#they have a trail so you can see it up close

[sleepylittlestarwrites]

♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ ￣U U￣ ⤷ 21 days ✰ pairing: soft!dom⌇xavier ⤷ fem!sub⌇reader

✰ cw: mdni, graphic sexual content, based on xavier's 21 days card, fingering, marking (bites/hickeys), oral: ꒰f&m receiving꒱, possessive behavior, no protection, slight spoilers to xavier's shooting stars myth, loss of virginity (both xavier and mc), consensual somnophilia at the end (if you squint), so much squirting, cum... slurping? (so cringe I’m sorry, idk what to call it😩), dry humping/cumming in boxers, self-pleasure, mild dirty talk compared to my usual xavier, multiple orgasms, overstim, angel/sweet girl/good girl used sparingly

• wc: 10.3k 🌸

• tags: @kodaswrld & @issysh3ll - as always; thank you for the dividers! :))

Xavier sits on the edge of the bed, lost in thought as he gazes at your sleeping form. The moonlight filtering through the window casts a soft glow on your peaceful face, making you look even more breathtaking than usual. He settles for simply drinking in the sight of you—the way your lips slightly part, the fan of your long lashes against your cheeks, the soft swell of your breasts beneath the sheets. Tomorrow, this mission ends, and who knows if or when he'll get to be this close to you again.

Over the past 21 days, Xavier has poured every ounce of his being into making this assignment memorable for you. Each day, he’s gone out of his way to pamper and spoil you, hoping that somehow, someway, you'll realize the depth of his feelings. Cooking your favorite meals, planning surprise outings, and even indulging in your love for anime marathons—he’s done it all.

And there were moments… fleeting yet precious, where Xavier dared to hope his feelings might be reciprocated. Like during one of the many days spent lounging around in front of the TV, when you fell asleep in his arms, your head resting comfortably on his chest… Or the soft giggle of your laugh echoing in the kitchen as he taught you to cook one of his ancestral recipes. 

Each interaction feels like a precious treasure, a fleeting glimpse into a life he desperately craves but fears he can never fully have—your head tilting back in that laughter, free and carefree in a way he rarely sees. Your slender fingers brushing against his arm as you reach for popcorn, sending sparks of electricity racing across his skin. The tender expression on your face as you watch him train, pride and something much softer simmering in your eyes.

It’s the quiet moments that speak volumes, though. Like the time you caught him stargazing on the balcony, and instead of interrupting, you simply leaned against the railing beside him, following his gaze to the vast expanse above. “It's beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper. Almost as beautiful as the stars I see in your eyes.” Those words had lodged themselves in Xavier’s heart, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty eating away at him.

But as the moon makes its way to the tip of the sky, signaling the end of your time together, reality and doubt come crashing down on him full-force. Maybe you really do just see him as a friend, an ally, nothing more... And that knowledge brings a bittersweet pain to his heart, a sting sharper than any blade.

As the faint whisper of your voice floats through the air, Xavier's heart skips a beat, drawn towards you like a magnet. He can only watch in stunned silence as the sheet slips from your body, revealing your bare breasts covered only by a thin white tank top. His breath hitches in his throat, heart pounding wildly against his chest as his eyes catch the outline of your nipples, perking in the cool air around them. It's almost like seeing you vulnerable for the very first time, a sight reserved only for his dreams until now.

You start to stir slightly under his gaze, instinctively nuzzling closer to his warmth without waking up, and Xavier swears he feels time stop completely. Unable to resist, his eyes trail slowly down your neck, taking in every inch of exposed skin, the graceful curve of your collarbone, leading down, down to where the flimsy fabric pools between your breasts. 

With a strangled groan, Xavier forces himself to tear his gaze away from your tempting form, feeling like he's ripping his own heart out in the process. A final, shuddering breath later and he’s slipping from the room, gently clicking the door shut behind him. He moves through the space on autopilot, his body acting on instinct as his mind reels. Upstairs, in the spare bedroom he's been using, he spots the workout equipment set up in the corner. Perfect.

He moves through the motions of his workout with a single-minded focus, sweat dripping down his lean form as he grips the pull-up bar. His muscles strain and flex with each movement, a testament to the rigorous training regimen he's maintained for centuries. The burn in his arms is a welcome distraction from the storm in his heart, but even as he pushes his body to its absolute limit, he can't shake the image of your sleeping form from his mind.

So, still shaken, Xavier drags himself into the bathroom adjacent to the guest room. He turns the faucet to the coldest setting possible, bracing himself as the icy water cascades over his heated skin, trying desperately to clear his mind of the intoxicating image of your nearly nude form tangled in the sheets downstairs.

But even as the frigid spray assaults his senses, he can’t shake the vivid memory... His imagination starts running wild, conjuring up scenarios of how the sheets might have slipped even lower while he'd been lost in his workout. Perhaps exposing the delicate curves of your hips, the cute little junction between your thighs...

He grips the tiled wall with trembling hands, knuckles turning white as he fights to regain control. Each droplet of ice-cold water seems to caress his body like ghostly fingers, mimicking sensations he aches to experience with you.

Desperate for distraction, Xavier starts reciting equations, ancient alien languages, anything to occupy his thoughts. But he can’t stop imagining your melodious laugh echoing off the tiles, your slender arms wrapping around him from behind...

With a strangled groan, he allows his resolve to crumble, letting the water grow hotter, his traitorous hand already roaming over his slick, chilled skin. He bites back a groan as his hand drifts, fingers splayed wide as if trying to map every contour of muscle, grazing the soft silvery curls that lead down to...

Xavier hisses through clenched teeth, grip tightening on the tiles as his fingers curl around his hardening length, and with a shaky exhale, he opens the floodgate of forbidden images—phantom touches, whispered words, shared breaths. 

His eyes shut tight as if to block out the temptation, but he's already lost in fantasy, letting his mind wander to what it would feel like to have you pressed against him, your soft curves molding perfectly to the hard, wet planes of his body… He imagines trailing reverent kisses along the elegant column of your throat, tasting the salt of your skin, relishing the quickening pulse beneath his lips…

He murmurs your name then, the sound swallowed by the rush of water. In his mind's eye, you’re looking up at him with hooded eyes, your lips parted invitingly, silently begging for more. Slowly, sensually, he’s exploring every inch of your body, mapping out the constellations of freckles and beauty marks that he's only glimpsed before.

But suddenly, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, realization crashes over Xavier. He snaps out of his fantasizing, horror and shame flooding through him as he registers what he's done—what he was about to let himself do. Cursing vehemently under his breath, he wrenches open the glass door and steps out of the shower, nearly slipping on the wet tile in his haste. Even if only in his mind, every single time it feels like a violation, a betrayal of your trust.

Heart hammering, he yanks on fresh clothes with shaking hands. Everywhere he looks, he can practically see echoes of his sinful imaginings taunting him.

“I'm supposed to protect you, not...not defile you in my head like some kind of depraved monster.” Self-loathing laces his heated whisper as he stalks to the dresser, slamming his fist against it in frustration. 

Feeling like a caged animal, Xavier needs to do something else, anything, really, to distract himself from the thoughts rampaging through his mind. So he heads towards the kitchen with determined steps, quietly pulling ingredients and pots from their rightful places. But his hands aren’t steady, thanks to the sudden surge of adrenaline, and the knife he uses to chop vegetables makes jerky movements at best before nearly slicing his finger off. With a muffled curse, he settles for just dropping everything into the frying pan. He doesn't know whether the anger with himself or sheer stupidity made him believe he could cook this time, but within minutes, the room is filled with the smell of burning food.

Just as the smoke detector begins to shrill its warning, a soft, sleep-addled voice pierces through the chaos. “Xavier? What's going on?”

His head snaps up to see you standing in the doorway, a thin, bunny print robe wrapped loosely around your frame. Gratitude surges through him at the sight—at least you're covered now. Still, he can't help but let his gaze linger on the pretty curve of your neck, the way your hair is tousled from sleep.

“I...ah…” He clears his throat awkwardly, realizing he must look like a man possessed. “I was just trying to...distract myself.” The words come out quiet, tinged with embarrassment.

Without thinking, he’s reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your cheek. Your skin is still flushed and warm from the pillow, so impossibly soft… He wants to touch more, to gather you into his arms and soak you in, but he restrains himself.

