#the sheer MAGNETISM between them

[potato-on-your-head]

listen Emma Swan is morosexual and exclusively attracted to men who are cringefail in one way or another, the most functional person she sort-of dated was probably Graham and even then their first makeout happened after she'd spent the whole day with him while he was having a nervous breakdown. her other flames include a pretend furniture salesman who fake pined after her until she noticed him, a 200-year-old twentysomething conman who taught her how to commit felonies at age 18, and a pirate who flipped from Kitten Thinks Of Nothing But Murder All Day to puppy-eyed pining for one (1) Emma Swan in the course of like a week. she was a goner the moment Killian Jones sauntered onto the scene. she's kicked his ass. she's seen others kick his ass. she watched him get hit by a fucking car. he said the dumbest flirty shit to her until she mashed her face into his from the sheer sexual tension.

it was always just a contest between which brand of moron she was going to pick in the end. she chose to be ride or die for Hot Eyeliner Pirate and we love her for it

you know who else in funny? Neal. I cannot get over how much of a loser he is. And the fact that he thought he ever stood a chance when it came between him and Hook??? Guy Liner McPuppy Eyes? Emma walks into his his line of sight and his world is instantly rocked. Killian Jones would NEVER get engaged to a random woman on the street because he was too scared to face Emma. Also Neal has zero drip. Man is wearing a dirty t-shirt and sweatpants 100% of the time. Hook is in dashing black pirate attire. He’s got a detachable hook for a hand and has alluded to having ~other~ attachments for it as well. Baelfire calls his dad “papa” despite being a grown man. “When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it. It will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.” Neal baby i’m so sorry but you could nevvvverrrrrrr

[heisttheblackflag]

I said it before and I’ll say it again: speedarms is the mavin of pr1

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA

A/N: Sweet, innocent, puppy-eyed boy who is no better than the frat boys you detest 🤭 (this is for anon who requested a lil crazy special grade sorcerer doing ungodly things!! Shoko feat The Boys ™️ is up next, then I SWEAR I’m done and back to AO3)

C/W: Aged up characters, College AU. Masturbation. Mature, 18+

“YUUTA?! Are you kidding me?”

You stop time.

Heads turn in his direction. But Yuuta doesn’t register any it because of your smile.

The 1000-kilowatt smile that the locker room rumors about. The smile that stops traffic. The one that obliterates his train of thought.

365 days since he’s seen it in person.

And suddently the year in Morocco for his University degree feels frivolous.

Yuuta places two bottles of disgustingly expensive champagne (courtesy of Satoru Gojo) in between the half filled red solo cups.

He’s doing his best to keep his eyes above your delicate, sharp collarbones.

He’s doing his best not to follow the Barbie pink hair string around your neck.

The Barbie pink string connected to the triangular bikini that is defying the laws of gravity, Mother Nature, AND physics to keep your busty, perky chest supported.

Not to mention the sheer netted tissue thin excuse for a cover up. Draped around the curve of your hips. It warms him hotter than the Moroccan sun.

You wire yourself through the crowded sorority house kitchen. And Yuuta gnaws on his inner cheeks. The predatory stares from from the frat drones scattered about ignites a guttural flame.

But he’ll deal with that later.

Because Aphrodite is barreling toward him and he is not worthy.

“I can’t believe you made it!” You launch yourself into him.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Happy 21st birthday, gorgeous.”

One of his arms is more than sufficient enough to wrap around your baby doll frame. Other hand in his pocket, while he easily lifts and spins you around twice.

Airy giggles spill from your lips. So clearly surprised by how strong he has grown. He’s bulkier. More toned. Hell of a lot more confident too.

Is he showing of a little? Of course he is.

“You’re here. You’re really here.” You stare up at him with stars in your eyes. Still in utter disbelief.

Your tiny, warm hands cup his face. Yuuta subconsciously melts into them. You always did strum his body like a harp.

“Yuuta, you must be so tired. Your bedroom eyes are even more…bedroom-y.” You tease.

Yuuta laughs to choke down a groan. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained mulberry right now.

Because why would you mention a bedroom while you are wearing a bikini he could snap with his eyes?

“Hey, be nice! You know there’s no amount of caffeine that can fix the bags.” Good, fucking save.

He swallows thickly and averts his gaze. If he keeps looking at you, he’d drown. Like how he drowned freshman, sophomore and junior year.

A continent, couple oceans and a sea away from you couldn’t keep him afloat.

A palpable silence drapes over the two of you. There’s so much he wants to say.

“Who’s is the hot guy birthday girl is talking to?”

“Okkotsu, I think.”

“No WAY. If she doesn’t fuck him i—“

“OKAY!!!” You exclaim loudly, prompting giggles from your sorority sisters behind you.

Your cheeks are now matching his. You both burst into incredulous laughter, letting some of the pressure out of the proverbial valve.

“Give me a tour, birthday girl.” Yuuta grazes his fingers over your bare shoulders because he can’t not touch you.

Your hand magnets to his wrist and you both beeline up the stairs. He knows, you know, -you both know- you are heading straight to your bedroom.

Yuuta’s heart is throbbing so hard his whole rib cage is vibrating. Cotton lines every corner of his mouth and he’s suddenly forgotten how to swallow.

Forgotten how to breathe apparently too, because he chokes on air when you pull him to the front of your room door.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse playfully.

And now his cock is at full staff. The measly silver zipper is definitely not strong enough for this.

“I-Im sorry?” Yuuta gurgles through the saliva pooled in his mouth like a hungry puppy.

“It’s a pool party, silly. C’mon, you can use my bathroom to change.”

Yuuta makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop down the dip of your pretty spine. Tracing all the way down to your matching bikini bottom. That’s a thong. Lining between your perfect, plump ass.

God.

No.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He follows behind you, nails digging into his dark jeans.

“Bathroom’s through the closet, be quick.” You flash him another pristine grin and…and..

..what is his name again…?

Yuuta returns your smile with a lopsided one of his own. The walk to the bathroom is 13 miles long. There’s no way. No way he’s going to be able to hide his unreasonable, rock hard length through his weightless swim trunks.

He halts. Suddenly enchanted by your hanging clothes. Like a Venus fly trap. You’re everywhere.

Your clothes. Your delicious scent. Your jewelry. Your shoes.

Yuuta is in the eye of your vortex.

A long, silky sleeve tickles his cheek. So soft. Electric currents surge through every engorged vessel in his cock. He takes in a long drag of the faint cherry vanilla notes etched into your clothes.

An addict. A hopeless, pathetic addict in a field of his vices.

His fingers earthquake against his buckle. Clumsily stepping out of his jeans.

Just a quick touch. It’ll help him relax. Just really fast, you won’t know.

Yuuta whips around to bury himself in your silk shirt. Heart thundering in his ears. Fingers tickling the hem of his trunks. Shaft fully tented from nothing.

“Yuuta? Did you get lost in there?” Your dulcet voice knock Yuuta’s lust-drunk thoughts loose.

“Ha-N-no! I’m c-coming!”

Yuuta shakily unbuttons his white linen shirt, exposing his lean but chisled core. His cock is diamond hard. Any slight movement and his blunt, leaky tip will peek over the hem.

He strategically folds his pants over the indecent bulge. He just has to count backwards from 500 then he’ll soften and leave the jeans behind.

“Come out!! I won’t bite!” You coax again.

The second Yuuta re-emerges from your closet, he digs the heel of his palm into his crotch. Trying to will his erection down by sheer force because counting just won’t do.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning against your palms flat on the duvet.

Your bikini has grown smaller.

It has to have.

Because the way your supple tits spill around the cruel joke that is that top fucks his brain to mush.

Soft curvy lines of your breasts. Feminine pretty lines of your tummy. The swell of your thighs just begging for Yuuta’s lips, his hands…his dick. He could drop to his knees and worship at your alter this second.

“Oh my god!” You giggle again, waving him over to the bed.

“You’re so, big, now.” Your hand lingers on his tensed bicep, currently losing the war against his cock angrily thrashing around in his pants.

“Am I?” Yuuta asks stupidly. Long sentences are off the table.

“Mmhm,” he watches your eyes lazily drink in his face. He must be an embarrassing shade of violet at this point.

Your hand makes its way into his hair and Yuuta just couldn’t choke down the “ohh,” that bubbles out of him.

“God, I’ve missed you, Yuuta.” Your face is so soft. So earnest.

And Yuuta is there with you, he swears he is. It’s just, you’re speaking directly to his cock right now and all the blood has drained from his head to his head.

“I mi-missed you. More.” He manages to grunt out, precum pooling on his thigh.

Hold it together. Fucking hold it together.

You turn your body and scoot closer to him. The peaks and valley of your cleavage, tantalizing him into a mindless fool who can only think about fucking his fist.

“Guys here suck. But not you. You’ve always been amazing,” you murmur, circling feather light shapes against Yuuta’s scalp.

He shudders under your touch. Biting his cheeks so his jaw doesn’t hang open. Drool already threatening to leak from his lips.

“So kind and sweet.” Your eyes drop to his lips at the same that your hand falls to his tensed abs.

And Yuuta is caught in your quick sand. His limbs loosen. Hand on his crotch melts away. Allowing his member to spring upward with all the blood he has in his body. The sudden movement causes his jeans to slide to the floor.

His ears and cheeks burn at his indecency. But he can’t move. He is at your complete mercy. His cock rhythmically pumping out his precum now.

“I..” Yuuta croaks, but in one dizzying motion you dive your lips onto his.

He snaps.

Yuuta’s left hand flies to his neglected, weapy shaft. The friction through his thin trunks evoke a deep moan into your mouth. His other hand grips the back of your head, pressing you forward onto his tongue. He didn’t ask for entry into your lips like he normally would. It’s too dire. He’s too needy.

His hand pumps his length while his tongue maps every corner of your warm mouth. You let out soft, high pitched sighs. Which nearly bring him to finish instantly.

“Oh, Yuuta.” You moan his name. And Yuuta’s hips rut harder into his hands.

He’s hoping, praying you’re too distracted by the bruising kiss to notice the pitiful way he’s bucking his hips. Humping his hand. He’s no better than the guys you were talking about. No better.

“OH BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!!” Shrill voices from just outside your door rip you two a mile apart.

Yuuta scrambles to his feet, his arm unsuccessfully covering his crotch. You are panting, thumb stroking your bottom lip. Both of you still brimming with your electric chemistry.

“Enough birthday sex!!! Time for TEQUILA!” Your sorority sisters babble and laugh, about 2 seconds away from opening the door.

You grip the handle. Face and body flushed warm rose.

“I-I-uh I have to-“

“Ye—yeah of course, I’ll meet you, down. I’ll meet you down there.”

Both of your voices nervously collide. Looking everywhere but each other’s eyes. You flutter out in haste. Leaving Yuuta in the middle of your room rock hard and a pre cum covered mess.

Like leaving a fiend with an array of illicit substances.

Yuuta turns on his heel and disappears into your closet. He’s not thinking. Logical thought has long ceased to exist. All he can think about is how much his balls ache for you. How drunk he is off your touch. Your taste. Your smell.

His eyes laser down to a crumpled pair of lace panties just a few paces away from your hamper.

Yuuta’s gaze could burn it through the floor.

Stop, Yuuta. Don’t you dare.

He scolds himself. Even though his hands do the opposite. He drops to his knees and pulls his heavy cock free from its barrier. The other hand toying with your worn panties.

He’s filthy. A dirty, nasty scumbag.

Yuuta tugs his cock, aggressively. Jaw hanging open. Short desperate huffs of air escaping his lips.

No, don’t. Stop. “Nnhhgh s-top…fuck..n-no.” His jagged thoughts and jagged words intertwine. Squelching noises from his arousal pierce through his groans.

Yuuta brings your panties to his nose, and nearly blacks out. Your scent. So fucking delicious. So perfect.

He needs to taste.

His groans become garbled when he stuffs your panties into his mouth. Every single nerve ending in his body ruptures.

Yuuta pumps his cock with both hands. Feverish. Sloppy thrusts of his hips colliding with his white knuckled fists. The world around him dampens. Blurs.

“Nnnghh..uhhgh..f-FUCK,”

Your spit-drenched underwear rolls out of his mouth onto his sensitive tip. Ropes, and ropes and ropes of his cum fill your soft négligée.

Yuuta hangs his head back, leaning against his calves. His dick still twitching through his nirvana.

After a few moments, the fog slowly lifts from his mind. His vision returns. Yuuta wipes the remnants of his arousal off his cock with your panties. Before tucking them into his pocket.

Unable to look himself in the eye, he quickly rinses his hands, intending to rejoin your party at once.

But, when his hand connects with the cold knob, a voice in the back of his mind pipes up.

Take another one.

And in a trance-like state, Yuuta rushes back to your closet hamper to find another pair of your panties.

A pretty, delicate red number catches his eyes and he stuffs it into a free pocket before scurrying out of your room.

He’s no better than them.

He’s worse.

PART II

[paarksunghoon]

hyung line requestttttt

Getting high with Sunghoon but he has an oral fixation — 🦔

u get me.

***

“Open up.”

Sunghoon’s deep, raw voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your body feels heavy as you sit on the couch, almost as if you were a magnet drawn to a surface. He’s holding a joint between his fingers as you turn your head to look at him and his eyes focus on your mouth. You do as he says.

The joint between your lips feels natural. He lights the end until smoke is visible and watches the way you inhale while keeping eye contact. When your lungs breathe in the euphoric property, you avert your head to look at the ceiling and blow the smoke away from him.

“You get hotter every time.” That makes you laugh.

“Are you turned on watching me smoke, baby?”

Sunghoon nods and takes a small drag for himself and puts his palm on your thigh. “Makes me wanna fuck you.”

“O-Oh yeah?” The smoothness of his hand slides up and down slowly like he’s trying to hold himself back. His fingertips toy with the hem of his shirt on your chest and dips his fingers until they’ve disappeared just a little.

Sunghoon didn’t get high much before meeting you. It was more of a casual thing, maybe once in a blue moon if someone else offered and if he felt good enough to do it. There was partial curiosity in marijuana but Sunghoon panicked at the thought of trying it by himself.

Meeting you happened by chance at a party two months ago. It was mildly chilly as winter turned into spring when he stood next to you in Heeseung’s basement, leaning his back against a wall with your mixed friend groups standing in a circle.

Something about your quick whips tugged at his heartstrings. He laughed at your jokes and didn’t mind it when your shoulder bumped against his when you talked. It almost felt intimate in that way. You were two strangers who met each other an hour prior and there he was, looking at your lips every chance he got.

Sunghoon doesn’t quite know how he did it, but he managed to score your number by the end of the night. You called him cute and made his ears flush. When he confided in you about wanting to get high but being afraid to do so, you told Sunghoon to be with people who make him feel safe.

He grew infatuated with you and the way you encouraged him to be more outspoken if he wanted something. You were so cool in a way he wish he was but he chalks it up to the confidence you’ve built for yourself. So carefree and lighthearted, you took life’s challenges with stride and refused to let yourself get knocked down. It was inspiring to see you be unapologetic about yourself. There wasn’t anyone in the world who could push you down because you wouldn’t let them.

Two weeks into knowing you, the two of you hooked up for the first time in the backseat of his car after a night of banter and sexual tension. He pulled over the side of the road in the dead of night and beckoned you to the backseat. Too horny to think, he gave you one chance to pass on him before pulling his dick out of his pants.

There was little foreplay because of the angle and the sheer urgency since you were in public. But that wasn’t a problem because you became extreme aroused when Sunghoon started to manhandle you with the kind of confidence he’d never shown you before. He pulled your panties off of your body and spread your legs with his strength and watched you ooze out your arousal and pushed his dry tip against you.

He let it glide up and down with rushed hips until he was dipping the tip inside. He felt so good even with just this taste. Sunghoon moans and felt your pussy clench around him when he pulled out to put a condom on. He fucked you so hard the car shook with vigor until the two of you lay together well spent, and you had wondered how you could get him to be so forward with you again.

That moment began your friends-with-benefits arrangement with him. Somehow, as he got closer to you, Sunghoon felt enough with you to get truly high for the first time.

It was cute, the way he coughed the first time smoking a joint. You kissed his cheek and told him to take a small breath and hold it in longer than he thinks he needed to. He followed your instructions and you praised him for being so good at listening.

The two of you don’t go anywhere farther than grinding when you’re both inebriated. The thrill of it all is euphoric to Sunghoon no matter if it seems unconventional. You’ve talked about it—having sex while high is on a bucket list for the two of you—and agreed that if it felt right, why not try it?

So now you sit facing Sunghoon as you watch him expertly inhale a puff of smoke and push his lips against yours. It travels into your mouth and the proximity of his lips makes you shudder. Sunghoon keeps his hand on you and pries your legs open slowly.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers as he pecks your mouth. His plump lips feel like pillows. Sunghoon drags his fingers across the hem of your panties, tracing the fabric before sliding his fingers up and down your slit. “God, you’re so wet, too.”

His soft touch tingles in a way that travels to your toes. Sunghoon comes closer to lick your neck before pressing small kisses over it. The sensation is astounding. Every nerve in your body is alert and you’ve never felt more aroused in your entire life.

“I’m so lucky to get to fuck you,” he says against your neck. “I’ve never had anyone better.”

And, well, that’s true. You knew he had a girlfriend before you but when you both started to open up about sexual history and preferences, you learned that Sunghoon’s ex girlfriend didn’t quite meet him halfway.

His confession makes you clench but your words get stuck in your throat with his sudden confession. It turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sunghoon pulls your panties off completely and kneels on the floor until his face hovers over you.

“Can I?”

Within a fraction of a second of you nodding, Sunghoon’s sticking his tongue out and licking a fat stripe up your core. It’s astonishing the way he maintains being anywhere between dominant and desperate when he’s high. It’s like his brain can’t choose how he wants to act and so his desires come out without abandon. His typically hesitant self is replaced by someone who isn’t afraid to show you how badly he wants you.

Sunghoon lets his spit drip down his tongue until your pussy’s wet enough to glisten. He licks it all up and pushes his tongue harder against you until he feels your toes pressing against his back as you arch yourself into his mouth.

You can tell he’s into it when he allows you to suffocate him. Sunghoon doesn’t resist much when your legs close around his head. In fact, you think he might enjoy being restricted like this because his tongue pushes into you like he’s trying to memorize what you feel like against his wet muscle. In and out does he move his mouth and every pass makes your legs feel like they’re about to fall apart.

He moans into you when he feels your fingers carding through his hair and tugging on the strands whenever he pushes his tongue into you harder. Sunghoon doesnt care that his mouth and chin have become sopping wet with your arousal and his spit. He welcomes the mess, even.

Sunghoon pulls his head back just a little to see the way you look down at him. The eye contact makes you clench and he chuckles straight into your pussy, which makes your toes curl and back arch even higher from the couch beneath you.

He looks like a sex god at this angle and you’re sure some divine power from above must’ve loved you enough to give you someone as handsome and as caring as Sunghoon. His hands are so gentle on your thighs, caressing your soft skin while his tongue licks your slit like you’re his favorite treat he’s trying to savor.

Sunghoon always brings you across the finish line and it’s something you appreciate about him. He moves his tongue with precision, even if patterns he draws feel random at best. In the time he’s gotten to know you intimately, you’ve been wondering if he’s learning about your body every time he sees you naked.

He coaxes you into an orgasm when you push your hands into his. Sunghoon immediately clasps his fingers in yours and eases the pressure on your core once your release hits his tongue. He laps it up like he hasn’t had a sip of water in days and cleans you up to the best of his ability. Sunghoon’s tongue feels so soft and gentle as you come down from your orgasm but the high from the marijuana is still a lingering presence, aiding in your euphoric come down.

The two of you look at each other like you know there’s an unspoken presence between the two of you. For now, Sunghoon smiles at you in the way he does when he’s trying to figure out a way to tell you he likes you without directly saying it.

You silence him with a kiss and hope he knows you like him too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

CHAPTER TWO:

You two were a tangle of tipsy limbs, moving constantly. At some point in the night, you had found yourself on top of him, skin to skin, with no barrier between the two of you; Kento felt like he was drowning in you. It was a push-and-pull movement. A dance of some sort, with you straddling him, helping him guide his dick into your dripping cunt, that squeezed in anticipation for him.

Nanami knew he wouldn’t last long, but as he sunk into you, the idea of even holding in the waves of pleasure that drowned him was impossible. 

He came hard and loud; fat globs of his semen shot into you and seeped out with the continued slamming of his hips. Kento didn’t even get a chance to moan your name before he was cumming again. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He gasped, eyes rolled to the back, and his head dug deep into your neck, licking a strip of sweat that coated your skin. His hands squeezed at your plush flesh so hard you knew you would feel the linger of his pints on you days from now. Kento didn’t even need to ask before you were giving him more and more and m–

Waking up to damp pants is something that Kento hadn’t done in years, and it was just as mortifying today as it was when he was fourteen. His fists still clung to the pillows near him, and his thighs were sore from chafing. The man could only assume the worst, which was that he humped his sheets like a depraved whore, to a wet dream about a woman he knew nothing about.

How perfect.

Kento got to his feet, ignoring the sticky feeling of his orgasm, clinging to his pajama pants to his dick, which was still undeniably challenging. The man moved to pull off his sheets and threw them in a basket to deal with later.

