn’t it? made to be a fucktoy for jake and i—” heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at a particularly tight drag of your walls and jake’s sticky dick against his own, “one cock will never be enough for you, pretty girl, will it? you’re absolutely insatiable.”

“eugh—” you mumble around jake’s fingers, mind going numb as heeseung fucks you out of your own brain. jake’s beginning to tumble into the same space, and heeseung smiles as he watches jake’s eyes cross from a pointedly sharp shove back into your pussy. jake can feel their tips touch inside, the realization wholly erotic to him and spurring him further into a liminal space where only you and him and heeseung exist, and nothing exists but the pleasure and pain that heeseung provides. “both of you take me so well, my sweetest angels, always needing heeseung to help you cum. so desperate for my cock, you’d do anything for it, wouldn’t you?” heeseung chuckles lowly, glancing between the two of you, fucked out of your minds and unable to even move on your own, the degradation mixed with praise barely registering in your mind. “two cock drunk little whores i’ve got here, hmm?” jake nods, not sure what he’s agreeing to, just hoping to please heeseung.

“‘m gonna c-cum—” jake sputters, looking to heeseung for permission. “almost there, pup, just a little more—” heeseung continues his assault, his thrusts slowly moving you higher up on jake’s chest until he tugs you back down, burying jake’s dick all the way to the hilt once more. “f-fuck— hee— i c-can’t—” jake stumbles out, the pressure building in his tummy as his orgasm threatens to spill.

“yes you can, and you will.” his tone leaves no room for disagreement. he notices the tells from your body, knowing you’re still gagging on jake’s fingers below, your hands grasping jake’s biceps as you brace yourself to cum. heeseung pinches your clit, and that breaks the dam, fluid rushing out of you all at once. heeseung watches as it gushes out of you, grabbing jake’s chin and tilting it up first and ordering him to open, before spitting inside the cavern of jake’s mouth. he closes jake’s jaw to make him swallow, which he does with a loud moan that heeseung feels vibrate against his hand. he directs jake’s head down now for him to watch, too. jake groans once more, long and drawn out at the sight of you squirting. “heeseung, please—” he whimpers.

“go ahead puppy,” jake cums, a long burst and heeseung thinks jake’s never cum this much in his whole life. heeseung persists with his thrusts, never once stopping even as you cry out from around jake’s fingers, on another plane of existence entirely but still able to feel the way your cunt begs for mercy. he watches as he pushes jake’s cum back inside of you, ramming deep into your cervix. tears leak out the sides of your eyes, the sounds escaping your mouth indicating the same. jake withstands the oversensitivity of his cockhead as heeseung makes a point to drag against it with every push and pull of his own dick. “god, and now you’re crying? pathetic. you’re getting what you wanted, dumb slut. take what i give you.”

“jake, turn her head towards me,” jake obeys, and the sight of your cheeks covered in wet tears and your mouth still stuffed full of two of jake’s huge fingers makes heeseung cum on the spot, shooting deep inside you. he doesn’t move until he’s fully spent, and even then he sits still within you. jake begins to pull out and heeseung allows him, seeing the boy about to slip fully into a subspace from the entire overwhelming experience.

heeseung thrusts a few times back into you for good measure, watching the combination of everyone’s fluids slipping out of your gaping hole, sliding down his base and onto his balls. he groans, slowly pulling out before taking his fingers and shoving it all back inside. “gonna keep you plugged full til you’re pregnant, angel. would look so good with our babies in you. swelled up belly and you’d still be able to take us both at once.” he presses kisses all over the expanse of your back slowly, the sweet action contrasting the next words to leave his mouth, “naughty angel disobeyed heeseung, so this is her punishment.”

you’re beginning to somewhat return to this realm, pulling off of jake’s completely spit covered fingers and looking back at heeseung, “‘m not naughty,” you pathetically whimper, pulling a smirk onto heeseung’s face in response. “yes you are angel, touching without permission, getting me all worked up when you know i was loving on our puppy and trying to make him feel good.” heeseung removes his fingers from where he has you plugged up, shoving the fingers into jake’s mouth. even when he’s subbed out, he sucks diligently, slurping up the mix of everyone’s fluids until heeseung’s fingers are clean. “you took your punishment well, my bratty girl. and you make our puppy and heeseung cum.”

without heeseung’s hands to hold you up, you fall down away from jake, leaving room for heeseung to lie in the middle. he steps into the bathroom and wets a cloth, returning with it to clean the two of you up. he wipes the drool from both you and jake, cleaning faces and stomachs and inner thighs and fingers and any other place jake, or you, had dribbled spit onto. he’s gentle when wiping you, and especially delicate when cleaning jake’s now soft dick. if he left that cum inside you any longer, the minute jake regained his senses he’d be diving in headfirst to suck the mixture right out of your abused hole.

“my two beautiful angels, you did so well my babies.” he places a kiss on each of your foreheads before tossing the cloth in the hamper in the corner of the room. heeseung takes his place between the two of you, and you curl in to cling onto him in your post orgasm haze. “‘m so tired,” you mumble, laying your head against his chest. jake has his back to the two of you, and heeseung wraps a hand around his waist, splaying his hand against his lower abdomen.

“hee—” jake calls as he’s slowly recovering from the subdrop. “yes, baby?”

“i love you,” jake mumbles, bringing heeseung’s hand up to his mouth to pepper it with kisses.

he replies honestly, without a second though, “i love you too, jakey,” he rubs against your shoulder, lulling you further into dreamland, “my well behaved boy, did so well for me puppy.”

the praise seems to settle into the nooks and crannies of his brain, saving the phrase among all the other memories of when heeseung has reassured him. that he loves him just as much as you, that him being added into you and heeseung’s relationship did not make him any less loved. and jake never hesitates to express the same sentiment to you, knowing how inside your own head you can get sometimes. heeseung turns his head towards you, who will knock out shortly after settling your head further against his pectoral.

“did well for me, pretty girl,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head, pulling you closer with the strong arm that’s wrapped around your shoulders. “such a good girl, i love you.”

it’s left unsaid, but you love heeseung, and you love jake. heeseung adores the pair of you, the two of you constantly keeping his hands full. and jake’s heart swells knowing that he has two people in this world that love him unconditionally.

[fatuismooches]

fabulam diu oblitus - postlude.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has long been forgotten by most, but some will always remember.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the fourth part of this fic, please read the other parts first! It seems that the fairy tale of you and Dottore comes to an end. Follows some of Sumeru's storyline. Warning for death. Angst. Thank you to my mootie @kaixserzz and my all of my dear anons (🎐, 🐓 <3) who kept me inspired to keep writing this fic :3

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

“The raven and butterfly’s happiness continued for much longer. But of course, every creature is aware that nothing lasts forever, and even the lightning in the sky would agree with that statement. All fairytales must come to an end. That was no different for the raven and the butterfly.”

There had been a buzz around the lab lately. Some of the segments had been ordered to leave for a Fatui mission. Which, would have been a normal occurrence, were it not for the place they were headed to this time.

“Sumeru? You’re going to Sumeru?” Your home country had instantly gotten your attention, not only because you haven’t been back in centuries, but also because the segments were never usually dispatched there, instead causing their usual chaos in other nations.

“Indeed. We will see if the Balladeer is able to become the God he so desires to be,” Omega hummed, moving a hand underneath your shirt to record your heartbeat. Ah, that was right. The puppet had stolen the Electro Gnosis to use as his ascension into godhood… and Dottore would be there to see how his experiment plays out. Well, you already had a feeling about how that would turn out. 

Moving on to a different subject, although Sumeru was the home you and Zandik were chased out of, you still held fond memories of it. Many happy things happened there for you, so the thought of it made you smile.

“You have to bring back lots of stories for me! And souvenirs! Oh, I would love to see how much Sumeru has changed from all those years ago,” you dreamily smiled. Yeah, your favorite cafe was probably gone by now… but you’d love to see what replaced it!

“Of course. I expect there will be much to say with the God of Wisdom and the Traveler intervening as well,” Omega chuckled, scribbling down something on his clipboard after glancing at the monitor, before fixing your shirt back.

“Your vitals have been better lately,” the segment commented and patted your head, which you happily indulged in. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it seemed like your body was getting even a little bit better. Not much, a little. But that was good anyway. “But run along now. There is much preparation to be done regarding the trip to Sumeru.”

“Okayyyy,” you stretched your words a bit disappointedly, not wanting to leave the segment, but you knew he had a lot of work to do. So instead you settled with pecking him on the cheek which he of course returned tenfold before you went off on your way. You had quite a few segments to say goodbye to, after all! You’d miss them a lot, but, you still had the other segments here with you. And your lover of course.

Surely, they would be back in the blink of an eye. Yes, surely, they’d return just as they always did. You had no reason to think otherwise. And so for the next few days, everything was normal. Time passed regularly. You got through the days as you did with any other.

But one day was different.

You were in your room by yourself, enjoying your alone time. Because as much as you loved being around the segments, you still liked being by yourself too. But all of a sudden, your tranquility was interrupted by literally a bang on your door, which made you jump.

The knock on your door was frantic and loud. Immediately you hopped out of bed to see what could possibly be so important that your door was getting pounded, but when you opened the door there was no one there. You were very confused… how was that possible? This was a pretty long hallway. Even with the segments’ abilities, there was no way they could just disappear into thin air like that. 

A bad feeling began to creep up on you, your stomach twisting and turning. You don’t know why, but it just did. But surely you were overreacting. Perhaps… perhaps… actually, you didn’t have any valid reasoning you could think of right now. Maybe though, maybe you should go and check on them. Just in case. You know that they’ll be there, in the lab doing their experiments or perhaps bickering with each other as usual, but there was nothing wrong with double-checking. And then you’ll calm yourself with a nice hug from one of them. It would all be okay. 

But you found that your steps were quicker and longer than usual, your breathing heavier than usual. As you got closer to the main lab’s doors, you strained your ears for their voices, anything, something, but heard nothing. You licked and bit your lip that had gone dry, weak legs walking even faster if that was possible, before you swung open the doors, hoping to see those blue mops of hair you so desired to see.

Nothing. The room was empty.

Your footsteps slowed, walking into the room cautiously. It was strange because it looked as if there were people in here just a few minutes ago. Notes that were left unfinished halfway. Beakers that had broken on the floor, with some mysterious liquids soaking the floor. Strange, very strange. And yet no trace of any segments remained.

The bad feeling had grown into something much worse now. Where else? Where else could they be? 

Their rooms. You should check their rooms. They were usually there if they weren’t in the lab, doing their own respective work (because their office and rooms doubled as one since they didn’t need to sleep.) So despite how your chest burned, and your legs ached, it didn’t matter if it meant your heart would be soothed and relieved.

You ran as fast as you could, more like you tried to because your illness had really kicked in since your mind was stressing out a great amount. As you clung to the walls, catching your breath, you paid no mind to the random agents who were looking at you funny, nor did you manage to catch their words of “Omega” or “erased” or “gone.”

It took longer than it should have taken you, but at last, you made it to the corridor with the segments’ rooms. You didn’t bother to knock, swinging open the door to Alpha’s room.

Empty.

Beta’s room.

Empty.

Every single room was empty. Fuck, even Zandy’s room was empty. And he was always in there if he wasn’t with you. Your head was throbbing with unease now, your heavy, troubled breathing sounding throughout the whole hallway. Where? Where? Where did they go…?!

“[Name].” A voice sounded from behind you. Spinning around, it was Dottore. Your Dottore! Okay, at least he was still here!

“Dottore,” you breathed a sigh of relief. He would have an explanation for this. “Dottore, where are all the segments? I-I can’t find them anywhere. I mean, I know the lab is really big, but it’s strange for them not to be in these areas,” you placed a hand on your rapidly beating heart, trying to calm it, not noticing your husband’s expression.

“...” The scientist was unsure of how to break the news to you because he knew of the bond you shared with the segments.

“Dottore? Why aren’t you answering me?” He opened his mouth to respond, but paused, seemingly trying to determine the best way to phrase his words. That only worried you more, because he was never one to sugarcoat his words. Your nervousness had returned once more, burning heat from fear creeping up your shoulders. “Zandik, answer me.”

“They’re gone, [Name].” The words took a few moments to settle in, silence overtaking the area for a little bit. But only for a little bit, as your nervous laughter rang out interrupting it.

“Gone?” You repeated. “What do you mean gone? They just can’t be gone. Right? Right, Dottore?” The nervous smile that had etched its way onto your face hurt badly, the laughter mixed with wheezing was painful, but it was all you could do to convince yourself this was a lie.

“Omega has… deleted them in exchange for the Electro Gnosis.” You looked at him blankly, the former emotion on your face gone.

“Deleted? Deleted from this world? From existence?” Your tone got higher and higher as you continued speaking. You didn’t even know Omega had the ability to do that. Or that the segments could be erased in the first place. Dottore just nodded in response. 

“But- but why? Surely t-there was another way?” Your voice was on the verge of breaking into tears.

“He wanted to show respect to the God of-”

“Respect? To a God, of all people?” You hissed, bubbles of anger surfacing now through your agony. “He’s a Harbinger, is he not? And he’s stronger than that God! He- he could have easily found another way! He didn’t have to DELETE the segments! Another method HAD to have been possible! Did he even try to negotiate?!” Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you raised your voice at him. It took everything it had in you not to fully scream. You began to pace back and forth, hand covering your already tear-streaked face, whole body shaking. Your husband could only watch.

Dottore wasn’t thrilled with Omega deleting all his segments either, with the endless resources that went into creating them, but what’s done was done. And both the Electro and Dendro Gnoses were acquired. But you? You were on the verge of hysterics. He had never, not once, seen you like this. 

You had come to a stop, head buried into your arm as you braced against the wall. Oh, the segments were gone forever. They were never coming back. You could only imagine how they must have been in their last moments. That they only had a few more moments to live. You couldn’t bring yourself to think about what Zandy must have thought in his last few seconds.

And what’s more, the segments had disappeared into… nothingness. There was no trace, no remains of their bodies whatsoever. And although seeing their bodies on the floor would have certainly destroyed you, perhaps this was even a worse fate. Because it was as if they never existed at all. You couldn’t even hold their bodies one last time, or give them a proper farewell. They were just… gone. Oh, how you wished you could have at least been there in their last moments, to provide some comfort, some love, some sense of peace. The more you thought about it, the countless memories with them flowing through your mind, the weaker your violently shaking body became as you struggled to hold yourself up. Dottore instantly noticed and, worrying about your frail condition, walked up to you before you spat out at him.

“Do not come near me.” Out of all the centuries Zandik has spent with you, he has never been on the receiving end of much anger from you. Rather, it was you who dealt with that from him. But this wasn’t just anger. It felt like venom.

“Why…” You pulled yourself up once again before glaring at him with teary eyes. “Why didn’t you stop him, Zandik? You could have, couldn’t you? They didn’t have to die…!”

There was only one answer the Harbinger could provide, even though he knew you would not like it. “It was necessary to obtain the Electro and Dendro Gnoses for the Fatui.” To this, you could only laugh again once more before digging your nails into your palms so hard it hurt.

“I see. I see…” You mumbled brokenly before stepping off to the side, your steps still unsteady and wobbly as you nearly tripped. Dottore once again tensed up, body wanting to move to support you, but the look on your face made him decide against it. You then walked past him, not sparing another look at him before exiting the corridor, tears still silently running down your face. He could only watch you as you left him standing, wondering about many things yet nothing at all.

—

“From that day, there was a drastic shift in the butterfly and raven’s relationship. The butterfly was indescribably hurt by the loss of the other ravens, and could not bear the pain. It was the first time the raven had ever been subjected to such cold treatment by his lover. Usually, it was the other way around. And it seemed like fixing this would not be easy.”

Dottore thought that if he gave you some space, you’d cool off soon enough.

He thought wrong.