“We both know I'm not very good at it, though," he mutters dryly, gesturing to the smoking mess in the pan. 

Taking in the scene before you with drowsy eyes and a quirked brow, a mixture of amusement and concern flickers across your features. You definitely walked in on Xavier amidst what seems like some intense self-reflection. Or perhaps a nervous breakdown? Either way, your heart can't help but soften at the adorably disheveled sight of him. The stressed set of his silver brows and the way he nervously avoids eye contact only confirms that something is indeed on his mind. Honestly, you don't think you've ever seen him so flustered before...

“Distract yourself from what?” you ask, taking a step closer, the ties of your robe swaying as softly as your voice. The floral scent of your perfume mingles with the smell of burnt food, creating a strange but oddly comforting aroma.

Reaching out, your tiny hand comes to rest on his forearm, and even through the fabric of his shirt, your touch feels electric, sending sparks racing along Xavier’s nerves. “Is everything okay, Xavier?” Your voice is tender, searching, full of genuine worry.

Xavier stiffens under your touch, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He's definitely in trouble now… His lips part to respond, but for a moment, no words come out. How exactly does one explain their straying thoughts, their wandering hands, without sounding like a pervert? Or worse, confirming the fact that he might just be one? 

When he finally meets your gaze again, he's acutely aware of the fire in his blue eyes, the smoky haze having replaced his usual calm demeanor. He clears his throat again, a futile attempt to rid himself of the sudden dryness. “I, uh...I had some...um, troubling thoughts.”

Confusion clouds your eyes as you search his face, noting the flush coloring his pale cheeks and ears and the conflicted look in those piercing blue depths. Troubling thoughts? At this late hour? You furrow your brow, unconsciously leaning closer to him as if proximity alone could unravel the mysteries hidden within him.

It strikes you then, as inconvenient as it is untimely, the absurdity of the situation: 21 days later, you are still dancing aimlessly around each other, locked in an endless loop of 'what ifs', both refusing to breach that invisible barrier between you. It's almost laughable, really, in a bittersweet sort of way, how oblivious you both seem to be.

Desperate to ease the tension, to pull you both out of this uncomfortable silence, an idea sparks to life. “I know! Why don't we watch a movie?” You suggest brightly, internally cringing at how forced your enthusiasm sounds. But you forge ahead nonetheless. “We can make some popcorn, get all cozy on the couch… It might help take your mind off whatever’s bothering you.” Your gaze darts to the clock on the wall then, noting the late hour with a twinge of sadness. Only a few precious hours left together before you need to get ready to leave… 

The corners of Xavier's lips twitch into a weak smile as he nods. “Yeah, that sounds really nice.”

Hurriedly, he moves to help you prepare tea and snacks, gathering the necessary items onto a tray while stealing occasional glances at your profile. Something as simple as making tea together feels oddly intimate now, knowing it's possibly the last time he'll be doing it with you like this.

Once everything is ready, Xavier follows you to the living room, placing the tray carefully on the coffee table before settling down next to you on the couch. As the opening credits roll, he finally allows himself to lean back against the cushions, breathing in the calming scent of the tea mixed with the soothing floral notes of your perfume. 

Lost in the movie, your body betrays you, instinctively seeking his warmth and comfort. Gradually, imperceptibly, you allow yourself to drift closer to Xavier, until the mere inches between your bodies are insignificant.

Suddenly, a particularly terrifying jump scare blares from the speakers, causing you to jolt violently. In your panic, your hands fly up to clutch at the first solid thing nearby—in this case, the firm planes of Xavier's chest. Soft breasts press against his arm as you wedge yourself against his side, face burying itself into the crook of his neck with a startled gasp.

“Oh absolutely not!” you exclaim, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Your racing heart pounds erratically, but you can't tell anymore if it's solely due to the scary scene unfolding on screen since the musky scent of Xavier’s skin fills your nostrils, the rapid thrum of his pulse matching your own. For a moment, you simply revel in being this close to him, wishing you could stay enveloped in his protective embrace forever.

Then his quiet laughter fills the room, warm puffs of air tickling the top of your head as his hand slides over your back in a soothing rhythm. He watches as you huddle into him, heartbeat gradually returning to normal but fingers remaining firmly clasped onto his shirt. 

With a gentle touch, he lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jawline as he gazes down into your wide, scared eyes. Your breath hitches as he starts tracing feather-light patterns along your jaw, setting your nerve endings ablaze with every delicate touch. Those striking blue eyes hold you captive, boring into your soul with an intensity that steals the very air from your lungs.

Almost unconsciously, your tongue darts out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and you watch transfixed as Xavier's gaze zeroes in on the movement. Time seems to stretch and warp around you, narrowing down to this singular, pivotal moment hanging suspended between you both.

“I-is… is everything alright?” Your voice emerges as a trembling whisper, scarcely audible over the pounding of your heart as it picks up in speed once again. But beneath the shy uncertainty in your tone, there's an undercurrent of longing, a desperate plea for him to take this chance, to finally shatter the invisible walls keeping you apart, because you're not so sure if you dare to do it yourself.

“Honestly? It’s everything but alright.”—that would be Xavier’s answer to your question, were he actually able to speak. His gaze shifts down to your mouth, the sight of your plush pink lips stealing the last reserves of his sanity. Despite the desperate need coursing through him, he feels surprisingly shy, almost uncertain. “I…” he pauses, swallowed by the weight of the confession hovering on the tip of his tongue. “I want to kiss you...” The words end up tumbling out in a hushed murmur, laced with hope and longing.

A single, very trembly nod is all you can muster up, a myriad of emotions playing across your delicate features—surprise, joy, nervousness, and above all, overwhelming desire. You hardly even dare to breathe, scared your sudden movement might shatter the moment completely.

As if moving through a dream, Xavier leans in with painstaking slowness, giving you every opportunity to pull away, to rethink. But you remain rooted to the spot, pulse fluttering wildly in your throat as anticipation coils tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

The first brush of his lips against yours is impossibly soft, almost tentative. A question seeking permission, the search for confirmation that this is truly happening. Slowly, savoringly, he deepens the pressure, one large hand coming up to cradle the nape of your neck as he angles your head to better fit his mouth to yours.

He kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe, reverent and ardent in equal measure. And the way his lips move against yours… you feel like you could combust on the spot from sheer ecstasy. When he finally pulls back, it's only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, sharing the same air in your mutual, blissed-out daze.

“I… I can't tell you how long I’ve wanted this.” The hushed confession spills from him like a secret hoarded too tightly for too long, an admission laden with unspoken meaning.

Cradling your face in his hands, he examines your features up close for what feels like the very first time—every freckle, every delicate curve, the soft parting of lips slightly reddened from his kisses. And then, like a whispered prayer, Xavier sees the single syllable fall from your lips in a breathless entreaty: “more.”

The whispered plea has his breath catching, heart pounding harder in his chest. Without breaking eye contact, he takes a deep breath and slowly pulls you onto his lap, cradling you like a precious treasure, one he's finally being allowed to rightfully claim.

He starts peppering your face with tender kisses, trailing from your forehead down to the tip of your nose before capturing your lips once more. With one hand buried in your hair and the other tracing lazy designs across the small of your back, he drinks you in like a man finally being fed a feast worthy of his insatiable appetite.

Soft moans escape his throat, mixing with your own needy whimpers as he tastes and trails his lips down the sensitive skin of your neck. Each flick of his tongue against your jugular vein, each graze of teeth against the lobe of your ear sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, making you arch into his embrace and tremble in his hold.

Suddenly, he’s picking you up, your body molding perfectly against the plush rug as he gently lays you down, the heat from the crackling fire casting a warm glow across your flushed skin. He hovers over you, drinking in the sight of your disheveled hair fanning out around your face, cheeks rosy from his kisses, those captivating eyes glazed with desire…

Slowly, reverently, he traces the outline of your parted lips with his thumb, marveling at how they quiver under his touch. "So beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and rough with barely restrained hunger. 

Your hands fist in the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you tilt your head back in clear invitation. The feeling of his lips searing a trail down your throat is indescribable every single time, like a flame licking at every nerve ending, leaving a path of molten desire in its wake. “So good,” you whisper breathlessly against his ear, hands tightening their grip on his hair as he continues painting vibrant streaks of pleasure across your body with his mouth.