Nanami had placed you in his spare room with some old clothes and a toothbrush, hoping you would be sober enough to change yourself; he left you there with a simple goodnight, not turning back to see if you had closed the door on him or waiting for the sound of the door's lock clicking. 

Kento stripped and went to the bathroom, not daring to leave his room. He wouldn’t dare face you right now, not with a boner and a very obvious cum stain painting his pants. But it wasn’t just his appearance that kept him away from you; it was the sheer fact that you, for some reason, occupied his dreams and made him ruin his bed sheets. 

How could he even try to look you in the eye after that? Nanami’s idea was to wait you out, hoping you would leave in an embarrassed rush out his door with nothing but a note, email, or nothing at all, just the soft scent of your skin lingering in his room.  And even though a small part of him hoped you had stayed, a tiny part of him chose to squash that feeling down to the deepest depths of his soul, where memories of believing in Santa and monsters under the bed went—a place where the hopes of romance went to die a long time ago.

Cold showers should work. Nanami has never had to take one, but he knows they should. It isn’t, though, and in fact, all it was doing was increasing Kento’s chances of coming down with something. Moving the shower controls to the hot side, Kento decided to take things into his own hands. If a cold shower wasn’t going to get rid of his pulsating problem, he would just have to get rid of it himself.

As his hand moved to tug at his cock, images of you and only you seemed to fill his mind. Kento, of course, had masturbated before; the act was nothing new to him. But pleasuring himself was more of a distraction or stress relief. A brief act to clear his mind or pass the time. It was rarely ever a thing of lust. So as he let his eyes roll back and his mouth part open, almost letting out a loud moan, he didn't try to stop himself from picturing you before him, perfectly naked and prettily sitting on your knees as you went to pleasure him.

Kento could almost feel the heat of your skin coming off of you, hear the sounds of your gags as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. Each groan that left him was because of you, your voice, your body, and that stupid birthday cake. He tried his best to keep his moans in; he did, but as he came, the whisper of your name left him, following closely behind a long, drawn-out moan. 

Kento felt faint, and tired all over again.

“Christ,” he whispered, letting the hot shower water wash over him. It felt as though he was losing his mind. How you had this much power over him, he didn’t know, but if this were going to be a recurring thing, he would need to find a new way to get rid of his not-so-little problem if he would have to see you almost every day at work.

***

Fortunately, when he stepped out of his room, gray sweats and white shirt on, you were nowhere to be seen. The door was still shut, so he couldn’t tell if you were there, but he would not check. Kento made his way to the kitchen and began making breakfast. 

Once done, he went to the spare room; each step felt like walking through cement. “What would he even say to you?” He thought as he now stood at the door, the only barrier between the two of you if you were even in there. But it swung open before he could figure out how to talk to you or even knock on the door. And there you stood, tired and hungry. Nanami’s figure loomed over yours as you rubbed your eyes of any remaining sleep.

Kento Nanami never imagined that the first time a woman would be in his apartment wearing his clothes would be with a coworker he barely knew. But here you were, wearing one of his old university tees and gym shorts and looking devastatingly beautiful in Kento’s eyes.

“Mr. Nanami?” You blinked at him.

“Miss, Y/N, you are awake,” Kento said, hands full of water, painkillers, and breakfast. “This is for you.” He raised his hands slightly to emphasize the toast and eggs. But before you could take the tray and embarrassingly turn away back into the spare room, he walked to the kitchen, tilting his head and telling you to follow him. 

And as he set everything down on his table and pulled out a chair for you at the head of the table, you couldn’t help but stare at him. It wasn’t the tiredness that made you want to inspect every muscle that seemed to cling to his white tee, which was a size too small, in your opinion. And you couldn’t blame the staring on being drunk, either. It was all you, all you and your sex-depraved mind that seemed to make your eyes rake him, once or twice or maybe even thrice, as he got you situated at his dining table.

“I didn’t know if you were still here, but I made breakfast just in case,” Kento said, sitting beside you with his plate of food, keeping his eyes away from your face with every word spoken. 

“Thank you.” You responded quietly, shuffling your way to the food and medicine, and passed the man you had only known for fifteen hours.

“Kento, with a hint of concern in his voice, offered, ‘If it isn’t to your tastes, I don’t mind whipping up something new or even dashing downstairs. A grocery store is right beneath us, catering to all building tenants.’ His gaze, for the first time since you dozed off on the train, met your face.

“No! No. It is fine. Perfect, actually.” 

Even without conversation, the silence between you and your companion was far from awkward. It felt quite natural to exist in this small, quiet bubble that the two of you currently occupied. It was as though the simple act of waking up and eating breakfast was something you had done a thousand times before and would do a million times again. 

“You can use my bathroom to wash up,” Kento said as he collected your plates, 

“Oh, don’t worry about me; I just got a taxi. I will wash up when I get home.”

“Oh.” A slight frown painted his face before his expression turned neutral and distant. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to hold you up here on such a beautiful Saturday morning.”

“Thank you. Truly, Mr. Nanami.” You smiled slightly as you retreated to your room to pick up your clothes. “

“I only did what any person should have.”

“Just because they should doesn’t mean they would have. So thank you again.” 

As you stood at his apartment door, you rose on your tiptoes and kissed him, a quick peck on the outskirts of his lips. One that expressed gratitude for his unwavering kindness, and quelled the growing desire that had been stirring within you, urging you to just kiss him already. It wasn’t a passionate, clothes-on-the-floor kind of kiss, or one where your tongues collided. Yet, it conveyed exactly what you needed it to.

“Thank you, I hope we can do this again,” whatever this was.

But for Kento, this kiss burned into his skin like hot iron on leather. The invisible marking of you had been placed on him, and now Kento Nanami was sure that he would never be able to get rid of it.

But you were gone before he could hold you in his arms and ask you to do it again and again and a thousand more times after that.

Preview...

“You make it seem like I am some kind of succubus.”

“You might as well be Y/N.”

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123 @ureuphoriasworld @jaeminsmilk @rileyglas @bonnieblue0606 @alwaysfreakingout @lovelyiida @ayesayman @dreamgirl5300 @swoozleee @belle-oftheball34 @zeunys @yuzu-ku @aomi04 @y0urpr3ttyp0ck3tpussy @zombriesworld

CHAPTER THREE UPLOADED

[hajoon-iz-won]

Magnetic Force of a Man

smut 18+ mdni

Pairing: ceo!Jay x worker!Y/N

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, dom!Jay, impregnation, dirty talk, fingering, pussy fucking, female masturbation, age gap (4 years), exhibitionism, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I cursed as I stared down at the tear in my brand new sheer pantyhose. "Run-proof my ass! "

Shaking my head in dismay, I quickly looked around the large underground parking garage, praying to God that no one could see or hear me as I hurriedly positioned myself between my front door and the driver's seat of my beige sedan, hiking my lavender pencil skirt up to my ass, and then slid the ruined pair of hose the rest of the way down my legs.

Thankfully, I packed an extra pair!

I sat down on the side of the car seat and removed my violet high heels, almost like I was pulling out the replacements, taking them from the packing and quickly began slipping my feet inside.

The voice of a man said abruptly, "Yes, that's right."

My breath caught in my throat, I paused and turned to see the source of the voice. I was stunned by what I saw and halted abruptly, my new pantyhose halfway up my legs.

He had a great appearance. He was sitting at least fifty feet away from me, yet I could still see the platinum shine of his watch as he raised his left arm to check the time. He was dressed elegantly in a navy blue suit. His shiny black low-cut hair must have reached at least five eleven" in height.

With a dark satchel clasped in his right hand, he confidently walked towards the elevator labeled "PRIVATE." His broad shoulders, confident gait, and commanding presence evoked the image of a male model seen in GQ publications. His whole demeanor was confident.

I could tell that he was chatting to someone else and not about me or my pantyhose dilemma when a blue light blinked next to his ear. He never even gave me a sidelong glance.

I eventually snapped back to reality as he slid behind one of the pillars and finished pulling on my pantyhose. I tucked my skirt in and put my stilettos back on, eager to begin my first day of training as an executive assistant for Park Industries within the enormous, imposing Park Business building. (It seems the corporation required more than one because it was so large.)

I'd never seen or heard of Jay Park, the CEO of the company, before applying for this job. Even though I had looked him up online, all the pictures I could find of him included him wearing dark sunglasses and hats, which made me think he was probably a very secretive person. It appeared that he would much rather maintain a very low profile than be in the spotlight.

Nothing could have prepared me for the day I visited the Park Building for the first time, even though I had finished an internship at a Fortune 500 corporation close to my college campus.

My first interview had been with a woman named Son Eunsaem. She'd had a highly professional appearance and a no-nonsense attitude. She hadn't smiled once during the interview.

I was surprised when I got a call back for a second interview. That was where I met the other executive assistants. Park Industries had an executive assistant for each and every department in the company, and I had applied to the marketing department.

And I started working on the actual job today. At nine o'clock, I had my official orientation meeting, and then I was meant to meet with Jay Park, the company's CEO.

On their first day of work, all new hires were required to meet with the CEO, who was said to like having face-to-face meetings with each and every one of his staff members. I'll admit that I was anxious, but I was also interested to see this billionaire's true appearance.

The thirty-story building housed the marketing department on its twenty-fifth floor. At the orientation, there was another new hire in addition to me. Ryu Hanbin was his name, and he had been employed in the software department.

At orientation, our ID cards were issued to each of us. We were granted entry to the elevators, break facilities, and exits reserved for employees only. My heart started to race inside my chest as the orientation was coming to a conclusion.

Hanbin and I were taken to a private employee elevator and showed how to use our ID cards to operate it. Jay Park's office was on the top floor, and that's where our orientation leader, a middle-aged woman named Won Chaerin, led us up.

As the elevator door opened at the pinnacle floor, we had been greeted with the aid of using a short, stout, but very neat and well-groomed bald guy with a cleanly-shaven face in a vibrant purple pantsuit.

"Welcome to Park Land,” he stated with a welcoming grin as he reached out to shake our hands. "That's what we name the pinnacle floor, right here." He appeared to laugh after each sentence he spoke. “My call is Jinyoung, however all of us right here calls me Jin.” Another laugh.

What a unusual guy, I thought.

He led us down a hallway that ended with a reception table and a small living room area. There had been high-returned black leather-based chairs and a large flat-display tv withinside the ready area. There additionally regarded to be a bar of a few kind in the back of the reception table.

"Y'all can simply make yourselves comfortable whilst I allow Mr. Park recognize you are right here,” he instructed us with every other laugh earlier than sashaying returned to his spot in the back of the reception table.

"Thank you,” I instructed him as I took a seat in one of the leather-based chairs and crossed my legs.

As I sat ready, my heart commenced to overcome so rapid that it felt like it'd leap up out of my throat at any second. A stolen look over at Hanbin noticed his foot nervously tapping in opposition to the carpeted floor, and I felt relieved that I wasn't the simplest worried individual withinside the room.

A second later, the telephone on Jin's table rang, and he spoke back it on speaker.

"Send Ms. Y/L/N in first,” the voice said in a deep, authoritative tone.

"Right away, sir," Jin answered as he glanced over towards me.

I stood up and accompanied him down but every other lengthy hallway, with stylish artwork lining the partitions and porcelain statues each few feet.

At the quit of the hall, there has been a fancy-searching door with a platinum door knob.

"Knock, knock,” Jin said in a singsong-like voice as he knocked on it twice before turning the knob and pushing it open. “Ms. Y/L/N, meet Mr. Jay Park.”

He waited for me to step inside the large, elaborately decorated office before shutting the door behind me.

I stood there, with my back to the door and my orientation folder in my hand, not sure what to do next. Mr. Park had his head down and was doing something on his phone, but as soon as the door closed, he looked directly up at me, and my jaw almost hit the floor in utter awe.

Jay Park was none other than the sexy, model-esque man who'd been walking through the employee parking garage earlier.

I knew I was staring, but I didn't care. The man was a real-life Adonis.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. Come. Have a seat.”

It was more of an order than a request, but I didn't mind. He had the most hypnotizing pair of eyes. They were a deep, dark br, and I felt as if I could get lost in them if I stared too long.

He didn't smile, but he didn't frown. He was eyeing me curiously as I made my way over to the chair in front of his huge, rectangular desk. I felt as if he was sizing me up for something... something other than just this job position.

"So, Ms. Y/L/N, you are twenty-four and you have an MS in Business Management. Impressive. What are your plans in the next five years?”

I felt completely on the spot. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"Well, I'm hoping to be working a job I love, maybe get promoted, and start moving up in the ranks."

"Hmm," he said quietly.

I leaned forward a bit and noticed that he had a folder open with my resume, cover letter, and some photos of me inside.

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

My heart sped up and began to beat harder than ever. He had removed his suit jacket, and his white silk shirt hugged his toned upper body with flair, accenting the broadness of his shoulders.

I shook my head and swallowed hard as my body temperature began to rise. No man had ever had such a profound effect on me. I could actually feel heat starting to build within my core and a noticeable tingling between my thighs.

He walked around to the back of my chair and stood behind me. My heart was beating a billion beats per minute.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

I shuddered at the feel of his breath against my lobe. My body was completely on fire for this man, and he hadn't even touched me. I was at a loss for words.

I wanted to glance up at him, but I was frozen in place like a stone statue, and all I could do was sit there facing forward as I waited to see what was going to happen next. From behind me, I heard him inhale deeply and then exhale slowly.

“Ahh, your perfume is intoxicating, but I sense something else about you, Ms. Y/L/N. You are in your prime,” he stated sensuously, his voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips were so close to my neck that his breath felt hot against my skin. It caused a shiver to run down my spine, and I had to muster every ounce of strength to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

Then, suddenly, he stood straight up and walked back around to the other side of his desk, and his demeanor had returned to a strictly professional one.

"Mrs. Son was quite impressed with you and spoke very highly of your interview," he said plainly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Really? Wow," I replied.

"You sound surprised," he said with a slight grin. "I know she can come across as somewhat ‘rigid, but it's all just part of how she does her job. She's extremely professional and would make an excellent poker player, no doubt.”

He chuckled slightly at his comment, and I uttered a small giggle as well.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be a definite asset to Park Industries, Ms. Y/L/N. Welcome to the team,” he said with a smile.

His smile revealed a set of the most perfect pearly whites I had ever seen up close. While staring at them, I almost missed the fact that he'd also extended his hand to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Park,” I said nervously, returning his smile with one of my own.

"You have a lovely smile, Ms. Y/L/N," he stated softly, still holding onto my hand after I'd stopped shaking it.

“Thanks,” I said coyly, tearing my eyes away from his before I became completely lost in them.

He ran his thumb slowly across the side of my hand before finally letting it go. That small, simple touch from him only added more fuel to the fire that was already building in my loins.

“Ms. Y/L/N? ”He called out to me just as I was about to leave his office.

"Yes?" I replied, turning around to look at him one more time.

"I'm having a small meeting this evening at the Italy Garden restaurant. The dress code is semi-formal. Can you be ready by 7:00?”

"Uhh, yes. Certainly, Mr. Park,” I replied, caught completely off guard.

"Great. I'll send a car to your place at 7:00, then.”

I left his office feeling flustered in more ways than one. It had been more than a year since I'd last had sex, and my attraction to Mr. Park was anything but subtle. He had a magnetic effect on me, one that I knew I was incapable of fighting.

I walked swiftly down the hall, past the small lounge where Hanbin was still seated, and into the ladies' restroom directly adjacent to Jin's reception desk. Breathing hard, I went into one of the stalls, set my folder down on the back of the commode, hiked my skirt up to my waist, and yanked my pants down to my thighs.

Panting like an animal in heat, I sat down on the seat and spread my legs.

"Mmm," I muttered as I closed my eyes and placed my right hand on the crotch of my thin satin pants.

Yanking my pants to the side, I exposed my moist, partially-swollen bud and began to massage it. Another moan escaped my lips as I bucked my hips and rubbed my pussy faster and harder.

I imagined that Mr. Park was in the bathroom stall with me and that he had pulled my pants to the side. It was his lips and tongue against my throbbing, swollen bulb, causing sighs and moans of delight to escape my mouth and sending me into a frenzy of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” I murmured softly as I pictured him rubbing the head of his hard, pulsating cock against my slick, hot slit.

I imagined his hands grabbing my ass cheeks and squeezing them hard in a fit of primal, uncontrollable passion. I pictured him entering me slowly at first, until his rock-hard dick was deep inside my pussy, stretching me to the limit.

"Fuuuck," I whispered as I plunged my fingers as deep into my warm, wet tunnel as they would go. "Yesss! Fuck me, Mr. Park!"

I imagined his cock moving in and out of me, faster and harder, fucking like wild animals as we both got closer and closer to our climaxes. Completely and totally engulfed in how unbelievably good the sex felt, neither one of us even cared that we were fucking unprotected.

"I want you to cum inside me, Mr. Park,” I imagined telling him. “Oh fuck, yessss! Cum in my pussy! Fill me up with your cum."

I didn't even care if I got pregnant or not; I just needed to feel his hot cum inside of me.

I was right on the brink of my orgasm, and I could already tell it was going to be a really good one. As I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, I pictured myself biting down on Mr. Park's ear to stifle my passion-filled moans.

My legs began to shake, and my hips bucked uncontrollably as a powerful climax wracked my entire body. I imagined Mr. Park squeezing my ass cheeks hard as his cock squirted into my cunt, filling me to the brim.

"Ohhh," I whispered, uttering a sigh of satisfaction as my orgasm began to wane.

After taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow, I quickly cleaned myself up, left the restroom, and headed back down to the 25th floor to finish out my workday.

I had just finished putting on my makeup when I noticed it was 6:45. The dress I had selected for tonight's meeting was a long, form-fitting silver cocktail gown I'd bought last spring. It was elegant, with a touch of sex appeal. The back dipped below the waist, and the front wrapped around the neck.

At 6:54, I heard a horn blow outside of my apartment. I slid into a pair of silver stiletto sandals, grabbed a small silver purse, and headed outside.

"Wow!" I exclaimed when I saw the pearly white stretch limousine waiting at the curb.

A tuxedo-clad chauffer opened my door for me and helped me into the back seat.

The inside of the limousine was immaculate! There was a fully-stocked bar with liquor, wine, and champagne. There were wine glasses on a glass shelf next to the bar. There was also a small fridge with fruits, cheeses, and other exotic-looking snack foods.

I helped myself to a glass of champagne and turned on the satellite radio to listen to on the way to the restaurant.

When we arrived about twenty minutes later, the chauffeur helped me out of the limo, and I walked inside. An older male host in a black and white suit was standing at a podium near the entrance.

"Good evening, Madam. Welcome to the Italy Garden restaurant. Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

“Umm, yes. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here for a dinner meeting with Mr. Jay Park,” I replied anxiously, trying hard to hide how nervous I truly was.

The five-star dining facility was way out of my league and price range. I had never been in a place so upscale and fancy. There were scores of expensive-looking pictures hanging on the walls and exquisite artifacts and statues in and around the corners.

I followed the host to a luxurious VIP balcony area where Jay Park was already seated and waiting for me.

"You look amazing, Ms. Y/L/N," he said, flashing that billion-dollar smile that made me want to melt right where I stood.

"Thank you," I replied shyly, returning a smile his way.

The host pulled out my chair, and I sat down.

"I've taken the liberty to order us a bottle of the finest champagne this place has to offer,” he told me with a grin. “What are you in the mood for?”

I couldn't pronounce a single dish on the menu.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said softly, closing my menu and setting it to the side. I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of our waiter.

"This champagne is delightful," I exclaimed before taking another sip.

"Only the best for a woman as perfect as you, Y/N," Jay stated sweetly.

It was the first time he'd ever called me by my first name. I could feel my cheeks reddening as I smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"So where are the rest of the meeting attendees?” I asked inquisitively as I glanced around the area we were seated in.

"This meeting is just for you and me, Y/N," Jay said in a sultry tone of voice. "There's something about you, Y/N, that drives me crazy. Ever since you walked into my office, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

I felt the same way about him. He was definitely the most attractive, magnetic, and alluring man I had ever met. I was just too shy to tell him so.

Dinner was absolutely incredible. The food was delicious, and I'd probably had a bit more champagne than I'd actually intended to drink. After a perfect meal, Jay led me back out to the limousine, and we both got into the backseat.

As we talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, and future plans while drinking top shelf champagne, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't even asked him where we were headed. Before I could even form the words to inquire, the limo slowed to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked, just as the chauffeur opened the door.

“My place,” Jay replied with a grin. “I hope that's okay with you. There's something I want to show you."

Normally, I would have thought twice about going to the home of a man I'd just met, but there was just something about Jay that made him all but irresistible to me.

His house was beyond magnificent. The outside of it took up damned-near an entire city block, and the front yard stretched out around the sides of the house. There was a huge, circular, paved driveway at the front, and the limo had stopped directly in the middle.

I couldn't even imagine what it was he wanted to show me. I felt both excited and anxious simultaneously.

Taking my hand inside his, he proceeded to lead me through his humongous residence, showing me all of the different paintings and other extraordinary decor and informing me of the countries from which they'd been ordered. Finally, we came to this nice, dimly lit room with a beautiful faux fireplace against the rear wall. My eyes widened in amazement as we entered the romantic-looking space hand-in-hand.