You had flat-out been ignoring Dottore since the day the segments were erased. And not just refusing to talk to him. You didn’t even want to be in the same space as him. If he came into your room, you would just leave. As soon as he opened his mouth, you were gone. In order to give you your meds, he had to wait until you were sleeping to slip in, because of the way you were acting. When it was time to eat, he had to leave the meal outside your door, otherwise, you wouldn’t eat. That is if you even took it. The grief made it hard for you to do a lot of things, which made it imperative for him to help, but you didn’t want it. You were distraught, but you were angry too. Why? 

Because you truly loved the segments.

Dottore did not. He did not feel the same connection as you did. So he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do to resolve this. Apologize? No, he suspected even if he did, it wouldn’t mean anything, because you’d know he didn’t fully mean it, and it wouldn’t bring the segments back anyway. Comfort you? You wouldn’t allow him to hold you or talk to you. Il Dottore did not know what should be done.

Omega received similar treatment when finally returned from Sumeru, the Gnoses in hand. Normally, you would be waiting at the entrance whenever he returned from expeditions. This time, however, you were not, which he supposed he should have expected. You didn’t want his stories. His gifts. No, all you needed to know was that he deleted the segments. They were gone because of him, and you didn’t want to see him right now.

Omega was not a human. He was a segment. Though, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel emotions. He did - when it came to you. But Omega was a selfish segment. Selfish when it came to a lot of things, you included. And selfishness and emotions do not bode very well, as it becomes… a convoluted mixture.

The segment thinks of himself as a patient man. He knows how to wait, and wait, and wait until it pays off. He can do that for you, too. Wait for you to come back to your senses. After all, they were just segments, right? And the superior one, the best one of them all was still here - him. So surely you won’t be like this for too long.

Just like his creator, he was proven wrong. He learned the depth of your anger a day he tried reaching out to you, wanting to put this whole situation behind. But you certainly didn’t share the same sentiment. It was like any other day, him talking to you and you walking away, but this time he reached out for you. The segment unconsciously longed for your touch, your affection, that was once so commonplace.

But as soon as you felt his fingers brush yours, you slapped Omega’s hand away with a scowl. You didn’t need to say anything. That one action spoke everything you wanted to.

You would never view him the same ever again.

—

“And so the butterfly found themselves drowning and suffocating in grief. Their whole life had been changed, the creatures who helped them through so much were now gone. But that would not be the last of the butterfly’s sorrow.”

You had been giving the cold shoulder to Zandik and Omega for a long time. Considering how clingy and affectionate you were before, they didn’t even know you had it in you. But now, it was as different as night and day. However, it wasn’t as much as it was before, because you still had to rely on them in order to live. Despite how much you didn’t want to, without them, you’d be dead. They were the ones who had to administer your medicine and give you check-ups so your condition wouldn’t get worse (although it already happened after the segments were deleted.) It was funny how easily progress could be reversed. How one thing, one random day, could change everything.

So eventually you had to let them in a bit. Most of the time you just ignored them and rarely spoke. Even during the checkups and shots, you had your head turned the other way the whole time. They would still attempt to talk to you, in hopes you would even grace them with a “yes” or “no” rather than the rare nod of your head. But it wasn’t very fruitful. 

Another habit of yours now was that if you weren’t in your room, you were most likely in a segment’s room crying. Especially Zandy’s. Clutching his plushies. Or maybe Alpha’s. Trying to fix up the parts he left lying on his desk. Or Beta’s. Going into his closet to wear his coat. Dottore knew better than to clean out their rooms because you would most likely snap at him again.

You didn’t have much energy to do anything else but lay in your room, blankly staring at the ceiling all day, your head a foggy, grief-filled mess. It did not feel good… you hated the feeling… but what else should you do…? You just wished you could feel the warmth of your segments… the seemingly annoyed but secretly delighted posture of Alpha as you held him from behind. The bitey nature of Beta that didn’t let you go once you were in his clutches. The small, clingy body of Zandy as he cuddled into your body, sweet dreams blessing him instead of the nightmares. But you could only dream about those things now.

Even the regular Fatui agents had noticed this development. The lovey-dovey nature of Il Dottore’s spouse was now reduced to this. You heard them speak about it.

“Have you noticed? Lord Dottore has been far more irritable lately.”

“Oh yeah, both Omega and Prime! I feel bad for those who have to work directly with them…. At least my job is just standing at this door all day.”

“I know. They always were terrifying, but it seems even worse now. Ugh, and now there’s even more work for us since all the segments are gone.”

“Do you know why? Has Lord Pantalone decreased his budget again?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of obvious…” The agent lowered his voice to a whisper. “His spouse, [Name], has been giving them the silent treatment for ages now. Don’t tell anyone this but, I believe that our great Harbinger, Lord Il Dottore… is feeling the effects of this. I’ve never seen them act like this!”

“Is that so? Speaking of, I don’t think I’ve seen them around here very much.”

“Well yes… if you were here for as long as I have been, you’d normally see them all over the lab but, they tend to stay locked up in their room nowadays. And Lord Dottore as well, he doesn’t leave his office much either. Omega seems to take care of much of the outward responsibilities.”

So that was what it was like. You got your answer to if Dottore missed you. You wondered how many people accidentally became his test subjects due to his rising temper because of you. But though it may not have looked like it, not speaking to your husband was hurting you tremendously as well. Because at the end of the day… he was your love, your life. He was your Zandik, the one who meant everything to you. The one who went through everything and anything with you. He was the only one you had… you still loved him, terribly so. Maybe that was a bigger weakness than your illness.

But that didn’t mean you were any less mad at him.

Omega, on the other hand… ah, you didn’t even know what to think anymore… you were so conflicted, it was so hard to even think… when you said you loved all the segments, that included him too. But he deleted all of them… you hated him… but did you love him too? No, you should continue to hate him, he was the selfish one… Zandy was gone because of him… you couldn’t forgive him! So you didn’t forgive him. The days continued the same as always. 

Until one fateful day.

Omega was set to head out on a mission. Which was quite unusual nowadays, because ever since the clones were deleted, he couldn’t afford to leave Snezhnaya with all the work that had to be done. All you had heard was that the blonde-haired traveler would be there too, from all the whispering around the lab.

But what did it matter to you? Whether the segment was here or not, it was the same to you. His whereabouts were surely not of concern to you, so you had no feelings on this. Though the night before he was set to leave, he knocked on your door anyway. You immediately pulled the blankets over your face and curled to the side of the bed so you wouldn’t see Omega. The door shut with a click and his boots sounded against the floor.

“Hello, [Name]. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I am leaving soon. It is another critical mission for the Fatui, and I suspect the Traveler will be there once again.” He didn’t receive a response from you, which he expected. “But I’m sure this is of no interest to you, anyway.” He guessed right, you thought, you didn’t care. However, even after saying what he had to say, he did not leave. A silence overtook the room as neither of you moved or spoke. But then Omega called your name, with another short silence coming after it before he spoke once more.

“I will not ask for your forgiveness, because I know I will not receive it, nor will I apologize, because I believe I took the right course of action. But…” Omega paused, “I still hold you fondly. I still…” He reached his hand out to your covered body but drew it back before his fingertips could brush you.

“I hope we will be able to talk more once I return.” He seemed to wait a few more seconds, perhaps hoping you would stay something, hoping he could at least see your face before he left, but to no avail. All you heard was the retreating footsteps and the click of your door shutting once more. You pulled the blankets off so you could breathe properly again, as you thought about his words.

What should you do? You didn’t know. The segments had passed quite a while ago, and the pain was still fresh in your heart, but Omega… ugh… perhaps, maybe, just maybe, you could try talking to him once more. Only an attempt. If you didn’t like how it felt, you’d stop. And he wasn’t returning from the mission for a few months, so you had ample time to make your decision anyway.

But Omega never returned.

The next few months flew by quickly, and though Omega had not returned yet, you thought nothing of it. Something must have come up that delayed his return. It’s happened before, it probably happened again. That was until you noticed groups of Fatui huddled together murmuring in the lab. As soon as they saw you, they went back to work and shut up their little gossip quickly, which was very strange. Now you really needed to know what was going on, so you decided to silently eavesdrop on the next pair you found. But you would have never thought of the words you heard next.

Omega had been killed by the Traveler. 

Omega was dead.

Omega wasn’t coming back.

You would never see him ever again. The realization made your body weak as you stumbled back, having to cling to the wall for support. He was gone… the tears immediately sprang to your eyes, as you covered your mouth to keep your sobs down. Omega killed the other segments. Maybe a part of you should feel glad. But no, all you felt was red-hot grief and pain, as you crashed into the nearest random room, and cried, and cried, and cried.

If you knew that was the last time you would see him, you wouldn’t have acted like that…

You wonder why things had to turn out like this.

—

“The butterfly never truly recovered from their loss, but as they say, time heals all wounds.”

After Omega died, you didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore. You were just tired. Tired of everything. Everything felt like a chore. Though you saw your husband more often now. Since there were no more segments, and Dottore obviously wouldn’t trust even the best Fatui doctors with you, he was the one who did all the usual medical stuff for you now.

Admittedly, his touch felt nice. It felt good. It felt like exactly what you needed right now. Comfort. So you gave in. When he had finished the usual procedure, as he turned his back on you, you reached out and wouldn’t let go of his hand. Dottore stiffened from the contact - it had been a while since you’d touched him so intimately - but you didn’t let go, and only weakly tugged him closer, which he complied to. You couldn’t bring your eyes to meet his, instead blankly staring at his shoes, but he seemed to get the message anyway. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around you to gauge your reaction, and when he saw no resistance, he pulled you into his chest and held you. You missed this feeling. You missed Zandik.

And maybe you were scared he would leave you too.

Things continued like that for a while. You’d seek your husband out for his touch. His presence. His voice. Anything that would bring you some peace. Though you still remained mostly silent during these times. You just didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you wondered if he was mad at you. Annoyed. Disappointed. You didn’t want to know though. You were content with the fact that Zandik would hold you in his lap even at the wildest hours of the night.

But now, it had been some time since Omega’s death and even longer since the other segments were erased.

You weren’t quite ready to move on, no, not yet, but it was inevitable. Or perhaps you would never truly move on, instead, they would always be a part of you. You’d always carry them with you. But regardless, you needed to try, at least for Zandy. You think he’d want you to try and smile more often. You were speaking a bit more to your Harbinger friends again, and finding some enjoyment in your hobbies. Not to mention your relationship with Zandik was becoming better again. He had still been there, even when your illness and grief had you at your worst, with no complaints. Even though he had nothing to gain from this relationship. Even though you had become someone different. He had always loved you.

But there was still a rift caused by everything that had happened, that you wanted to fix. Because at the end of the day, in this world, you two only had each other. So you decided to talk to him about it. You had a habit of this, just waltzing into his office without knocking, and came upon Dottore who had a small box in his hand, appearing to gaze at whatever was in it, before he quickly snapped it shut at your sudden arrival. You recognized that box. It was the one where he kept his wedding ring in. So he still had it like that after all these years. You pretended like you didn’t see it as he swiftly put it away.

“[Name].”

“Zandik. Are you busy right now?”

“No.” Both of you knew that was a lie. The Second Harbinger was always busy. You knew for a fact he was stretched thin, especially since he wasted so much time taking care of you along with his Fatui duties, which piled up quickly with no more segments.

“Alright… can we talk?”

“Of course.” Zandik had been especially attentive to your words lately. Perhaps because he missed the times you would talk his ear off.

“I want to make something clear.” Zandik looked at you curiously as you took a deep breath. Many possibilities raced through his head.

“I still love you, Zandik.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that, and you could tell, even though his expression did not betray his thoughts.

“You already know the reason I’m…” Your voice trailed off, not wanting to say the words aloud, but you continued. “But I… appreciate you for staying by me. For all these centuries, through everything. It’s been a… very long time. And although things are different now, I want us to be… happy again. It might not be immediately but… it’s because I love you, Zandik.” You swallowed, at the end, your voice growing a bit softer. Ah, you hoped that wasn’t too sentimental. Zandik’s expression was blank so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“So yeah, that’s all… I guess.” All of a sudden, the silence that followed made you embarrassed, and you wanted to leave there as quickly as possible. “Okay, I-I’ll let you do your work now.” And then you hastily made your exit and left the Harbinger alone, before he started chuckling to himself. He’d expect nothing less from you, his dear, darling spouse.

Though he wonders if you realize time is irrelevant for him. He’ll wait for you as long as it takes.

—

“One thing about the raven and the butterfly that would never change was that they were wholly intertwined with each other. Their fates were one. So even if they happened to go their separate ways, they would inevitably return to one another again.”

It was actually quite scary how fast time flew. From the time you woke up, to marrying Dottore, to the segments passing, to right now… it felt like a blur. You guess, now that your life span was no longer that of a regular human’s, time was starting to skew a bit for you. Well, you were just excited to spend decades more, even centuries with him.

Throughout all the years that had passed since that day, you found yourself falling more and more in love with Zandik again. You suppose that should be normal for a married couple but, it never ceased to amaze you how one man could make you feel like this.

Something that had become somewhat of a habit for the two of you was dancing. Yes, dancing. It had come up during one of your wedding anniversaries. To be honest, neither of you really did or planned anything special for the day. Perhaps there was a bit more kissing along with other affectionate activities, but you two didn’t look at it as something that big. First, because you didn’t want to waste his already precious time, but also because you knew from the beginning the wedding anniversaries would be countless. So every anniversary was more of something you expected, so it was nothing too big to celebrate, especially as people who lived this long… if that made sense. And Dottore… was Dottore after all. Never one to care much for dates.

But on one anniversary you were reminded of how you two danced during the wedding. Your clumsy steps as Dottore guided you through it all, and you wanted to relive that, so he indulged you. And funnily enough, you were a lot better! Your steps weren’t as unsteady and your body didn’t ache as much. Dottore’s feet didn’t get assaulted by yours too much. Even Dottore was pleasantly surprised. It probably had to do with the fact that although you weren’t cured yet, your health had been up on an upward curve. Of course, never the best but, much better than you first were. You were proud of yourself for making it this far.

So now, when you had time, you found yourself rehearsing your steps with him and your husband twirling you around. Perhaps one day you could reach his level.

You found that there were days that reminded you of the Akademiya. Where you could help him with his notes and research like a real assistant would. Obviously, it still wasn’t the best but it was something, and you could see that Dottore liked it. These days often came with you teasing him with embarrassing memories from the Akademiya.

“I still remember when you got motion sickness from piloting that ruin golem, Zandik.”

“For the last time, I did not get motion sickness, [Name].”

“Mhm, sure. If I didn’t drag you out, you would have-”

“That is enough from you.”

You found that there were more days he would take you out into the Snezhnayan winters (you were bundled up to the max) so you could finally see the snow. You found yourself attending your first balls at the Tsaritsa’s palace, as Dottore was now forced to attend himself rather than his segments. He didn’t want to leave you by yourself in the dreary lab so… you were often his plus one, where you spent the evening poking fun at him with Columbina. (You also were the one who publicly took sweets to-go from the parties for him so he wouldn’t get judged.)

And perhaps your favorite memory was when he took you back to Sumeru - yes, to another country - so you could witness the Akademiya Extravaganza festival. He, of course, had no interest in it, but you being you and loving fun things absolutely did. Many things happened, including meeting the Traveler… but that story was for another day.

All in all, you always knew this but, you found that no matter how many years passed, no matter what Il Dottore has done, no matter the amount of sins and wrongfulness he has committed… you were hopelessly in love with him. From the time he was that perpetually irritated but in love student from the Akademiya to his current self, the Harbinger that was a stark contrast to his former self but still possessed you for himself.

Sure, it was a bit lonely at times compared to before, but all the tender moments throughout the years made you happy to have Zandik in your life. Which is why you foolishly thought these times would last forever.

When Dottore told you he was leaving Snezhnaya, and therefore the lab, and therefore you, it jolted you right up from your sleepy daze on his lap.

“What?!” The word came out as a half yell, half-whisper. “What do you mean you’re leaving Snezhnaya?”

“It means I’m leaving Snezhnaya, dear,” he continued on his paperwork (which never seemed to end) as if this was common knowledge. “The mission needs a Harbinger to oversee it, and the task falls to me this time.” 