Large hands skim reverently up your sides, pushing the robe off your shoulders until it pools uselessly at your sides, revealing every inch of the tantalizing expanse of silky skin underneath. But it's the sight of that thin, straining tank top that makes his breath catch, pupils blown wide with sudden, all-consuming lust. Rosy peaks push insistently against the flimsy fabric again, betraying your body's arousal as you tremble beneath his heated gaze.

“May I?” The words are a low, strained rasp, quietly requesting further access to your body laid out so trustingly before him.

“Yes," you whimper breathlessly, lost to everything but the press of his skin against yours and the building ache between your thighs. "Please, don't stop..." His name tumbles from your lips then like a plea, a desperate cry to lose yourself in the madness consuming you both. And losing himself is exactly what Xavier does.

He takes his sweet time, drawing slow, wide circles around your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. He listens to your breathy whimpers, the little sounds you make as he toys with the hardened peaks beneath the fabric, goading you into a state of adorably flustered impatience. 

He finds himself growing increasingly entranced by the heat in your gaze and the tremors running through your body. Watching you squirm in his lap is quickly becoming his new fascination, an intoxicating blend of ecstasy and agony that he just can't resist. 

“Please…” The breathy plea tumbles from your lips unbidden, half-formed and threaded with desperation. Your hips twitch restlessly, chasing the phantom touch of his hands as they skim teasingly along your ribcage. The ache between your thighs starts pulsing with increasing urgency, dampening the thin fabric of your panties.

Impatiently, almost roughly, you yank your tank top over your head and toss it aside. Cool air pebbles your exposed flesh, rosy nipples standing at attention in the warm glow of the firelight. “Touch me," you demand, voice ragged with need. "I want to feel your hands on my bare skin, Xavier. Please..."

Xavier sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of you sprawled out, skin flushed prettily from the heat rolling off the fire, eyes darkened with unbridled desire, begging for his touch. For a split second, he simply stares, almost drunk on your beauty.

Then he's leaning in, a hand coming up to cradle one of those delicious swells, his thumb sliding teasingly over the taut peak again. “So incredibly perfect,” he murmurs reverently. An eager little moan parts your lips as he kneads the other breast just as delicately, drinking in every gasp and whimper that tumbles from your lips. “Like rose petals wrapped in silk…”

His mouth descends upon yours again, inhaling that adorable little noise, greedy for your taste, drunk on your pleasure. One hand strays lower, tracing the luscious curve of your hip, slipping under the elastic band of your panties, sliding back and forth over the smooth, bare skin of your ass.

“Oh f-fuck,” he groans against your lips, burying his face in the hollow of your throat, panting against your pulse. “You're so soft, so warm…”

Lowering his head, he drags the flat of his tongue along the underside of one breast before drawing the peak into the wetness of his mouth. He suckles gently, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue as his hand continues its sensual massage on the other side.

His eyes never stray from yours… molten blue darkening with barely restrained hunger as he drinks in your every reaction. His control frays visibly with each roll of your hips, each needy sound that falls from your lips. It's clear the leash on his restraint is going fast, slipping another notch as you arch your tit into his mouth with a breathless keen. Soon, Xavier won't be able to hold back the tidal wave of long-suppressed desire crashing over him. Gods, he's almost terrified he might lose control and hurt you...

He pulls back slightly then, studying you for a brief moment before blurting out the first thing that pops into his head. "Are… are you sure about this?" he rasps, almost choking on the words.

“Because...because I'm barely hanging on by a thread here.” Confessing this to you leaves Xavier feeling almost naked, vulnerable in his own skin. It's both a frightening and exhilarating feeling. “I don't want to do anything you'll regret when we leave here,” he admits hoarsely, the fearful admission lining his words with raw sincerity.

Your hand cups his cheek tenderly, fingertips brushing lightly over the edge of his jawline. In this moment, you can feel the tension coiled tightly within him, see the vulnerability swimming in those mesmerizing blue depths. It takes your breath away, the depth of emotion, the sheer weight of his concern for your wellbeing.

“I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life, Xavier," you murmur, voice soft yet filled with conviction. Shifting closer, you nuzzle your nose against his, bringing your forehead to rest gently against his own. "I want this. I want you. And I could never, ever regret being with you. It just isn’t possible.”

To emphasize your point, you pepper feather-light kisses along his cheekbone, down the line of his throat. Each press of your lips is a whispered promise, an affirmation of your desire. “Let yourself go,” you breathe against his pulse point. "I can handle whatever you have to give me.”

Your free hand slides down his chest, fingertips tracing the rigid planes of his abdomen before coming to rest just above the waistband of his pants. You look up at him through lowered lashes, eyes smoldering with blatant lust. "Show me," you purr, voice dripping with honey and sin. "Show me how much you want me, Xavier."

His eyes bore into yours, a storm of emotions swirling in those cerulean depths—desire, adoration, disbelief, and a fierce intensity that steals your breath. For a long, suspended moment, he simply stares at you, as if committing every detail of your face to memory. The air between you feels so charged… practically electric with the weight of this pivotal moment.

Then something shifts, a subtle change in his demeanor. The gentleness remains, but it's now tempered with a steely resolve that sends shivers racing down your spine. Large hands come up to frame your face, thumbs stroking reverently along your cheekbones as he holds your gaze captive.

“Just remember: you asked for it.” In one fluid motion, he surges forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that steals the very air from your lungs. It's a kiss of possession, of raw need, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke against yours in a blatant imitation of much more intimate acts.

Then he breaks the kiss, only to descend upon your exposed breasts. His mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, suckling hungrily with a roughness that wasn't present earlier. He alternates between showering it with hot, wet kisses and scraping his teeth lightly over the hardened bud, earning delicious whimpers from your parted lips.

Meanwhile, his hand is hard at work on the other, squeezing, fondling, as if trying to etch the very feeling of you into his skin… His grip is almost punishingly firm, but it only serves to stoke the fire of need smoldering in your belly, urging you to beg and plead for more.

And just when you think you can't take it any longer, that he's going to leave that nipple just as bruised and needy as the last, he suddenly releases it with a soft pop, dragging his mouth up the center of your chest, over your collarbone, until he's level with your ear.

“I couldn't sleep earlier, you know,” he confesses quietly, large hands continuing their sensual exploration of your curves. “So I came to check on you, and…” he pauses, swallowing thickly. “The sight of you lying there in this thin little top, your nipples practically begging for my touch…”

One calloused palm cups your breast, thumb circling the stiff peak. "It took every ounce of my control not to crawl into bed with you then, to wake you up with my mouth all over these perfect tits..." The crude words from his typically sweet mouth, combined with the heat of his gaze boring into you, makes your stomach flutter uncontrollably 

“I even had to jerk off in the bathroom because I couldn't control my thoughts.” His words send a shiver of delight down your spine, fueling the growing heat in your core. “Because I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you, right there in your bed, your cute little body wiggling and gasping beneath mine.”

Holy hell… the imagery that invades your mind as he speaks sets your blood aflame. You can't help but picture him, flushed and panting, gripping himself with a white-knuckled fist against the cool tiles of the bathroom. Stroke after stroke, reliving the fantasy of having you splayed out before him, aching and needy, as he sinks into you…

Tearing yourself away from the erotic mental image proves difficult, but you force your gaze to lock with his, drinking in the molten blue fire consuming those icy irises.

“I wish you had,” you rasp, reaching up to thread trembling fingers into silvery locks. Your other hand maps the defined expanse of his back, nails raking lightly before digging in. “Woken me up like that, that is. I would've let you do anything you wanted.” The words are barely a whisper but they're weighted like a solemn vow.

Something in Xavier seems to break with your admission—the dam holding back centuries of restrained emotion crashing and shattering in a mere instant. Gone is the brooding tension, the tightly leashed control that defines him. In its place blooms unrestrained delight, shining through his face with luminous joy. He looks at you with an expression that seems to say 'Is this real? Do you truly want me that much?' His almost boyish grin somehow manages to be disarmingly innocent yet still sexy as sin. 

Slowly, reverently, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your cheek. "Is that so?" he murmurs playfully, nose brushing against yours. 