"Wowww!" I exclaimed, as I had done several hundred times since we'd first gotten out of the limo. "This room is so..."

“Enchanting? ”Jay stated in a questioning tone, finishing my exclamation for me.

"Yeah! Definitely!” I agreed as I looked around in bewilderment.

There was a bar counter in the far left area of the room and what appeared to be a fully-stocked mini bar behind it. A lavish-looking cream-colored sectional sofa was in the middle of the space, facing the fireplace, and there was a huge matching rug laid out in front of it.

Just as I was about to remove my shoes out of respect for the rug, the lights suddenly dimmed lower, and about a hundred faux candles all lit up simultaneously. Also, smooth, relaxing, slow music immediately began to play. The candlelight appeared to dance to the beat of the music.

I was totally speechless and utterly astonished. I had never seen anything like it before. I glanced over at Jay, who had already removed his own shoes and was filling two wine glasses at the built-in mini bar.

"Please, have a seat, Y/N,” he said amorously, nodding toward the sectional.

I sat down and continued to enjoy the ambiance of the supremely romantic setting until he soon came over to join me and placed a glass of champagne in my hand.

"So? Do you like it?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"Like it? This is absolutely amazing!" I said with a huge grin.

"I'm glad you think so. I've never brought any woman into this room until tonight.

"I find that extremely hard to believe,” I said honestly."

I may be a lot of things, Y/N, but I am definitely not a liar,” he asserted. “Men like me don't have to be in order to get what we want."

“Now that, I absolutely do believe,” I replied with a grin. “So, what is it that you want with me? ”

"Ahh, the billion-dollar question," he said sultrily.

Just then, a very popular song began to play.

"Ohh, I love this song!" he said excitedly as he stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I didn't refuse. He pulled me upward and into his strong arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and pressed my body against his as we swayed to the music. Caught up in the moment, I felt like I could stay in his arms like that forever.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away for a moment and looked deep into my eyes.

“Y/N, you have it all. I adore your womanly physique, your stunningly bright brown eyes, and the fact that you are a very intelligent young woman. You are damned-near flawless. From the very first moment you walked into my office, I have had an undeniable, overwhelming attraction to you, and I know you feel it too."

I was completely speechless. I mean, what was I supposed to say? How do you even reply to a statement like that?

In all honesty, I was just as attracted to him as he was to me, but with him being both my boss and such a wealthy, sophisticated man, I think I felt a little bit intimidated. I'd never imagined myself being wined and dined with a billionaire Adonis like him.

I just kind of stood there, gazing into his tantalizing eyes like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

"Y/N,” he whispered as he suddenly spun me around so that he was behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Yes," I whispered back to him as the feeling of his warm breath against the nape of my neck instantly made me moist between my thighs.

I moaned as his soft lips brushed against the lobe of my him,. My body was instantaneously on fire for him and he had barely touched me.

"I want you," he whispered as his manly hands found my breasts and cupped them through the thin fabric of my cocktail dress.

The tips of his fingers found my nipples, causing another moan to escape my mouth. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and then suddenly, my dress slid carelessly to the floor. I was braless, and this seemed to turn Jay on even more.

He groaned as I felt his manhood begin to stiffen against my ass.

"Y/N, you're fucking perfect,” he said gruffly, his voice raspy against my ear. “I want you. And you want me, too, don't you?

"Yes, Jay, yes," I moaned.

His hands squeezed my breasts, and I sighed loudly, arching my back. I felt his stiffening cock twitch in his pants.

"I'm twenty-eight years old, and I'm not getting any younger, Y/N. I've been looking for the right woman to bear my offspring, and you are the perfect specimen. I know you probably walked into the Park building today with your own plans and aspirations for your career and whatnot, but I have to be honest with you; I want you to bear my children.”

It was a lot to take in. He had certainly said a mouthful. I wasn't so sure about having kids with a man I'd just met, but he was definitely different from any other man I'd ever met, and odds were that I'd probably never meet anyone quite like him again.

His right hand slid down my midsection and into the front of my satin pants. I hissed with delight, biting down on my lip to stifle my cry of pleasure. He was applying just the right amount of pressure to my bud, and I was grinding my crotch against his hand.

"Don't hold back, Y/N,” he ordered in a breathy voice. “Let it all out!”

With that, he slid two fingers inside my dripping-wet pussy. I thrust my hips forward and let out a cry.

“Fuck, your pussy is already so wet for me! ”He declared with a grunt, pressing his erection against my ass.

Just as I was about to climax, he stopped, pulled his fingers out of my pants, and turned me around to face him. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked my excitement out of them. My face flushed with need.

Then he pushed me down onto my knees as he undid his pants, releasing his stiff, throbbing cock. It was large—larger than I'd expected. It was definitely the biggest dick I'd ever seen in my twenty-four years on this earth. But I didn't care. I was going to try my damnedest to swallow it whole.

I caressed the shaft as I slid my tongue around the tip of his cock, teasing it gently, and then sliding it down into my mouth as far as it would go. I sucked it slowly and easily at first, and then I took my hand and used it with the rhythm of my mouth, sucking it as hard and fast as I could.

Groans fell from Jay's lips as he grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth. Then suddenly, he stopped me.

Easing the rest of the way out of his pants, he pulled me up toward him again and kissed me passionately, using his tongue to invade my mouth hungrily. I moaned as he began to trail his lips and tongue down my neck, pausing to lick, suck, and fondle both of my breasts, and then continuing down my belly until he reached the top of my pants.

With his teeth, he worked my pants down over my hips and buttocks, letting them drop to the floor near my dress. He parted my thighs slightly, using his fingers to slide my folds apart and massage my bud. Then, his lips replaced his fingers against my moist, pulsating pussy, and I cried out in sheer passion.

He was so skilled and talented—his tongue was like a fucking vibrating sex toy! He grabbed and squeezed my ass with one hand and used the other to slide two fingers back inside my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore!

"Fucckkk, I'm going to cum, Jay! I'm going to cum...so...fucking..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. His fingers pressed against my g-spot, and his tongue darted fast and hard against my pussy, sending me completely over the edge with the most powerful, intense, earth-shattering orgasm I had ever experienced.

My entire body shuddered and shook, and my legs tensed up. I grabbed his head as my crotch jerked forward uncontrollably against his face.

"Shiiiiittt! Oh fuuuuck!" I screamed loudly, unable to speak any other words.

When my climax finally began to wane, just as I was about to catch my breath, Jay suddenly lifted my legs up on his shoulders and gently pushed me down onto the soft, cream-colored rug lying me down on my back.

Not wasting a second, he slid his huge, hard cock into me slowly, with my legs still hoisted up on his shoulders.

I moaned long and hard as he stretched me to my limit, sliding deeper into my pussy than any other man had ever been.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy's so tight and wet! ," he exclaimed, moaning as he began to thrust in and out of me, going deeper with every stroke.

I was moaning so loudly that I could barely even hear the music playing anymore. His own groans became louder and longer with every thrust of his burly hips.

I reached up and wrapped my hands around his neck as he started fucking me harder and faster. It wasn't long before I felt a second orgasm building, getting closer and closer...

I still wasn't exactly certain about letting him impregnate me and make me the mother of his children, but the sex was fucking earth-shattering. I had never been fucked so good before! I felt his huge, stiff cock plunging in and out of me as I cried out in delirious pleasure.

Just as I was about to scream out loud, having reached my second powerful orgasm, he let out a loud, long groan, and I knew he was there, too. We were climaxing together simultaneously, and for a brief moment, it was like the two of us became one in our own world of bliss.

I felt his cock spurting his hot cum deep inside of me, filling my pussy to the brim, but it felt so fucking wonderful that I didn't give a shit. Besides, he was rich and handsome and could fuck like a damn machine.

As we finally came back to our senses, Jay kissed my lips as he slid out of me and plopped down on the rug beside me. The fake fire was still going, and the lights and music were still playing.

"That was, by far, the best sex I've ever had in my life,” I said breathily as I looked over at him.

"Me too," he said sultrily as he slid his arm beneath my neck.

With that, his eyes closed, as did mine, and we both drifted off into a satisfied slumber.

Jay and I continued to fuck like rabbits over the next few weeks, having hot, steamy, amazing sex every chance we got. And every time he came, he shot his hot cum deep inside of me.

Three weeks later, my pregnancy test came back positive. Jay was ecstatic, of course. At first, I had mixed emotions. I was going to become a mother. Was I really ready?

He immediately made me quit my job and put me in a beautiful condo with a view that overlooked the entire city. He found me the best doctors in the area and accompanied me to all of my prenatal appointments.

So I wouldn't be able to work for a while. I mean, babies don't stay babies. They eventually grow up into adults who can take care of themselves. Who knows? Once I've raised my kids, perhaps I'll still want to go back into the workforce.

For now, though, I think I'll just enjoy swelling with Jay's seed, growing rounder and riper by the day.

[nadvs]

both sinners (part one)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

{ masterlist }

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The room is humid. The pole is smooth. The music is throbbing. And the seats are filling up fast. It’s a typical Saturday night at the club.

You just stepped out on the stage, circling the pole, taking slow, seductive steps in your stilettos.

A polished ‘reserved’ name plate sits on table in the booth right in front of you. You’ll start your routine and get undressed when the people who claimed that booth come in.

You’ve only been stripping for a few months, but you know well enough by now that it’s not worth putting your best show on until the reserved booths are full. Those customers are the most generous with their tips.

Moments later, in the pink and purple lights shimmering over the large club, you can make out the shadowed figures of three men piling into the booth.

You hook your leg around the pole and gyrate while they get seated, ready to start your show.

Rafe settles in the cushioned booth and is immediately captivated by you. You’re so smooth with every slow roll of your hips.

He glances around, seeing the other dancers, but there’s something about you that’s magnetic. It’s like his eyes will only allow him to look at you.

You’re in a sheer skirt and a scant bra; in his opinion, too many clothes are covering your body. He watches while you sensually sway, the lights hitting your planes and curves.

When you arch your back to pull the string holding your bra together, baring your tits, you bra falls to the floor in a bunch. You dip your head back, chest uncovered and so fucking perfect, as you hold yourself up on the pole.

You’re left in nothing but a mini-skirt, lace panties, and six-inch heels.

He’s in awe.

“Dude!” Topper shouts over the music. Rafe looks over at his friend and the waitress leaning over his shoulder. “Drink?”

Rafe realizes they’ve probably been trying to get his attention for a while. He was just too damn distracted by the silhouette on stage.

He laughs, ordering an old fashioned, and turns his attention back to you.

“Acting like you’ve never seen tits before,” Topper chides him, shoving his shoulder and making Kelce crack up.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe chuckles.

You hike yourself up on the pole and slowly spread your legs apart, twisting and rolling. Goddamn. He’s already so fucking worked up just from watching you dance a few feet away from him.

You wait until their drinks arrive and let them get a few sips in before you sink to the glossy floor and swing your legs over the stage.

“Hi, boys,” you say over the music, turning on the flirty, confident identity you always take on while on stage. “Having fun?”

“It’s his birthday,” one of them shouts and points to the man in the middle.

“Oh, yeah?” you say with a smile. You slowly drop onto the carpeted floor and start to close the distance between you and the three men.

The way your hips swing is making Rafe’s groin get tighter. He can’t believe this is his first time in a strip club. What the fuck took him so long?

You freeze for a second when you realize you know these guys. Kind of.

Even though you live nowhere near Figure 8, you’ve befriended enough wealthy people on the island to get invited to their extravagant house parties. And you’ve definitely seen these men before.

You know Rafe best out of the three. He sells the purest coke you’ve ever tried and he somehow gets hotter every time you see him. You’ve talked to him maybe twice, buying a couple of grams off of him.

It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward, so you place your hands on the edge of the table in the middle of the booth and lean forward, arms pressed against your sides to push out your tits.

Rafe’s eyes dip to your naked chest immediately, then back up to your face. He’s met you before. He thought you were hot then, and he thinks you’re hot now.

“I know you,” you tease. He finds it sexy how you’re completely unfazed by this, not embarrassed at all to be half-naked like this in front of them. “Happy birthday.”

His friend, who you’re pretty sure people call Topper, holds out a folded $50 between his fore finger and middle finger to you.

“First dance is on me, man,” Topper slurs, patting Rafe’s chest with his other hand. By the lazy smiles on their faces, you can tell these aren’t their first drinks of the night.

You lick your lips and smile as you take the bill and tuck it in the waistband of your skirt. You know these guys are loaded. You’re going to make a killing tonight.

You look back at the stage, spotting another dancer and cocking your chin to silently gesture to her to join the table and keep the other guys entertained while you focus on Rafe.

You slowly make your way towards him, the erotic, bass-heavy music surrounding you. You typically let your mind drift away while you give a customer a lap dance, but you’re actually attracted to this one.

The sight of your thighs spreading as you kneel down to straddle him makes Rafe’s heart start pounding even harder.

“Hi,” you say with a sweet smile. You settle and hover over him, mostly supporting yourself on your knees, but sitting on his lap just enough to feel his firm thighs beneath you.

You’re a little nervous, which takes you by surprise. This must be what happens when a customer is someone you have a crush on.

His cologne smells crisp and expensive as you put your hands on his broad shoulders, rubbing over the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Hi,” Rafe says with a stunned grin, his dimples deep. You feel his hands settle under your skirt, fingers splayed over your ass. Even though the rules are strict against touching the dancers, and you’re sure he was told that when he arrived, you let him.

It feels so damn good to be wanted like this by him, to have him touch you. Besides, he seems like the type who thinks he’s above the rules anyway, so telling him not to touch you would be a waste of breath.

“How’s your day been?” you coo, palms sliding down to his chest. Rafe’s blue eyes trail from your mouth to your half-naked body, the handsome angles of his face shadowed under the lights.

“Better now,” he says, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. You giggle, leaning to speak into his ear.

“They don’t let you touch the dancers here,” you mumble to him, “but I’ll give you a pass tonight.”

You pull back to see him clench his defined jawline as he squeezes harder.

“Yeah?” he rasps, the sharp smell of bourbon on his breath. “How come?”

“It’s my birthday present to you,” you say, starting to writhe on him.

“Bullshit,” he smirks. “It’s ‘cause you want me to touch you.” You can admit to yourself that his ego is kind of charming. And yeah, he’s right. His hands on you do feel good.

You sit up to prop your chest right up to his face. Rafe breathes in the smell of your perfume, revelling in the feeling of your tits inches away from his face.

“Are you always this cocky?” you ask. You rake a hand up the back of his head, his hair soft between your fingers.

“Yeah,” Rafe says simply, his careless shrug adding to his charm. You start to gyrate against him, feeling his firmness in his jeans. You dip your head, your cheek pressed against his as you grind.

“That feels good, huh?” you hum.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice deep as he says your name. “I didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

Damn. You’re actually getting wet right now. This never happens. This is supposed to be work.

“Now you know,” you reply. Your hand slides down his chest, over his firm stomach, landing at his groin. Damn. He’s big.

“Shit,” he groans. You pull back, seeing Rafe’s drunken smile, and seamlessly sit up to swing your leg off of him, backing up to shake your ass on him.

The way your skirt is bouncing with every recoil makes him feel like he could go crazy. You look back at him to see him digging into his pocket, taking a wad of cash out.

He tucks a bill into the band of your skirt, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he watches you lustfully.

The way you shake and sway and bump on his lap is making the tension in him tighten, closer and closer to snapping by the second. It’s not enough. He needs to see you fully naked.

The next time you look at him, Rafe impatiently wags his fingers to beckon you to turn towards him again. You obey and kneel over, your faces only inches apart, your hands on his thighs, your ass in the air.

“You gonna get naked or what?” he mutters impatiently. You’re flattered that he’s so into you.

“I can, here,” you say, eager to upsell, “or we can go up to a private room.”

“Yeah?” he says. “What else can we do in there?”

“Did you come here to talk?” you hear a man shout. You realize Topper’s giving him shit, smiling as one of the other dancers grinds on him.

You honestly like that Rafe is talking to you instead of silently watching you dance for him, but you giggle, trying to keep the atmosphere light and fun.

Rafe doesn’t like you laughing with his friend. Or smiling at him. Or even looking at him.

“Let’s go,” Rafe says resolutely. You turn to gaze at him again, his eyes gleaming in the flickering lights.

“It’s $100 for a room-” you begin, but he interrupts.

“Let’s go,” he repeats. You have a feeling you could tell him any price and he’d agree.

You smile and take Rafe’s hand, leading him upstairs to one of the VIP rooms. A bouncer standing in the top level hallway nods to you and motions to a free room.

“No touching, buddy,” he warns Rafe, who only replies with a mocking nod. This man has no respect for anyone or anything. And he makes it look so sexy.

The small space offers an upholstered booth, a pole, and a table for drinks. The dim red bulb on the ceiling seems to casts more shadows than light, making Rafe annoyed that he won’t be able to see you better.

He settles onto the booth as you shut the door behind you. His legs are spread wide, his cock stretching his jeans out in an impressive bulge.

The music is muffled, but still loud enough to dance to in the private room. You toss the bills that are sitting under your waistband onto the table, then position yourself between his knees to writhe for him as you pull down the zipper on the side of your skirt.

The skirt pools around your heels. Rafe drinks in the vision of your lace panties, the way the fabric hugs your lips. He has never been more turned on.

“Damn…” he groans with a disbelieving scoff, his hands sliding up your thighs. When he runs a thumb up your middle, you tremble.

This feels unreal. You’ve given every other man who merely tried to touch your hand a firm reminder of the rules. But here you are, letting Rafe touch your pussy, loving the feeling.

“I knew you were fine, but shit,” he mutters.

You can’t help but wonder if he was attracted to you before he laid eyes on you tonight, when you were fully dressed at the parties you’ve seen each other at.

Rafe’s lips curl into a smirk as he digs into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a clear baggy of white powder. If you weren’t sure that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about rules before, you are now.

“Want some?” he asks.

“I’m working,” you laugh.

“What’s a little bit gonna do?” Rafe asks, pulling out a credit card. “Lie down.”

Intrigued, you follow his orders, settling on the booth onto your back.

“Stay still,” he mutters. You laugh to yourself in disbelief when you realize he’s setting up a line on your chest, right between your tits. He’s almost too much.

Rafe loves the way the powder looks sitting on your skin. He taps the edge of his credit card against the line of coke, evening it out, before he leans down and snorts through a rolled up bill.

Euphoria hits every one of his senses immediately. His lips are right by yours and he gives into his impulse like he always does, leaning down to kiss you.

He takes you by surprise when he captures your lips in his. You smile beneath his hot mouth, enthralled by his spontaneous passion, feeling him suck on your bottom lip. When he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Rafe asks, pupils blown.

“Fuck it,” you laugh. This night has been crazy enough. “Just a bump.”

You sit up, leaning against the cushion of the booth and you hold out your finger, watching as he carefully tips some coke out of the baggy. You rub it over your gums, purposely sucking your finger as you pop it out of your mouth.

Everything about you is driving Rafe crazy in the best way. You’re so fucking carefree and self-possessed.

He shifts to hang over you, his fingers looping around the band of your panties. Rafe pulls them down your legs and sharply inhales when he sees your bare pussy.

He needs you. A dance isn’t enough.

“I’m supposed to do that part,” you breathe a chuckle.

“How much to fuck you?” He meets your eyes, his hair hanging over his forehead.

“We can’t do that, baby,” you laugh, although you desperately want to. You’d get fired in a second. “Not here.”

“It’s my birthday,” he whines with a heartbreaking grin. He palms his dick in his pants, eyes drifting down your body hungrily. “How much? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You’ve already broken so many rules, and you would love to fuck him, but the risk of getting caught is just too high. You decide to compromise.

You put him hand on the hard swelling in his pants and rub.

“How about this?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. “You sit down and I touch you.”

That way, you think, if anyone walks in, your back will be to the door and you can hide what you’re doing, making it look like you’re just giving him another lap dance.

Rafe nods, glad he has the promise of a release, and sits back down where he was before.

You shuffle to straddle him, feeling his hands on your ass again. You unbutton and zip down his jeans and he frantically bucks his hips up and slips them down.

When his cock pops out of his boxers, you nearly gasp at how big it is.

“I got hard the second I saw your tits,” he laughs, feeling drunk and high out of his mind.

“Yeah?” you purr. You spit on your palm then put your hand around his base. He groans, the pressure sending a roll of pleasure through his body.

“Yeah,” Rafe shudders. “You have really nice fucking tits.” Wow. He’s talkative when he’s high. You love it.

His hands move up to capture your breasts, squeezing the flesh.

“How the fuck am I not supposed to touch you? That’s a stupid fucking rule,” he mutters, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples. You shudder, arching your back at the sensation.

“Damn, you like that?” he rasps with a smirk.

“Yeah,” you breathe a laugh. You start to run your hand up and down his cock, arousal pooling in your gut.

“You’re telling me you don’t want this dick inside you?” he teases. You bite your bottom lip and twist your wrist as you stroke him.

“We can’t fuck in here,” you tell him.

“But we can somewhere else?” Rafe asks, tilting his chin towards you so you’ll kiss him again.

The coke is starting to hit your system as your tongue rolls over his, your palm wet against his cock.