You were devastated. There were times when Dottore only had to leave the lab for a few days to attend to matters in different parts of Snezhnaya. (You spent the time at Columbina’s mansion because oddly enough, she always seemed to be there… how did she manage to shirk her duties so often?) But this was completely different. He would be so far out of reach, for a long time probably too. Foreign missions always took a while. You remember how long you had to wait for the segments to return from them.

“Okay, then I’ll come with you!”

“No, you’re not,” he immediately shut down your proposition. “Missions are still far too dangerous with your current state. You will stay in Snezhnaya, and wait for me to come back.” You knew when he used that tone, things were final, and you hung your head low, all sleepiness gone at the fact you wouldn’t be seeing him for months. Sure, you would be staying with Bina as usual but, you had a feeling it’d be hard to replace the rush of emotions Dottore gave you on a daily basis. 

Dottore noticed your dour expression, which he obviously expected, and sighed, setting down his pen. At this point, it was a sort of routine that he had memorized, comforting you and all. Although comfort would never be something he was adept in, years of doing it had let him become somewhat proficient. 

“[Name],” he moved his hand to guide your chin up so you could look at him. You were pouting. “These few months, or even less, depending on how quickly the work gets done, will only be a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. I’ll be back before you know it,” he hummed. Although he certainly was not pleased about leaving you by yourself for so long, such was the life of a Fatui Harbinger. It was at times like these he missed his segments. (Did that sound selfish? Well, he was a selfish man when it came to you.)

A drop in eternity, huh? Well, when he puts it like that, then maybe it would be just a bit bearable. And, when you think about it, he’s waited over four hundred years for you, all alone. So this little challenge couldn’t be too hard, right?

“Alright… I’ll wait for you, Zandik.”

“Good,” he chuckled at how easy it was to win you over sometimes and stroked your cheek. “In the meantime, you can work on the recipe you’ve been vehemently hiding from me and show me when I’m back.” You immediately brightened at that.

“Oh yeah! I promise you’re going to like these sweets better than the ones at the bakery!” You proudly declared.

“Oh? Now that’s a high standard you’ve set yourself to, dear. Are you sure you’re going to be able to live up to it?”

“Hmph, don’t underestimate me. My baking skills have improved over the years!”

The banter always made you two feel like regular humans, despite what you two really were.

—

“The days went by peacefully for the lonely butterfly, but soon that feeling was shattered when they learned of a golden comet’s presence near their raven.”

The days in Columbina’s mansion went by rather uneventfully. Surprisingly enough, she wasn’t home as often as usual. It seemed like the Fatui were really stepping up their business now. You’d have to ask Dottore about that. Maybe the day Celestia is defeated was closer than you thought. But today was a day Bina had some time to indulge in cakes and conversation with you. The chit-chat was mundane but brought a sense of comfort until the conversation somehow ended up with Dottore as the topic. Your friend always liked teasing you about him. Everything was lighthearted and sweet until she idly mentioned his mission.

“I wonder how your Doctor is doing on the mission~”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s Dottore after all.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I do wonder how he plans to deal with the Traveler though.” The mention of the blonde’s name nearly made you drop your teacup.

“W-What?” Your voice cracked as you implored your friend to tell you more. You were now realizing that you neglected to ask Dottore what the mission exactly was, and he did not reveal the contents as well, probably because he knew you’d freak even more if you knew he was most likely going to confront the Traveler. Columbina looked confused.

“Dear, did he not tell you?”

“No! I- ah, he only told me he has a mission in another nation, I guess it slipped my mind to ask him the details!” You now had your hand clutched to your head and another one trying to soothe your now rapidly beating heart. A naive and very stupid part of you thought it wouldn’t have to come to this, but it already did, so quickly too. 

Why were you so particularly scared? It was because all you could think of was Omega’s death by the Traveler’s hand, as well as your fellow colleagues. You knew that Dottore was far stronger than any of them but… you were in a panic. All the worst possible scenarios began invading your mind relentlessly.

“[Name], calm down. Dottore is strong. We do not even know if it will end in a battle or not, but regardless of the outcome, he is smart enough to-” Bina attempted to comfort you before you interrupted her and abruptly stood up.

“I need to go.”

“Go? Go to Dottore, dear?”

“Yes. Yes, I need to see him. I need-” Your words were becoming a jumbled mess from the anxiety this piece of news caused. “I need to see him in person if he’s okay.”

“You do not think you should think about this some more? I suspect the Doctor will not be happy if he sees you there, even if it’s you of all people.”

“It doesn’t matter. If I stay here, all I’ll be able to think about is him.” You could already see yourself losing sleep and appetite over this. “But as long as I can see him okay… even if he’s angry, I can deal with it. Anything is better than being over here helpless!” Columbina watched you silently.

“Alright. Be ready in a few days.” You looked at her in surprise.

“Bina? You’re helping me? You’re not going to… stop me?”

“Dear [Name], I will not get in the way of a decision you’ve made for yourself. If this is what you’ve decided, then it is my duty as your friend to assist you as I’ve done in the past. And perhaps this will teach the Doctor a lesson to stop withholding information from you,” the Harbinger sighed.

“…Thank you, Columbina.” You’d have to repay her sometime later.

—

“The raven and the butterfly found themselves reunited again at long last, and would stay together like that forever.”

It was funny you found yourself back here, your home country. It seems like you two were always drawn back here, despite no longer being welcomed. But that didn’t really matter too much, because as soon as the boat you were on pulled into the port, it was clear that today was not a normal day in Sumeru City.

You were too late. 

The fight had clearly already begun, probably only recently too, by the chaotic state of Sumeru. Obviously, it’d be out of order if there were two immensely powerful beings in battle with each other. Maybe, if you were just a bit sooner… but you already had your mind set. Although the Fatui agent entrusted with your safety was ready to head back already, his orders to not let you come to any danger, you just tranquilized him. (It was a courtesy device from Dottore in case he wasn’t near.)

And you ran. Was that a good idea considering your illness? Absolutely not, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Was it a good idea to walk into the middle of a battle? Also no, but you couldn’t shake the bad feeling you had this whole time. 

Although it was far away, it was easy to spot the place, as for one there were Fatui swarming the area and also regular citizens running in the opposite direction. Though your lungs were absolutely burning, your knees weak and scraped from tripping, tired from bumping into others, illness flaring up even worse from the added stress and exertion, you continued ahead with only one goal. To see your husband.

Throughout your haggard walking, you thought of the future. You thought of how great it would be to see Teyvat change in the next four hundred years just as he did. And this time, Dottore would not have to witness it by himself. He would have you. It would be amazing, just thinking of all the variety of new inventions and such that would be created! You two would surely dissect them and put them back together for fun. You two would do a lot of things, you think, as you finally made it to the door of the grand building the fight was in. It was already rather damaged, but the door managed to remain mostly intact, so you pushed it open.

Just in time to see the Traveler land the final fatal hit to Zandik, his body landing on the floor with a painful thud.

Your worst nightmare had become reality. But… Zandik told you he’d return to you in no time…

Suddenly, all the will you had before was gone in an instant. You didn’t have the energy or focus to call out his name. All you could do was blankly stare at his defeated body while taking some hesitant steps forward, all while mumbling something incoherent under your breath. The Traveler, despite their exhaustion, noticed you and immediately readied their sword again. But, they soon realized that there was no need for that from the exceedingly dull look in your eyes and the way you tripped over yourself again, landing on the floor, reaching out your hand towards the Doctor. You had to make it to him.

You pathetically dragged your body closer to Zandik, every part of it screaming out in part for you to stop. But you didn’t care. You could take it. After all, you knew the pain would soon be over. The Traveler merely watched you, still a bit on edge for what you could do, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything besides Zandik, so you continued inching your body to your husband before you finally reached him. His body was practically motionless, his face revealed as his mask was destroyed to the side somewhere. When you came into view, a flicker of surprise came across his face but it quickly morphed into one of acceptance.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You half-laughed at that.

“I could say the same to you…” Your voice had dropped to a soft, defeated one. Huffing and panting, you used your last remaining strength to pull yourself up and kneel, tenderly bringing your husband’s head onto your lap. He did not resist. It wasn’t like he had the strength to anyway. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be here, either.”

“It was not necessary… at the time,” Zandik said, looking right at you the whole time with those red eyes of his. “But I suppose I should have expected this. You never do as you are told, do you?”

“Of course not. But you should remember that whenever I break the rules, things turn out fine for us.” You smiled, and you had a feeling both of you were thinking of the same memories. That time you helped him break into the Akademiya’s library when it was closed, or the time you threw a book at someone for him, or the time you two helped each other on what was supposed to be solo assignments. Or the times you ran away from his needles and medicine, or the times you went behind his back and befriended the others. Those times ended out okay, so this time would be okay too.

Then, the building began to rumble, most likely about to collapse. The battle must have been quite fierce. Although the Traveler felt no remorse for the two of you, their kind heart still couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of pity. After all, the blonde had read the notes the two of you left scattered around Sumeru. To think that a relationship could last so long, especially one with the mad Doctor… You noticed their expression before you rasped out a mixture of a plea and demand.

“Why are you still here? Leave us now. I want to be alone with him.” Your words were empty of emotion towards them. There was no point in any hostility anymore, not when you had to treasure the last moments with your beloved. The Traveler didn’t seem surprised by your words, as they nodded and threw the bloodied Harbinger one last glance, before running away with the little fairy. It seemed they knew… you’d rather die here along with him than live without him.

You looked back at Zandik’s face, his once brightly colored red eyes now a darkened hue.

“I’ve failed you, [Name].” Since it was the end of the line now, even a genius scholar such as him had to admit defeat. Dottore thought back to all the times he swore to cure you. He swore he would do it so that you could be who you used to be once more. But he failed. He let you lose centuries of your life and left you in pain for your conscious ones. But you didn’t seem to share the sentiment.

“Failed me?” You couldn’t help but laugh at that, despite the tears that began to run down your cheeks. “Oh darling, you have never failed me. Not once in over four hundred years.” Zandik continued to stare at you because that was all the strength he had to do, so you reached for his hand and brought it to your cheek.

“You’ve loved me continuously for so many centuries, haven’t you? How could that ever be a failure?” You nuzzled into his hand, his own blood beginning to smear on your face, but you didn’t care. 

“Your love has changed so much over time. From your prickly and thorny yet beautiful love from the Akademiya. To your smooth and unabashed love now. But your love was unfaltering, to me at least. Perhaps I may be delusional, and I overthink how much you love me. But I think it was real, even though you may never admit it, that is what matters to me. So if you’re thinking about the cure, forget it.” Your hands were shaking and struggling to hold his to your cheek for this long, energy spent, but you continued anyway, even as a piece of the infrastructure suddenly caved in and collapsed on the opposite side of the room with a loud crash. “The cure isn’t what mattered. It was you.”

Zandik thinks you are the only person who has forgiven him. Not even he has. He knows he does not deserve it, but he shouldn’t say that to you now. But he thinks, even at this moment, perhaps it may seem sick or morbid, your beauty still manages to surpass that of any other being in Teyvat.

You thought about the Tsaritsa, who had shown you much love and kindness. You hoped she would finally achieve her goals. You thought about the other Harbingers, the ones who were still alive at least. You would miss them. You looked at your wedding ring. It was still intact. How lovely. Lastly, you thought about Zandik as you looked at him, and he seemed to realize something.

“[Name], reach into my pocket.” You were confused but you complied, wincing in pain a bit but successfully reached it and pulled out a box. It was the box he kept his wedding wing in. Popping it open, you were correct, and still couldn’t help but be a bit incredulous.

“You brought it with you?” You were surprised because a part of you still believed he thought the whole thing was a bit dumb.

“I normally do not but, with the length of the mission, I believed it would be a simple and easy way to be reminded of you.” That was cute.

“Sorry. I guess the good luck charm didn’t work,” you smiled apologetically as you slipped the band onto his finger, to which Zandik scoffed.

“You know very well I do not believe in luck.” You only laughed, though it was mostly drowned out by multiple crashes and rocks falling all around you. Being buried was a fitting end, to be honest. No one else needed to know about the two of you. No one else needed to know your stories. It would be best if the two of you ended up forgotten, lost to time. Then, no one would be able to misunderstand or twist your relationship.

Despite all of the pains that had befallen you, the suffering and hardships, you could happily say you lived a good life. You were happy, so happy, thanks to Zandik. Zandik was what made this life worth living… so this was okay. You would have loved to have been cured and lived out many more happy memories with him but… this was alright. But the time was limited, so this conversation needed to be wrapped up in a way that would satisfy you.

“I love you, Zandik.” You don’t expect any response back because of your husband’s poor track record with saying those words. 

The times Zandik has said the words ‘I love you’ have admittedly been scarce and in-between despite the centuries he’s spent with you. It was a grand total of… two times. And both had been said when he thought you were sleeping. 

The first time had been in the Akademiya. It had been a while since you two were a couple, and he had yet to say it. You expected that obviously. But one random night, when you two were cuddling and drifting off into dreamland, you heard the three words mumbled into the crook of your neck. It took everything in you not to react.

The second time had been when you had recently woken up from your coma. Dottore was around you constantly, taking so many tests that it made your head spin, and you had to take naps more often than not. And once again, as you were just about to slip off into slumber, you heard the three words whispered as he gently bit your ear.

Surprisingly enough, the third time would be now. Perhaps because he had nothing to lose anymore, as it was the end.

“I love you as well, [Name].” Your eyes go wide for a few seconds before you grin widely one last time, and you give him a look that says ‘I know.’ Zandik watched your eyes flutter shut as you leaned down to his face, and he let himself be enveloped in your final kiss, neither of you paying attention to the shadows cast by the multitude of broken architecture about to fall on top of you.

Let the fairy tale come to a close.

—

“In his last moments, the raven was taken back to a memory from centuries ago. It was a memory where he was truly happy with his lovely sparrow.”

Zandik awoke to a blue sky and a gentle breeze. He blinked, immediately trying to gauge where he was. But then the sound of a familiar voice flooded his senses.

“And you know what this professor had the audacity to say to me, Zandik? ‘Figure it out!’ Like, you’re supposed to be helping me, not writing me off! You’re getting paid for this!” You were lying down on the grass next to him, hands folded as you huffed. “At least I have you, Zandik. Way better than any damn professor.” He blinks at you. 

Zandik remembers this moment. It was the day when exams and classes were finally over, and you wanted to relax before helping him with his experiments. And you also thought it was the perfect time to rant about all the professors you had to deal with over the last few months. But soon, you just started bringing up random things that occurred over the term. Zandik couldn’t remember the last time he saw you like this. Donning the Akademiya uniform, so happy and carefree… healthy, strong, like nothing in the world bothered you.

He found himself slightly smiling at how stupidly happy you looked, before reaching out to you. But as soon as merely his fingernails came into contact with you, you began to dissolve right in front of his eyes. Immediately, he stiffened and sat up, again trying to take hold of you but you were no longer there. Zandik’s hands began to shake, and that’s when he realized his surroundings were changing.

The blue sky was now fading away, becoming pitch black along with everything else that was chipping away, ready to swallow him whole into the darkness.

Ah, he understood now.

This was the end.

—

“Finally, the twisted raven met his fate.”

Or so he thought. Zandik woke up once more. Everything seemed normal at first, the blue sky was once again there and the Sumerian breeze caressed his hair. Until he realized there was a sticky substance coated all over his hands.

Blood.

This wasn’t an unfamiliar occurrence for him, after all, he would usually get hands-on with his experiments, but he had an… odd feeling about this. Zandik blinked and all of a sudden, there you were lying on the ground in front of him.

Dead. Coated with blood.

Did he… kill you?

All too quickly, before he could reach out to hold your body or begin to process what happened, he was suddenly somewhere else. The desert.

Zandik laid eyes upon you. What he would usually see was you complaining about the heat while you dug through the ruins. What he saw instead was an Eremite plunging a sword through you.

And again. This time he awoke to you being completely cold and limp in his arms. And again. It didn’t take his brain long for him to understand what was happening.