This pure happiness radiating from him, his usually stern features transformed by that boyish smile, makes you feel all warm and squishy inside. Impulsively, you tilt your chin up to capture his lips in a sweet, fleeting kiss. “Mmhmm,” you hum against his mouth, punctuating the affirmation with a light peck to the corner of his lips. Trailing your fingers through the soft strands of his hair again, you take time to marvel at how it feels like cool silk sliding over your fingertips, like moonlight turned tangible.

“Let me put it this way…” you murmur shyly, ducking your head to hide the fierce blush spreading across your cheeks. The idea of admitting the depth of your desire for him aloud fills you with giddy nerves and liquid heat swirling low in your belly. But the adoring look on Xavier's face, the sheer happiness you’re bringing him, emboldens you.

Slowly reaching out, you trace the elegant line of his jaw, marveling at the texture of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips. Your thumb skims across his lower lip and catches there.  “I want you so badly sometimes that it physically hurts," you confess, voice lowering to an awed whisper thick with longing. “Like...like a constant ache, thrumming through every cell.” Your free hand fists in the front of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. 

“This proximity we've shared this past month, not being able to touch you the way I craved?" A little noise escapes you as he presses in, large hands coming up to bracket your ribs. With a shaky inhale, you risk one more statement heavy with meaning. “I was dreaming of you tonight, when you came into my room to check on me. I dream of you every night, Xavier… Asleep or awake.

This soft confession of yours causes a soundless explosion to ignite in Xavier's chest. There's so much pent-up emotion clawing for release… he barely knows where to start or how to even begin to articulate everything he wants, everything he's never even admitted out loud. But what he can do is react. Without either thought or grace, he moves. Leans in. Claims your lips in a powerful, bruising kiss.

There's a fierce desperation in the way he touches you now, an urgency that ignites like a forest fire threatening to consume all in its path, spreading from one acre to another, unable and unwilling to be tamed until there's nothing left but charred remains and ashes in its wake. 

Even in the dancing glow of the fire, you can see the intensity smoldering in his icy blue gaze as it rakes over your body. Calloused fingertips skim down your sides, your hips, leaving tingles in their wake. Dipping into the waistband of your panties, Xavier hooks his thumbs under the delicate lace, slowly beginning to drag the scant fabric downward.

“The dreams…” he murmurs, the soft words laced with barely restrained lust. “They’ll be nothing compared to the real thing. And I'm going to make each and every one come true... Starting right now.”

With a final tug, he strips your panties away completely, baring you fully to his hungry gaze. Then his mouth is trailing scorching kisses down your throat, pausing to suck lightly at your racing pulse point. Lower and lower he goes, mapping the swell of your breasts with lips and tongue, dipping into your navel teasingly. Finally, thank the gods, he settles between your parted thighs.

For centuries, Xavier has trailed in the shadows of your life after life, an unseen protector, a quiet admirer, a devoted lover. Ever patient, ever steadfast, his focus on you has never once wavered.

And now here he is, reverently tracing his tongue along your dampened folds, worshiping your pussy as his fingers dig deep into your thighs to hold you down. He buries his face deeper, lapping at your sensitive flesh with firm strokes. 

As Xavier's skilled tongue paints swirls around the sensitive bud, your fingers tangle desperately in his hair. Hips bucking into his touch, shameless moans spill freely from your lips as jolts of pure pleasure radiate through you.

Through hooded eyes, you watch him work, face flushed and eyes feverishly intense, completely enraptured by your reactions. Each shudder and keen is met with a low groan that vibrates deliciously against you.    

Lost in a haze of sensory overload, Xavier grinds his cloth-covered erection desperately against the plush rug below. Each roll of his hips and swirl of his tongue around your throbbing bud brings him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, angel,” he rasps between long, languid laps. "Your taste...I could drown in it." Strong hands grip your thighs harder as his grinds against the floor grow almost frantic. The sight of this incredible man reduced to dry humping the ground, clearly wild with need for you, sends a dark thrill zinging down your spine.

But suddenly, he pulls back, panting harshly. Eyes glazed with lust meet yours, a telltale flush high on his cheekbones, spreading up to his ears. "I..." Xavier begins hoarsely, voice strained. “This is a first for me...”

In the midst of confusion over such a mind-blowing revelation, his hot mouth closes over your clit again and sucks HARD.

Panting, moaning, your senses spinning out of control as the pleasure becomes almost overwhelming, you blink at him in a daze of pure delight. With no hope of words if he keeps on, you reach for him and tug at his hair, trying to bring his eyes back to yours.

Gasping, you manage to force words past the desire clogging your throat, soft but laden with importance. "Me too," you admit to him, almost embarrassed to do so, somehow worried that this knowledge might scare him off. 

But Xavier's eyes just widen in shock, a myriad of emotions playing across his lovely features as your confession sinks in. Disbelief wars with elation, awe with relief, as he processes this precious gift of information.

“Wait... you..." His voice emerges rough with feeling, barely even there at all. Slowly, reverently, he crawls back up your body, settling between your splayed thighs without putting his full weight on you. Large, calloused hands cup your face gently, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks.

“You’re saying that I would be...your first, too?" The question hangs in the charged air between you, practically trembling with scarcely contained emotion. Wonder colors Xavier’s tone, and he can’t help but feel that maybe this is the universe's way of making up for all the years of unrequited yearning and pain he’s suffered.

A hushed noise, desperate and needy, spills from Xavier as his mouth descends onto yours, swallowing down the breathy confirmation spilling from your lips. It's an intoxicating melody that drives him wild, a song he wants to hear over and over again.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers continue their sinful torment, a tantalizing dance that's only purpose is to have you writhing and moaning beneath him as he catalogs each quiver, every cute little sound..

They trace maddeningly slow paths over your skin, turning your soft whimpers into full-fledged gasps of pleasure. The longer he does this, the louder you get, the more it fuels his confidence, his satisfaction.

Two long fingers steal through your slick folds and begin making lazy circles around your throbbing clit, the sensation sending shudders rippling through you. 

His thumb slides down to your entrance, circling and teasing. Then suddenly it thrusts inside, followed by a second finger, penetrating you deeply in a slow and torturous rhythm, testing your readiness. “Oh god..." he groans against your lips, feeling you spasm around him.

“So fucking tight…" With his thumb still hooked inside you, he presses upwards to massage your g-spot while his fingers fill you up perfectly. 

Your back arches off the plush carpet, head thrown back in ecstasy. Electric pleasure courses through every nerve ending, building to a crescendo with each perfect stroke.

"Yes, oh god yes!" you keen breathlessly, hips rolling wildly to meet his thrusts. The obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room as he works you skillfully towards your peak like he’s prepared for this moment his entire life. Every nerve ending is alight with blissful fire, muscles starting to quake and tighten.

Through half-lidded eyes glazed over with lust, you watch him work, drinking in the sight of this magnificent man coming undone for you. Sweat gleams on his brow, muscles straining as he holds himself back from simply fucking you into the ground.

On his own lust-fueled cloud, Xavier feels the tight, squeezing pull around his fingers, an unmistakable sign that you're giving in to the tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you.

“I can—I can feel it. Oh god, angel, you're—" The breath gets knocked out of him as pleasure sweeps over him, clouding his vision, fogging his thoughts as his cock pulsates, spilling hot seed between his thighs, filling up his boxers and soaking through his pajama pants.

The sight of him coming undone is just too much, your world shattering into a million tiny pieces. Throwing your head back with a silent scream, your pussy clamps down HARD on his pistoning fingers, fluttering wildly as wave after wave of mind-melting ecstasy consumes you. Clear fluid gushes out, soaking his hand and your inner thighs, trickling down to the rug beneath you.

The intensity of your climax, coupled with his talented fingers milking every last throbbing pulse of pleasure from you, leaves you drained and sobbing, the absolute sweetest sort of broken. Panting heavily, limbs jelly-like, you collapse back onto the carpet with a shuddering sigh.

His eyes catch yours again as you peek up at him sheepishly, mumbling an embarrassed apology, and immediately that trademark smile lights up his face. And the look in his eyes? Pure male pride and delight at the mess he's reduced you to, a satisfied grin curving his full lips as he shakes his head.

“Don't you dare apologize," Xavier murmurs firmly. "Never apologize for being perfect." 

And then he does something that blows your mind even more, if that's even possible. Ever-so-slowly, he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, parting his lips, letting you see the tip of his tongue snake out, tasting what belongs to him. His moan echoes yours.