“Yeah, we can,” you say shakily when you pull away.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” he grunts, looking down at your hand working him. All you can hear is the muffled music and your combined breathing and the sound of your wet skin rubbing over his.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Rafe’s head is spinning. He takes in the sight of his hands on your perfect tits, the way you’re jerking him off, the smile on your pretty face. All this combined with the liquor and coke rushing through him is fucking paradise.

“You wanna cum on me?” you impulsively ask. He’s still partly dressed, but you’re fully naked. It’d be easier to clean up. And, if you’re being honest, you want to feel his cum on you.

“You really are a bad girl,” Rafe laughs. You meet his eyes. He’s so depraved, but hell, so are you.

You put your other hand on him, rubbing his thick length in a faster rhythm. He rolls his head back as he groans.

“I’m gonna… oh, fuck…” His deep voice unravels into mumbles.

You aim his cock towards you, watching the white ropes of his cum spurt out of him, his body twitching beneath you. The hot liquid splashes over your stomach and your thighs, making you smile in satisfaction.

When he comes down from the high you gave him, he hands you his entire wad of cash.

You didn’t expect your night to take this turn, but it was so much fucking fun. And you have no idea if Rafe will remember any of this. But you hope he does.

{ part two }

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[iuchamjohta]

Leave these woman alone ft Yuna

1400 words

Notes: Hi anon thanks for your request, since it’s sent through the request box 😊 here’s a story dedicated for you. Also I will do Yuna justice with a better fic eventually don’t worry! (Yes this is a mix of shade and partial smut i guess) Did'nt proof read this thing cause it aint worth my time. For those who wants to read for the smut you can ignore the first two and last two paragraphs they arent for u but specially for my dear requester XD

First person POV of anon:

My name is Anon. I work a standard 9-5 job and have been doing so for 30 years. I’m a single and have never dated. Everyday I get scolded by my boss but I turn a deaf ear to it , just going through the motion of my routine life. Things however get exciting once I get home. I can induldge in my deepst darkest fantasies.

You see while on the surface, I'm a white knight in shiny armor, beneath that, I'm a self-righteous hypocritical man, living a double life. I've got an entire collection dedicated to Yuna, my ultimate bias, stashed away in a folder on my laptop, hidden deep within a secret folder, safely encrypted with a password only I know. It's my little haven, my sanctuary—a place where I can indulge in my wildest fantasies, free from judgment. I mean, who doesn't have their celebrity crushes, right? But for me, it's more than just a crush. Yuna is my fantasy. She's the one who makes me question my self-control.

The room is dimly lit, perfect for what I have in mind. I pull up a recent fancam from her solo performance.. There she is, in a low-rise jeans that showcased her hourglass figure, strutting across the stage with sheer confidence. The camera zeroes in on her for a solo performance, the lucky bastards in the audience probably have no idea how fucking lucky they are. Her eyes glint with confidence, as if seducing me and sending a wave of anticipation through my body. I bite my lip, feeling my dick twitch in anticipation. It's one of those days when I crave a release, a day dedicated to worshipping her perfect body.

Yuna is everything I want and more. Her magnetic aura draws me closer to the screen as she seductively sways to the music. Every curve of her body is sculpted by the gods themselves. I zoom in, wanting to explore every inch of her, starting from her face. Her huge eyes, her full lips that always look succulent, begging for me to take them. Her skin, pale in complextion that glows under the stage lights. I'd kill to know what she smells like, if she tastes as sweet as she looks. Her long legs they begged to be worshipped.

Her hair, cascading in soft waves, frames her face, occasionally whipping her forehead as she moves, making my fingers itch to run through it, to feel its silkiness between my fingertips. Her crop top reveals just the right amount of skin and her incredibly sexy midriff. They hug her chest tightly. I imagine pinching those rosy nipples, already knowing from countless fantasies that they'd harden instantly. The thought sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock.

The camera follows her every move, and she's teasing the fans mercilessly. She bends down, the low-rise jean - hugging every inch of her toned thighs and plump ass, highlighting the perfect hour glass figure. God, her ass! It's a work of art, rounded and firm, a sight that has me gripping my cock, stroking slowly as I imagine sinking my face into that soft flesh. The way she reveals her cleavage, The way her muscles flex under those jeans makes my mouth go dry. She knows what she's doing, the little tease. Each flick of her hips is a silent invitation to something forbidden.

As the song progresses, so does my hand on my shaft. I can't stop picturing her riding me, those long, toned legs wrapped around my waist. Her abs clench and relax with each provocative move, the sight alone nearly pushing me over the edge. The sweat glistening on her skin, the way it would feel slick under my palms as I hold her hips, grinding into me, fuck, it consumes me. I want to be the reason for her sweat, for her moans.

The performance builds up, and so does my pace. My breathing quickens, mirroring her heavy pants as if we're in sync. I can imagine the lust matching my own as she moves her hair behind her back, giving me a perfect view of her slender neck and the pulse point that makes my mouth water. A collarbone looks so defined and my hands would look so fucking perfect there, pushing her down unto my cock. My cock twitches, the thought of owning this goddess in the bedroom flooding my mind. I want to see her—no, I need to see her submissive side, her begging for more, on her knees, her pretty eyes pleading for me to take control.

I can't resist the urge anymore. I pause the video at the part where she's bending forward offering an eyeful of her cleavage and a hint of her flat stomach. The image fills the screen,  letting me examine every detail. From her perfect breast that I imagine running my tongue all over, to her navel, a shallow indent, a tempting destination for my tongue. I'd work my way downward, hearing her whimpers as I trace patterns on her sensitive skin, marking her with love bites along the way until I reach her wet core. With my other hand, I reach for the lube, needing more sensation. I coat my fingers and continue imagining my tongue's path, heading south past her navel to the place she craves attention. I'd tease her, running my fingers through her wetness, finding her clit, driving her wild. And when she's close, I'd sink two fingers into her, feeling her heat, her tightness, while I suck on that perfect neck, leaving my mark. Her moans would fill the room, echoing off the walls, telling me she's mine.

But, Yuna she's a master at denying satisfaction. The clip cuts just as I can see her biting her lip, probably holding back a moan. That's when my stroking gets wilder. I jerk off fiercely, imagining her on all fours, that ass in the air, begging for my cock. In my mind, I'd stand behind her, taking in the view before delivering hard thrusts, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. She loves rough, I know that much. I want to spank that ass, watch it jiggle with each impact, watch her pussy squeeze my dick, milking me.

"Fuck, Yuna," I groan, my vision blurring as pleasure spikes. I see her looking over her shoulder, those eyes half-lidded, knowing she's craving it harder. In my fantasy, I'd tug her hair, making her submit, taking her like an animal. I increase the pace, my balls tightening, then I would reach my peak, exploding with sensation. I come violently, coating my hand and the screen, wishing it was her that I coated instead.

Panting, I lean back, my heart hammering in my chest as I relish the aftermath. The image of her winking at the camera as she says her farewells plays in my head, and I know I'll be back for more—she's my addiction. Cleaning up, a satisfied smile on my face, I wonder if she has any idea the effect she has on me, if she knows she just gave me the best fucking handjob ever. Little does she know, this 'nobody' behind the screen is more than willing to show her how good it could be in reality.

Maybe one day, she won't just be a fantasy, but until then, I'll keep worshipping her on my screen.

Then with this guilty pleasure, I find the need to claim her as mine and "protect" her. Going unto forums, I tell myself I have to put back on my knight in shiny armour image! Telling everyone else to leave all these woman alone especially Yuna.

To me pornography is okay, I have fapped to many of it, nor do I see the need to email all these pornographic companies on what they are doing though more damaging is wrong. Other sexual fantasies are okay, but when it comes to others fantasising about my idols, I have to be defensive since they are my life even though I would never reach them. This is me, a double standard hypocritical white knight, a nameless nobody in my life. Nonetheless, this secret is safe with me, and as long as I live, I shall continue to remain self-righteous on the outside while indulging in my secret fantasies.

Thanks for your request once again! Yes me being an internet troll, anyways not the best smut I have written I apologise. Okay fuck now I actually need to do justice by releasing a proper Yuna fic . Please send ideas for req on Yuna guys a one time offer that the best idea gets it’s fic written on her.

[sushiyuzu]

a lingerie as your birthday gift

nanami kento x fem!reader

warning: soft smut. minors dni!

toji f. version gojo s. version

you weren’t sure what to expect when nanami handed you the neatly wrapped box. he had always been composed, always so restrained, that you never imagined him picking out something so... intimate. but as you unwrapped the gift, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of the soft, luxurious black lace lingerie nestled inside.

"nanami..." you breathed, glancing up at him, but his expression remained unreadable. he was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that same calm, steady gaze that never seemed to falter. though, there was something different about the way he looked at you now — something that made your pulse quicken.

“it’s your birthday,” he said simply, his deep voice sending a shiver through you. “i thought i’d get you something special.”

you couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks as you ran your fingers over the delicate lace. it was stunning, elegant, exactly the type of thing you’d expect him to choose. refined, but undeniably sensual.

"you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to," he added after a moment, his tone still calm, but there was an edge of something more beneath it. something... expectant.

you swallowed, feeling the tension in the air. his gaze was intense, unwavering, and it sent heat coursing through your veins.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head. "i want to."

his eyes darkened ever so slightly at your words, and your heart skipped a beat.

with slightly trembling hands, you took the lingerie and headed to the bathroom to change. the room was quiet, save for the sound of your own breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as you slipped out of your clothes and into the lace.

the black lingerie fit like a second skin, hugging your body in all the right places. you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the sheer elegance of the lace contrasting with the sensuality it evoked. nanami had impeccable taste — of course, he did.

taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom. when you returned to the room, nanami was still there, still leaning against the wall, but his posture had shifted slightly. his gaze was sharp, more focused now as it swept over your figure.

his eyes lingered on you for a long moment, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under the weight of his attention. but it wasn’t just his gaze — it was the way he looked at you, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. as though nothing else in the world existed.

“come here,” he said, his voice low, but there was a note of command in it that sent a shiver through you.

your feet moved before your mind could catch up, drawn to him like a magnet. the closer you got, the more you could feel the tension between you, thick and electrifying. when you finally stood in front of him, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, even though he hadn’t touched you yet.

nanami’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. he was silent, watching you with that same intense gaze, but there was a hunger in his eyes now — a slow-burning desire that made your breath catch in your throat.

“you look beautiful,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through your entire body.

your heart pounded in your chest, the compliment catching you off guard. he wasn’t the type to offer such words lightly, and hearing them from him made your knees weak.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

nanami reached out then, his fingers brushing against the lace at your waist, his touch so light it was almost teasing. but even that small contact was enough to make your skin tingle, your pulse quickening in response.

"this," he said quietly, his hand sliding up your side, tracing the curve of your body, "is perfect on you."

you shivered at his touch, your breath catching as his fingers continued to explore, slow and deliberate. he was always so controlled, always so composed, but now... now, there was a tension in his movements, a restraint that you knew could break at any moment.

"turn around," he murmured, his voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now — a quiet intensity that made your stomach flip.

you did as he asked, turning your back to him. the anticipation was almost too much as you felt him step closer, his presence like a storm gathering behind you. his hands settled on your hips, firm but gentle, and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"you know," he said softly, his voice like velvet in your ear, "i don’t usually indulge in things like this."

your pulse raced, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, so close yet still not close enough.

"but for you," he continued, his lips brushing lightly against your skin, "i make exceptions."

the words sent a jolt of desire through you, and before you could even respond, nanami’s hands slid up your sides, pulling you back against him. the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the firmness of his chest against your back, made your breath hitch.

he tilted his head down, his lips grazing the curve of your neck, and you could feel the restraint in every movement. he was holding back, but barely. the tension was palpable, the heat between you building with every second.

"i want you to keep this on," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "i want to see how it looks when i have you."

your heart raced at his words, and when he turned you around to face him again, the look in his eyes was enough to steal your breath away. there was a quiet, simmering intensity in his gaze, a hunger that you could feel down to your very core.

nanami wasn’t one for games, and you knew that when he wanted something, he would take it.

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[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[anna-the-undertaker]

Look At Me

My late night thoughts were not pure

Mature Content

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The grand ballroom of the Demon Lords palace was awash with shimmering lights and the murmur of countless conversations as beings from various realms gathered for one of Diavolo's famously extravagant balls. The air was perfumed with an intoxicating mix of otherworldly flowers and the rich, spicy aroma of exotic dishes. At the heart of it all was MC, whose presence commanded attention not just for their unexpected role at this event, but for the sheer magnetism of their attire.

MC had stepped into the ballroom, transformed. The formal wear clung to and flowed around their body perfectly, accentuating their best features. The fabric shimmered with each movement, catching the light and casting lustrous shadows that played over their form like soft, caressing fingers. From the elegant cut of the outfit to the tasteful yet daring accessories, everything about MC's appearance was meticulously crafted to dazzle and seduce.

As they made their grand entrance, heads turned, conversations momentarily paused, and appreciative murmurs filled the air. But it was not the general admiration that MC was tuned into; it was the intense, unwavering gaze of someone whose eyes had not strayed from them since they appeared.

This particular observer's eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and something deeper, more intense. As MC navigated through the throngs of guests—greeting dignitaries with a polite nod here, sharing a laugh with a fellow exchange student there—they were acutely aware of the burning gaze that followed their every move.

The evening progressed with dances and toasts, the music a lively backdrop to the whispered conversations and subtle politics played out among the attendees. Despite the distractions, MC felt the pull of that gaze, like a tether drawing them inevitably toward their admirer.

Finally, seizing a moment when they found themselves near their not-so-secret admirer, MC paused. With a grace that belied the nervous flutter in their chest, they allowed their eyes to leisurely travel up the length of their admirers body. The appreciative scan was slow, deliberate, and when their eyes finally met, there was a palpable charge in the air.

Leaning in just close enough to let their words be heard over the music, yet not close enough to touch, MC's voice was low, teasing, "If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch cold." The words hung between them, a flirtatious challenge, a promise of possibilities.

A playful taunt that left their admirer momentarily dazed, heat rising in their core.

Lucifer

From the moment MC stepped into the grand ballroom, Lucifer's attention was unwavering. The transformation of MC into a figure so alluring and elegantly dressed was not just a visual treat; it was a challenge to his composure. He stood near the edges of the ballroom, his gaze fixed on MC as they mingled with the other guests. Each laugh and graceful gesture they shared added a layer to his growing admiration—and desire.

Lucifer was no stranger to his desire for MC, but he prided himself on his ability to control it. Tonight, however, with MC looking every bit the part of a temptation crafted specifically to test him, his control was put on the line. He watched, almost pained, as others admired and approached MC, sharing dances and conversations.

When MC finally drifted closer to where he stood, their eyes meeting, Lucifer felt a jolt of electricity. The room seemed to grow quieter, the chatter and music fading into the background. As MC’s eyes traveled up his body, the intensity in their gaze was palpable, and his heart beat a fraction faster in response.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch cold,” MC's voice, low and teasing, reached his ears, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—a rare, genuine, hungry smile.

Lucifer's response was a soft chuckle, the sound rich and heated. “My apologies,” his voice dropped an octave, thick with veiled intentions. “It seems only fair to offer you something to keep you warm then.” The words, though spoken lightly, sent a shiver through the both of them.

Offering his hand with a devilish grace, they stepped onto the dance floor, that hand found the small of MC’s back, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to guide them closer than the dance necessarily required. His other hand captured theirs, holding it gently but with undeniable command. Each step and turn they took was choreographed perfection, yet it was the subtleties of his touch that spoke volumes — a light caress here, a slightly firmer grip there, all calculated to make MC acutely aware of his presence and the electric tension that thrummed between them.

Throughout the dance, Lucifer’s gaze never wavered from MC’s eyes, but his whispers were for their ears alone. “Every turn, every step, remember this feeling,” he murmured as they moved together, his voice a velvety threat that promised much more. His thigh occasionally brushed against theirs, a seemingly innocent contact that sent a clear message with its precise placement.

As the song drew to a close, and the last notes lingered in the air like the touch of a lover's caress, Lucifer leaned closer, his lips hovering just beside MC’s ear. The warmth of his breath against their skin, the controlled depth of his voice, all designed to entice and promise. “This is but a taste,” he whispered, his words laced with a predatory smoothness. “Imagine what awaits when the night is done.”

He punctuated his statement with a subtle nip at the shell of MC’s ear, a brief, gentle bite that elicited a sharp, involuntary gasp from them. The sound was drowned out by the applause of the other guests, a cover for the intensely private moment they shared amidst the public setting.

As they parted, Lucifer’s hand lingered on MC’s back, his eyes holding theirs in a gaze that was both a challenge and an invitation. The subtle smirk that played on his lips was confident, knowing. He stepped back, allowing MC to feel the sudden coolness of his absence, the ghost of his touch still burning on their skin.

Mammon

As the opulence of the gathering washed over the attendees, Mammon’s attention was fiercely locked on MC from the moment they emerged from into the room, their attire hugging every curve and accentuating each line of their body in a way that was downright sinful. The formal wear seemed tailored to tease, to draw and hold the gaze—something Mammon found impossible to resist.

Throughout the evening, Mammon watched MC with an intensity that bordered on possessive. He struggled to keep his cool as others admired and approached MC, feeling a surge of jealousy each time someone else made them laugh or led them onto the dance floor. It wasn’t just their looks; it was the way they carried themselves—with a confidence that was alluring, and to Mammon, maddening.

As MC drifted closer to where he stood, his heart raced with anticipation. Every casual touch they shared with others had stoked a fire within him, and now, as they approached, that fire threatened to burn through his every restraint.

When MC stopped near him, their eyes boldly traveled up his body, taking him in. Mammon felt his breath hitch, his body responding with a sharp thrill. Their gaze was a physical touch, one that left him aching for more.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC’s voice was a low tease, charged with a flirtatious energy that drew a dark chuckle from him.

“Oh, trust me, love,” Mammon’s voice dropped to a husky murmur as he stepped closer, eliminating the scant distance between them. “If I’m undressin' ya with my eyes, it’s only to think about how to keep ya very, very warm.” His words were a promise, laden with an intent that made no room for misunderstandings.

The challenge in MC’s eyes sparkled with an equal measure of desire and daring. They didn’t step back, but instead leaned in, their breath mingling with his. “Prove it,” they whispered back, a playful yet passionate invitation that Mammon was only too eager to accept.

Without a word, Mammon took MC’s hand and led them away from the crowded dance floor, his grip firm and assured. They navigated through the throng of guests with a purposeful stride, heading towards one of the palace’s shadowed alcoves—a semi-private nook framed by heavy velvet curtains.

Once secluded from the prying eyes of the other guests, Mammon wasted no time. His hands found MC’s waist, pulling them close with a possessiveness that his usual tsundere demeanor rarely revealed. He kissed them, his lips pressing against theirs with a hunger that had been building all evening. The kiss deepened quickly, fueled by the pent-up desire from watching them all night, each slide of their lips a stroke of flame that left them both wanting more.

MC responded with equal fervor, their hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. The heat between them built, each touch and nip adding to the fire that the formal setting of the ball could no longer contain.

Breathless, Mammon finally pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against MC’s, his breath heavy and mingling with theirs. “I’ve been wantin' to do that since I saw ya tonight,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire. “And believe me, I don’t plan on stoppin' here.”

Leviathan

Leviathan found himself in unfamiliar waters. The formal atmosphere, the immaculate attire, and the sophisticated chatter all felt alien to him, but none of that mattered when MC stepped into view. Dressed in a sharply tailored outfit that seemed created to ensnare his senses, MC looked nothing short of captivating. The fabric clung and flowed in all the right places, each movement highlighting a harmony of elegance and allure that Levi couldn’t pull his eyes away from.

From the moment MC entered the room, Levi’s usual backdrop of shyness and self-consciousness was overshadowed by a more intense and primal focus. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—so raw and exposed; his heart raced with every glance he stole in MC’s direction.

As MC mingled and laughed, their charisma lighting up the room, Levi’s feelings shifted between admiration and a growing, gnawing envy of anyone who held MC’s attention even momentarily. He lurked on the outskirts of the festivities, his gaze tracking MC’s every interaction with an intensity that surprised even him.

The moment MC drifted closer to where he stood, almost as if they sensed his intense scrutiny, Levi felt his breath catch. MC’s eyes met his in a look that brought fresh heat to his cheeks. There was a pause, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that Levi felt crackling between them.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice a sensual whisper that sent shivers down Levi’s spine. The statement was playful yet provocative, striking right at the heart of Levi’s tumultuous emotions.

Levi, usually not one for quick comebacks, felt a surge of boldness spurred by the charged atmosphere and MC’s daring gaze. “Maybe that’s just my strategy to offer you my coat,” he replied, his voice surprisingly steady and imbued with a flirtatious undertone he seldom used.

The corners of MC’s lips twitched into a smile at his response, and with a flirty, confident swagger, they sauntered away, leaving Levi momentarily dumbfounded and marveling at his own audacity. As MC integrated back into the crowd, Levi’s resolve hardened; he wasn’t ready to let the evening end without staking his claim, without showing MC that his usually awkward nature could give way to something fiercer.

Fuelled by a mix of desire and newfound confidence, Levi made his way through the throng of guests, catching up to MC. With a gentle touch that belied his nervous energy, he tapped MC on the shoulder, drawing them away from the crowd under the pretense of needing air but in reality, seeking a moment of privacy.