His victims and test subjects could torture him for eternity, yet Dottore would not feel bothered or a shred of remorse. It would be a useless endeavor. But this? This was the perfect punishment. 

His beloved being killed in front of him, by the world, by other people, by natural forces, by his own hands. And for all of the power and knowledge he once had, he was powerless to do anything yet again.

… How ironic, Zandik thought.

—

At last, the tiny Archon closed the storybook.

It had been ages since the events in this tale had taken place. The Fatui were no more, Celestia was gone, the Traveler had long left this world, and Teyvat was at peace. So much time, that the Outcast’s name no longer floated around the Akademiya, now long forgotten. The God of Wisdom herself had gained a tremendous amount of knowledge from all the years that had flown by. And even still, she has not forgotten this story.

Yet, in all of her wisdom, she still cannot hope to fully understand the raven and the sparrow. The Dendro Archon found herself coming back to this tale, trying to comprehend their actions and thoughts. She reads it aloud to herself, draws pictures, and crafts the tale with her own words, yet it only leaves her more lost. Perhaps one day she will understand. But perhaps she won’t. Perhaps no one ever will.

After all, there were only two people who would ever truly understand the bond between the raven and the sparrow. 

Zandik and [Name]. 

An unfriendly and cold scholar and a sweet and caring one.

An immoral villain and an accomplice.

A violator of this world’s laws and a supporter.

A Harbinger and an assistant.

Regardless of those titles, perhaps at the end of the day, they only saw themselves as one thing to each other.

Two people who loved each other as if nothing else mattered.

[writteninkat]

Visions | Diluc x Reader

synopsis: You love how much of a gentleman your fiance is. You swear on Barbatos. Yet, there are moments when you long for him to be more assertive, to take instead of asking, to lead instead of following, to claim instead of requesting. This desire consumes your thoughts so intensely that it even starts to invade your dreams.

a/n: so. :) heyyyaaa i'm baaack,, anyways ending was finished in a hurry cause im tired and i wanted to post this asap rocky k bye

wc: idk but it's pretty lengthy i think i yapped tew much

warnings: bondage, mentions of cheating(no one actually cheated ok?), smut, Diluc has a god complex

navigation

Today has been extremely draining for you; you took on four commissions, four bounties, traveled to Liyue, took on more jobs there—all you wanna do is get in bed with Diluc and sleep until you're forty.

As you make your way past the grapevine, you can't help the ominous feeling that you're being watched. No, followed.

You turn around scanning the area behind you with narrowed eyes. Before you let out a nervous breath, you catch a dark figure in the corner of your eye, causing you to choke up in surprise.

What the hell?

You narrow your eyes once more, slowly reaching for your sword strapped on your back. Just as you unsheathe the blade, the figure runs towards the woods, eliciting you to sprint towards them.

If they think you're someone easy to scare, then they've got you all wrong. Spooked, yes. Uneasy, for sure. But scared? Ha! You fought the Electro Archon. It'll take a lot for something to scare you.

You pass by multiple trees, jumping over bushes and frightened squirrels, leaping on branches and swinging yourself from tree to tree before dropping back on the ground.

Shit!

You feel sweat trickling down your spine as you heave for air, looking around you. You lost them. Maybe today's been more tiring for you than you thought.

You let out a sigh, squeezing the handle of your sword before clicking your tongue, disappointment seeping throught your body.

You turn around, about to take a step until you hear the swoosh of the air behind you, quickly followed by the swift sound of a blade hitting the bark of a tree. You jump, about to turn around but unable to. Confusion decorates your brows in a furrow as you look around, your eye catching the glint of the throwing knife. The blade is pierced deeply on the wood and as you continue to study it, you notice a piece of your clothing is stick with it.

Fuck.

As you busy yourself with trying to undo the knife, another knife is stabbed on the bark, this time, a hand is gripping the handle. You feel your heart sink as your eyes trail from the gloved hand, down to the covered forearm—this person must consistently work out as you eye the jacket struggling to keep itself from ripping when your gaze reaches their biceps. You flick your gaze up to their face, swallowing harshly at the sight of their white and gold mask that covers their eyes.

"Oh what the hell." You growl, trying to push your fiance off of you. "Diluc what the fuck are you doing? You gave me a fright!"

As you continue pressing your hands against his chest, your assurance slowly breaks apart. What's he doing?

"Move." You spit harshly, too tired to play his games.

Frustration begins to claw at you when your fiance doesn't move. At all. You let out a huff, about to give him an earful, but something catches your eye.

In the corner window of dawn winery in the upper floor, you see a shadow moving about. You can distinctly make out the ponytail, the body structure, and the posture.

Your eyes return to the person holding you against the tree, the feeling of fright comes back to you tenfold, engulfing in a tsunami of cold sweat and weakened limbs.

The person infront of you isn't your fiance.

As you mentally shake yourself, you carefully lift your leg, ready to kick him in the nuts but the stranger reads your actions, pressing his entire body against yours. You open your mouth, ready to scream but he covers it with his gloved hand, muffling your attempts.

He slowly moves his mouth near your ear, his rough breathing hot and harsh. "I love it when someone so strong trembles for me." He mutters, the feeling of his warm, wet tounge gliding over the shell of your ear causing you to shudder. He chuckles deeply at your reaction, softly nipping at the tip of your ear.

This is so wrong. This is so so wrong. Your fiance's right there and you're here shaking against another man pressed to you. Diluc is right inside your home and you—

"What's this?" The man's voice snaps you back into reality. Your worries caused you to ignore his other hand letting go of his knife and slowly make its way down your stomach, bunching your dress right above your legs.

"Such a whore." He whispers, forcing you to look down. Your breath shakes as you take note of the wetness on his fingers.

Pale. He has pale hands, so his skin colour must be on the paler side.

Everyone and their vision knows you're simply deluding yourself by making these observations. You're making grounds on why you're allowing this to happen. You're trying to reason with no one.

"You like this? You wanna be taken?" His fingers return to the drenched place between your legs and you try, you try so hard, to muffle your pathetic whimpers, but they all pour out as if they have a mind of their own.

His fingers move in tight circles on your clit. Your breathing turns harsher and harsher. Before you know it, your hips are rocking on their own and you've fisted the stranger's suit in front of you.

"Look at you using my hand to get off like a pathetic village whore." Your moans spill from your lips, your hips moving faster and faster as you try to seize your high. "Such a fucking slut, letting a complete stranger fuck you with his fingers when your fiance's right there."

That snaps you out of your lustful haze.

No.

You can't do this to Diluc.

You push the masked stranger's hand away, reattempting to shove him off of you again but he simply clicks his tongue, grabbing your wrists and pushing them on the space above you.

"Tsk tsk tsk." He shakes his head. "You get to have your fun but I don't? Seems a bit unfair to me." He frowns as you sneer at him.

"Let go of me and fuck off. Once I tell my fiance about this—"

"Diluc, will not be able to do anything after I've used you."

Oh great Barbatos above, forgive me for ruining my knickers at what this fucker had just said.

"He'll kill you." You spit, the glare you're wearing amusing the sicko even further. He grins widely, canines showing.

"And I still would have killed this pussy."

Oh, hardy har har. This idiot's got jokes.

"I'll join him and enjoy watching the life bleed out of you very, very slowly." You taunt, grinding your molars.

"And I'll enjoy watching my cum drip from this pretty pussy," You hear the clanking of a belt buckle and the familiar sound of a zipper being undone. "Very, very slowly." he whispers.

He uses his leg to part your thighs.

"What are you—" He cuts you off with the feeling of his bulbous head pressing against your folds. You stare into his crimson orbs before he pushes himself inside you, stretching you completely.

"Ah, fuck!" You cry out, euphoria slowly slithering itself through your vains, making their way up your head as the stranger slowly pumps himself inside you.

"This pussy's such a good girl, taking me, making room for me." He hooks your leg around his waist as he abandons any ounce of consideration he had for you and quickens his pace, his ungloved hand pressing and massaging and prodding—

"Oh Archon!" You hear your voice echo throughout the land and you scream a silent prayer for your fiance.

Diluc, my love, please forgive me. I tried to stop him, I swear I did! But he just feels—

"So good!" You yell out in euphoria, nearing the edge.

Just as you jump off of it, the stranger lifts off his mask. You're face to face with the same man you mentally apologized to, but your confusion is drowned in your pleasure.

"Cum with me my love. You can do it." He whispers as you press your lips on his, your moans and whimpers muffled against him.

Your back arches as electricity runs down your spine. Your walls clamp down on your fiance's dick as your head lightens. Your legs buckle, your body tembling against Diluc.

"Love... My love." He whispers.

"What?"

"Love, wake up. I think you have a fever."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Love, please."

Your eyes snap open as your breathing slowly calms. You're face to face with the familiar bedroom ceiling you know all too well. You turn your head to the side, seeing your fiance wearing an extremely worried expression.

"Love? Are you finally up?" He asks, helping you sit up. Once you're situated, he hands you a tall glass of water. "I think you have a fever my love. You've been huffing all night. Your drenched with your sweat and your face is as pink as it gets."

Oh, bless your fiance's poor soul. He thinks you have a terrible fever when in fact, you've been—

You stamp down on those thoughts, gulping down the glass of water. As you shift to put the empty glass on the table beside you, your face warms at the slick, wet feeling between your legs.

"Love?" Diluc rushes to cup your burning cheeks, his brows furrowed in worry. "I think you should take a break from commissions for a few days. It's stressing you too much." He takes the empty glass from your grasp and places it on the table for you.

"Let me wash the sweat off of you so you can sleep comfortably." He stands, holding out a hand for you.

You take it, letting him half-carry you to your shared bathroom.

Now, you know you don't actually have a fever. And you can walk by yourself perfectly fine. But your fiance's given you a perfect alibi to hold on to until you've thought of a way to tell him what actually happened—why you look like you're fighting for your life.

"I've asked the help to warm up the water for you. Let me help you wash up-"

As soon as he begins to slide your nightgown off of your shoulders, you catch his wrists.

Once this nightgown's off of you, he'll see everything. And you'll have some explaining to do. And you're not ready for any of that yet.

Diluc raises a soft brow questioningly.

"Can you-" You nibble on your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks warm up once again.

One order of well-done cheeks please!

"Can you please turn around? I'll get in the tub on my own." Your tone is as gentle as you can turn it.

Diluc looks confused, mildly hurt, but he hides his expression quickly as he turns around. "Grab onto me if you feel like you're about to fall." He mutters, pushing his hand out from behind him.

You smile at your adorable fiance, quickly taking your nightgown off.

Even if you can do everything yourself, his hand is reached out for you to hold on to. And it'll be very rude to turn down someone extending a helping hand. Literally. So you softly hold onto his hand as you lower yourself into the tub, letting out a relaxed sigh at the feeling of the warm water almost immediately washing away your stress.

"May I turn around?" Diluc asks. "Mmhmm." You hum, watching him slowly turn around.

His eyes don't drop to the water to try seeing what's underneath all the soap bubbles, he simply grabs the small seat beside the tub, a towel, and silently asks for your arm.

You feel like the world's most loved queen as your fiance softly scrubs the dirty and sweat off of your skin, slowly traveling from one arm to the other, massaging your shoulders and back as he goes.

"Lift your leg for me, love." He asks softly. You bite your lip at his request, remembering how dream Diluc lifted your leg to his hips.

Now, in no way were you a virgin. You've done it multiple times with your fiance. And it felt amazing everytime. And he was so nice, so sweet. He kisses you everwhere. Asks how you feel. Asks what you want, what you don't want. Prioritizes your pleasure before his.

There shouldn't be a 'but'.

But there is!

You wish your fiance was sometimes rough with you. You wish he was more assertive with you—like he is with the people under him. It's one of the reasons you love watching him work.

You just wish he'd force you. Even just once.

You wish he'd leave marks where people can see.

You wish he'd fuck you like you're nothing but a hole to him.

You widh he'd—"Claim me..."

Diluc freezes mid wipe, his gaze stuck on a spot on your forearm. "What did you..."

Your eyes widen at the realization at what you just said out loud. Your cheeks burn once again, but this time your nape, shoulders and ears warm as well. You press your lips together and drag your gaze down at the bubbles, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Love."

You feel your heart beat at the back of your throat. You wish for the bath to swallow you whole. For time to stop. For the world to implode.

With fingers on your jaw, Diluc turns your head at angle where you'll have to look at him. "What did you just say?"

Your mouth opens and closes, you feel like a total idiot! You have so much to say in your head, yet when the opportunity presents itself, you've got nothing!

"Tell me." Diluc demands, your pussy tingling at his tone.

"I just- well actually, last night- here's the thing though-"

"Spit it out y/n."

Your eyes widen.

He's annoyed.

Diluc never calls you by your name unless he's categorically pissed. His gaze stays on yours, unwavering. You know he's getting an answer out of you one way or another.

Silently, you move towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You're soaking him with the soapy water, yet you don't have it in you to care. You press your cheek on his side, letting out a sigh.

Looking up at him, you pout. "It's just that... I had this dream..."

Diluc nods as he resumes with wiping your shoulder.

"And- and in this dream, I was walking back home, here, after a long day of work. So much commissions, so much bounties, I had to travel-"

"Your point, y/n." Diluc commands, his tone making you slightly jump.

"Well, before I could enter the winery, I felt as if someone was following me. And someone was!" You look at him and his eyes are still on your shoulder.

He's upset you're keeping something from him.

"And- and he... He pinned me to the tree and..."

Diluc freezes once more, his gaze finally settling back into yours. His red orbs burn with possessiveness and fury.

"You dreamt of another man?" He roars.

You think—he's already mad, let's just pour everything out.

"And- and he touched me, and one thing led to another, and he took me. He just took me and didn't ask, he didn't let go when I told him to, he just-" Your words stop at the sight of him extremely livid.

At who? At you? At the man in your dreams?

"I liked it..." You whisper.

Diluc grabs you by your arm and hoists you against him, forcing you to stand up. The water is swashing around you, his suit is wet, the room is colder with your wet body, your fiance's grip on your arms were tight. It didn't hurt, but you're also unable to pull away from him.

"Who?" It's such a simple question, and the answer isn't a problem at all. And yet, why does your future with this red headed man depend on it?

"You..." Your voice is small and soft.

Diluc looks as though he's about to pass out from relief. His grip on you loosens and you instantly miss it. You whimper against him, gripping on his suit.

"Don't let go. Do it again." You beg, receiving an inquiring look from your fiance.

"Hold my arms that tight again. Please. I-"

"Love, no. I feel like I was too rough with you. I'm sorry I-"

"You kept me on the tree with a knife. You pressed against me and you just took and took and took. You fingered me, with asking, you fucked me when I told you no, and I loved it, Diluc." You sound pathetic and foolish and daft, but you can't help it. You're begging this man to fuck you like how he did in your dream. You want that shit turning into reality. You're desperate for it.

"Love-"

"Master Diluc?" A muffled voice calls out before you hear two knocks. "The traveler is here to see you. She says she needs to speak with you about the Fatui."

You curse Barbatos and whoever maid was standing outside your door for making this opportunity slip past your fingers.

"Tell her I'll be right down." Diluc yells, his eyes never leaving you. "So you don't have a fever?" He asks, completely dismissing how you had just bared your darkest desires to him. It stings.

You shake your head, at a loss for words.

"Finish washing up. If you want, you can come to my office if you want to say hi to the traveler. I think she misses you." He says, pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before stepping away.

You listen silently to his footsteps slowly drifting away, and with a click of the door, you're left alone with your thoughts. Your regretful, embarassing thoughts. You sit back down on the tub, bringing your legs to your chest.

What does Diluc think of you now? Is he upset with you? Is he grossed out? Maybe he regrets proposing...

You wallow in shame for a few more minutes, keeping the tears from falling as you finish scrubbing your body. You hate this feeling. You hate that you like being roughed up. You hate the fact that you don't stick to the norm.

"Fuck." You sigh, drained and defeated.

You drop the one last bunch of grapes onto your basket. Your fingers are stained purple and they feel sticky, but it's all worth it. These are the best grapes in Monstadt.