Then he’s leaning in, tongue lapping at your messy slit with unrestrained hunger. He groans at the taste, relishing the evidence of your pleasure like the finest wine. Strong hands grasp your hips, holding you steady as he eats you like a starving man, determined not to waste a single drop. 

All thoughts of embarrassment scatter entirely as new tingles of arousal bloom under his relentless ministrations. The wet glide of his tongue drags along your sensitive folds, delving deep to lap at your clenching hole.

“Do it again," Xavier all but growls against your pussy, the vibrations stoking the growing flames. "Wanna taste it straight from the source this time."

He seals his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks HARD, two thick fingers plunging back into your sopping cunt.

Squealing in shock and ecstasy, your second climax crashes over you mere moments after the first. Back arching nearly painfully, you fist your hands in his hair, grinding yourself wildly against his hungry mouth.

Xavier is like a man possessed… greedy noises rumbling in his chest as he laps up your newest flood. The obscene slurping sounds fill the room, punctuated by your keening cries. He seems determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your shaking form.

Before you've even started to come down, he's already working you towards another peak. Fingers pump in and out rapidly, thumb curling just right to hit that magic spot inside you with every thrust. His tongue swirls and flicks mercilessly over your sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between kittenish licks and powerful sucks.

"Too...much...oh god!" you babble incoherently, overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation. Drool leaks from the corner of your slack mouth as your brain short circuits from overstimulation. The pleasure is edged with a hint of pain, pushing you to your limits.

But he still just won’t stop… growing bolder, more demanding. Groaning into your pussy, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously. Barely registering his husky murmur of “need… to get you ready for me... Just a little more, I promise," cuts through the haze of blinding pleasure clouding your mind, and you can only whimper and moan helplessly. Your body is no longer your own, entirely at the mercy of Xavier's wicked mouth and fingers…

And gods, he plays you like perfectly, a willing instrument in his hands, coaxing out ecstasy with seemingly endless stamina. Sweat glistens on his brow, muscles flexing beautifully as he worships your quivering sex with single-minded focus.

“It’s just… you taste so good…" Xavier groans appreciatively, briefly releasing your swollen clit briefly. “Could feast on this pretty pussy for hours…” To punctuate his statement, he dives back in, lapping and suckling like a starving man.

His tongue delves deeper, spearing into your fluttering channel, fucking you open with filthy slurps. Then his fingers are slipping back in, pumping faster, harder, stretching you exquisitely as they curl over that magic bundle of nerves.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!" you keen wildly, much too far gone to care about volume or composure. The coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Xavier still can't quite believe what's happening, his fingers buried deep in your slick heat as his lips and tongue continue their torturous assault. His name echoes around the room as a chant in response to his efforts, music he plans to listen to every goddamn night if he has anything to say about it.

He's aware that you're close again, cries and whimpers ripped from your throat like a desperate plea for salvation. And so he begins his final crescendo, pulling out all the stops for your finale. His tongue performs lazy, teasing circles around your throbbing clit while his fingers piston in and out in tandem with his lips. 

A particularly sharp nip catapults you over the edge into sheer ecstasy. Pleasure, pure and molten, sears through every nerve ending, your back bowing sharply off the floor as you come undone again with a ragged cry of his name.

With a triumphant groan of his own, Xavier follows suit, hips jerking erratically as he spills hot and heavy into his clothing.

As the waves of euphoria gradually ebb, leaving you limp and twitching in the aftermath, you sense rather than see him sit back on his haunches. His breathing is harsh and labored in the charged air between you. When you finally do manage to focus on his face, his expression makes your heart flutter—adoration mingled with possessive hunger, like a wolf eyeing its prey.

"I...we should probably..." he starts quietly, voice hoarse with exertion and residual need. "Maybe we should stop here tonight…” But even as he says it, there's clear reluctance underlying the words, his hands twitching with the urge to touch you further.

Blinking up at him dazedly, eyelids drooping from post-orgasmic bliss, you slowly shake your head in soft disagreement. The tenderness of his voice, that note of reluctance as he suggests stopping purely for your wellbeing, only makes you want him more.

Smirking softly, your body humming with contentment, you move to straddle his lap. Ruffling fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, your gaze softens as you take in his features. Cheeks flushed from pleasure and exertion, pupils dilated to near-black pools in a way that sets all your nerves alight… His lips are red and slightly parted, panting softly in the otherwise quiet room.

“I know you want more, Xavier…” you whisper playfully, half-teasing, but also completely sincere. "I can see it written all over your face.” One hand caresses down his jaw to his neck, urging him closer until you can claim his lips in a languid kiss.

Your fingertips trace delicate patterns along the strong column of his throat, savoring the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath the pads of your fingers. Breaking the kiss with a soft nip to his bottom lip, you pull back just enough to meet his smoldering gaze head-on, a mischievous glint dancing in your own.

“I know I want more,” you breathe out, the words sending shivers racing down your spine as you say them aloud. "I want to feel every thick inch of you inside me, filling me up until I'm stuffed full and aching from it…”

To emphasize your point, you roll your hips, grinding your slick folds along the prominent bulge tenting the front of his pajama pants. The fabric is already damp with his release, providing delicious friction against your sensitive flesh.

“And you're still so hard for me already," you purr approvingly, circling your hips in languid figure-eights. "Like your body knows exactly what it needs...what we need.”

Freeing his impressive length, you watch with hooded eyes as it springs forth, long and thick and so deliciously messy. A thrill of anticipation shoots through you at the sight, your inner walls clenching hungrily around nothing.

“I mean, we both knew that wasn't going to be enough, didn't we?" you murmur playfully, giving him a firm squeeze before sliding down his body and settling between his spread thighs.

“Not when we have all these pent-up desires finally coming to a head," you continue breathlessly, placing feather-light kisses along his length as you speak.

“And not when being with you is all I can even think about anymore…”

Peering up at him through lowered lashes, you maintain unwavering eye contact as you extend your tongue, circling it around the swollen head and flicking over the weeping slit teasingly. Your free hand splays out, mapping the chiseled planes of his abdomen, feeling the muscles jump and flex beneath your palm.

“And you taste so good, Xavier…” you murmur with a pout, “you won't make me stop, will you?"

“No, of course I won't make you stop…" Xavier rasps, large hands coming to rest on either side of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, not pushing or pulling, but resting there like a promise and a plea all at once. 

“Not now, not ever," he promises, voice rough with barely restrained need. His cock twitches insistently against your cheek, begging for attention.

Emboldened by his desperate pleas, you part your lips and take him into the wet heat of your mouth inch by delicious inch. Your tongue swirls around his thick shaft as you sink lower, lips stretching obscenely around his considerable girth as you swallow him down. "Mmmph!" A muffled moan vibrates around his shaft as you begin to work him over with enthusiastic bobs and slurps.

“Fuck yeah… just like that sweet girl, take it all for me," Tears start streaming freely down your face as Xavier suddenly snaps over the feeling of your hot mouth on his cock and takes complete control, roughly fucking your throat with powerful thrusts of his hips. Drool escapes the seal of your stretched lips, dribbling messily down your chin to splatter on your bouncing breasts. The obscene sounds of his flesh slapping against yours fill the room, punctuated by your choked gasps and gurgles and Xavier’s own guttural groans of pleasure.

“Such a good girl, taking me so pretty on your knees like this,” he grunts, his fingers digging painfully into your scalp now as he uses you like his own personal doll, making you swallow his length over and over until you nearly choke on it.

Despite the intensity and roughness, there's a deep satisfaction burning within you at having such a powerful effect on him. His loss of control, the primal desperation in his touches and thrusts, it's like a drug—intoxicating and addictive.

With a final few forceful thrusts, Xavier reaches his breaking point. His body tenses, muscles locked as his balls draw up tight, fingers digging hard into your scalp as the first jet of his cum spurts into the back of your throat, hitting the reflex point that has you coughing and gagging. But he doesn't stop fucking your mouth, driving himself home again and again until he's milked himself dry.

Then, falling limp on the plush rug, completely spent and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, he pants loudly, his cock twitching against his stomach.

Raising himself up on an elbow, he gazes down at you with the softest expression. One hand reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as he speaks, voice barely a murmur and laden with emotion. "I… I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks it like it's the most important question in the world, his anguish like a palpable thing in the air.