Once they were secluded on a balcony overlooking the palace gardens, the cool night air doing little to quench the heat between them, Levi faced MC. His hands were shaky, but his voice was firm. “I’m not good at this... at any of this,” he admitted, gesturing vaguely back at the ballroom. “But I’m tired of just watching. I want... more.”

MC looked up at him, their expression softening, a hint of intrigue in their eyes. “Levi, you don’t have to be anything you’re not. Not with me.”

Encouraged by their words, Levi leaned in closer, his earlier shyness melting away under the sincerity of the moment. He kissed MC, a careful, testing pressure that soon deepened as he felt MC respond with equal fervor. The kiss was a clash of emotions—a mixture of Levi’s pent-up yearning and MC’s bold invitation.

As they broke apart, breathless and with cheeks flushed under the moonlight, Levi felt a surge of triumph mixed with relief. Tonight, he had stepped out of his comfort zone, driven by a desire too potent to ignore. And from the look in MC’s eyes, his gamble had paid off.

Satan

The atmosphere was charged with decadence and intrigue, but Satan's attention was captivated solely by MC. Their attire was nothing short of intoxicating, tailored to perfection, accentuating each curve and angle with a precision that seemed to beckon the very shadows to dance across their form. The fabric shimmered with every deliberate movement they made, ensnaring Satan's senses and tightening his focus with an intensity that felt almost primal.

From the moment MC stepped into the grand hall, Satan felt a visceral pull, a stirring of desire that was usually kept under strict control. Tonight, however, as he watched MC navigate through the crowd, interacting with an effortless charm that drew both admiration and envy, a raw, possessive urge began to simmer within him.

As MC approached, their eyes locked with Satan’s in a challenge that was as provocative as it was inviting. The air between them crackled with tension, each shared glance and smirk making the fire in him burn hotter.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC’s voice was a sultry tease, a playful spark that ignited a fierce response in Satan.

Satan’s reply was a low growl, barely audible above the hum of the ballroom. “Perhaps you’d prefer if I warmed you up in a more... direct manner,” he suggested, his voice a seductive whisper that promised indulgences far beyond the dance floor’s chaste touches.

MC’s smile turned knowing, their gaze lingering on him with an intensity that dared him to make good on his words.

Without waiting for further encouragement, Satan took MC’s hand and led them away from the prying eyes of the crowd. His steps were purposeful as he guided them through the corridors to the palaces library, a private sanctuary bathed in shadow.

Once alone, Satan wasted no time. He dragged MC into one of the aisles, pressing them against a bookshelf, his hands roaming over their body with an ownership that spoke of deep, unyielding desire. His lips found theirs in a demanding kiss, one that brooked no hesitation and offered no escape. It was a kiss that seared, that consumed, fueled by a night’s worth of anticipation and the raw need to claim and be claimed in return.

MC responded with equal fervor, their nails scraping against the back Satan’s neck, pulling him closer as if to meld into him completely.

As they broke for air, Satan’s gaze was dark and intent. “I intend to explore every inch of you tonight,” he murmured against MC’s lips. “To learn what pleasures make you sigh, what touches make you gasp.... what will make you cry out for more.”

MC’s breath hitched, their eyes alight with hunger. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus was in his element, the very epitome of charm and seduction. However, even amid the grandeur and flirtations that filled the air, his attention was inexorably drawn to MC. They were resplendent in their formal attire, which clung to and flowed around their body with a precision that was both alluring and tasteful. The fabric shimmered with every movement, capturing the light and seemingly setting it aflame with every step they took.

Asmo, ever the connoisseur of beauty and desire, found himself utterly captivated. He watched MC with a predatory intensity, his gaze tracing the lines of their figure, appreciating the way the outfit enhanced their allure. The demon of lust was no stranger to desire, but the sight of MC tonight stirred a deep, insatiable craving within him.

Throughout the evening, Asmo found himself maneuvering through the crowd, positioning himself ever closer to MC, his gaze occasionally meeting theirs in a silent exchange of unspoken promises. When MC finally approached, stopping mere inches away from him, the electric charge of their proximity sent a thrill racing through his veins.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice low and sultry, tinged with flirtation and a hint of challenge.

Asmo chuckled, his voice a smooth, seductive purr. “Oh, my dear, if I'm undressing you with my eyes, imagine what I could do with my hands. But fear not—I assure you, I'm quite skilled and will keep you very warm.”

The playfulness of MC’s statement and the charged atmosphere spurred him into action. Asmo took a step closer, eliminating the scant distance between them, his eyes locked onto MC’s with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. He leaned in, his breath caressing MC’s ear as he whispered, “Why don’t we find a more private setting? I have a feeling that you and I could create our own heat.”

His hand gently grasped theirs, fingers interlocking with a gentle yet firm assurance. Guiding them away from the crowd with a practiced ease, Asmodeus led MC toward one of the palace's less frequented terraces—a spot secluded enough to offer privacy but still open to the starlit sky.

Once alone, Asmodeus turned to face MC, his hands finding their waist as he pulled them close. The space between them sizzled with anticipation, each breath they shared laden with desire. He gazed into MC’s eyes, seeing the flicker of arousal and curiosity there, and smiled—a slow, knowing smile that gleamed with delights yet to come.

He kissed them then, a soft yet insistent press of lips that quickly deepened as he coaxed them to respond. The kiss was an exploration, a negotiation of lips and tongues. HIs hands roamed over MC's back, pulling them even closer, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touched.

Breaking the kiss, his eyes gleamed with a mix of devilry and desire. “Let me show you just how much heat we can generate together,” he murmured, his voice husky. His hands were gentle yet commanding as they invited MC to abandon their reservations and give in to the night.

The terrace became their world, where the chill of the night air contrasted sharply with the warmth of their entwined bodies. Each touch, each kiss, stoked the fires of desire higher, drawing them deeper into a dance of seduction and satisfaction. Asmo reveled in every sigh and shiver he drew from MC, each response fueling his own desire to give more and to take even more still.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s usually single-minded focus on food was uncharacteristically diverted. The catalyst was MC, stepping out in a form-fitting ensemble that seemed designed to torment him with desires far more complex than his usual cravings. The attire clung and draped in all the right places, emphasizing each curve and line with an elegance that was both tantalizing and exquisite. The rich fabric caught the light with every movement, casting a spell over Beel’s senses that was both bewildering and intoxicating.

From the moment MC entered, Beel found himself watching them with an intensity that felt like hunger but deeper. He was used to feeling physical hunger, but this was different; it was a visceral pull that anchored him to the spot every time MC laughed or danced, their joy and charisma lighting up the room more effectively than any chandelier.

Throughout the evening, Beel’s gaze followed MC, tracking their interactions with a mix of admiration and something fiercer that he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just their physical appearance that captivated him; it was the way they moved with such confidence and ease, the way they engaged so effortlessly with everyone around them. It stirred something primal within him, a yearning to be close, to be the one who made them laugh, to feel the warmth of their body against his.

When MC finally drifted towards where he stood, seemingly casual but surely aware of the effect they were having on him, Beel’s heart pounded with a mix of nervous anticipation and raw desire. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the clamor of the ball seemed to quiet just for them.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice a sultry murmur that reverberated through Beel’s frame like a physical touch.

Beel, usually straightforward with his thoughts and affections, felt shyness overtaken by the urgency of his feelings. “I, uh...” he started, his voice a low rumble, “I was just thinking how I’d like to keep you warm.” The words came out rougher than he intended, his intense gaze locked on MC’s, leaving little room for doubt about his intentions.

The playful challenge in MC’s eyes sparked a courage in Beel that he seldom felt outside of battle. With a newfound determination, he took a step closer, effectively closing the distance between them. “Maybe we should find somewhere less crowded,” he suggested.

MC’s smile widened, and they placed a hand lightly on Beel’s chest—a touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him. “Lead the way,” they replied, their voice laced with anticipation.

Without another word, Beel guided MC away from the bustling ballroom, through ornate corridors, to a quiet balcony overlooking the palace’s vast gardens. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth bubbling between them, adding a thrill that made their secluded spot feel even more intimate.

Once alone, Beel’s hands found MC’s waist, pulling them close with a gentle but firm grip that spoke of need and affection. He lowered his head, his lips finding MC’s in a kiss that was both a question and an answer, a merging of hunger and affection that deepened as they responded with equal fervor.

The kiss grew more passionate, driven by the raw, earnest desire that Beel often kept hidden under his calm exterior. His large hands were cautious yet eager as they explored MC’s body, drawing them even closer, if possible. MC’s hands roamed over his shoulders and chest, their touch igniting fires along every nerve.

As they finally broke apart for air, Beel rested his forehead against MC’s, his breath heavy and warm against their skin. “I... I don’t want this night to end,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper that carried his deepest fears and wishes.

MC looked up at him, their eyes shining with a mixture of pleasure and something tender. “Then let’s not let it end just yet,” they whispered back, pulling him in for another kiss.

Belphegor

Amidst the glamour and revelry, Belphegor found himself in a rare state of heightened awareness, entirely fixated on MC. Draped in an outfit that seemed to defy the mere concept of formal wear with its daring elegance, MC moved through the crowd like a living temptation. The way the material clung to their body and highlighted every movement with a tantalizing grace had Belphie's usual lethargy replaced with an uncharacteristic surge of desire.

Belphie, often aloof and withdrawn, wasn't one for public displays of affection. Yet, tonight, as he watched MC, a deep-seated restlessness took hold. His gaze, usually sleepy and distant, sharpened considerably as he traced the lines of MC's form from across the room, his eyes darkening with each flirtatious laugh and turn they shared with others.

When MC eventually approached him, threading through the throngs of demons and other creatures with an ease that spoke of their comfort in this infernal court, Belphie’s usual cool demeanor wavered. Their eyes met, locking in place.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC said, their voice low and charged with a playful yet provocative undertone. It was a challenge, delivered with a coy tilt of the head and a smirk that beckoned him closer.

Belphie’s response was a slow, mischievous smile, one that often graced his features. “I think you’d find I’m good at keeping things heated,” he murmured back, his voice a soft growl that matched the predatory gleam in his eyes. His usual indolence was nowhere found as he stepped into MC's personal space, the air between them charged with an electric anticipation.

Without waiting for further encouragement, Belphie's hand found the small of MC's back, pulling them flush against him. The contact was bold, possessive, and sparked a heat that neither the coolness of the night nor the prying eyes around them could dampen.

“Let’s find somewhere more... secluded. I’d hate for you to freeze,” Belphie suggested, his words dripping with an intent as intoxicating as it was clear. His grip tightened slightly, not enough to restrain but enough to convey his unwillingness to let the moment slip away.

MC’s eyes glinted with excitement at the suggestion. With a nod that sealed their mutual consent, they allowed Belphie to lead them away from the crowd. They moved together through lesser-known corridors of the palace, each step building a simmering anticipation.

Reaching an empty bedroom, Belphie turned to MC, his hands framing their face as he leaned in. The kiss he planted on their lips was not gentle—it was demanding, fervent, and deeply passionate, seeking to claim and be claimed in equal measure.

The kiss broke only for the need for air, their breaths mingling. Belphie’s hands wandered, tracing MC’s sides, pulling them closer still. “I don’t do half-measures,” he breathed against their lips, his gaze locked onto theirs with a raw intensity. “I want all of you, here, now.”

Diavolo

This event marked by opulence and spectacle, was a night where the Devildom's elite gathered to revel in their ruler's grandeur and for the exchange program to be celebrated. Diavolo himself, with his immense power and charisma, was accustomed to being the center of attention. Yet, tonight, his focus was entirely captivated by MC, who had arrived looking nothing short of stunning. Their formal wear was not just clothing but a statement, crafted to accentuate every curve and line with impeccable taste, shimmering under the chandeliers' glow as if woven from the night sky itself.

From the moment MC stepped into the grand hall, Diavolo found himself watching them, a feeling of awe mingling with a deeper, more primal interest. The way MC moved through the crowd, with a grace and confidence that matched his own, struck a chord within him, igniting a desire to see them not across the room, but by his side.

As the evening progressed, Diavolo’s usual rounds of greeting and politicking felt unusually tedious, his gaze repeatedly seeking out MC. Their laughter, the easy way they conversed with other guests, even the subtle gestures they made, all seemed to draw him in deeper. When MC finally approached him, their eyes locking, Diavolo felt the full weight of his position as the host. Yet, at that moment, he wished nothing more than to cast aside the formalities and indulge in the connection that simmered between them.

“If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice a perfect blend of humor and seduction that fit the night's festive air.

Diavolo chuckled, a sound deep and resonant that filled the space between them. “Is that so? Perhaps it would be more prudent, then, to find somewhere warmer where such dangers can be thoroughly mitigated,” he replied, his tone smooth and inviting. The underlying suggestion was clear, his words a velvet-lined invitation to escape the public eye.

The playful challenge in MC’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. They leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial smirk playing on their lips. “Lead the way, then, My Lord.”

With a hand extended in offer, Diavolo guided MC away from the throngs of guests, his touch firm yet careful, as if he were handling something precious and infinitely valuable. They navigated through the opulent corridors of his palace, each step taking them further from the noise and closer to solitude.

Diavolo chose his private office for its seclusion and comfort—a space where his rule was absolute and interruptions were forbidden. As he closed the door behind them, the sound seemed to seal them away from the rest of the world.

Turning to face MC, Diavolo’s gaze was intense, his usual affable demeanor replaced by a more predatory grace. He stepped closer, the confined space of the office suddenly charged with the energy of their proximity.

Without waiting for further banter, Diavolo’s hands found MC’s waist, pulling them flush against him. His lips found theirs in a claiming kiss, deep and urgent, as if he could communicate his rising desire and the depth of his attraction through this contact alone. His kiss was a mastery of pressure and movement, a clear dominion of experience and longing that coaxed MC to respond with equal fervor.

MC’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss into a fervent clash of lips and tongues. Diavolo’s control slipped further with each moment, his hands roaming over MC’s body, tracing the lines of their outfit, appreciating the way the material accentuated their every curve and hollow.

As he broke the kiss, his breaths were heavy, his forehead resting against MC’s. “I’ve wanted this since I first laid eyes on you” he confessed, his voice husky. His fingers deftly worked at loosening his tie, his actions deliberate and tantalizingly slow. “And now that I have you here, I have no intention of holding back.”

He guided MC’s hands to his shirt, inviting them to feel, to explore. As their fingers brushed against his chest, Diavolo maneuvered them toward his desk, sweeping aside papers and artifacts of his rule with a careless flick of his wrist. The message was clear: nothing was more important than the here and now.

Lifting MC onto the desk, Diavolo’s lips trailed kisses down their neck, his hands busy at the task of divesting them of the beautiful yet confining layers of fabric. Each revealed inch of skin was worshipped with kisses and touches that left MC breathless and craving more.

Barbatos

Barbatos moved with the poised elegance that was his hallmark, overseeing the intricacies of the event with an expert eye. However, his usual demeanor of unshakeable calm was disrupted by the entrance of MC, who captivated his attention entirely. Dressed in an ensemble that was was both elegant and tantalizing, MC moved through the crowd with a grace that drew eyes from every corner of the room. The way the material clung to their figure, accentuating every move with subtle allure, left Barbatos more affected than he cared to admit.

Throughout the evening, Barbatos allowed himself the rare luxury of observing MC from afar, appreciating the way they interacted with the other guests. His duties often required him to remain at the periphery, but tonight, his attention invariably returned to MC, their presence pulling at something deep within him.

Then MC approached him, a playful glint in their eye. “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC teased, their voice low and charged with a hint of flirtation.

A slight smile tugged at Barbatos's lips, the expression rare and fleeting. “It would be most remiss of me to allow that,” he replied smoothly. His voice, though low and controlled, carried a warmth that matched his words. “Perhaps a change of environment is in order.”

With a discreet gesture to the little D’s, Barbatos ensured that their journey would be undisturbed. The diminutive demons nodded, their understanding clear—they would ensure no one ventured towards the kitchens, a domain ordinarily under Barbatos's strict control but tonight serving a different purpose.

Guiding MC with a hand at the small of their back, Barbatos led them through the less frequented corridors of the palace to the expansive kitchen. The room was deserted at this hour, the earlier frenzy of preparation for the ball having given way to silence and warmth retained from the day’s cooking.

“Here we are,” Barbatos announced as he closed the door behind them, the click of the latch a definitive note of privacy. The kitchen, with its large ovens and warm hearths, offered a comforting heat that enveloped them—a stark contrast to the cool elegance of the ballroom they had left behind.

Turning to face MC, Barbatos’s demeanor shifted subtly, the lines of his usual reserve softening as he stepped closer. “Much better,” he murmured, the space between them charged with the heat of the room and the heat of his gaze. His hands rose to gently grasp MC’s chin, his touch deft yet filled with a tentative question.

The response was immediate and fervent, MC leaning into the touch, their hands finding his sides. Barbatos leaned in, his lips capturing theirs in a kiss that was exploratory at first but quickly deepened with a shared urgency. The kitchen, a place of culinary creation, became their sanctuary, the stainless steel and polished surfaces bearing witness to a different kind of chemistry.

Barbatos's kisses were meticulous, each one placed with intention and care, exploring the depth of MC's response. His hands, always precise, mapped the contours of MC’s body with equal skill, pulling them closer, their bodies aligning with natural, magnetic precision.

As the kiss broke, Barbatos whispered against MC’s lips, his breath warm, “I find myself desiring more than just your company tonight.” His hands ventured further, undressing MC with a careful urgency that belied his outward composure.

The kitchen became a world unto itself, the counters and islands, once used for preparing decadent dishes, now supported a different feast entirely.

Simeon

Simeon found himself taken aback by MC's stunning presence. They wore an ensemble that seemed to capture the very essence of celestial grace—elegant, yet charged with an undercurrent that seemed almost out of place in the infernal opulence of the Devildom. The fabric played with the light as they moved, enhancing their inherent radiance and drawing Simeon's admiring gaze.

Throughout the evening, Simeon maintained a respectful distance, his admiration expressed through brief, appreciative glances rather than overt attention.

When MC finally approached Simeon, there was a softness in their eyes that matched the gentle timbre of their voice. "If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold," they teased, the playful challenge delivered with a warmth that brought a tender smile to Simeon's face.

Simeon chuckled softly, his blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. "Then it is my duty to ensure you remain warm and well," he replied, his voice low but filled with gentle warmth. "Perhaps a dance would suffice to keep the chill at bay?"

Accepting his outstretched hand, MC allowed Simeon to lead them to the dance floor. As they moved together in rhythm to the soft strains of a demonic melody, Simeon was acutely aware of every point of contact—the gentle touch of MC's hand in his, the slight pressure of their hand on his shoulder, the closeness of their form as they moved in harmony. The dance was a quiet conversation, their bodies speaking in subtle shifts and turns.

As the song drew to a close, Simeon felt a reluctance to part, a sentiment he sensed was shared. His hand lingered in MC's as he led them away from the dance floor to a quieter corner of the ballroom, a secluded alcove framed by opulent draperies.

"Thank you for the dance," Simeon said softly, standing close enough that their mingled breaths warmed the cool air between them. His hand reached up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind MC's ear, a tender gesture that belied the depth of his affection. "Your company, as always, is a blessing."

The air around them seemed to hum with a quiet energy as Simeon leaned closer, his gaze fixed on MC's lips for a fleeting moment before meeting their eyes again, seeking silent permission. Finding no hesitation, only quiet acceptance, he closed the distance between them, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to their lips.

The kiss was gentle, a mere brush of lips that spoke of respect and a deep-seated fondness, yet it held the promise of deeper affections held carefully in check. As they parted, Simeon’s smile was serene, reflecting the peace that their presence brought him.

"If the evening grows too cold or the festivities too wearying, know that my company is yours whenever you seek tranquility," Simeon offered, his voice a soothing balm against the backdrop of the night's revelries.

Solomon

Solomon was already weaving his own brand of mischief among the glittering throng of demons and other supernatural beings. However, his playful antics paused, and his cunning eyes fixed with a sharper intent when MC made their entrance. Dressed in a form-fitting outfit that seemed to draw every gaze in the room, MC was an intoxicating vision of allure. The fabric shimmered with each movement, hugging their form in a way that left little to the imagination and much to Solomon's appreciation.

Throughout the evening, Solomon’s usual facade of nonchalance was punctuated by his keen interest in MC. He used his mastery of magic not just to entertain and dazzle the crowd but to send little magical teases toward MC—slight gusts of wind to flirt with the hem of their outfit, or a whispered incantation that made the air around them subtly shimmer, all designed to draw a laugh or a delightful shiver from them.

When MC approached, their eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge, Solomon was ready with a wry smile. “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m gonna catch cold,” MC quipped, their voice low and teasing, yet laced with a warmth that matched the heat of the ballroom.

Solomon’s laughter was genuine, resonating with his usual charismatic resonance. “Oh, I suspect there are more enjoyable ways to keep warm than mere clothes can provide,” he retorted smoothly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But if it’s warmth you’re after, I know a few enchanting tricks that could help.”

Without waiting for a response, Solomon’s hand waved discreetly, casting a subtle spell that caused the air around them to warm noticeably. The immediate area around MC felt like a gentle embrace, a magical cocoon that made the ambient noise of the ball seem distant.