You pick up your basket, taking in a deep breath of the night air. The moon is big and bright tonight, so you didn't need to hassle yourself with bringing a lamp along with you. It's a Friday night, and as always, Diluc has dismissed the staff for the weekend. After meeting you, he believes his people should have the opportunity to spend an ample amount of time with their families.

After his talk with the traveler, he decided to go with her and check out the area where she mentioned a lot of Fatui activities were going on. You didn't ask any more details, you were still too embarassed. Now, however, you're regretting it. You're all alone in the house and you're unsure of when your fiance is coming back.

You enter the winery and quickly shut the front door behind you making sure to lock it. Placing the basket on the long dining table, you double check all the windows and back doors. After which, you move over to the office, letting out a relieved sigh to see all the windows are locked.

Storing the grapes in cryo-induced compartment, you blow out all the candles and turn off all the light before making your way upstairs, ready to wash up before calling it a day.

As you turn to the hallway, the sound of a glass shattering roots you in place. You turn to the side, looking down at the empty foyer.

Fuck. You don't have time to grab a weapon. Your gaze hands on a book. That'll have to do.

Slowly and quietly, you make your way down the stairs, keeping your sense sharp as you look around. The sound came from the kitchen. You bring your book up, ready to hit or throw it at anyone or anything that comes your way.

You arrive at the scene, taking note of the broken wine glass on the floor. You huff, bringing the book down before turning in your heels.

You'll clean that up tomorrow.

"Fucking mice." You mutter, climbing back up the stairs, quickly making a beeline to your bedroom. You quickly shut the door and drop the book on the nightstand, hurrying to the bathroom.

You feel fresh and clean and ready to go to bed. You wrap the towel around your body, hating how you have to leave the warmth of the bathroom and enter the cold stagnant air in your bedroom just for some clothes.

You make a mental note to ask Diluc to renovate your bathroom into a walk-in-closet/bathroom type. That'll make your life much easier.

Padding towards your closet, you begin to dig through your night wear, looking for something warm and comfortable. Just as you've picked out a sweater, cool air brushes on your back. You jump, turning around to see no one and nothing.

Nothing but your open bedroom door.

I closed that, didn't I?

Furrowing your brows, you make your way towards the door. Your defenses are brought up again. Just as you reach the doorway and are about to close the door, you notice the book you were supposed to use as a weapon.

It's open.

You take a step towards it, you notice a small circle on the page. Black ink aurrounds the word 'I'm' in the middle. Two red roses stick out, acting like bookmarks. You turn to the page of the top-most rose, seeing another word encircled. 'Watching'. And the second- 'You.'

Goosebumps erupt all over your body and a loud crash causes you to scream. Your head snaps towards the unlit hallway outside. You question yourself if it's even worth it to go down there anymore.

"What am I thinking?" You mutter to yourself.

I've taken down ruin guards and abyss mages and hundreds of hilichurls. A little burglar doesn't scare me. In fact, it should be scared of me.

With a huff, now feeling annoyed that your peaceful night is ruined, you grab the hand knife Diluc likes to keep hidden in your drawer. Clutching the towel against your body, you quickly but silently make your way down the stairs, looking around for anything amiss.

As you reach the foyer, you notice the office door's ajar. You look around before scurrying over to it, pressing yourself against the wall as you clutch the knife to your chest, the blade pointing away from you. With a deep breath, you kick the door open, your body ready to fight whoever broke into your fiance's office.

Once again, you're greeted with nothing.

Confused, you turn to search the rest of the house when another crash echoes throught the foyer.

Kitchen.

As you run towards the kitchen, you freeze at the sound of footsteps padding quickly on the second floor.

How the fuck...?

You switch your pursuit of the kitchen and start running towards the stairs. Halfway up, you notice something wrong. You turn your head slightly around, just to check, before something grabs you by your ankle, causing you to fall.

The corners of each step dig into your body painfully, but you ignore them as you twirl the knife in your hand, you swing the knife against whatever was behind you, turning your body along with it.

You come face to face with a cloaked stranger, who managed to dodge your strike. You lift your leg up to kick them off of you but they read your movements, gripping on your ankle and angling it to the side.

The stranger uses their free hand to grab onto your hand that held your knife, pressing it onto the step above your head as they press their body against yours.

"Get off of me you fuck!" You yell, your weak attempts at loosening your hand from their grip is overpowered by their strength.

The stranger chuckles—they chuckle darkly as they let go of your ankle and grab onto your other hand. A man. With one hand holding both your wrists, the other grabs onto your towel, forcing it down, exposing your breasts.

"What the fuck are you-" You're cut off by the feeling of their belt pressing against your naked cunt. Heat blossoms on your stomach.

Your hands are pinned above you, your legs are open with a stranger in between them, your body is barely covered by the flimsy towel, and said stranger is grinding on your cunt. Your now wet, hot cunt.

"Slutty fucking body's just begging to be fucked." The stranger growls, the timber of his voice deep. He continues to pull on your towel until it slips from underneath you.

"Let go of me! Do you know who's house you're in right now?!" You yell, your weak attempts at freeing your wrists pitiful, to say the least.

The stranger simply chuckles, and before you know it, the towel is restraining you instead of his hands. "Take this off of me!" You demand, sneering at the man.

"You're in no position to be in control now, slut." He spits, his free hand trailing down your breasts. He squeezes and fondles them before lowering his head, taking your nipple in his warm mouth.

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, you don't want this fucker to hear you feeling good about this.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking on the puckered point before softly sinking his teeth on them. "Fuck!" You cry out, the sudden pain bringing heat down your cunt.

Not now, kitty! You can't do this to me right now!

The stranger chuckles, moving to your other tit, his movement similar, but this time, he bites roughly, making you yell out in pain. Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you look down to see him licking the red mark around your nipple.

"You sick fuck-" You're cut off once again at the feeling of his fingers against your sex. Your wet, hot, needy sex.

When the fuck did his hand get there?!

Your try wriggling your body from his, but he doesn't budge. His finger presses on your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your lips to part.

Holy shit.

He draws circles on it, pressing the pads of his fingers harshly, intensifying the pleasure charging all over your body. Without warning, he presses two fingers inside, forcing your walls to stretch immediately.

"No! Fuck!" You cry out, begging your body to listen to you.

Diluc. Diluc! Where is he?!

The stranger continues to pumps his fingers inside you. The house echoes with your whimpers, your ragged breaths, and the squelching sound his hand and your cunt makes together.

Everything sounds so lewd.

And you fucking love it.

No! No I fucking don't!

"Diluc!" You cry out.

"No need to yell for me." The stranger pushes his hood off and you've never felt such immense veneration to see the familiar red hair and red eyes you've come to love so much.

That feeling is quickly replaced by a sudden burst of euphoria as Diluc pinches your clit, forcing an electrifying orgasm out of you. You throw your head back, your back arching as waves upon waves of pleasure roll out of you.

"Don't mind if I do." Diluc mutters, feasting on your tits as your orgasm rolls on.

You're left panting and light headed by the time the feeling ceased. "Love." You breathe out, "What are you doing?"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He asks, flipping you over to your stomach. He grabs your waist, pulling it up so your ass is in the air.

"Fuck, love. When you told me about your dream, I almost creamed my pants." He grunts as you listen to his belt buckle clanking. A great sense of deja vu washes over you.

"I've been holding back for so long." He lines his cock to your folds, pressing against them. "You have no idea how many times I fucked you and thought, how would my future wife look covered with my cum?"

Without warning, he shoves his cock deep inside you, all nine inches making it hard for you to breathe. He doesn't give you time to adjust as he withdraws and snaps his hips back.

"And of course, I held back." His thrusts are brutal. " What kind of fiance would I be if I treated my woman like a cocksleeve?" That's exactly how he's treating you right now.

"Fucking you for the sake of my own pleasure?" He chuckles, his fingers digging into your hips. "That'd be very selfish of me." His thrusts have become sloppy, as if he's now chasing after his high. The thought of him using you for his personal gain has your pussy fluttering around him.

"Oh you fucking love that, don't you? You love listening to me talk about making you my bitch." He spits, no, like actually spits on your back.

His fingers weave their way through your hair, gripping on them as he pulls your head back. "Arch the fucking back." He commands, your body following his words immediately. "Fuck yeah, baby. You feel so good right now." He mutters in your ear, his thrusts erratic and unsteady.

"Oh Archons! Let me cum, Diluc! Please let me cum!" You yell out, feeling yourself reach the edge.

"I'm your Archon now." He whispers, his other hand traveling down your cunt. "Cum for me, my little follower." He pinches your clit, an orgasm even more powerful than before shakes your body. Your moans are loud as they travel all over the winery.

"Holy fuck this body is made for sin!" He yells, bottoming out as you feel warm liquid being spilled inside you.

Diluc falls on your back, his ragged breath hot on the side of your neck. A few moments pass before he pulls out, taking you in his arms as he walks up the rest of the steps.

You mentally sigh at the thought of having to wash up again, but your heart is ecstatic right now. You eye the bathroom door, furrowing your brows when you pass by it.

"Where are we going?" You ask, taking note of how your hands are still bound together.

"We're not done." Diluc declares.

"We're not?"

He takes you out the balcony, setting uou down and undoing the towel and dropping it on the ground. "I wanted to watch the moon." He says, taking a seat. "You," he points at you, before point down. "On your knees."

You suck in a breath, slowly kneeling down.

"Take out my cock." He orders, taking off his gloves.

You follow his instructions, feeling your insides turn to jelly at how demanding your fiance is tonight.

If he keeps this up, I'm marrying him tomorrow.

You take out his cock, pumping it softly and slowly at first, unsure of what uou're supposed to do.

Diluc's the first and only guy you've ever been with. And given his track record, he's never ask you to give him head. Sure, you've heard your friends telling you about their experiences, but Diluc always prioritized your pleasure before his. He never found it necessary to ask you for a blow job, and so, you never learned how to.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He raises a brow, "Use your mouth like the good girl you are."

He places a hand on the top of your head, softly pushing you down until your lips connected with his tip.

"You don't wanna disappoint your Archon now, do you?"

Oh, fuck.

You part your lips, the tip of your tongue softly flicking on his swollen head as your eyes flick up to meet his. Diluc grinds his molars, closing his eyes as his hand pushes your head even lower.

His cock pushes against your tongue, to the back of your throat. The reflex to gag hits you instantly and you begin to pull away, but your fiance's hand keeps you in place.

"Tap my thigh if you feel like it's too much."

Huh?

Without warning, he stands up and grips your hair, pulling you towards him as he snaps his hips forward. Your eyes widen as tears begin to form in the corners. Immediately, you think to tap on his thigh, just as he said. Right before you do, you look up at him, and you're struck.

The expression on him right now—so desperate, so needy. As if he wants nothing more than to fuck your mouth. As if uour mouth is his only salvation from a life of sin. His eyes are hungry and wanting, his hips fast and harsh, his grip on your hair tight and rigid.

"Shit, baby. This mouth is made for fucking." He grits out, his thrusts unyielding.

Your hands move up his thighs, running up and down before you dig your fingers into his skin.

"I said to tap, not to draw blood, love." He breathes out, mistaking your actions for a tap out. You quickly correct him by hallowing your cheeks, independently moving your head in and out.

"Oh fuck!" His moans are loud and desperate as he throws his head back, his chest rising and falling as he chases his second high of the night.

"So close baby, I'm so fucking close!" He yells out and you moan around his dick, making his hips stutter before he pushes his whole length inside, your throat muscles convulsing around him as you begin to push away, but he keeps you in place.

With one last loud roar, he spills inside you, slowly withdrawing his cock. Out of breath, he presses his thumb on your bottom lip. "Open." He commands.

You open your mouth, revealing his spilled seed inside.

"Swallow."

You swallow.

"On your knees, teary eyed, and looking up at me like I'm God." Diluc chuckles, softly pulling you up to stand. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. You are completely and utterly in the man's command.

"I love you, baby." He whispers against your lips.

"I love you more, thank you." You close your eyes, smiling.

"I ahould be thanking you." Diluc chuckles, "How did it feel?" He asks, walking you to the bathroom.

"Mmmm..." You ponder, "I'd like to do it again."

"Really?" He raises both brows in disbelief.

You giggle, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Mmhmm. I enjoyed it too much. Can't get enough of you." You mutter against his lips before turning to get into the tub.

Diluc fucks you roughly in the tub. He scolds you for being a tease. And again on your bed, for saying you can't get enough of him. And once more until you pass out, your body shaking, covered in marks and sweat and cum.

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Play It As It Lays

[taehyung x reader] [1.5k smut: mirror sex, creampie, unprotected sex, virgin kink??, really just porn with a lil bit of plot; Taehyung is a famous Cellist who was hired to tutor OC.

Just a self-indulgent fic.

-

People said to never meet your heroes.

You'll be let down, they say.

But you would beg to differ.

And beg, you do.

With your bodies sitting naked on the couch, Taehyung has you facing the mirror and the sight of your petite frame slotted between his bulging naked thighs shoots up your arousal. Your perfectly intertwined limbs could inspire a whole series of shunga artwork.

Calloused hands grip each of your knees and push them wider apart before a hand returns to cup your dripping sex.

"Please," you whine. The words that fell from your swollen lips were almost incomprehensible because of how breathy and timid it sounded.

But that was just one of Kim Taehyung's effect.

The man lives up to his reputation in the Classical music industry—charisma just as alluring as people described and his presence calls for attention, not because he, himself, demands it, rather there is something lingering in his aura that just lures and pulls you into him. And when he looks at you, it's a mixed feeling of intimidation and desire to keep his eyes on you.

And to you, it makes you want to defy him. You itch to see if you can crack that calm and stoic demeanor of his.

Taehyung only hums in response to your plea and you feel his chest rumble on your back. It's close to an hour and yet all he did with his finger was tease you. Everything he has done was all build-up, never the climax.

"You're so delicate." His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you. His body is so close, you hear the wet smacking of his tongue inside his mouth as he speaks. He dips his fingers inside your pussy as he presses his thumb on your nub, leaving you shuddering in pleasure. "And so sensitive. My pretty virgin," he tsks. "You're making a mess, darling."

You mumble out a half-hearted apology to which he snorts at. You struggle to keep your tears at bay. Frustration and defeat are obviously written on your face. If only you knew how to touch yourself, you would've done the job yourself. But no. You can play with yourself all you want, but you've never experienced an orgasm. And none of what Taehyung does to your body now matches the pleasure when you touch yourself.

And so, you remain at his mercy.

It was torture to be teased, but the way Taehyung's arm muscle clenches and your body twitches has your attention stuck to the mirror. It was as if his hand was a bow and your body held the strings that create the most beautiful melodies.

His right hand pushes in and out of you in timed intervals and his left hand grips your neck, arms across your body to hold you close to his. It was oh-so-intimate.

But of course, this was also a way for Taehyung to restrain you.

"Take it," he lectured when your body thrashed around from sensitivity. "The pleasure is tenfold if you endure it. Just like playing the cello—a sublime piece is achieved from laborious and seemingly endless revisions. So, take it."

The growing warmth between you has you both sweating—the smell of sex in the air grows potent by the minute, pushing you further into your shared haze.

You don't mind that all Taehyung does is play with your body. He can do whatever he wants to you for all you care. But you also have this feral need to learn about his body—play with his cock and grip it as tight as you hold your instrument in place between your thighs. You want to hear the sounds he makes as you play with his body. He has been hearing you chant his name with moans and sighs in different pitches; it's his turn to sing.

You focus on Taehyung's hand disappearing and reappearing from your cunt. The velvet couch that carries your bodies is vandalized with your slick and his precum. His hands are truly just as skilled in playing the cello as it is in flitting around your body. You can almost taste it again—your sweet peak.

But you can't come like this. Not yet.

Your hand halts Taehyung's movement, tongue darting to wet your lips, "S-stop," you stutter. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, one eyebrow raising in question. And so, with your senses still muffled with lust, you try your best to answer clearly, "Wanna cum on your cock, sir.”