Drained and panting heavily, you take a moment to compose yourself before crawling languidly up the length of Xavier's trembling form. Straddling his hips, you grind your dripping core along his rapidly stiffening shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. “Never,” you breathe as you gaze into his eyes, pupils blown wide with renewed lust and emotion shining bright.

As you position yourself over Xavier, grasping his shaft and rubbing the broad head teasingly along your soaked slit, his hands come to rest on your hips, stilling your movements. "Wait, let me... " he says softly, blue eyes dark with affection and desire as he looks up at you.

In one smooth motion, he lifts you effortlessly, positioning you just above where he needs you most. Slowly, reverently, he begins to guide you downwards, the flared tip of his cock parting your dripping folds as he lowers you inch by excruciating inch. “That's it, just like that, angel. go slow... let me feel every bit of you taking me in," Xavier coaxes, voice low and heated as he watches your face intently, committing every fleeting expression of bliss to memory.

Halfway in, he bottoms out, his cock knocking right up against your cervix. For a few seconds, he simply stays still, his hands cradling your hips and his head falling back onto the floor with a soft sigh. Then he begins to move. Rocking your hips gently in sync with his so that each slow withdrawal drags a gasping moan from your lips, and each deep reentry has you throwing your head back with a sweet sob of pure rapture.

Lost in a haze of sensation, Xavier can’t even breathe as he revels in the exquisite feeling of your slick, velvety walls gripping him so tightly he can barely think past the pleasure.

Picking up the pace slightly, he rolls his hips, grinding against you as he pulls you down to meet each upward thrust. "So perfect," he groans brokenly, "taking me so well, like you were always meant to be filled by me." The dirty talk spills from his lips unbidden, his usual restraint shattered by the mind-melting pleasure of finally claiming you.

Soft, breathless praises fall from your kiss-swollen lips. "Mhmm, so good," you gasp out, tilting your hips to take him impossibly deeper. "So big, so hard inside me... stretching me so perfectly."

Moaning shamelessly, you drape yourself over his chest, peppering fervent kisses across his neck and jaw. "Made for me," you echo, nipping at his earlobe before sucking it between your teeth. 

Your back arches off the floor as Xavier suddenly flips your positions, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Yep, all for you," he agrees breathlessly. Gripping your thighs, he pushes your knees toward your shoulders, spreading you open completely and slipping back inside you with a sharp snap of his hips. 

"Oh f-fuck yes!" you cry out, the new angle allowing him to hit impossibly deeper, stoking the inferno building low in your belly.

Xavier sets a relentless pace now, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he pounds into you. Each thrust rocks your entire body, breasts bouncing with the force. Panting harshly, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, greedily swallowing your desperate mewls.

Breaking away, he peppers hot kisses along your jaw before nuzzling into your neck, inhaling your scent. “Say it," he whispers against your skin, hips never faltering in their merciless rhythm. “Tell me who you were made for… tell me… that you’re mine." Fingers wrap loosely around your throat as he gazes down at you, blue eyes blazing with need, silently begging for your affirmation.

Although each pounding thrust steals your breath away, you force your lips open and moan out the words that he so desperately needs to hear. "Yours, Xavier," you gasp out, "Only yours... Now and forever.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you arch up to meet him as he pistons into you. The slight pressure he applies on your throat sends an electrifying bolt of lust through your system, forcing a strangled moan from your lips.

"You're so hard... S-so deep inside me…" you whimper, your voice music to Xavier’s ears as it echoes around the room. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your throat, punctuating the word with a sharp nip to your pulse point. His hips stutter, losing some of their rhythm as he nears the edge. "A-angel, I'm not... Gonna last..." 

The words tumble from your lips in a breathless, urgent tumult. "Xavier, please..." your voice trembles on the edge of a sob. "Come inside me, please, please... I need it…”

At the sound of your needy, wanton pleas, something in Xavier snaps. With a hoarse shout of your name, he hilts himself fully inside you and stills, every muscle locked in place. Hot spurts of his release paint your inner walls as he pulses and throbs, pumping what feels like endless streams of his cum deep into your spasming cunt.

And with one final grunt, Xavier gives you the final shove you need, setting off a ripple effect that carries through your system, dragging you under with its force. You writhe beneath him, riding out the tide of ecstasy as he continues thrusting, almost brutally hard. "So good…" he grunts, eyes blissed out and unfocused as he takes your body in reckless abandon.

Just when you're sure you've rung every last drop of satisfaction from him, he’s flipping you onto your stomach, spreading your knees wide as he reinserts his half-hard cock, resuming right where he left off.

“I need more," he murmurs, hands grasping the firm globes of your ass, spreading them deliciously wide as he drags the velvet head along your slick, puffy folds before slamming home again.

“Oh… oh god, Xav-" your protest cuts off into a keening cry as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, his sudden aggression and dominance shocking and thrilling in equal measure. He seems insatiable… still so hard even after coming so many times, the wet squelch of his cock churning up his own release filling the air obscenely.

As another climax swiftly builds, you bury your face in the plush rug, whimpering and mewling shamelessly into the fibers. The dichotomy between his outward gentleness and the barely restrained beast within is borderline frightening in the best possible way.

A fresh surge of heat floods Xavier's chest as you arch against him, demanding he fucks you harder. His hips pull back until only the thick head of his cock remains nestled against your sopping cunt, before slamming home over and over again, the *thwump* of his pelvis smacking against the lush curves of your ass. The impact has ripples spreading outward, causing the muscles in your thighs and lower back to quiver as you come again.

But as the last of your tremors fade away, Xavier still refuses to let up for a single moment, instead driving into you harder, faster. One hand tangles in your hair, pulling back until your entire body is arched impossibly, offering yourself completely to his ravaging thrusts. The other snakes around to roughly palm your breast, thumb pinching and swirling the sensitive bud in an echo of the way his cock fucks into you.

"P-please," you whine brokenly, pushing your hips back even more to meet his increasingly erratic thrusts. Your brain feels fuzzy, overloaded with sensation as he wrenches your body into a bow, presenting yourself to him so wantonly. "I n-need... More..."

Drool leaks from the corner of your slack mouth as he uses you ruthlessly, his movements growing clumsier and more desperate by the second. Panting heavily, sweat-dampened strands of silver hair clinging to his forehead, Xavier keeps that same relentless pace as he pounds into you from behind with a reckless abandon that only hints at the barely restrained desire eating him alive from the inside.

His blunt nails dig crescent shapes into the soft plush of your ass as he spreads you wider, allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. Leaning over your arched back, he brings his lips close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over the shell as he breathes out, "Didn't think... I had this in me... but the way you look... sprawled out... taking everything I give you..." 

He punctuates his words with a low groan, sharply biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck. "Mine..." The word slurs slightly, breath fanning your cheek in warm gusts. “Only mine... ruin you for anyone else... won't ever crave another's touch... just... just mine..." He promises in a heady mixture of boyish excitement, desperate adoration and dark satisfaction.

As dawn breaks, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of orange and pink, Xavier finally relents, pulling out of your thoroughly used hole with a wet pop. He scoops you up into his strong arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the car, pausing occasionally to pepper your face with tender kisses. Once home, the moment your apartment door closes behind you, he pins you face-down against the kitchen counter, kicking your legs apart impatiently.

“Can’t wait another second," he murmurs, grinding his stiffening length between your ass cheeks. "Need to... fill you up 'til it takes." Strong hands yank your pants down, baring your dripping folds to the cool air. Then he's pushing inside you again, stretching you open around his thick girth. "Missed this already... missed the feeling of you squeezing me..."

He continues his ruthless rhythm, kneading the tense muscles in your back with eager hands as his hips meet your pliant form with unrestrained aggression. One particularly forceful pump pushes you up onto the tips of your toes, eliciting a throaty cry from your parted lips. “So pretty like this... marked up... covered in my cum…”

All day and night, Xavier ravages your body with a seemingly insatiable hunger, bending and folding you in every imaginable way. On the bed, on the couch, even pressed up against the shower wall as steam fills the room, his hard cock never stops moving within you. Whenever you feel yourself starting to go limp with exhaustion, he seems to find a fresh surge of energy, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your spent form.