“Shall we put some of these tricks to the test?” Solomon suggested, offering his arm with an inviting grin. MC took his arm, and together they strolled to a quieter corner of the ballroom. As they walked, Solomon whispered incantations, enchanting the path with small, glowing sigils that sparked under their steps, a private light show that added an element of wonder to their walk.

Once secluded from the majority of the guests, Solomon’s demeanor shifted from the grand sorcerer to something more intensely focused. His hand reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from MC’s face, his touch lingering longer than necessary, charged with a potent energy.

“Now, about keeping you warm,” he murmured, leaning closer so that his breath tickled MC’s ear. His fingers traced a spell in the air, a visible shimmer of magic that danced like fireflies around MC, heating the air with a sensual warmth that made the fabric of their clothes feel suddenly too much.

The kiss that followed was a melding of magic and desire—deep and consuming. Solomon’s lips moved against MC’s with an expert mix of precision and passion, his tongue tracing spells of arousal that left them both breathless. His hands were not idle, exploring MC’s back and sides, where each touch left a trail of warmth that seeped through the fabric, heating their skin directly.

As they parted from the kiss, Solomon looked into MC’s eyes with an expression that was both tender and wild. “There are deeper spells we could explore, spells that require... much less distraction,” he teased, his voice a soft growl that promised much more than the warmth of his teasing tricks.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Yooo. Amazing Gambit writing. 💕 Sooooo I was thinking. I’m feral for the new movie Gambit, especially that VOICE, and can’t stop thinking on this.

Soft non-mutant reader who doesn’t deal with violence and blood very well, like sick or panicky because they were so protected growing up, while Remy is trying to protect them during a fight (could be anywhere). Like, bad time bad place thing. But the reader wants to help, by throwing a shoe when they were about to hurt Remy. Chaos ensures when they turn toward the reader.

So as I was writing this, I was thinking "EXCUSE ME THIS IS A GREAT STORY CONCEPT,". Also, Am I able to use this prompt to possibly, maybe add to my 'I need to write this into a multi chap story' Gambit x reader file? But I hope you enjoy :)

The air crackled with tension as the fight erupted around you. It was supposed to be a simple errand, just a quick stop in a small town that had seemed peaceful enough to get a few hours sleep in. But then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, things went south, and it went south fast. The sudden ambush, the flash of weapons, and Remy pushing you behind him—everything happened too quickly to process.

You had never been good with violence. The sight of blood made your stomach churn, and the sound of gunfire was enough to send your heart racing in sheer panic. But Remy was so much more different that you, complete polar opposites. He moved through the chaos with a deadly grace, cards charged and ready, every motion calculated and precise. It was like watching a storm unfold, fierce and unstoppable.

You tried to stay out of the way, pressed against a wall, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But then you saw it—one of the attackers sneaking up behind Remy, a blade glinting in the dim light. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just acted on pure instinct.

You looked around, hands still pressed against the red brick wall, trying to find something, anything, that would help. You let out a small huff, reaching down and grabbing the closest thing within reach—your dark coloured shoe—and flung it with all your might. It sailed through the air, smacking into the man’s head with a dull thud. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him stumble, giving Remy just enough time to turn and disarm him with a swift, brutal strike.

But then the man's eyes snapped towards you, fury burning in them as he realized where the attack had come from. You froze, heart hammering in your chest, as he took a menacing step toward you. "Shit," You whispered to yourself.

Remy, still engaged with another opponent, glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the man advancing on you. "What exactly did you think that would achieve?!" he shouted over the noise, his Cajun accent thick with frustration.

You blinked, caught between terror and a strange sort of defiance. "I don't really think about things before doing them, you know?" you shot back, voice trembling but determined. "It's how I ended up here with you to begin with, remember?"

The irony of your words wasn’t lost on you. You’d never been the type to seek out trouble, to dive headfirst into danger. In fact you, thrived staying away from it. Spending most days either inside or at your job. But meeting Remy had changed everything. He was chaos wrapped in charm, a magnet for the kind of trouble you had always been shielded from. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragged into his world, into the madness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

It had all started so innocently. You’d met him by chance, a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. He was on the run, tangled up in something that you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t walk away from. Before you knew it, you were caught up in his orbit, swept along by his easy smile and the thrill of something you’d never felt before—excitement, danger, a sense of purpose.

And now, here you were, in the middle of a fight you had no business being in, your shoe—of all things—your only weapon. The absurdity of it might have made you laugh if you weren’t so scared.

The man lunged toward you, but before he could reach you, Remy was there, faster than you could have imagined. He moved like lightning, his bo staff connecting with the man’s side in a sickening crunch that made you wince. The man crumpled to the ground, and Remy turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and exasperation.

"When I said stay behind me, ," he stated, his tone showing his annoyance at you, "It wasn't an optional request chère'".

You nodded, swallowing hard as you clung to the remnants of your composure. This wasn’t your world—this world of violence and bloodshed—but it was his, and as long as you were with him, you’d have to find a way to survive it.

Remy’s order to stay behind him was clear, but the chaos around you made it hard to follow. Every sound seemed amplified—the clash of metal, the shouts of your enemies, the pounding of your own heart in your ears. You stumbled back, trying to keep your distance, but the room felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you with every breath.

Remy was a blur of motion, a dangerous dance of power and precision. You marveled at how he seemed to anticipate every move, every attack, as if the world around him was moving in slow motion. But despite his skill, you could see the strain in his eyes, the worry that flickered every time he glanced back at you.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that much. But there wasn’t time to think about the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘should haves.’ Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of this alive.

Another assailant broke away from the fight, making a beeline for you. You instinctively took a step back, your hands trembling as you searched for something—anything—you could use to defend yourself. But there was nothing. No more shoes to throw, no weapons within reach. Just you and the growing dread in your chest.

Before you could react, the man was on you, his hand grabbing your arm with a painful grip. You let out a small cry, the fear surging up, threatening to overwhelm you. His grip tightened, and you could see the cold, calculating look in his eyes—a predator sizing up his prey.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Remy was there, moving like a shadow. He wrenched the man away from you, his eyes blazing with a fury you had never seen before. "I said stay behind me!" he snapped, his accent thick and his voice laced with an edge of desperation.

You didn’t have time to respond before Remy shoved you back, his attention already turning to the next threat. The man who had grabbed you was on the ground, groaning in pain, but Remy didn’t linger. He was already moving, his staff whirling as he took down the next attacker with a brutal efficiency.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart still racing, your body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through you. This was too much. The sights, the sounds, the raw violence of it all—it was overwhelming, like you were drowning in a sea of chaos with no way to escape.

But then you saw it—a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. One of the attackers, a woman with a cruel sneer and a gun raised, aimed directly at Remy. Your breath caught in your throat, your blood running cold as you realized what was about to happen.

There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. Without a weapon, without a plan, you did the only thing you could think of. You threw yourself at her, arms flailing, a wild, desperate attempt to stop her before she could pull the trigger.

The impact surprised her, but it surprised you even more. The two of you tumbled to the ground, her gun skidding across the floor. She cursed, scrambling to get up, but you were already on her, holding her down with a strength you didn’t know you had.

For a moment, everything was a blur. You didn’t think, didn’t feel—just acted, driven by pure instinct and the overwhelming need to protect Remy. But you weren’t a fighter, and it didn’t take long for her to get the upper hand. She rolled you off her, slamming you against the floor with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

Pain radiated through your body, sharp and overwhelming, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t. You had to hold on, had to keep fighting, because if you didn’t, if you let her win, she would kill Remy. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

But you were no match for her. She was stronger, more experienced, and it wasn’t long before she overpowered you. Her hand closed around your throat, squeezing, cutting off your air. You struggled, panic rising as your vision started to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges.

And then, just when you thought it was over, the pressure was gone. You sucked in a desperate breath, gasping for air, as you saw Remy standing over you, the woman unconscious at his feet. He knelt beside you, his face a mask of concern and something else—something raw and unspoken.

“Chère,” he whispered, his voice tight as he reached out to help you up. “You alright?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if it was true. Your body hurt, your mind was spinning, and you felt like you might be sick. But you were alive, and so was he. That was all that mattered.

He pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you wobbled, your legs weak beneath you. “I told you t’stay back,” he muttered, though there was no anger in his voice now, only worry.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. “I just… I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he usually kept up start to crumble. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand still on your arm, grounding you. “But you gotta trust me t’protect you, alright? This ain’t your fight.”

You nodded again, tears stinging your eyes as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in. You weren’t made for this—for the violence, the blood, the fear. You were out of your depth, dragged into a world you didn’t understand and couldn’t handle. But you couldn’t leave him, either. Not when he needed you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, feeling the weight of your own inadequacy pressing down on you. “I’m not… I’m not like you, Remy. I can’t do this.”

He shook his head, pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you close against him. “You don’t gotta be like me, chère,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You just gotta be you. And that’s enough.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally started to fall. The fight was over, the danger passed, but the fear and the adrenaline still pulsed through you, leaving you shaky and exhausted.

Remy held you, his presence warm and comforting, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just stayed there, holding on to each other in the aftermath of the chaos.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands gently cupping your face. “We’re gonna get outta here, alright?” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “An’ I’m gonna make sure you’re safe. Always.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but stronger than before. “Okay.”

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm and tender that you didn’t quite know how to name.

“Good,” he said simply, “Let’s get moving.”

You followed him, your hand in his, allowing him to pull you into the street, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. The fight, the fear, the realization that you were in over your head—it all hung heavy in the air. But there was also something else, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could handle this after all.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson, Wyoming to start a brand new life in the safe haven; Ellie has a difficult time fitting in and adjusting in the community, but she finds a friend in you; Joel meets you for the very first time and strange new feelings instantly take root.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. AGE GAP (no specific age is mentioned, but reader’s in her late 20s/early 30s and Joel is 56). reader is basically an OFC but story is written in reader format and her physical descriptions are kept as vague as possible. i have my own face claim for her, but i will only ever share it under cuts and with disclaimers. reader is married, Ellie plays a very important role in the series, hints at her strained relationship with Joel but this will indeed be a fix it fic because he deserves it, okay?

word count: 8.1k

Jackson, Wyoming | June, 2024

Joel’s deep, dark brown eyes linger on you from across the town mess hall with sheer, almost unabashed curiosity. Then again, he doesn’t even realize that he’s staring.

It’s about half past twelve, the designated lunch break hour in Jackson, and the larger scale eatery, which for the last couple of years has been run by an older man named Seth and his two surviving adult sons, is alive and well, buzzing loudly with obnoxious, overlapping chatter.

The hall is almost over maximum capacity, packed to the brim with several members of the steadily growing community who had stopped in for a quick bite to eat before having to resume their daily work duties around the settlement. Or at least, a majority of them had, anyway. Others shamelessly try to milk their lunch hour for all that it’s worth and more, dragging it out and extending their allotted free time for as long as they possibly can before having to return to their scheduled tasks around the commune. They float about the place, socializing as if the mess hall had suddenly turned into The Tipsy Bison, the bar right across the road that’s also owned by Seth.

Somehow, by a stroke of sheer good luck, you’d managed to find yourself a smaller, unoccupied table nestled against the wall, away from all the hustle and bustle. It’s tucked away over in the furthest corner of Jackson’s busy and bustling makeshift canteen, near where the aluminum double doors that lead back to the kitchens are propped wide open for the mess hall staff who were coming in and out to replenish the dishes at the buffet. 

You’re sitting at the table alone, your plastic lunch tray surrounded by an absurd amount of open books that Joel had very little choice but to assume came from the town’s modest, but decent sized library that he’d seen nestled between the schoolhouse and the old church, right behind Main Street. In between delicate bites of oven baked chicken and roasted vegetables harvested fresh from the gardens, you reach up and take the blunt, worn yellow pencil that’s tucked in the space behind your ear, using it to scribble on the notepad in your lap before putting the pencil back in its designated place. Although you’re clearly working through your lunch break today, that doesn’t stop you from being interrupted on several different occasions by numerous individuals—friends and familiar faces all approach you with hopeful expressions, eager to join you and keep you company. 

Sure, the hall is full, but there’s still a number of available seats still left at other partially occupied tables nearby, bigger tables that aren’t crowded with books like yours, tables whose occupants aren’t busy working, studying—doing whatever it is that you’re doing. It becomes apparent to Joel that you’re something of a hot commodity around here. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s just something about you that reminds him of the sweet and popular small town girl his favorite country artists would sing about back in the day. The kind of girl with a magnetic presence and irresistible charm—the kind of girl that anyone can fall head over heels in love with in one way or another. 

There’s something almost too endearing about the gracious way you offer up just the most saccharine smile and apologetic doe eyes as you point to your books, politely declining every offer for companionship that comes your way, saying something he can imagine to be along the lines of, not today or maybe another time. Eventually, after a while, you’re finally left alone to bury yourself back into whatever it is that’s keeping you occupied that you can’t even have your midday meal in peace—you’re so engrossed in the task that you don’t even notice the older, salt and pepper haired newcomer who’s been blatantly staring at you from his table over on the opposite of the hall for the last several minutes. 

It’s not the first time Joel’s seen you around.

He still vividly remembers the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you several months ago during the winter season. 

It had been the morning after his fight with Ellie, after she’d confronted him and he had been forced to fess up about his plans to hand her off to his younger brother, Tommy—he’d asked him, pleaded with him, to get her to the Fireflies in Colorado. Joel’s mind had been in an all out raging war, his heart torn between doing what he’d felt was best for Ellie and what he truly wanted, which was to remain by her side and get her to where she needed to be himself. But how the fuck could he do that when all he’d managed to do in the few months prior to their arrival in Wyoming was fail to protect her over and over again? Sure, Ellie was a teenager, now closer to being an adult than anything else, but she was still a child, one who needed to be protected, kept safe. She needed somebody who could get to where she needed to be in one piece, and Joel had come to the conclusion that, as much as he wanted to be that person, he simply wasn’t capable. Slower, older, his hearing getting worse and worse as the days go by, he feared he’d only end up getting her killed if she continued on with him, a scenario he fucking refused to let happen at all costs. He wouldn’t hold another child’s dead body in his arms, not again.

Following a very long and sleepless night of tossing and turning, Joel had pulled himself out of bed just after sunrise that morning. After getting dressed, he’d quietly slipped out of the house and made his way down to the horse stables, hoping he could leave the commune as soon as possible and without notice from Tommy—and especially without notice from Ellie. It’s not that he had wanted to leave without saying goodbye to her, but Joel knew he wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with the decision he’d made about parting ways with her if he saw her face again, not a fucking chance. And so there he’d been, in one of the stalls at the stables, saddling up the horse he planned to steal and take off on when you’d walked by, flashing him a warm and friendly smile, probably assuming he was just another patrolman getting ready to head out for the morning shift. 

Joel had just stared at you, lips pressed together into a tight, thin line with an emotionless expression on his hard, stony face.

Of course, you were nothing more than a complete stranger who didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going through his mind. You couldn’t have possibly imagined what was happening to the tortured older man you’d just encountered, the way his inner turmoil was a single thought away from tearing him apart from the inside out. You’d probably just thought he was rude for not smiling back, or at the very least, offering you a courteous good morning.

He’d almost forgotten about you since then.

Almost.

It’d been rather difficult for him to forget all about the prettiest goddamn fucking face he’d ever seen since the world ended two decades ago—not even after all of the events that followed that fateful morning.

The next time Joel had seen you was on his second day back in Wyoming. He and Ellie had made a trip down to the produce market on Main Street to pick up some vegetables and jarred preserves to stock up the kitchen pantry of their new, forever home. He’d caught sight of you as you made your way down one of the aisles towards the sweet potato bins with a brown, woven basket hanging from one arm and a reusable shopping bag draped over the other. Before Joel even realized that he’d been staring, your kind gaze met his own from across the market and you smiled at him again.

Still just as warm, still just as friendly. And you were still just as fucking beautiful as he remembered.

Much like that winter morning in the horse stables, Joel didn’t smile back at you. 

Two for fucking two—surely you must have thought he was a mannerless asshole at this point. He honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’d think the same. 

Tommy, who had made it back from leading his morning patrol group just in time to join him for lunch, waves a hand in front of Joel’s face, looking thoroughly amused. “Maybe we should find you a goddamn camera,” he teases, letting out a small chuckle once he’d finally managed to break the older Miller’s trance, garnering his attention. “Y’know, so you can take a picture. It’ll last a hell of a lot longer.”

Joel scowls at his brother, though he says nothing.

He can’t very well deny that he’d been caught openly gawking. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” is all he can come up with before taking a large bite of seasoned carrots, heat flooding his face. The way Tommy’s looking at him, with that mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it reminds Joel of their younger years, when Tommy would make it his mission in life to do anything that would cause him discomfort just for his own kicks. 

“Hey, I don’t really blame you, y’know.” Tommy reaches over for his glass of sweet iced tea and picks it up, taking a long and refreshing sip. Smacking his lips together, he casually shrugs his shoulders, shooting Joel a knowing smirk over the top the glass as he comments, “She’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, big brother?”

“Watch it. Don’t think Maria would appreciate you sayin’ that kinda thing ’bout another woman who ain’t her,” Joel warns, cocking an eyebrow at him. His brother hadn’t always been the most faithful of partners in his first life, but Tommy truly seemed to be head over heels in love with his wife. Hearing him talk about another woman makes Joel wonder if perhaps remnants of his playboy ways still lingered behind even after twenty years. With Maria having just found out she was expecting his child, Joel certainly hopes that isn’t the case. “Eyes to yourself, asshole.”

Tommy shrugs again. “Ain’t no real harm in just takin’ a quick peek every once in a while,” he muses, although there’s a joking edge to his tone. Setting his glass of iced tea back down onto the table in front of him, he leans back into his chair and glances over at you. He lets out a long, low whistle, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh trust me, I get it, Joel—hell, every man around here gets it, fuckin’ single or not. She’s a real fuckin’ beauty, she is. But I should probably go ahead and warn you now that it’s best you don’t go gettin’ any ideas when it comes to that one.”

Before Joel can even stop himself, he finds himself asking, “Why’s that?

“Well for starters, that girl’s damn near half your fuckin’ age, you old fucker.”

Joel flips him off.

“Besides that, she’s already spoken for.” 

“She’s got a boyfriend.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“She’s got a husband,” Tommy corrects him. “She’s a married woman, Joel. And here’s the real fuckin’ kicker. She’s married to Jackson’s only doctor.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “A real doctor? Or just some fuckin’ clueless prick who claims to be a doctor?” he questions, shoving another forkful of his carrots into his mouth.

The younger man laughs at the bitter skepticism, knowing that it’d come from a place of envy more than anything. “Real, Joel. The guy’s around my age, give or take a couple years. He was finishin’ up his medical school residency when the outbreak first happened, at least that’s what Maria says,” he explains. He notices the confusion flash across Joel’s face and continues to elaborate. “Two of them go way back, went to the same college before she transferred out to another school for her law degree. Maria came across him and his group one day while out lookin’ for supplies. She said he still knew his stuff after all these years and decided to bring him in as the community’s physician. He looks after everyone around here. Delivers the babies, stitches up wounds. Hell, I broke my arm in a stupid ridin’ accident last summer and he set the bone right back into place, had me good as new within a few weeks. S’a miracle we’ve got someone like him around here.”

Joel glances down at his plate, twiddling his fork between his thumb and his index finger. He would have been a goddamn dirty liar if he’d said that finding out you were a married woman didn’t bother him. 

And to a fucking hero doctor nonetheless.

That only makes it sting a little harder.

Tommy immediately picks up on his brother’s disappointment in hearing the news about you being taken and softly kicks his shin with the toe of his boot underneath the table. “Y’know Joel, there’s plenty of other single women around here. Pretty ones, and real nice, too,” he informs him with a small smile. He pauses and then offers, “If you’re interested, I could introduce you around. Maria has this friend, her name is Esther and she’s a real cute blonde—”

“That’s the last thing on my fuckin’ mind,” Joel grumbles out in reply. He tightly shakes his head. “I just fuckin’ got here, Tommy. Besides, I’ve got Ellie that I need to take care of. We’re both tryin’ to get used to this place after bein’ out there on the road for so long. We’re still in the middle of gettin’ ourselves settled. The kid’s my priority right now—my only fuckin’ priority. Not meetin’ someone.”

Not wanting to push him too far, Tommy goes along with the subject change. “Speakin’ of Ellie, how’s she been doin’ by the way? Haven’t really seen much of her since you two got back.”

Joel hesitates, momentarily unable to meet Tommy’s eyes.

It’d been a couple of weeks now since the events that took place back in Salt Lake City. 

Since the hospital.

Since the Fireflies.

Joel had certainly thought once or twice about confiding in Tommy about what he had done. How he had ruthlessly and without a single ounce of mercy killed all of those people in the hospital, how he had shot Marlene dead at point blank range—how he had violently and single handedly stopped what had most likely been humanity’s only chance at potentially finding a cure for the cordyceps infection by preventing the Fireflies from operating on Ellie and performing a brain surgery that would have killed her. 

Joel doesn’t regret it, nor does he regret the choice he’d made on Ellie’s behalf.

He would do it all over again in a fucking heartbeat if it came down to it.