Your legs wobbled as you changed positions—you're now kneeling on the floor with his thick dick right on your face. You gulp at Taehyung's size but also swallow the pooling drool in your mouth.

You ought to thank your parents for hiring Taehyung to give you private lessons. Albeit this isn't the lesson they had in mind, you personally think this is more… beneficial for you.

Without wasting another second, your hand grips his base to erect his cock and you run your warm tongue from his balls to his slit. The man above you throws his head back as air is expelled from his pretty lips. He leans his body backward, arms propping him up and he sets his eyes on you. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You only respond with a smirk; smug eyes refusing to look away as you make a big show of sucking his tip like it’s the sweetest lollipop.

You're halfway there, you encourage yourself. You want to see the moment you break him.

Mimicking a move you watched on porn, you wet your hands with your slick before returning your hold on Taehyung's dick. With one hand stroking him up and down, your other hand caresses his balls within your palms like two delicate marbles.

Taehyung curses. You were sin incarnated.

Determined to get more from him, you push your head closer to his crotch, deep-throating his cock.

Unexpected and unprepared, Taehyung makes a guttural wail; his arm shoots up to hold you by your hair and his body reflexively sits up and pushes his cock at another deep angle inside your mouth which pulls another moan from the man.

You fight the urge to gag, and your eyes start to flood with tears. You could only claw at Taehyung's thighs.

Taehyung was quick to gather his wits and then chuckled at your state. His hand on your hair moves to cup your face before smudging your mascara as he wipes your tears before they fall.

"Come up," he instructs as he pulls his cock from your mouth. A plop is heard, and a string of your saliva mixed with his precum lingers from your lips. Taehyung's hands take control of your hips—his bruising hold guides you to sink down to his cock until you take all of him, pulling a pained moan from you.

Taehyung is a tight fit, and you fight through the initial discomfort as you move your hips. You teeter between the stinging stretch and warm addicting pleasure.

With a satisfied groan, Taehyung gently guides your head to level your sight with the full-length mirror and holds you in place. "Take a look at yourself. You look as heavenly as you sound," his voice in your ear is so soft and saccharine, you believe him. "And see how well you take me like a good girl," he praises, the tone switching to a little bit strained as your pussy clenches—the pain morphing to lust and desire. His hand goes back to your hips to help you ride his cock. The minimal movement gives you both pleasurable tugs, you can't help but moan.

With his thighs now caged between your own, you momentarily bend down to kiss his knees. Your action has him throwing his head back once again. But his eyes trail down to your curved spine all the way down to your ass perched on his hips.

Deciding that you've adjusted to his cock, Taehyung bounces your hips on his cock. The sight of your arousal creaming around his crotch has him salivating. As much as he wants to lick you clean, he badly needs a release. It's a miracle he lasted almost more than an hour.

You plant your feet on the ground and start moving at your own pace. Each slam of your ass on his thighs reverberated in the room as if cheering you on as you bounced faster and harder on his cock.

A contrast of warmth and shivers washed over your body as Taehyung laid open-mouth kisses on your back. As he reaches your neck, he sucks on the soft flesh to claim you, mark you—so you remember this night which will be the first of many. He promises.

You grab and tug at his hair to pull him toward your puckered lips and he obliges. The echoing sound in the room is no longer just your skin slapping but the smacking sound of your lips as you breathe each other in.

"Sir-r, I-I’m close," you stutter out between kisses amidst overwhelming pleasure. Taehyung meets your thrusts halfway. And as your pace increases, so does the frequency of the moans of the man behind you.

With a powered thrust, your body trembles as you climax. Taehyung follows not long after—your pussy spasming around his dick has him shooting up his cum inside you as he wraps you in his arms.

People who warned you to never meet your heroes, clearly never had the privilege of meeting Kim Taehyung.

-

[bangsinc]

⚪️ More Spot x Reader (prompts) 🖤

Because it’s not my duty with 15 whole followers to write more🙏🙏 ily all. This is pretty long since I did prompts I found and stuff so :3.. ALSOOALSO, I’m new at writing x reader and the love means sm!!! AGG!!

:readmore:

Who confessed first? what was the confession like?

Spot is an enigma, a man beyond his mortal realm. A man who has the power to travel anywhere he pleases…. But he could never tell you how he feels. He’d feel like, in the event of a heartfelt confession, you’d be terrified and run away. After all, it’s not everyday an inter dimensional being wants you to be theirs.

In the event of a confession, he would expect you to do most of the talking. It’s not something he’s proud of, but his emotions, to him, don’t matter anymore because of what he is. The confession, if he would imagine it, would be something incredibly cheesy but something so.. him. He didn’t have flowers because the kind you liked were out, didn’t have any romantic place to go to because he was afraid of being shunned, and the cupcakes he made burnt :(!

If he could, he’d cry upon a confession on your end.

Who gets sick/injured more often? who is the caretaker?

This goes without saying, but spot is.. not human, or at least he isn’t anymore. He can’t catch a cold, or get sick, it’s beyond him now. So, you would have to undoubtedly be the one he winds up taking care of.

He seems like a worrywart. In the event you are sick, or Ill, or whatever it may be, he’s going to act like you’re dying. He won’t leave your side for one minute, constantly trying to cook for you or *cough* steal *cough* medicine (it’s a little difficult with his holes.. please be patient).

How do they feel about PDA?

Oh my god.. please. He craves it. So much. It’s unhealthy. Even if he isn’t.. the most easy to hold or cuddle, he wants nothing more than to feel your warmpth against him. You’re the last, if not only thing he has to affection.

He can’t kiss you, or really.. do anything.. but he has hands! And a body! So he’d love it if you would spoil him with endearment.

In public, things are slightly different. He hardly goes out unless it’s to continue his ‘life of crime’, but if you were to tag along and show him affection, in public.. he wouldn’t know how to react. Like, you’re proud to be with him??? Him?? HIM??

How do they comfort you/cheer you up?

Oh how he just hates to see his love sad :(. You give him so much love and affection.. the least he could do is return it tenfold when you feel upset.

He’ll hold you, tell you sweet things, try and lull you. Your emotions, to him, are as important as breathing (if he.. even needs to do that).

Maybe will even cook for you! He has a thing for spicy food. Can he like, even eat?

Traits they like in a partner?

He wants someone who is like him in the sence that also feel somewhat outcasted from society. Someone who isn’t conveniently attractive, has features that aren’t considerably desirable. He loves those things. Hooked noses, droopy eyes, eyebags, stretch marks, pimples, he loves it all. He’s not a picky man.

Might perfer chubby partners (would appriciate the comfort of holding them, not to mention he thinks curvy women are attractive.. he’s such a dork).

Spot would like a significant other thats artistic or creative. They might seem more open to his ideas, or at least to him that’s how it would seem. One with a sence of humor aswell.

(Maybe a significant other who can defend him if he’s being attacked for robbing some place)

Traits they don’t like in a partner?

I.. really don’t think there’s much he wouldn’t like in a partner. He likes anyone and everyone as long as they love him and they’re nice to him. That said.. he probably couldn’t stand someone who’s rude, or cocky to an extent. Someone who’s on their phone while he’s trying to talk to them. Someone who actively turns down his love. He’s a very clingy man, he wants the affection and if you can’t give it it’ll upset him.

Do they buy you gifts often? What would they buy you?

He loves to (steal) buy things for his darling. Little trinkets, or other things he thinks they would enjoy based on his knowledge of them. He loves how their face brightens, how he knows he just made their day. He can’t do much for you, but he makes it up with anything he can do. He wants you to feel like a goddess.

[ridthewaste]

Jax's Young Adulthood and Tribulations (Headcanon)

alright you animals have CLEARLY made up your minds about what you want the most lmao (according to THIS poll)

So here it is; Jax’s young adulthood, and the way he carried himself after moving away from the farm and into the Big City™️

(as always, asks are open regarding anything, especially suggestions! sorry for the WAY longer wait than expected)

As Jax had grown older, so eroded the doubt in his mind as to whether or not he belonged anywhere else but the cities. He loved his family, of course - but there was more to life than a farmstead, and his brothers felt the same, albeit with different aspirations (or lack thereof). His parents did not take it personally, rather the opposite; they encouraged their children to make a life that they themselves desired rather than stick it out helping them on the farm...although, within reason, considering their tendency to be rabble-rousers in the neighbourhood.

Jax was, funnily enough, the first one to leave, viewing the farmer's life as "unfit" for someone like him. Managing to acquire his high school diploma with grades half-decent enough to get him into a university. He opted for a major in Business - having a charismatic sense of self and an initial desire to utilize it as a future career somehow, being interested in advertising in particular. His older brother left right after him, but instead decided to skip over post-secondary education, opting directly into trade work. His younger brother, two years later, would follow Jax into university, instead pursuing a degree in Communications.

Moving to the city lead to a few changes in Jax's style of living; most prominently, he grew a desire to look and feel accustomed to the city lifestyle, particularly in the way he dressed. To say he dressed "nicely" was, of course, subjective, but his affinity towards cheap blazers, sunglasses, and shiny wristwear was quite the change from his otherwise teenage casual demeanor from his youth. In a roundabout, sleazy-type way, he certainly succeeded in looking the part of someone who had lived in a city their whole lives.

Ultimately, however, his desire to change his style was done not just to embrace his newfound urban comforts, but to additionally distance himself from his upbringing. As he grew more conscious of it whilst he grew older, he almost became embarassed by the fact that he had been raised on a farm, and this multiplied tenfold once he left home. He may be confident that he has no Hoosier accent (which, in truth, he does not) - but it is difficult, to say the least, to forget that he has a farmers tan underneath his hip, urban fabrics.

How the world views him ends up being the least of his problems during his tenure as a student - the pressure of his degree, coupled with the stresses of living on his own for the first time end up not boding well for the young man, and, halfway through his second year at the university, he opts to silently drop out, deciding not to inform his family of his academic woes, much less his parents. He couldn't possibly tell them, after all; the embarassment of being down on his luck for his first time living alone, as well as the possiiblity of returning to the farm life was not something he would have them worry about.

Though deterred a bit, Jax was determined not to have the world put an end to his vague-ended aspirations. After all, he was still receiving money from back home, with his parents doing what they could for their children if it meant helping them live how they would like. Jax opted, rather than face the music, to simply lie about his predicament; informing his parents that things were going fine, and that the checks they wrote from the farm were covering his groceries well enough, and that he was looking at a promising position in some kind of city-based company.

Much to his older brother's chagrin (and his younger brother's ignorance), this strategy worked well for Jax. Working some odd jobs, and engaging in lucrative side hustles - primarily gambling and sports betting - he was able to pay his bills as he sought a way to get a more stable employment without an actual degree, all while receiving some willing - and unwilling - help from his brothers. Though some guilt over his dishonesty to his parents lingered, what else really mattered at the end of the day other than the fact that he was making his own money?

This state of affairs would continue for the next few years, until a seemingly lucrative opportunity would present itself - an internship position for a particular software company specializing in virtual entertainment mediums. Viewing it as the perfect result of his would-be business degree, he was able to, once again, lie about his qualifications with a bit of help from his brothers. Luckily enough, they were in need of new help, and as such did not look too closely at his background.

Now, he had his first real job; an unassuming position at an interesting new company! Something to show off to his folks, to prove that he belonged in the hustle and bustle of the city - to show to the world.

All he had to do now, was maintain the course...

[chocsra]

From Me to You,

chuuya x reader: a letter

Dear My Love,

There's been a lot on my mind lately. I haven't been true to myself or to you, actually. And while I'd like to think of myself as a pretty tough guy, here I am, writing to you by letter. I apologize.

How do I put this into words? I've been with the Port Mafia since I was fifteen, and even in my youth, I've been accustomed to violence. I never want to or to ever exibhit this onto you, and if I ever do, please, hit me in return as tenfold. But as you know, I'm not really sure about my origins. I mean, I am sure, but the clarity was more like figments of new memories forced down my throat. I barely dreamt back then, it was hard, but when I did, I saw my parents, I somehow remembered how the sun would stain my eyes, how my mother would pack me lunch, and how I slept soundly in bed.

These memories were and still are so real, but the fact that they are so out of reach, even when they were, when I saw my parents, long story, I know, made it worse. I want to fight, I am confident in my ability to kick ass. But truthfully, I feel weak, I think I dream more now, and it's about you.

Well in short, good evening, morning, or afternoon, [Y/N], I like you. Farewell.

Just kidding. I'll explain myself, give me a few hours and a glass of wine for confidence.

You see, in mythology, analogies and symbolism, The Moon is seen as a mother for all. A divine woman responsible for illumination, and safekeeping upon the dark. At late nights, I would stay in my office, and I would stare at Her through my window.

She often tells me about The Sun, She describes Them as divine and bright. They watch passersby, They know all of their stories, how they got there, how each and every person views the sunset and sunrise. The Moon tells me that everybody has their Sun, and it doesn't have to be just a cheesy romance. Apparently, there will be somebody that turns your complete into perfection, there will be somebody who you will watch in the darkness, desiring for not their current looks, but for how they have kissed your soul on the lips.

The Moon is my mother, and when She told me about her sun, I told her about you. My Love, your soul entices and captures my lips, whether I am kissing you, or you are to me. I cherish each and every way the sun's light captures the slope of your cheek, each nook and cranny of your body, and how your eyes have shot me in the liver.

My Love, my first dream of you felt like finding a penny on the ground on a warm day, my second felt like sipping on my most expensive wine, and my third dream felt like snow-angels under heaven's garden.

My Sun, bewitch me further under your spells.

However, as for [Y/N], I love you.

- Sincerely,

Nakahara Chuuya.

[yandere-paramour]

Omg cute idea,headcanons for the yanderes getting their darlings scrunchie to wear on their wrist as a love token like couples did a couple years ago! (Sorry for the enthusiasm, I find love tokens adorable)

Okay if you put a love scrunchie on Vivien, he would wear it until the day he died, only taking it off to shower or repot plants at the shop. You might as well have collared him, this is tangible proof that he is yours and you have claimed him as such. His hair is kinda long (reaching to his shoulders), so he can use it to put his hair up too!

Atalanta has an image to maintain, she can't be the scary boss with a scrunchie on her wrist. She will gladly wear it at home when you both are in private, but at work, it goes into her desk drawer and she takes it out and smells it sometimes when she misses you. Her hair isn't long so she can't exactly use it, but it does satiate her desire when she's at work and she misses you. And she does like that you're giving her something. Be sure, she will return the favor tenfold.

Noelle has an image to maintain too, but she keeps the scrunchie around her wrist constantly. She uses it the most often, you know she has the longest hair. It soon becomes her most treasured hair accessory. She will probably get you one of your own, in ice blue. If you can assert your claim on her, she will do the same to you.

[sukibenders]

consolation

FEATURING: percy jackson x reader

summary: y/n has been cooped up in their cabin for days, only leaving to attend breakfast and lunch at their siblings' insistence. it's not that they mean to, it's just that their art is doing anything but coming together as of late and it's making them doubt their abilities. good thing for them that their fantastic boyfriend is there to save the day!

contents: soft!percy, cute couple moments, possibly some angst in regards to self doubt but mainly fluff in the end, references to passing of time, worried!percy, gn!reader, no stated cabin or godly parent but mentions of siblings, percy referring to you as 'babe'

note" this is my first actual piece of written work on here, and it seemed fitting that it would be pjo related. I'm so nervous about it, so please be kind and give this some love! it's stated that the reader is in an art slump, and that's for the sake of the plot behind this so sorry to all those who aren't interested in the arts or things like that!

You would say that it wasn't a normal occurrence for you to compare yourself to others to anyone who asked, but you yourself knew that that simply wasn't true and, in this moment, were being proved wrong as you stared at the messy array of art supplies circling around you--from crumbled papers of failed sketches to messy rags layered with dried paint. While the mess was contained to your side of your cabin, you were sure that your siblings cautious of just how long that would last.