As the second day bleeds into a third, with your body aching deliciously and your thighs painted with his copious releases, he finally succumbs to sheer physical depletion. Still nestled deep inside your fluttering walls, he collapses sideways, pulling you flush against his sweat-slicked chest. Mumbling incoherently into your hair, he manages to get out a drowsy "love you,” the words slurred and heavy with spent passion and emotion.

Curling protectively around your smaller form, he nuzzles into the nape of your neck, seeking your comforting scent and warmth. His breathing evens out, drifting into a deep, sated slumber, the steady thump of his heartbeat lulling you into peaceful rest within the shelter of his embrace.

[ruinix]

Quinn being all clingy after you came home from a business trip. Can I ask for...no smut...or not... idk

Hello, lovely. I don't mind writing no smut. 🫡🥹 I fear I have written this with slight angst… I don’t know why. I’m sorry if you don’t want that. [Anyway, there is a bonus content for this with your POV (it's the voices, i swear), but you don’t need to read it.] Hopefully, you’ll like this. 🧎���‍♀️

TW/CW: None, Fluff (cuddles and kisses), showering together (conserve water jk), a dash of separation anxiety Quinn so a bit of Angst, Comfort

Count: 1483 words (+ 483) | Masterlist

You’re still not home. Quinn paces again and again. You still haven’t messaged him when he told you to text him if you landed. He wants to pick you up in the airport, but you refused him. Now, he’s here stressing because you still haven’t messaged him.

He's not used to you going on a business trip. You go on vacation, sure, but he’s usually there with you. He’s not used to not seeing you next to him when he wakes up. Not used to the silence of his—and your—house anymore.

He can cope when it’s him on a road trip, because he is not here. He doesn’t see your clothes, your towels, your perfumes, your trinkets, your plants, and everything else in a hotel room. There are no hints and memories of you there. He calls you every time. He sees you doing your stuff—work or hobbies—with yourhome in the background. It eases his soul.

But not this. Not this house with your things and no you. No soft hums. No walking and pacing, just because. No you on lazing on the sofa with whatever show on one TV, reserving the other for him. No keyboard sounds of you typing. No you eating dinner with him. He hates it.

It's the worst. The worst week of his life.

Everything is not right when you’re not here.

His home is not a home without you. He needs you here.

His heart squeezes. Tears glaze his vision. You’re just gone for a week and he’s losing it. He’s usually gone for a couple for his road trips. You must be enduring this. You are so much stronger than him. You are patiently waiting for him while also cheering him on every time. Unlike him who is being all pathetic because you’re just gone for a week—

Quinn hears the front door open and close. He immediately turns and sees you with your suitcase and a huge bag of chocolates…and flowers? Whatever, because relief is flooding his body.

You’re here.

“Quinn, I’m home!” You dash towards him.

You’re home.

Quinncatches you in a tight embrace. He says, “Welcome back.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck and takes a big inhale. Roses, today.

He misses you so much. He misses this. Holding you. Feeling how perfect you feel in his arms. Basking in your warmth.

It doesn’t matter if you didn’t tell him your plane landed. You’re here. That’s enough.

“Quinn,” you giggle, pressing a kiss on his neck, your hands pushing him off.

It makes him swallow a whine. He doesn’t want to part from you. Even an inch distance is making him want to cry.

“I got you chocolates and flowers.” You push them to his arms. “I need to shower,” you say, kissing him on the lips, walking towards the bedroom.

He blinks at the gifts. He thought it was yours. It’s…for him? His heart speeds up. His spirit that was down in the depths of loneliness lifts. You brought him flowers. Him. Flowers. And chocolates.

He feels nothing else but giddy as he places them on the counter and hastily puts them in a vase. He needs to trim up the stems. Put water in it. Research what these flowers are. He has no clue. Later. He’ll do that later.

Now, Quinn wants to be with you. The smallest distance from you right now is making his head spin, his heart ache. He can’t not be with you right now. He’ll die.

He stands at the bathroom door that’s ajar. He can hear the shower running, can feel its steam, can see the trail of clothes on the floor which he knows you’ll put away after your shower. Just one of your silly quirks.

“Can I join you?” He asks, knocking on the doorframe.

“Yes please,” you reply.

He’s so quick to undress. He joins you in the unexplainably hot shower. It doesn’t matter to him even if it’s scalding to the point of burns—it’s not. It doesn’t matter. No hot water can come between him and you. He hugs you from behind, humming when you say you want to shampoo your hair. It can wait.

“Just wanna hug you.” He kisses your temple. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Quinny.” You turn your head and smile so lovingly. “But I really need to shower. I came from the airport. It was a long flight.”

He's so mesmerized with the water cascading your skin. With the lightest pout on your lips when he doesn’t let go. With your lips still stained by your lipstick. With how your wet lashes group together. With the curves of your eyebrows. Every feature he has memorized, dreamed about, and kissed. You’re marvelous.

Why did the week rob him of you? Why did it feel like you were gone for much longer? Why did it hurt so much this time?

“Quinn?” you calls in worry, spinning to face him, hands on his cheeks. “Why are you crying, my Love?”

“Not crying,” he shakily says. “It’s just water.”

“Don’t lie to me, Quintin.”

He shudders, leaning against the wall, taking you with him. “You weren’t home.” It sounds so pathetic, his voice breaking. “I know it’s work. I know. I understand but you weren’t home. It was so quiet. I’m not used to quiet anymore.”

You turns of the water, hugging him. One hand around waist. One hand on his nape to hold him, forehead to forehead. You let him sob. Every tear feels like release of every chain weighing him down. Every broken breath comes easier and better. All because of your touch, your warmth, your presence. God, he misses you.

“I don’t want you to think you can’t go on another trip, because of this, because of me. You can. I just…It hurts,” he admits.

Your lips capture his. A small, chaste kiss that eases his soul. You rub your hand over his chest where his heart slowly mends itself just by being with you.

You gently say, “I’ll always come home to you, Quinn.”

“Please do.” He tightens his hug. “Please.”

“I promise.” You grab his cheeks. “Do the same for me?”

“You’re my home.” Quinn presses a kiss on your palms, murmuring his promises and affirmations, capitalizing on your touch. “You complete me.”

Quinn knows you would retort that you two are complete pieces that perfectly fits together. But you don’t today. You only smile as you repeat his words. Oh, his love for you just grows day by day. Moment by moment.

After a few more minutes of just hugging each other, you shower. Quinn just stands there, while you do your routine. He helps when you need to scrub your back and your legs—he doesn’t mind going on his knees to do so—or wash away the suds from your hair.

Even if he gets soapy, he remains there with a hand constantly touching you. Your hip. Arm. Back. Shoulder. Your finger. The tips of your hair. He can’t not touch you. You let him, perfectly understanding how to soothe his need.

He's happy just helping you shower. Then you turn on him and wash him. He already took a shower this morning, but shamelessly, he can’t turn you away. He’ll spoil right back…later. Now, he likes your attention. He relishes your touch, your stories about your trip, your new skincare finds, and most of all, your smiles. You’re so beautiful. So gentle when you condition his hair.

“There we go. Now both of us are clean.” You brush your nose against his. “Boop.”

He misses that. Your silliness. He’s not making it up when he says you complete him. It’s real. So real because you make him happy. You make him feel loved. That’s enough for Quinn. You’re enough.

Oh, he loves you so much.

When both of you are dry including your hair, you cuddle together on your bed, wearing matching sweatpants and sweatshirts. Both of your hands casually slides underneath your shirts, drawing circles on each other’s backs.

Quinn shares what he did during the week. He tells you about the white socks he mistakenly included with the colors which made it an ugly gray. About the media he’s done for the Canucks’ social media. About the potatoes he stupidly burned this morning because he was out of it. About the dinner with his teammates.

He tells you different things.

Simple things.

But you stare at him with sparks in your eyes. Your gentle voice resonates in his chest as you ask and share too.

It spurs him on to ramble.

On and on.

Until both of you are yawning and blinking slowly. Quinn swears he can hear your heartbeats seemingly in sync. Strong for one another. A little lullaby that pushes you two to slumber.

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

You stare at Quinn. His hands are all wrapped up around your middle. His legs are tangled with yours. His soft exhales tickle your face, but you let it. You want to tug on his long eyelashes. No, you are going to tug on them when he suddenly murmurs your name. It stops you from pestering him, but it doesn’t stop you from slipping your arms beneath his so you can hug him. He does the same, pulling you further into him. All while still sleeping.