He doesn’t carry guilt over having done what he’d done, but he does carry the guilt of having lied to her about it after it was all said and done. He felt awful for looking her in the eye and swearing to her that everything he’d said about the Fireflies was true when it wasn’t. Ellie claimed to believe him, but he knew better than that. She was smart, too fucking smart for her own good. She might not have known the extent of it all, but she knew for certain that Joel wasn’t being entirely forthright about what had gone down in Salt Lake City while she’d been unconscious.

From that moment on the mountain, things had been quite tense between them. That conversation instantly caused a rift in their relationship, but Joel could tell she was doing her very best to force herself to fully believe that he was still a person she could trust, a person she could put her faith in. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that her forced efforts to keep believing in him had to have meant something good. 

She didn’t want to give up on him or on their relationship.

Joel exhales a heavy sigh, finally answering the question. “Not too great,” he admits, quietly. “I’m real worried ‘bout her, Tommy. It’s been a couple weeks now since we’ve been back and she still hasn’t made one single goddamn friend around here. She doesn’t fuckin’ talk to anyone, barely even talks to Maria.” He sighs again, tiredly rubbing the side of his face with his free hand. “She spends most of her time hidin’ out in the stables with the horses. She would rather be around them than other people. She can’t live the rest of her life like that. I try to tell her she needs to put in more effort on her part, but she won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Just give her some more time, Joel. After everythin’ that poor kid’s been through in her life, it ain’t a big surprise that she’s strugglin’ a bit to fit in around here, y’know?” Tommy notices the way his older brother’s jaw clenches and he offers him a look of sympathy. “Look, I know Ellie means a whole lot to you and if I were you, I would be real worried ’bout her too. But just give her a little more time to adjust. She’ll get there, I know she fuckin’ will. She’s a real strong kid, big brother.”

“Yeah, I know she is,” Joel murmurs in agreement. “Hell of a lot stronger than someone her age should have to be.”

“She’ll be just fine,” Tommy reassures him. “She’ll find her place here, Joel. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ hope you’re right.”

You relish the feeling of warm sunlight hitting your face.

Summer’s just beginning in Wyoming, and after a particularly long, cold and cruel winter that swept the western state this last year, you couldn’t have been more thrilled to see that warmer weather is well on its way.

At least, for now you’re thrilled.

Winters in Jackson were god awful, but summers could be just as brutal, if not worse.

Clutching the strap of your old, but sturdy brown leather satchel bag securely over your shoulder, you hurriedly make your way across the settlement from the mess hall and back towards the horse stables, the place you commonly referred to as your second home—it wasn’t all that much of a joke, seeing as you often spent more time there than you didn’t. It’s now after lunch hour, and there’s still plenty of work to be done before the end of the day rolls around, most of it which would undoubtedly trickle into the next day.

Being the only veterinarian in the community, there was always more than plenty of work to be done every day. Too much work to be done by one single person alone. Often, you find yourself feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. You feel like you’re completely in over your head, and it leaves you wondering if you’d made the right decision by taking such an enormous responsibility into your hands.

Then again, it’s not like you’d been given much of a choice. In a way, it had been expected of you.

Prior to passing away from illness two summers ago, your father had been the veterinarian who looked after the animals. Even though you hadn’t been trained professionally like he had, your father decided to spend the final years of his life teaching you to the best of his ability and with what little resources he had available. After all, Jackson was going to need someone to step up and take care of the animals when he was gone—particularly the hoses. Even as his physical health worsened, he used every last ounce of strength he had left in him to prepare you to take over for him when he died. Thanks to him and all he’d done for you, you certainly knew a thing or two, but the job was still daunting, even after all this time of being in practice on your own without him there to guide you like before.

Keeping the horses healthy to begin with made your job a hell of a lot easier, but when a horse became sick or injured, that was when your knowledge and your skills were truly put to the test. Horses were how everyone traveled when in search of needed supplies, how patrolmen and women moved around while they were out and about on watch keeping the community safe against the infected and against raiders. Horses were one of the most important, most precious resources the commune possessed. They kept everything going, everyone moving, and you’d be fucking lying if you said that being the sole person in charge of caring for them didn’t put a tremendous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Sensing your doubt, Maria Miller often assured you that you were the best person for the role—the only person for the role. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she had complimented you over coffee at her place the morning after you had successfully removed a bullet lodged into the shoulder of one of the horses that had been injured while Tommy and his group were out on overnight patrol. They’d stumbled across violent and armed raiders, and luckily everyone had made it out unscathed with the exception of Tommy’s beloved black horse, Ranger. You recalled being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night to tend to him, the first serious case you had to take care of without your father’s guidance. Thankfully, the stallion’s injury hadn’t been life threatening, and you were able to patch him up within the hour. After just a few weeks of working with Ranger and putting him through physical therapy, the horse made a full recovery and both Maria and Tommy couldn’t have been more thrilled with your work.

Still, you still continued questioning your own abilities, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Both Maria and Tommy decided to assign you as Jackson’s equine veterinarian, pulling you from your previous job, which had been helping Seth make sandwiches at The Tipsy Bison.

You rush into the stables, making a mental list with the names of all the horses that you still need to check over for the day, including the group of horses that had just arrived back from that morning’s patrol. You make your way down to the very last stall which is serving as home to a stunning, chestnut-brown pregnant mare.

“Hi there, Stella,” you coo sweetly, beaming at the beauty. “Hi, my gorgeous girl. How are you doing today, sweetie pie?”

“I would be doing a hell of a lot better if I could have one of those apples in your bag,” a voice answers, startling you slightly.

Peering around Stella’s body, you catch sight of Ellie laying down on a small bed of hay in the furthest corner of the stall. She’d made something of a pillow out of her backpack, kicking back as she flips through her favorite superhero comic book for what had to be the hundredth time. She offers you a silly, lopsided grin the minute she takes a glimpse at the baffled look on your face. “Howdy.”

“Ellie,” you sigh her name softly. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Living my best life,” she deadpans. “What else does it look like I’m doing?”

You try but mostly fail, in hiding your laughter at her quick witted sense of humor. “Ellie,” you say her name again. “You can’t just hide out in here with the horses every single day, you know,” you point out, dropping your heavy satchel bag onto the ground. Stella lowers her head and gives it a sniff, no doubt smelling those apples you always carried around with you.

“Wanna bet?” The teenager quips with a small joking smirk as she sits up, tossing her comic book to the side. Bits of hay stick out of her brown hair, which she always keeps tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school with the other kids?”

She rolls her eyes. “I already went to school. Back in the Boston QZ. FEDRA’s finest, dude.”

You don’t know all that much about Ellie Williams—nor about the brooding older man that she’s here with, Joel Miller. The only thing you do know is that Joel happened to be Tommy Miller’s older brother and he acted as Ellie’s guardian. Initially, you’d thought he was her father, but Maria had told you that he had no familial relation to the girl, a fact that took you by complete surprise.

Their arrival in Jackson back during the winter season had the entire town talking—but by the following morning, the pair were gone, not to be seen again for several months until their return towards the end of spring just a couple of weeks ago. Rumors flew once the word of their return had gone around, but in reality, no one had the slightest clue about where they had gone or why they had left the safety of the commune’s walls in the first place. Not even Maria, who had failed in getting her husband to talk. She swore up and down Tommy knew something she didn’t, but he refused to spill his brother’s secrets, even to his own wife.

Like everyone else in the tight knit community, you were curious about Ellie, and you were especially curious about Joel. You’d seen him around a couple of times before, but hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet. Still, even without having spoken a single word to him, you already knew he wasn’t anything like Tommy, or anyone else you’ve ever encountered, really. A man of very few words, he kept to himself, just like Ellie did. Still, Joel knew he needed to find his place and pull his weight in Jackson just like everyone else, and once he began working patrol alongside Tommy, he finally began engaging with other members of the town. 

Reluctantly so, but at the very least, he was trying.

Ellie, on the other hand, avoided everybody at all costs. Everybody, that is, except for you.

Since their arrival, Ellie chose to spend her days in the stables. She’d hang out with the horses while reading her comic books or listening to tapes on some old Walkman she had permanently borrowed from Tommy. Despite a hectic schedule that kept you busy, you eventually started taking the time out of your day to talk to her. It had started off with light chatter about the most trivial of things—how the day was going, whether or not the weather was nice outside, what had been served for lunch in the mess hall that afternoon. Ellie seemed almost annoyed with you at first, but after a couple of days, she’d quickly started warming up to you and by the end of the first week, she had started following you around the stables, joining you wherever you needed to be. The girl had taken a liking to you, but she was still quite guarded and careful, as if she were still testing the waters, figuring out whether or not you could be trusted.

You don’t mind that, though.

Little by little, simply by being kind to her and making the genuine effort to get to know her, you’re slowly beginning to chip away at her layers. There was still quite a long way to go if you ever wanted the teenager to completely open up to you, but you didn’t mind that either.

You’d be as patient with her as you needed to be.

You walk over to her. “Listen Ellie, as much as I really enjoy having you around me all the time, you really do need to make friends, you know.”

She blinks. “But you’re my friend.”

Even as you rephrase yourself, you can’t help but smile. “Friends your own age,” you remark, tucking the loose lock of your hair that had fallen loose from your dutch braid behind your ear. “You know, my husband, he has a niece named Dina. She’s about your age. I could introduce you to each other if you'd like?”

Ellie furiously shakes her head. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“Everyone around here looks at me like I’ve got two fucking heads or something. She probably fucking will too,” she mumbles. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’d have an easier time fitting in around here if I was a fucking clicker.”

Chuckling, you gently shake your head at her.

By now, you’d pretty much gotten used to her rich and colorful vocabulary.

You crouch down in front of her. “Look Ellie, I know how hard it is not to fit in with others.”

“You?” Ellie blows a loud raspberry in complete disbelief. “No fucking way. I don’t believe that for one fucking second, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t know this, I haven’t always been this age,” you remind her, lightly swatting at the side of her knee with your hand. “I was fifteen once too.”

“Yeah, and you were probably little miss fucking perfect, just like you are now.” She rolls her brown eyes at you in a teasing manner. “I bet everyone just loved you.”

You swat at her knee again. “Oh, stop that. That couldn’t be any further from the truth,” you reply, wondering where this child had come up with the idea that you are, or had ever been perfect. “I was still living in one of the quarantine zones with my family when I was your age, Ellie. We were living in the Alburquerque QZ for quite a while before it got overrun by the infected. They had schools and everything, just like in Boston. My mother was a nurse, so she had the privilege of enrolling me in one of their better schools, a preparatory school—she had the hope that I’d become an officer so I could have a chance at a decent life.” You pause, noticing a strange glimmer flash in the girl’s eyes, but when she says nothing, you continue on, “So I got the absolute pleasure of going to school with a bunch of kids whose parents were officers and important higher ups in the zone. And let me tell you something, the world may have gone to complete shit, but teenagers can still be fucking assholes.”

Ellie throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you curse. I thought you were too fucking prim and proper for that.”

“I’m not all that prim and proper,” you counter, grinning at the way she continues to cackle. “Besides, spending all this time with you might just have me cursing like a fucking sailor by the end of the week.”

“Fuck yeah it will,” she agrees with a nod. 

You grin again, but when your eyes meet Ellie’s, it falters slightly.

Ellie hadn’t told you much of anything about her past, but one thing was for certain—the young girl had been through hell and back. You could see it written all over her face, even when she smiled and even when she laughed. The traces of terror, pain, and trauma were quite subtle, but they were very much present and in recent nights, you’d find yourself lying in bed, wide awake and wondering what all this poor child had gone through in her life. Thoughts about what Ellie had seen, what and who she had lost in this world haunted you.

She’s different. 

What she’d been through made her different.

It set her apart from the other children, especially those who don’t know what it’s like to live a life outside these four walls.

It pained you to know that she felt ostracized when you were willing to bet your life that whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been her fault.

Ellie Williams wasn’t your responsibility—you hardly know her. But you already care about her. An inexplicable soft spot for her had found its way into your heart from your very first interaction with her. If there’s anything you can do to help her ease into this new way of life, you’ll gladly do so without hesitation.  

“So then,” Ellie finally says after a minute, looking up at you. “Is it, uh, is it alright if I keep coming to the stables to spend time with you and the horses?”

“Of course.” You rise to your feet and glance at Stella. “But only on one condition. You have to help me out with the grooming. I’ve been really short handed lately and could use the extra help. Deal?”

She jumps up to her feet, eagerly nodding her head. “Deal.”

Joel dumps his plastic tray and used dishware into the designated dirty dish bin before shoving his way through the doors of the mess hall. The air outside is still relatively cool, it’s crisp and fresh—but the temperatures are sure to get a hell of a lot warmer now that summer has officially arrived. Not that he minded.

He keeps his sights set straight ahead of him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone who so much as even throws a glimpse in his direction.

People seem to be getting to him, but oftentimes, he still feels like a pariah. It’s almost like he’s some fucking feral stray cat that Jackson had adopted and taken into it’s home, willing to tame him, but still afraid that he could start tearing shit up at any given moment if they didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. He could handle that, though. It’s his Ellie he’s worried about. Between the survivor’s guilt she’d been dealing with on a daily basis and the way she was looked at in the community by everyone, Joel feared for her well being. He could only hope that Tommy was right about her just needing time and that eventually, she’ll find her place and he’ll have the chance to give her the most normal life possible under the circumstances. 

It’s the very least Joel could do for her after all she’d been through in the last year—after what he’d done, how he had lied straight to her face. He fucking owed her that much.

Ellie deserved happiness, and he would do just about anything in his power to give it to her.

Joel arrives at the horse stables and makes his way inside. “Ellie?” He calls out her name. “Ellie? You in here?”

That’s when he hears her voice. 

“Wait, what? Stella’s pregnant? I didn’t fucking know that!”

Rounding the corner into the very last stall, Joel sees Ellie standing there, her tiny little hand on the muzzle of a brown horse. In her opposite hand, she’s holding a mane brush. She isn’t alone.

He’s surprised to see you standing there beside her, your hands planted on your hips. You’re wearing a pair of well worn light wash blue jeans, the legs tucked into a pair of weathered black riding boots whose soles are completely caked with muck. Joel remembers you wearing an oversized, long sleeved red flannel shirt back in the mess hall, but it’s now off and tied around your waist, leaving you in a thin, cotton white tank top—the material fits snug on your frame, and Joel tries his hardest not to stare at the patch of bare skin that peeks between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.

Christ.

You’re even more beautiful up close.

Fuckin’ get a grip, Miller, he thinks silently to himself.

“She sure is,” you reply to her question with a wide grin. “We just found out about a week ago and believe she’s about a few weeks along. We’ll have a sweet new baby in a year.”

“What? No fucking way!” Ellie exclaims, looking thoroughly excited, but bewildered by the fact. “Horses are pregnant for a whole year? Holy shit man, that’s fucking nuts!”

“Well, for eleven months,” you clarify for her, giving Stella a gentle, but firm pat on her muscular neck. “This is Stella’s first one. We’re hoping for a smooth pregnancy that reaches full term, but sometimes babies decide to come a bit sooner than expected.”

Curiously, Joel’s lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

He can’t fucking believe it.

Ellie hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two weeks and yet here she is, engaging with you so easily and so effortlessly, cracking the first genuine smile he’d seen since they had fed that giraffe back in Salt Lake City. More than that, Ellie is being herself, cursing up a storm and all, and you don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it, not like the other adults whose jaws would drop in utter horror at her use of such foul language.

Joel wills himself to move and steps inside of the stall. He lightly clears his throat. “Ellie.”

You and Ellie both turn around, glancing in his direction.

“Joel? What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile fading slightly.

“Lookin’ for you. It’s lunchtime. Y’need to go eat somethin’ kiddo.”

She holds up the brush in her hand. “But we were just about to—”

He stops her with a stern glare. “Lunch. Now. Go.”

“Fine,” Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Picking up her red and tan backpack from the ground, she hands you the mane brush and stomps out of the stall, roughly shoving into Joel’s shoulder as she pushes past him without another word.

Joel glances at you, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over him. Just as he’s about to politely excuse himself and leave, you speak.

“You’re Tommy’s older brother, right? Joel?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Stepping away from Stella, you walk over to Joel and introduce yourself, extending a hand for him to shake.

Your name is as beautiful as you are and it sounds heavenly when he repeats it, rolling smoothly off his tongue. He takes your hand in his own and the contrast between the two is stark. Your hand is soft against his rough, small compared to his large, but somehow still an all too perfect fit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Joel.” Your eyes find his, meeting them in a way that makes something inside of him that had been sleeping for decades now stir itself awake—it’s a feeling that’s too foreign for him to pinpoint. 

Realizing he’s been holding onto your hand longer than necessary, he drops it and takes a step back, lightly bumping his back against the stall door. “I’m—uh, I’m real sorry ‘bout Ellie,” Joel apologizes to you after a minute. “I know she’s been spendin’ a lot of time in here. I hope she hasn’t been botherin’ you or gettin’ in the way of things. If she is, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No, no. Of course not. She hasn’t been bothering me at all,” you quickly assure him without missing a beat. “I’m usually in here alone, so it’s actually been really nice having her around. I enjoy her company a lot.”

“You do?”

You toss him a puzzled, but amused look. “Is that so strange?”

Joel places his hands on his hips and leans back against the stall door. “Ellie’s been havin’ a little trouble,” he confesses. “Adjustin’ to life here and meetin’ people. She, uh—she ain’t like all the other kids around here, y’know?”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline—exactly how well had you and Ellie gotten to know each other already? What all had she told you? What did you know about her?

What did you know about him?

Joel tries to mask the concern on his face.

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. I told her I know how hard it is being a teenager and trying to fit it in with the crowd, even in a world like this one.” You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head, the ridiculousness of what you’d just said sounding sillier out loud than it had in your mind. “It’s even harder when you’re just so different.” You detect the way that your statement triggers something of a negative response from Joel—the way his eyes darken in a flash of anger and his nostrils flare slightly tell you he doesn’t take all too kindly to anyone talking negatively about his kid. Ellie being different is something that he already knows, of course, but hearing it from someone else isn’t easy for him, and it certainly isn’t welcome. It puts him right into protective mode and you don’t blame him, not in the slightest. You hold your hands up and reassure him, “There’s nothing wrong with being different, by the way.”

Joel sees the sincerity in your eyes that go hand in hand with your words and his defenses switch off almost as quickly as they’d switched on. “There isn’t,” he agrees with a careful nod of his head. “Nothin’ wrong with it at all.” He clears his throat. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that I don’t really like it when people start runnin’ their mouths ‘bout my kid, that’s all.”

Waving a hand, you assure him, “No need to apologize at all, Joel.”

Little by little, he starts relaxing. Taut and tense muscles that have been wound up for years and years are suddenly beginning to loosen. All it’s taking is being in your presence and talking to you. Joel suddenly understands why Ellie’s taken such a quick liking to you. 

You’re unlike anyone that either of them had ever met before. You’re bright and you bring about this warmth—a different kind of warmth Joel hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It feels like seeing the sun for the very first time after spending years and years trapped in a cold, cold darkness.

He glances around the stall. “So, uh—what’s the deal? You one of the stable hands around here or somethin’ like that?”

“Something like that,” you repeat after him, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at the way he speaks with a heavy, but still incredibly charming Southern drawl. “I’m the veterinarian here in Jackson.”

He chuckles. “Y’mean, those still exist?”

“Sort of. My father used to be the veterinarian here,” you explain to him. “That was what he did for a living before the outbreak happened. We lived in New Mexico on a horse ranch when I was growing up—he started off as a stable hand and then he went back to school to become an equine veterinarian. When we got here a few years ago from one of the quarantine zones, he told Maria what he had done for a living before this and he was asked to care for the horses in exchange for our place here.”

“And you?” Joel can’t help but wonder out loud. You seem quite young, can’t be older than your late twenties or early thirties at most, which would still have made you a child when the outbreak happened. “No offense darlin’ but you seem a little bit too young to have gone to vet school before shit hit the fan.”

Darlin’.

He doesn’t mean to call you that. But it’s too late—and you don’t appear bothered by it.

Instead, you laugh, and the sound is like a gorgeous melody he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life if given the chance. “No, I definitely did not go to veterinary school. Actually, my dad taught me everything I know.” You speak fondly of him as you continue to say, “He educated me. Well, as best as he could considering the circumstances and all. He gave me a ton of books that I could read and study from, but most of it was hands-on training. He tried to teach me all that he could before he died a couple of years ago.”

Joel frowns. “Oh. Sorry to hear ‘bout your dad.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He peers at you, wondering what had happened to him. 

“He died of illness,” you tell him, as if having read his mind. “Cancer, we think it was, but we obviously can’t know for sure without proper testing. And before you say it again, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head at him as you change the subject and ask, “So, how are you settling in?”

“S’been alright, I reckon. Real different from what I’m used to—from what we’re both used to,” Joel answers, referring to Ellie.

“I can imagine it is. It took me a while to get used to this place when I first got here too. It’s such a different way of life, especially when you lived under FEDRA control for so long,” you empathize with him, sighing as you drop your arms back down at your sides. “You stay just a couple of houses down from Tommy and Maria, right?”

“Yeah, we’re two doors down in the brown and greenish lookin’ unit.”