Your appearance faired no better. Your camp shirt was littered is paint marks from sloppy movements of your hands, the orange holding more life to it than the fresh canvas in front of you. Three had laid crestfallen along the floor, thrown down carelessly during fits of frustration after another failed attempt tallied in your mind. Just when you thought things where going to go smoothly, fate had other plans and took another direction. Maybe this was a sign of the Gods punishing you, but for what? You couldn't figure out.

The more you stared at the blank canvas, at the mess around you, the more dishearted you felt. Your mind wandered to a group of kids that you had seen at the arts and crafts center last week, some Apollo campers you had assumed, albeit bitterly, when your eyes fell on their stunning art pieces making it hard for you to look away. They were so beautiful and held your attention longer than you'd hope to admit outloud. You had desired to master a similar affect with your own piece. That did not seem likely.

"But they did it so perfectly," you muttered to yourself (more like growled), hands gripping your paint brush tightly to the point where you were sure that the wood would snap under the force. "I'm sure they didn't have to go through all this." Your brows furrowed and you were just about to give up when a familiar voice spoke up.

"Man, it looks like a hurricane rolled through here." You looked up and were met with a pair of sea green eyes, of which held a mirth to them that only increased tenfold when they landed on you. "Maybe I should take you to seek shelter, just to be safe."

This caused you to snort. "Haha, very funny. I know that, if ever in a hurricane, to simply call out your name and you'll be there to save me, won't you?"

"Always!" A toothy grin broke out over Percy's face and it was almost enough to draw you back from your creativity haze. But when your eyes drew back to the blank canvas, the sense of dismay returned. Subconsciously, your shoulders sagged in response, but you were none the wiser. Percy, however, being the attentive boyfriend that he was, took notice. "I take it things aren't going as planned?"

You shook your head. "That's an understatement. This is my third attempt so far, and I can't even put paint to the material. At least with the others I could say that."

Percy shifted forward, reaching for one of the lone canvases and studied it with interest. "This one is nice," he said honestly. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because it's bad." You answered simply.

But Percy didn't believe that. "No it's not, you're just being hard on yourself." Like always hung in the air, but it was moreso a thought of your own rather than Percy's himself. The inky haired boy gave you a brief once over, brows furrowed with tinges of worry. "When was the last time you took a break? Stepped outside for something other than going to the dining pavilion?"

You blinked for a moment, attention slightly divided between your boyfriend and the work before you. "Uh, I think it was like...yesterday, one of my siblings dragged me out to the strawberry field with them." Or, at least you thought it was yesterday.

But Percy shook his head. "That was Tuesday, babe, I asked one of your siblings. Today's Friday. We need to get you out of this cabin, doing something other than painting."

Slightly shocked by clarification, you body tensed at the thought of being pulled away from your workstation, especially so prematurely into your journey. If you stopped now, what was to say that you would ever finish? Or that this was possibly your last chance at recreating and if you left now, all that went down the drain.

"I can't." You sighed weakly, hurriedly drifting your eyes to your boyfriend, who you had just discovered, that you hadn't spent much time with at all during this week. "If I don't get this piece right now, I might never-"

Percy raised a brow in response of you cutting yourself off. "You might never what?"

With a frustrated and embarrassed sigh, you explained to him your dilemma and the set backs it had provided you, refraining from looking at him the whole time. A part of you had fear some sort of mockery or lack of understanding that conjured up a simple dismissal without actually helping. You had grown accustomed to that after a few occasions and, while you didn't believe Percy to be like, it still hovered in your mind.

To your surprise, though not really, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you so gently yet fiercely that you felted tethered and set free all the same. Your face subconsciously pressed into Percy's bicep and you inhaled his scent, feeling the burdens of the weight you had placed on yourself slowly slipping away one by one. Faint tears welled in your eyes, but he made no move to comment on them.

"I wished you'd came to me sooner, I could've helped you. While not with anything art related, because it would have ended poorly for the both of us, I could have been here to keep you company and show some support."

A small sound that was a mix between a cry and laugh bubbled from your throat. "I don't think I would have been much fun."

Percy snorted. "Please, we would've had the time of our lives here. You're siblings would have kicked me out and banished me from ever entering." While this drew another laugh from you, it wasn't hard to notice the seriousness enveloping the boy's tone. "I think you need a break, for real this time and with no objections."

"But-"

"This piece, can wait. You can't. So what if some other camper made a cool piece, that doesn't mean anything. It especially doesn't mean you're a bad artist just because you're having trouble recreating it." When you fell silent at his words, he rested his nose against your temple, breathing you in. "You're very talented, and that shouldn't be doubted."

A part of you wanted to argue, to say that he was only telling you that because you were dating, but the more you thought about doing anything other than laying in your boyfriend's arms, the more exhausted you felt. Maybe it was your sudden drop in weight, but Percy had maneuvered you around until you were far from the canvas that had been torturing you for hours and closer to your bed.

"Let's get you some rest, babe." He moved to lay you down when your hand reached out, stopping him. "Babe-"

"I got paint on your shirt." You said simply, eyeing how your, still paint riddled, fingers smeared over your boyfriend's tee from his abs to his side. You had been so wrapped up in savoring his embrace, that you had forgotten about your own mess clinging to your frame.

Rather than wallow in the new stain, Percy reached for a damp, less paint splattered cloth and held it to your face. "It's no big deal, but it will be if you get paint on your sheets. Let's get you cleaned up."

By the time he was finished, you were already dozing off no matter how much you tried to fight. Your body rocked and swayed softly, and the action only made Percy laugh even more. Resting you gently on to your bed, head braced against your pillow, the inky haired boy moved to stand when your hand latched around his wrist.

"Stay," You whispered, eyes hopefully. Even with how busy you made yourself, you had missed him deeply.

"I gotta clean up around here. Wouldn't want you to trip in this mess, now would you?"

This caused you to wave him off. "Ah, well you'll simply just have to take care of me again, which seems like a win if you think about it."

Percy chuckled. "Yeah, it does. And maybe I'm so inclined to be against it." He patted your side. "Move over, babe, I'm coming in."

You cheered softly, doing as told just enough for him to rest his frame an inch away from you before you practically melted into him, arms wrapped around his waist and face tucked under his chin. You could feel Percy's chest rumble in satisfaction before he followed a similar manner. The two of you laid like that for a few minutes before you whispered.

"I'm sorry for not spending time with you these last few days." You apologized. "I was just...so wrapped up in this project and my own thoughts that I lost track of time. It's no excuse, but-"

"It's all right," Percy cut in, shushing you softly as you tried to protest. He was in no mood for you to get worked up, especially over something that was so easily fixed and could be settled even further once you were rested. "I understand, and I'm not uupset. I missed you, for sure, but we'll find a way to spend time together later, once you've had a decent amount of sleep."

You nodded in agreement, a yawn pulling from your lips. "I propose a date, anywhere you'd like and we can do whatever you want. You deserve it."

"I don't think taking care of my partner necessarily guarantees a reward," Percy commented, watching with mirth as you sent an eye roll his way. "But I'll hold you to that deal later. Love you."

"Love you, too."

[strlingsav]

hii, im not sure if u write dad ghost, but if you don’t mind, could you write ghost coming home from work, happy to see his daughter and wife reader. he got home pretty late, so he puts his daughter to bed and spends time with his wife, leading to you know what 🫣 and soon they hear their daughter opening the door and has to pretend nothing happened.

i’d appreciate if u write this, if not then that’s alright, pls do what makes u comfortable 😌

I'm gonna throw up I love domestic Ghost 😭🤍 ofc I can do this 🤭 thanks for asking!! I changed it a bit, just bc I'm a sucker for a happy ending- literally.

Daughter's name is Ava (short and sweet, not much effort there sorry lol)

Home

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon returns from deployment.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Simon saw the lights on from outside. It was late- too late for Ava to be up, so he assumed you'd fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. The thought brought a rush of warmth over him. How badly he missed you, desperately chasing the memory of your touch, your wonderful smell, but nothing compared to you, real and in the flesh.

Climbing out of his truck, he headed for the front door. He considered himself to be a man with composure, but returning home to his wife and daughter after so long had his heart racing, hands shaking as he put the key in the lock.

He entered quietly, not wanting to wake you, and when he rounded the corner he found you asleep on the couch, as he assumed, but with an arm wrapped around Ava.

The sight alone was enough to make his knees weak. Then, he heard you snore, reaching out to tuck Ava in closer to your chest. He let out a quiet sigh. The ache in his shoulders was unnoticeable now, when he leaned against the door frame and watched the sight before him.

The TV light flashed across your faces, the faces he'd missed the most. He had your photos in his vest at all times, his family, but it never sated the burning in his chest, the indescribable emptiness.

He never imagined himself that way; a father, a husband, but you had him wrapped around your finger and he didn't mind being there. For the first time, with you, he wanted a kid. He wanted something to nurture. You'd brought that out of him, you were so maternal it hurt, and he couldn't help but picture himself right there beside you.

Now, your daughter was 5. It didn't seem so long ago that you'd be at his apartment every weekend, finding every free second to spend together. You were a bit wilder back then, still were, but motherhood suited you. He couldn't deny, watching you through it all only made his love and attraction grow tenfold.

He owed you everything, you'd given him an amazing gift, and reignited the desire to connect, to feel. Though you didn't quite see it that way, he knew he'd spend every waking moment cherishing you.

He slowly sauntered over, pulling the blanket off Ava. He lifted her to his arms, and she stirred, though kept her eyes shut, still lightly snoring. The sound of her breaths, her arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, it made him melt. He nuzzled her head into his neck.

He realized he'd woken you up, and you went to stand up when he stopped you with a hand on your thigh.

"I've got her, sweetheart," He said.

You nodded, still disoriented, but happy beyond belief to see your husband, in one piece. You were sure you looked a nightmare, disheveled hair, dry drool on the side of your cheek, sweat lining your brow.

He disappeared down the hall with Ava in his arms, and you took the opportunity to get ready for bed.

Simon entered the master bedroom, finding you tying your hair up. Your eyes met his, shifting form your reflection in the mirror.

You smiled as he neared, your hands reaching out to glide over his shoulders. He pulled you in, a tight embrace, and squeezed once softly. He shut his eyes as he was enveloped by your touch, your smell. Utter ecstasy washed over him to be back in your arms, tangible and real.

He pulled away briefly, pressing his lips to yours, a tender, long kiss. He remembered how long he'd ached to feel you again, and the pure relief was overwhelming.

"Missed you," He said, muffled by your hair.

"I missed you too," You sighed, breathing in his scent. "Everything alright?" You asked, your voice in his ear.

He hummed in response.

"Ava go down okay?"

"She's out for the night, I reckon."

"She fell asleep at 8, think I only lasted until 9. She wanted to wait for her daddy," You said, pulling back.

His hands were still on your waist, his thumb moving in small circles comfortingly.

"S'alright," He said. "You wait up for daddy too?" He asked, his eyes narrowing at you.

You were wearing his shirt, your pyjama shorts were hidden underneath; it was practically a nightgown on you. There was nothing that aroused him more, your soft thighs peeking out from under the shirt, and he knew with all certainty that you weren't wearing a bra. He was hard just thinking about it.

You swatted his arm, "Simon," You scolded, a playful, bashful exclamation.

He pulled you into him again, eating up that coy reaction, you'd do it every time and he adored it more than anything. In reality, he knew you loved just how dirty he could be. Especially after going so long without feeling you, fucking you.

"Can't help it," He muttered. "Been gone too fuckin' long," He breathed.

"It's late- you must be exhausted," You said.

You tried to be reasonable, tried not to keep him up even though you were so desperate for him you were soaked already.

"Never too exhausted for you," He said, his hands travelling up your shirt to feel your skin against his.

He held you tightly, relishing the way you felt in his hands.

You smiled softly, pressing your lips to his gently at first, before he couldn't resist the taste of you and slid his tongue against yours. You whimpered quietly, exhaling against his face, your arms wrapping behind his neck to hold him as close as possible.

He lifted you to his hips with ease, his hands flat against your ass, squeezing teasingly.

"C'mere woman," He muttered against your mouth, making you throw your head back with a laugh.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, remembering your daughter soundly asleep across the hall.

"Oughta do somethin' about that loud mouth," He scolded.

You hummed with intrigue, your eyes glued to his as he walked the two of you to the bed. He landed on top of you as he laid you down on the bed.

"You're so lewd," You teased, surrendering to his body on top of yours.

He hummed, "You ain't even heard half'a what I wanna do to you."

He kissed your neck, delicate kisses that quickly turned hungry and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Quieter this time, but enough to make his brow quirk up.

You nodded, "Think I better use my loud mouth," You whispered, your faces inches from each others.

His hands tugged your shorts off your thighs, calloused palms rubbing your soft skin. You shifted up to your elbows, watching with your lip between your teeth.

You went to lift the T-shirt over your head, when he stopped you.

"Leave it on," He said, his lips meeting yours in a reassuring kiss.

You nodded, following his lead as he unbuckled his belt, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. You knelt before him, shooing his hands away so you could do it yourself.

He was all adrenaline and testosterone, beyond aroused at the sight of you on your knees, no pants on, and wearing his shirt.

You slid his briefs down, exposing his cock. You wrapped your hand around his cock, and his head fell back, a sharp inhale raising his chest. When you pumped your hand up and down, he let out a low growl, his hand moving to your cheek with a tenderness nurtured by the time you'd spent apart.

"Christ, love," He breathed.

You didn't want to waste anymore time, and shifted upwards to have your tongue caress the head of his cock, engorged and thick, salty with pre-cum. He shivered, running his hand into your hair.

Wrapping your lips around him, you kept your eyes on his as you applied suction, hollowing your cheeks with vigour, resigned to pleasing him as much as you could. Your hand laid on his knee, the other wrapping around the base of his cock, pumping slowly to meet your lips, saliva already dripping down to add lubrication.

He cursed under his breath, his hand slowly closing into a fist in your hair, his chest rising and falling with every powerful breath. Your tongue massaged every vein and curve of his cock, paying attention to the grunts and groans of satisfaction that left his lips. It was hard not to be aroused by it, the approval in his tone, spoken without words.

Your head bobbing up and down, soft lips wrapped around his cock, silky tongue sliding against him at the same time- it was chilling, overwhelming, in the best way. Your hand continued further up his thigh, a comforting touch, a reminder that you were there, another layer of stimulation as if he needed any.

He groaned, a soft touch to his tone. "Missed your mouth."

You hummed, a thank you, filled with pride.

You were good, an expert in his pleasure just as he was with you. He'd learned every curve and detail of your body, and could break you down in seconds if he wanted to. His ego was broken at this point, pure vulnerability as your mouth sucked his cock, and he didn't mind one bit.

"Won't last long like this, love," He said, a strangled breath from his throat.

You exhaled through your nose, letting him fall from your mouth with a quiet 'pop'. He stood up, helping you across the bed to rest your head on the pillows.

His hands tugged at the shirt on your body, lifting it off your torso to savour the sight of your breasts, supple and inviting. You did the same for him, enjoying the vision before you; his hardened body, the dips and curves of every muscle, glowing with a thin layer of sweat. Your hands ran from his shoulders down to his torso, stopping at the trail of coarse hair disappearing beneath his briefs.

He had his eyes shut, savouring the softness of your hands on his body, shivering with anticipation. Only when his hands reached your breasts did he open his eyes, leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth, gently sucking and licking, teasing the pleasure to come. You shifted, antsy, restless. His other hand had palmed your breast, squeezing the pliable flesh in his hands.

"Fuckin' hell," He breathed, leaning over you.

He kissed your lips again, exploring your body with his hands, his lips not far behind. He reached your hips, slowly sliding your panties down your legs as he leaned in, his hands taking your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His lips kissed at the plush skin of your inner thighs, teeth biting into you gently, devouring you.

"Missed the taste of you," He said against you, warm air hitting your pussy, making you shiver.

You laid back, eyes closing as you digested his words; he knew exactly what to say to have you soaking wet, desperate and needy.

His tongue was smooth, warm and velvety against your clit. You gasped, relaxing into his hold as he ran small circles over your clit, your thighs twitching and jumping with every touch.

"Simon," You whispered, recognition of just how good he made you feel.

He was slow, passionate, savouring the taste of you, everything he'd thought about for weeks. The soft whimpers and moans you hid behind closed lips, the back of your hand pressed against your mouth, it drove him mad.

He clenched your thighs with possessive hands, flesh squeezing between his fingers, your toes curling against his back. Your hand drifted to glide through his hair, a gentle touch, some form of contact to keep you grounded. You let it rest on the back of his head, and he found it comforting. His eyes lifted to yours, his tongue sliding out, lightly flicking back and forth over your clit.

His lips were wet with your arousal, moving against your pussy, sucking and teasing at your clit. His tongue dove inside you, and your back arched, pressing yourself into his mouth. Your fingers tugged at his hair, a rumble of pleasure leaving his mouth.

It was sweet, sensual; a loving reunion. He was passionate about making you cum, especially when he hadn't seen you or touched you in so long. He thoroughly enjoyed the sight of you while he ate you out, you always had your lips parted, soft pants from your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut. Your cheeks took on a reddish hue, and the view from his position made him even harder.

He knew just what spots to touch, the pressure and speed that made your thighs shake. He never failed to make you climax quickly; and even after being apart, it seemed to be even easier. He buried his face in your pussy, head moving side to side as he devoured you, feeling your thighs clamp around his head, your fingers tug a bit harder at his hair.

He knew you were close, and when your entire body froze, rigid and tense, he knew the pulsating of your pussy followed shortly after. He softened his touch, prolonging your orgasm with every stroke of his tongue. You could hardly muffle the gasps and moans that forced their way out, biting into the back of your hand as your body shook with pleasure.

When he sat up to his knees, settling between your thighs, you saw his face glistening, wet with your arousal. He leaned closer, his lips meeting yours, tongues gliding together in an impatient kiss.

He slid inside of you- his favourite part, listening to your reaction as his cock pushed past the soft muscles inside you. You gasped quietly, your fingers digging into the taught muscles of his shoulders, sliding down his sides.

He let out a low groan; your warmth and wetness welcoming him home, absorbing him, hugging him. His head fell to the crook of your neck, his hand reaching your thigh to keep you in place beneath him, clamped tightly to his side.

He rolled his hips, burying himself inside you, deep inside you, your head falling in against the pillows.

"Shit, baby," You whined, your eyes squeezing shut as he filled you. "I missed you."

Your eyes snapped open to meet his gaze, your hands grasping the back of his neck, digging in as he thrusted his hips against yours.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about you," He exhaled, his brows furrowed, a strained expression while he fought the urge to cum. "Y'feel so good, love."

He dug deeper, thrusting harder, watching your breasts recoil against his force, your entire body shining with a thin layer of sweat. He kissed your neck, sloppy, wet kisses.

"Don't stop baby, please," You whispered, your hand falling to rub fast circles over your clit.

A nasally groan bubbled up from the back of his throat as he felt your pussy clench, your eyes on his as you panted with exertion.

"Go on, love," He muttered. "I wanna feel you cum."

Your eyes rolled back, your abdomen tensing as you bore down through your climax, fighting the overstimulation. You gasped softly for air, pulling him even closer to you roughly. It was a harsh reflex he'd loved since the first time you did it.

He grunted in your ear, his cock throbbing when your pussy clamped down around him, nearly shaking his head in disbelief, restraint. His lips met yours as he quickened his pace, rutting his hips into you as he neared his climax.

He released inside you, shortening his thrusts as he came down from his high.

He pulled out slowly, cringing a bit with the over-sensitivity.

He laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest with heavy breaths. It was still, silent for a few moments as the two of you caught your breath, relishing in the tiredness and satisfaction.

[bobgasm]

bleeding love | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 2050 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], period sex, menstrual sex, reader has their period, vaginal fingering, p in v, fluff, they’re a mess

summary: in which bob loves you no matter the day of month

author’s note: i hope u guys are filthy other wise this gonna be awkward

oneshot | masterlist

You held the heat pad to your stomach, lying down on the couch while you watched shitty movies and picked all the chocolate out of the pack of trail mix.

Bob had been gone for a week and was due back tomorrow, and of course your period had started two days ago. You’d had the usual cramping leading up to actually getting it, and then the cravings had hit you. So you’d stocked up on a few of your favourite treats, loaded up on painkillers, and toughed out the rest of the work week.

Until the weekend came around and you could slob around the place without a care.

You’d cried yourself to sleep. The painkillers weren’t helping the cramps, and you missed your boyfriend. Your heart ached, the waterworks had started, and they didn’t stop until you were fast asleep. Wearing one of Bob’s tees and hugging his pillow, trying to pretend it was him.

Waking on Sunday morning, your mood was slightly better. Mostly because you knew that Bob would be home just after midday, which meant you could finally cuddle and kiss him instead of his pillow.

The heat pad helped ease some of your discomfort, but not by much. The cramps were the worst part of getting your period, and you’d often be doubled over in the fetal position just for any kind of reprieve from the pain.

Today was one of those days. The painkillers were barely touching the sides, and it was too much admin to try and heat the pad again. So you were curled up in a ball on the couch, unable to even reach for the tv remote to change the channel. Tears burning your eyes and leaving a hot trail down your face. Nose stuffy from the hours spent crying.

You were in pain. You missed Bob. You just wanted to be coddled through the pain. Hell, you wanted the pain to end.

He’d never seen you like this. Your relationship was new, less than three months. The first time you got your period with him, he’d run out to get you supplies. Pads, tampons, painkillers and whatever else he thought would help. He’d come back with two bags worth of goodies because he didn’t want you to be without anything, but also wanted to make sure you were okay.

You’d cried over his generosity, and he’d been a little freaked out by the reaction. Telling you he’d return everything, because apparently that’s what he took your tears to mean.

You’d explained that it was so sweet he’d done all that for you, and that’s why you were crying. But he’d cocked his head and looked at you funny, proclaiming, “do guys not do that for their women when they’re menstruating?”

You’d had to explain that for a lot of men, the concept of a period freaked them the fuck out. Some of your ex boyfriends would avoid you for that entire week, since it meant you could have sex with them.

To which he’d replied, “sure you can. It might get a little messy, but that’s half the fun. Lay a couple towels down and you’re good to go.”

His blasé reaction hadn’t shocked you, not really. But it had stirred a fire burning low in your stomach. Hidden by the painful cramps, but it was there. Lingering. Waiting for him to bring it up again, or even act on it.

You always felt ten times hornier on your period, or whenever you were ovulating. In the past, you’d take care of your needs yourself whenever you were bleeding, since your exes were lesser men and refused to even talk to you during that time. So hearing that your new boyfriend, the one you were falling madly in love with, wasn’t completely grossed out by you during that week every month, caused desire to flow through your body tenfold. The only thing that could satiate it was Bob, and you had no idea how to ask him.

When he came home and found you curled up on the couch, barely able to move, he’d reheated your heating pad and handed you some more painkillers before taking a second to kiss you. Check in on you.

“How you holding up, bug?”

He’d pulled you into his lap and held you as you sobbed, softly rocking you back and forth while his hands rubbed your back or smoothed your hair. Pressing soft kisses to your forehead or readjusting your heat pad when it slipped.

“I missed you so much,” you choked out.

“I missed you too, bug,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain. I tried to get back a couple days ago but it just wasn’t in our favour.”

“You did?”

He hummed. “I know you can’t move sometimes when the pain is too much, so you fall behind on taking painkillers or fixing your heat pad. It was killing me knowing you’d probably be curled in a ball crying because it was too much.”

You sobbed harder. Held onto him a little tighter. He was so sweet, and you were so fucking in love with him.

“Hey, I’m here now. Hopefully those painkillers will kick in soon, hm? Then I can get a proper ‘welcome home.’”

“I feel so gross and unsexy right now,” you told him.

“You’re the most sexy, beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he confessed. “I want you all the goddamn time. I’ve told you that before. I want you, now. Like this.”

“I’m on my period, Bobby.”

“I don’t care. I take care of my women, no matter what day of the month it is.”

His mouth was on yours. Hot and hard and dominating. An urgency to his actions. Like this conversation had turned him on. And when you turned to straddle his lap, you felt just how much he was turned on.

Moaning as you tugged his hair, only pausing to take his glasses off before his mouth was on yours again. Tasting and sucking. Claiming.

You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you forget it.

You moved to the bedroom to get a little more comfortable. He laid some towels down on the bed, and you slipped into the bathroom to remove your tampon. Arousal heavy in your stomach as your feet carried you back into the room.

He was quick to strip you naked and lay you down on the bed, mouth sucking and teeth nipping at your neck, collarbones, breasts and hips.

His fingers teased your slick folds as his mouth wrapped around your breast. Your back arching as two fingers delved into your heat, thumb rolling over your swollen clit.

His fingers hooked and brushed over your g-spot, and then his mouth was claiming yours again. Fingers working you up until your orgasm crashed over you and he swallowed your moan.

Your body alight with love and lust. Watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped and rolled a condom down his length. A proud look in his eye whenever he caught sight of you.

Spread out and leaking a mix of arousal and blood.

“So fucking sexy,” he rasped out, groaning as he crawled onto the bed. Resting his weight on top of you, pressing kisses along your jaw. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock nudge against your clit, his lips molded with yours as he gripped his cock and entered you.

“Fuck, Bob,” you moaned.

He chuckled lowly as he lifted your legs and prompted you to wrap them around his waist.

He was in no rush, but your body felt alive. Moaning and gasping as he slowly rocked into you, hands buried in his hair while his forehead rested against yours. Lips barely touching, but when they did it was a short, sweet kiss. He wanted to look into your eyes and enjoy every second of this, because it would be a regular thing if you enjoyed it.

“You feel so fucking good, bug,” he whispered breathily, not wanting to speak any louder for fear it might disrupt the mood. The soft, peaceful love making that was happening that was driving you both fucking wild. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, Bobby.”

He loved when you called him by his first name in bed. Especially when the sex was soft and unhurried. “Making love” in the traditional definition wasn’t something you two did often, not in the slow, feel-all-the-emotions sense of the term. No. Every time you had sex you considered it love making, but this was different. More intimate.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Bobby.”

“Cum on my cock, bug. Wanna feel your pussy squeezing my cock,” he goaded. He always knew the right things to say to get you there.

“Harder, please. Fuck me harder,” you pleaded, hands sliding down his back and nails digging into his shoulders.

He rocked his hips a little harder. Thrusts feeling deeper. Your high building and building and building until it crashed down all over him. Heels dug into his ass as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, kissing you hard. Biting your bottom lip. Sucking your tongue into his mouth.

“Cum again for me, bug. I know you can. ‘m gonna cum,” he mumbled breathlessly.

You gasped as his thrusts grew a little more frantic. A little more desperate as he sought his own high. Grunting as he dropped his head into your neck. Your body tightened around him. Squeezing him. Your breathy moans hot against his ear. Nails digging into the flesh of his back, providing a little pain that you knew would get him there faster.

“BobBobBob.”

You chanted his name in time to his thrusts. And then you came undone, back arching and legs tightening around his waist. Squeezing him oh so deliciously until he pinned you beneath his weight and his cum spilled into the condom.

“Oh fuck, fuck yes, fucking hell,” he said, barely able to articulate his thoughts.

“That wa–,”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You held your breath for as long as you could, frantically blinking back tears. Trying to exhale, albeit shakily, and then he was looking at you and the first tear fell.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologised. “It’s too soon. Of course it’s too soon, I just…well, I am. And I couldn’t not tell you. Fuck, don’t cry, bug. I can take it back.”

You laughed through the tears and cupped his face. Legs still wrapped around his waist so he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t take it back,” you begged softly. “I’m just so fucking emotional right now.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No, baby. Not at all. I’m in love with you too, Bob.”

“Don’t fucking scare me like that,” he chastised. “I’m balls deep inside you professing my love for you and you start crying. What was I supposed to think?”

“Don’t yell at me.” You sobbed.

“Hey, bug, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Fuck, we’re a mess, aren’t we?”

“I told you I was on my period.”

“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’m sorry, bug. I’m useless at this, okay? I just want to make you happy.”

“I am happy, that’s why I started crying,” you sniffled, wiping at your tears. “Can we just…go have a shower and build a fort to cuddle in and watch movies?”

He smiled softly at you and gave you a sweet kiss. “Of course we can, bug. Why don’t you get started without me and I’ll clean up here before I join you, hm? I’ll let you wash my hair.”

You beamed at him before kissing him again, tongue licking into his mouth. He kissed you back, enjoying the moment a little longer before you unwrapped your legs and let him slip out of you. He scooped you into his arms, making you laugh as he carried you to the bathroom and set you down in the shower.

“What was that for?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” He cupped your face tenderly, thumb brushing against your cheek as you smiled at him.

[chapinii]

Q!Fit is used to loss. He's used to meeting people he knows won't be sticking around, used to putting on a brave face when they inevitably disappear or are killed beyond the point of respawn. It's collateral damage, part of the day job. Nothing new in the toxic landscape of 2B2T. There's no time to explore any kind of feelings towards anybody else, he's learnt over time that attachments are more often than not futile. Care about something, someone, and it may well be used against you.

His time on Quesadilla island has been different, however. This time he doesn't have that threat, he shouldn't have that threat. This was supposed to be just another mission, a vacation even. Gathering player data is an easy job. The players in question, however, he never imagined himself getting so close to.

Fit never saw himself as a father, in fact, he was lucky to have made it to the age he was now. He was so sure he'd die by the sword. A mercenary, stalking in the shadows of a lava-cast wasteland, both hunter and prey, wearing a bandana around his face to shield himself from the TNT dust which never seemed to settle around him. And now he ties that same bandana around the neck of a boy, his son, an egg so fragile and yet so much like himself. Though a lump still held in his throat when he looked for too long at the boy who played so innocently in the open air, he found solace in knowing that Ramon, unlike him, would grow up surrounded by trust. Against all expectation he'd found himself in a place where (however fucked up behind the scenes it may be) community is everything, and where within it, people are allowed to just Be. He could allow this distraction, his son wouldn't affect the mission too much. His guard was finally, slowly, being let down.

And then along came this strange, slightly unhinged and wonderful man, whose wide excited eyes looked at him with so much admiration and unwavering loyalty. He wasn't used to being seen as human. He hated how easy it felt to push down the guilt of being perceived as such. This vulnerability was new to him, but after keeping so much internalised over the years, he welcomed it. The notion of love was an alien concept back there, where the desires for chaos and destruction were almost carnal in nature. This feeling towards Pac was unlike any other he'd ever felt, a soft and tender mutual understanding of one another. He knew as much about Pac as Pac did about him, and they enjoyed keeping it that way. Even as they were forced to fight against each-other, Fit had taken pride in his roommate's skill and precision in combat, and, even as that competition amped up, he knew all too well the measures that must be taken to survive, and vowed to protect him all the same. Now they were back on the island he enjoyed being the one to stand back for once, he'd admire as Pac would run on ahead with all sorts of plans for the two of them, and bask in the fofoca he would return with for their morning crew.

Of course, the bated breath that still held in his throat was yet to disperse. He'd been the one to help break Pac and Mike out of prison. He sat with Mike and reassured him when Pac was kidnapped. Through Tazercraft he'd come to understand the concept of soulmates, someone you share a bond with throughout your life, platonic or not. He'd also come to know the true meaning of 'saudades', the deep feeling of longing and melancholy that comes with missing something or someone. He didn't want to admit it was something he'd felt all throughout his life. Living on the island had prepared him and Pac for those types of situations, and God knows 2B2T had whacked the mindset into him tenfold. But it didn't make this time hurt any less. Fit had finally set a date with Pac for Friday, albeit a somewhat rearranged one. They were so caught up in everything, in each-other. Things finally seemed to have been looking up for them, and then everything was ripped apart once more. Fit resented not having kept his guard up, for letting himself slip, and not being able to protect Pac before it was too late. He was gone.

That was why taking things slow was so important, he had told Ramon. You can't rush into these things, lest you lose everything for good.

Fit is used to loss. It's all part of the day job.