“I’m in the light blue and white cottage right across from them,” you inform him, your pretty eyes twinkling as you give him a smile. “I guess that kind of makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s stomach somersaults.

If you didn’t stop smiling at him like that, there was going to be a problem.

“It does,” he manages to say. Remembering Tommy’s warning from earlier, he decides it would be best for him to leave—and the quicker, the better because he’s beginning to notice how fucking easy it is to fall under your spell. He pushes himself away from the stall door. “I should probably get goin’ now. Got evenin’ patrol,” he says. “Listen, uh, I really appreciate you spendin’ time with Ellie and bein’ so kind to her. Thank you for that.” He gives you a small grateful nod and turns on the heel of his boot to leave the stall.

“Joel?”

He stops dead in his tracks, his back stiffening slightly.

The sound of your soft voice saying his name is sweet like pure, raw honey.

If he isn’t careful, he’ll become addicted to it—he fears he already is.

Swallowing harshly, Joel turns back around to face you. “Yeah?”

“We’re having this big get together tomorrow night in the barn that’s right across the way,” you say, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. Through the small round window in the stall, he can see the very barn you’re talking about. “We do it every single year on the first day of summer. We do it for the kids more than anything, but everyone comes out.” There’s a subtle hint of shyness to your tone. “I’m not sure if Tommy or Maria have mentioned it to you yet, but there’s going to be a big barbecue, drinks, and even dancing. The whole nine yards.”

Joel has to bite back a small scoff of disbelief. “You serious?”

“Hey, the world might have ended, but people still know how to get down and party,” you joke. You observe the genuinely perplexed look that crosses his face and giggle. “I know it must sound really bizarre. But it’s a lot of fun and it’s a great way to really get to know the folks around here. I think it would be great if you and Ellie both came.”

“Ain’t too sure if it’d be Ellie’s thing. Or mine,” he admits, raking a hand nervously through his hair at the thought.

“You won’t know unless you give it a shot, Joel.” You gift him with another brilliant smile that just about makes his heart stop inside his chest. “Please?”

Joel hardly knows you.

Hell, up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known your fucking name—how is it possible that he can’t say no to you? A complete fucking stranger?

He thinks about it. He doesn’t like the idea of having to interact with anyone outside of his patrol duties, but if going to the damn thing means seeing you again, then he’s willing to at the very least give it a shot. 

“Maybe we’ll both stop by for a bit and check it out,” he finally replies, exhaling a sigh of defeat.

“Great!” You beam happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Joel repeats, giving you one last nod before turning and leaving the stall.

As he leaves the stables and heads home, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards at the mere thought of seeing you tomorrow night. 

Shit.

Yeah, he’s in fucking trouble. 

[temis-de-leon]

One bed - 500 F.C.

Characters: Solomon x gn!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: Romance anon

CW: the bed is third-wheeling in this one. Secret relationship and ✨communication✨, mushy af. Mammon is not jealous, he's just the most annoying older brother ever.

.

Mammon’s indignant screeches followed them well after they separated from the group on their way to the room, echoing in the emptiness of the hallways and remaining even when they closed the door; muffled and incomprehensible, but still audible.

“Does he think we’re dating?”

Hearing his words, MC immediately looked at the sorcerer, who was placing his bag on the bed and eyeing the sheer size of the mattress with great interest. It occupied half of the room, almost as ridiculous as Lucifer’s back in the House of Lamentation.

“Would he be wrong in thinking that?”

He smiled sheepishly in return, scratching the back of his neck in a poor attempt at trying to hide the obvious blush on his cheeks. He watched as his beloved fellow human slowly walked towards him, hands behind their back and an innocent sway in their strides.

They enjoyed the way his eyes lingered on their body and he perfectly knew it, which was the reason why he didn’t bother hiding it.

“How could he not?” MC added, letting their hands drag over his chest before hugging his neck. “Just by the way you’re looking at me, I’m surprised no one has said anything yet”

Solomon chuckled, hugging them back and closing the distance between them. Their lips were touching, but not enough to properly kiss, and when MC tried to do just that, he leaned back a little and softly laughed again.

“What can I say? You’re irresistible”

“Flatterer”

“I’d rather call myself an honest man”

They opened their mouth to reply, but he effectively shut them up with a quick kiss, staying only for a short few seconds before turning around and rummaging through his bag like nothing happened.

Dumbfounded, still dizzy after his brief affection, MC stood with a pout before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well, now you’re looking at me like you want everyone to know” he said at their silence, trying to appear nonchalant despite his curious eyes.

His hidden words were clear. Did they want to go public? Their secret relationship had been fun for a while, hanging out behind everyone’s backs, stealing kisses in the dark and subtly throwing flirtatious remarks under a façade of friendship, but maybe it was time to end the game and start the real thing.

And it wasn’t like MC was embarrassed about being with him; on the contrary, they were thrilled and over the moon. They couldn’t wait to hold his hand in front of whoever would watch, go on dates without worrying about their surroundings and spend the night at Purgatory Hall without lying about the reason.

Were they ready, though? Were they ready to look him in the eye and profess their love in front of all of their friends? MC’s found family?

“You know there’s no hurry, right?”

Solomon was smiling with fondness, but MC could see his slight and almost imperceptible disappointment. They walked towards each other again, like magnets, and stayed face to face in the middle of the room. In a certain way, it looked like a wedding ceremony.

Their heartbeat increased at the thought.

“We can keep this the way it has been for another while” he continued speaking, voice soft as a murmur while he cradled their face. “As long as I’m with you, I’m okay with it”

“Such an honest man you are” they replied with no bite, caressing his skin back at his confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Sol…”

They sat again, this time bringing him with them, and grabbed his hands without breaking eye contact.

“I want to make this official as much as you do, I’m just afraid” then continued speaking before letting him intervene. “What if this changes once everyone knows?”

“In what way, change?”

“I don’t know…” MC averted their eyes, wondering what they could say so he would understand them, but no words came to mind. Suddenly, they felt embarrassed, blushing in self-consciousness under his watchful gaze. “Maybe the brothers will spoil our dates or keep me inside the house so I can’t see you! You know how they are!”

“Oh, I certainly do” he laughed, raising his arm as an invitation for a hug. MC wasted no time in scooting closer, letting their head rest on his shoulder and smiling in contentment when he kissed their temple. “Listen, okay? I assure you, I’ll curse all of them if they ever attempt any of those things”

“Lucifer would probably curse you back”

“Lucifer knows me enough not to try”

They hummed, not knowing what to answer to the sternness in his voice. Despite that, Solomon’s touch was gentle and caring and, if they stayed like that for longer, it would make MC fall asleep.

“It’s your choice, MC” he whispered, tilting his head to get closer.

Still speechless, drowsy and drunk in love, MC craned their neck and kissed him with all the warmth they could muster. He let out a sound in return, not a whine or a moan, but something similar. They could feel his fingers tightening his grip around their arm, pulling them even closer and turning them so he could lay them on the bed.

Just then, having the preciseness of a Swiss clock, the door opened and crashed against the wall behind it. The noise pulled Solomon and MC away from each other and made them stare both in amazement and irritation as Mammon screeched like a banshee while pointing at them with disgust and horror on his face.

“ONE BED...! KISSING! THEY'RE KISSING!! WHY…? GET OFF THEM, YOU SHADY SORCERER! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The rest of the brothers’ voices, as well as the prince’s, his butler’s and the angels’, came closer and closer.

It was like being trapped under the threat of a tsunami, except a tsunami would be preferable in this particular case.

“Then again, maybe, it’s our luck the one who decides our fates, my love”

MC smiled at Solomon’s playfulness, which only increased when Mammon sat down to catch his breath so he could keep screaming.

“Then so be it”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion

[death---dealer]

Subway Systems - Five x Reader - Oneshot snippet.

No big deal whatever its just me writing stuff enjoy a snippet and if you like it idk maybe i post the whole thing lol

They were alive--- Just like you, the plants you tended to, part of a daily ritual you fell into with the Hargreeves. They were alive, breathing and… Half dead, holding on what seemed like a thread just like it felt you were doing for the past two-thousand five-hundred and fifty five days. Seven years, if your math was correct. Seven years since the soles of your feet threaded off the metallic base of the subway car, seven years since you last had seen the outside world you were so familiar with, teetering between worlds of destruction that offered no solace for either traveler once stepped off the car you were on that day.

There were some sunny days that beat against your skin, burning engraves of rays into you that reminded you of the slowness of the Summertime, the casted shift of a breeze against the trees and the subsequent rustling of the leaves. If you closed your eyes, you could see the suns shape against your eyelids, reminiscent of laying in a field of flowers as a child, face up towards the sky. If you were quiet enough now to use your imagination passed survival, you could hear it in the recesses of your mind... Crickets... Chirping out a solemn song as your fingertips brushed against grass. Bushes being shuffled through by rabbits on the hunt for succulent berries and the buzzing of insects too close to your ear, but you were too tired to move away from them so you let them be.

You wondered at times... If Five could hear it too... Or did his sound like the hustle and bustle of a city? The constant noise that is ultimately drowned up by sheer will power? The bickering of civilians in the street, the passing of a car too close to the curb and the honk of a car, angry at someone darting across the street nowhere near the cross-walk? You chose to never ask. It always sought as a bitter call towards the past. Those flickering waves of the way the world had been have not dulled out due to time like a faded newspaper and you had to recall that you were stuck in a loop, together apart, together falling inwards like a supernova with each day that was lived. Never admitting verbally to the graces of reality that escaped on the outside, but mentally accepting the way that things were playing out on the inside.

There were some gray days of rain that pounded against your skin, dull and saddened with each rain drop that casted shivers down your spine, noticed and eyes rolled at the human reaction as if he wouldn't react the same way to the elements. Five was fast to snidely comment that you needed to be more astute on your journey. 'Find yourself a goddamn jacket' was mumbled seven years ago as his envy colored irises sneered at the way that water hit against the bare skin of your arms and down to trickle off your fingertips. Like you were something special and magnetic it was being pulled to, he hated the sight and scoffed under his breath.

Those comments and jeers were aplenty the first two years together but you were quick on your feet and learned to never take offense to them. They were... Oddly reassuring now in the twisted way that Five only muttered them to give advice out of care and want to keep you alive. Least, in the last five years that since trailed by and gave way for the comments to begin their decent in bitingness and replaced with fond irritation, you convinced yourself that was the case.

And in return without giving it much thought, you gave him solace in silently bared knowledge that he wasn't traversing this alone, that he was not carrying all of this on his thinned shoulders; the overpowering burden of death that seemed to follow in his shadow. Another prolonged period of time without his family was at least bearable this round due to actual companionship even if it held notes of hostility at times from your dueling personalities that meshed only in certain frequencies.

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 3 |

Part Three [series masterlist]

summary: you're a mender in the dawn court, tasked with fixing cursed and broken relics. Azriel x dawn court reader

2318words, not edited and wrote on my phone so might be some errors

The in-between moments of winnowing was always something you never got used to. You could never stick the landing doing it yourself, a tangled mess of limbs as you bring Eris down with you. He rose, straightening his long velvet overcoat, smoothing the creases from his trousers.

Golden rays of light bathed the marbled floors, veiled drapes fluttering between columns opening up to the dawn courts balcony. A summoning platform, the only place that allowed Eris to enter without an invitation.

Your court suited the autumn general, long red hair glimmering in the sun as if it too were made of fire. His skin a tad pale, you wondered what a month in the dawn court would do to his complexion.

There was never much space between the two of you, two opposites attracting like a magnet. You found it difficult to retreat from his energy.

Eris traced the side of your face with the back of his hand, you couldn't help but melt into his touch. Like a moth to a flame, you chased the dancing flickers of his movements. You didn't know if it was the power of the bond or if it was his natural charm.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair,” Eris whispered breath on your lips, his hand twisted in your hair and tilted your head back, neck aching as you gazed up at him.

You closed your eyes, humming at the heat rolling off of him.

“But I suppose, in this court you are not mine,” he said, releasing his hold on your hair and pushing you away. “Only under the mountain.”

Eris Vanserra was every bit like the autumn court, hot one minute and cold the next. You'd been burnt more than you'd like to admit though, forever searching for the warmth to escape under the mountain. To escape them.

You reminded yourself that you were safe, no longer under the mountain. No longer in need of someone to seek help in. You could look after yourself.

"I should get cleaned up," you said, wincing at the dirt clinging to your trousers and caking your boots. Bowing your head in goodbye, you're yanked back by your elbow and Eris's arms wrapped around you.

He traced your arms, the thick layers of your jacket and trousers flickered, flames licking the fabric and replacing it with shining silks, skirt pooling down to the floor. A bronzed bodice hugged the top of your body, wide neck line accentuating your collar bone, but not revealing too much.

Burgundy and gold sheer panels fell from your broad shoulders like a cape, a merge of autumn and dawn colours. The dress light and flowing, moved as if it had a life of its own in the early morning breeze.

The tattoo snaking up your right arm on full display for everyone to see. Roots stretching around your wrist, tree with spindly branches wrapping around your forearm. Lighter patches of puckered skin marred your flesh, part of the ink lost to getting too close to the flames.

"How did you know I was under the mountain?" It's all you could think about since he'd appeared and helped you summon the spirit back into its box. You swayed in his embrace, back of your head pressed to his firm chest.

"I charmed the box to tell me if you ever touched it," he paused, his thumb dragging along the burns on your arm. "so that if you ever did open it, I could be there for you." He pecked your cheek, part of you longing for more.

"You did?" The spark reigniting in your chest, the weight of his words making you relax in his hold. He was always so good when it came to talking, smooth but direct with you.

"Mmmm, never thought you'd use it though," he hummed, his nose nudging your neck. You leant to the side, allowing him more skin to touch.

You hadn’t seen him since Amarantha’s reign, some nights you felt the ache of his absence. It seemed you were both caught up with the memories, not yet wanting to let each other go.

A guard appeared from the archway, he paused a few feet away before requesting both of your presence in the throne room. You followed him in, Eris slipping his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The doors opened, camellia's hung from the glass domed ceiling and cascaded down the columns, orange and pink petals that rivalled the sun rising in the morning. Dewy raindrops trickled from the plants, landing into the fountain bed below them.

To your surprise Rhys and Cassian were waiting in the throne room. Thesan talking to them in hushed tones, Azriel nowhere to be seen. His absence leaving an ache in your chest, you had no idea why it bothered you so much. Then you remembered the way he looked at you under the mountain.

“Ah there you are,” Thesan said turning around, lips pursed as he eyed your held hands. “Vanserra.” He nodded his head, not bowing to Eris.

“High lords,”You were quick to bow to Thesan and Rhys. “General,” you said, facing Cassian, but before you could bow Eris tugged your hand to him, stopping you in your greeting.

Cassian’s gaze was still locked onto your joined hands, no, he was staring at the marks binding you to Eris. Now you knew why the autumn general still held onto you, he wanted them to know his claim. The promise or bargain tying you to him. That you are not your own.

It’s times like this that you felt the burn, the calculated touch he used, to give himself the upper hand. Always plotting something, three steps ahead of you and oh so predictable he’d told you many times before.

You slipped out of his grasp, hating the way you wanted to return to him for a little security.

“Why were your men attacking us?” Cassian demanded, his booming voice kept you from moving from your place. You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Eris, his attention on the dirt underneath his nails and his amber eyes slid to Rhys as if it were him who spoke.

"They were my father's guards."

"Why were you under the mountain?" Rhys asked, he was the only one sitting at the table, elbow leant against the edge. Cassian's stance wide and clenched fists by his side, as if he was trying to stop himself launching into Eris. Thick brows furrowed, nose scrunched in pure hatred for the redhead.

Thesan remained at the bottom of the tiled steps of his throne, watching the scene play out. Letting them shred light on the situation, keeping back to draw up his own conclusion of whatever was going on.

You felt the weight clamp down on your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh. Another anchor to shackle you, Eris playing the part and orchestrating the meeting to go in his own favour.

"I was there for my little mender," Eris said, framing your face with his hands. Your lips parted, breath faltering as he inched closer. Nose brushing against yours, you almost forgot where you were in the heat of his hold. Earthy scent invading your senses, smokey wood of a crackling fire and warm vanilla overpowered by cinnamon.

"Enough, Vanserra. We get your point," Thesan said, clicking at you to shake you out of whatever trance you'd slipped into. His face softened as you focused on him, blurred vision dropping like Eris had veiled you to only see him.

Shame knotted in your stomach, the way you fell into him and laid everything down for him. A sudden wave of anger washed over you, the feeling foreign to you, but it stung the back of your throat, all the unsaid words coating your tongue like poison. A tiny black wisp danced around your ear in a frenzy, murmurs of something you couldn't quite make out. You scanned the room, looking for their source only to find nothing, no one. Untucking the hair from your ear, you hide the pesky shadow undecided of what to do with it.

You were too busy trying to decipher what the wisp was mumbling in your ear, that you'd missed the conversation going on around you. Thesan called your name, deep voice filtering through the shadows and beckoning you towards him.

"An alliance has already been drawn up with you and the night court, you'll be working closely with them for some time. It's only natural that you put your alliance with Vanserra to good use," Thesan paused, he picked up more ink with his pen and scribbled on the parchment in front of him. "You will be the Dawn courts first point of contact for Vanserra."

Thesan's words cut into you, put you to good use. You know he didn't mean to harm, but it hurt none the less. A relic to command and discard for another few hundred years.

"Cassian will accompany you on these meetings for extra protection," Rhys offered, his head nodding in his generals direction.

Eris scoffed, "what are you tethered to that dog too."

The table flipped, cassian flinging it out of his path as he stormed towards Eris. Rhys struggled to hold him back, his snarling words were muffled behind you.

You whipped around, shadow escaping the strands of your hair. "Vanserra," you snapped, but he cut you off.

"General." The playful glint lightened his amber eyes, as if daring you to step out of line. Under the mountain and alone with him he was Vanserra, in front of the eyes of others he was his title. Dutiful to his role in the court and putting those in their place that disrespected him. You shivered, hoping never to go to the autumn court.

That damned tug, the deep rooted need to close the distance between you and him. You fought it, "don't be so cruel, general."

"I thought you liked that about me."

"Vanserra, sit down before I change my mind." Thesan interrupted your two heated gazes, his arm linking with yours as he pulled out a chair for you, table back in its rightful place.

The meeting was brief, no mention of the relic you found under the mountain or the night courts shadowy friend. Your mind kept wandering back to him, it had been sometime since another person had occupied your mind and intrigued you. You put it down to familiarising your energy with the truth-teller, an extension of the Illyrian.

Thesan took you aside at the end, "you will be leaving for Velaris now, Alondra has already packed your belongings."

"What, no. I'll get more done here," you argued, but he shushed you before you could list all the reasons for you to stay. You'd get Alondra later, your best friend and roommate packing your bag, the dirty rat.

Hand on your shoulder, another weight to add. "They have more scriptures on certain history than we do, what you are doing needs to be guarded so it's only logical to go with them. You are bright and capable of doing this, even if I do need to give you a little nudge." Thesan's smile lit up his face, golden hair falling into his eyes as he leant down to hug you.

Alondra and Thesan had been trying to get you to resume your visits to the friendly courts again. You used to study wherever you could before under the mountain, but now you stuck to what was known and safe. The same routine and walls, hoards of relics to distract from the thoughts, the memories.

You bid your high lord goodbye, calling upon every scrap of courage as you walked through the corridor of billowing drapes. The red tiled roofs beyond the archways curved like the spine of a dragon, you could follow the lines for ages until the tail end pointed to the balcony.

Three sets of Illyrian wings stretched before you, Cassian playfully shoving azriel and his gaze flitted to you as you stepped out onto the balcony. Heart hammering in your chest as you took tentative steps towards them. The glistening sun breaking through the clouds shone through his shadows, they curled around his shoulders taking refuge behind the shade of his wings.

"You'll be travelling with Azriel," Rhys said, but you didn't get a chance to protest as he grabbed Cassian's arm and winnowed away. You stared at his vacant spot, eyes sweeping the area in search of Eris who had already left. Damn you for that spec of disappointment of no goodbye.

A gloved hand appeared, "Ready?" His low smooth voice drew your attention and you found yourself putting your hand in his. He hooked one arm under your legs and back, hoisting you up against his chest. The cobalt siphons on his clothes flashing, darkness shifted around you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers clutching the back of his hair.

Shadows trailed over your bare arms like a sheet of ice, you shivered trying to get closer to Azriel. You'd never travelled between the planes of darkness, his shadows whirling around you, if you fell you wondered if they would catch you. As if he knew what you were thinking Azriel adjusted his grip on you.

Azriels wings flared, you both dropped suddenly before they stretched and it wasn't till you could feel the dewy mist of clouds, did you realise you were no longer in the shadows. Stars blanketed the sky, you'd never seen so many that your gaze stayed above. Hadn't realised that Azriel had landed till he set you down on your feet. His hand remained on your back, steadying you.

"Welcome to Velaris," Azriel said, smile gracing his lips and you almost felt yourself leaning into him. You couldn't help but mirror his smile.

taglist:@rcarbo1, @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97, @thecraziestcrayon

Thanks for all your lovely comments on my previous posts :) There will be more of Azriel in the next parts, hope you enjoy! - Yiiyii

Ps- I love Eris and he’s such a complicated character, so just wait ;)