He’s so pretty when he sleeps. So adorable. Pressing a ghost of a kiss on his nose, you continue to silently gaze at him. 

You two has slept from yesterday’s afternoon through today’s morning. Quinn is still sleeping, but you’ve been awake for an hour. It’s a long sleep but not surprising. It happened many times before. Just the two of you sleeping though everything. Too comfortable in your private bubble.

Your heart tugs. You’re so comfortable with him. So deeply in love with Quinn.

His cuddles are something you always miss whenever he’s on the road. Even more when you were on your trip. When he cried yesterday… your heart squeezes. It hurts to see him cry—hurts to think about it.

Although, Quinn being so clingy makes you warm all over. It’s his need for you. Not his pain. Never his pain. It’s the way he keep touching you even when you were showering. The way he melts into your touch. You like that. You love that, because you also cling to him. So. Much.

You bought him chocolates and flowers because he deserves them too. Deserves to know your love. He’s always been working so hard.

The shower with him is great, but you can top that. Stealthily, you slip from his hold, replacing yourself with a nearby pillow and a stuffed toy—a bear with a small Canucks jersey and a number 43—for good measure.

Quinn likes baths. He always joins you, so to spoil your beloved, you start a bath. Vanilla sounds great today—

“You were gone,” his panicked voice made you jump more than his sudden touch.

It hasn’t been five minutes. “Just preparing us a bath, Quinn.”

“I wanna do that with you. I’ll do it with you.”

Quinn doesn’t really need to panic or be desperate. You’ll do whatever he wants. You guess your Quinn is still needy and hurt. Good thing, you’re here to make him feel better. You hold his hands tightly, nodding before kissing him. The small shudders that wreck his body thrums your soul.

Well then, you need to call for a day-off tomorrow.

For your Love who needs reassurance that you will be with him forever.

For your Quinn who desperately yearns for your touch.

Well, you also feel the same way, so it’s no big deal. Not at all. Never at all.

[millers-angel]

lollipop daddy!joel x virgin!female reader

summary: joel knows how much you enjoy having something in your mouth... so he gives you something to work on. warnings: ddlg, daddy kink, smut, thumb sucking, reader has an oral fixation.

you're laying on his bed, legs stretched out, head resting on his pillow. joel is next to you, one arm under his head, watching you out of the corner of his eye. he's been watching you since the moment you wrapped it off and took it to your mouth.

the lollipop in your mouth clicks against your teeth when you shift, rolling onto your side to face him.

"why'd you give me this?" you mumble around it, lips sticky and red.

joel shrugs. "thought you'd like it."

you squint at him, like you're trying to figure something out. then, slowly, you pull the candy from your mouth with a soft pop, tongue flicking over the sugar.

his eyes drop, just for a second, before he looks away.

"you like seein’ me with it," you say, and it's not a question.

joel huffs, shaking his head, but you catch the way his fingers twitch against his stomach.

"you're imaginin’ things, sweetheart."

but you're not. you know you're not.

smiling a little, you push the lollipop back between your lips, letting your tongue swirl over it, slow, lazy. watching him.

joel shifts, clearing his throat. "shouldn't be in my bed," he mutters, but he doesn't tell you to leave. doesn't move away.

you hum, sweet and soft.

"but it's warm here," you say innocently. "you're warm." you shifted closer to him, snuggling on his ribcage.

joel exhales through his nose, tilting his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. like he’s trying not to look.

you bite down on the candy, a sharp little crunch in the quiet room.

joel’s jaw clenches. "change that look on your face, daddy," you said almost giggling by how serious he's trying to be. "here,"

you shift closer, propping yourself up on one elbow. the lollipop is still sticky between your fingers, coated in the warmth of your mouth. before he can react, you press it past his lips, slow, teasing.

joel freezes for a second, eyes flicking to yours, surprised. then he huffs a soft laugh, lips closing around the candy.

his tongue flicks over it, and before he can say anything, you move. slow and sweet, you climb onto his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. settling against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

joel stiffens, hands hovering near your waist like he doesn’t know what to do with them. the lollipop clicks against his teeth as he pulls it from his mouth and slowly pushed it into yours again.

"looks better when you have it," he said, voice raspy.

"yeah?" you teased moving yourself forward for him to feel how the thing slides on your mouth.

his hands shifted to your hips. "yeah, you love having something in that little mouth of yours."

you gasped, acting offended. "not only in my mouth!"

he chuckled, squeezing your hips. "where else?"

you took the lollipop from your mouth and played mapped a trail to your chest. "mm... well," you drawled until you got to your lower belly, toying the hem of the shorts you're wearing. "maybe—"

you sent shivers to the tip of his dick. he held your wrist before you got the lollipop inside the shorts. "hey,"

"what?" you leaned to him, brushing your lips on his ear. "i bet you'd like to see how i play with the lollipop in my private parts,"

you started leaving kisses from his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. "you'd like it, don't you?"

he took a deep breath. "you know i can't, angel,"

you furrowed your brows, "but you don't have to touch me, you just have to see me," your lips ghosted on his.

his eyes betrayed him, staying on those puffy lips that drive him crazy. joel always noticed them, always.

it was the way you had a pen or pencil in your mouth when you were lost in thought, like you couldn’t help it. he saw it when you were in your room writing, the way the pen would rest between your lips, just barely there, sucking the tips just a little.

even at the dinner table, you’d hold your fork or spoon too long between your lips, and joel couldn’t stop himself from staring, wondering what it’d feel like to replace that utensil with his own lips... or maybe his dick.

and even when you slept, your lips still had something between them. the corner of your blanket or even your own thumb, it was the sweetest thing to see.

joel would’ve given anything to feel those lips on his, to know what it was like to taste the softness of them for real. what it's like to feel them sucking him.

you closed the distance between you, moving slowly, as if every inch mattered. joel didn’t pull away, he let himself fall into the feeling of you so close, so warm.

he kissed you back, slow and tender, as if you were the most delicate thing he’d ever held in his arms—you are, like he was memorizing the taste of you... how sweet you tasted, like that lollipop you've been toying in your mouth minutes before this.

you felt his scruffy beard tickle your skin, making you smile into the kiss.

he pulled back slightly. "this is wrong,"

you shook your head, "but we want to," you held his face. "you didn't like it? because i can get better—"

" i liked it, but," he tucked a string of hair back to your ear. "you know what i mean, baby girl,"

you hopped a little on his lap, he flinched cause he was already worked up from seeing you sucking the lollipop.

"little one, wait—"

"what?" you acted dumb, still hopping. "can we play horsey ride, daddy?" you pouted. "please."

he loved when his girl rubbed herself on his lap, feeling her soft spot between her legs, making little sounds he always pretend to ignore because he wanted to feel less guilty about enjoying playing with his girl like this.

"alright," he cleared his throat. "but you have to keep sucking on the lollipop."

now he can't even hide how much he likes it... and who are you to deny such request?

you started to grinding your hips on him. his body got stiffened but you couldn't help yourself—you never did. playing horsey with joel wasn't just arousing but you've had the best orgasms by doing it too. whenever you're watching a movie and you start hopping on his lap, or when he's braiding your hair, even when he's comforting you, you always do it and you know he knows cause you always end up panting, squirming, flushed cheeks, sweating even. you know he knows because you always feel how hard he gets—like now.

the difference is that this time, you're muffling your moans by sucking on the lollipop, but still making lazy sweet noises. your eyes are closed, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, your lips all wet by drool.

you could feel his cock twitching, it was impossible not to with the view you're giving him. your breasts raise and fall perfectly in the top you're wearing, he can see them because of how thin the fabric is. the way you move your hips on him like you're just made to ride him, the way your lips tight around the lollipop.

"don't you enjoy playing horsey, baby?"

you whimpered. "yes, daddy." you said lazily.

he started jerking his hips too, matching your pace, he usually controls himself, but not today. he wanted to feel you, to make his girl come.

“such a sweet girl,” he cooed.

your core was throbbing, he could feel how warm it was, maybe leaking some of your fluids on his sweatpants… which he loved, the way his girl always left something hers on him.

a bit of drool was leaking from your mouth and the space it was between the candy. he held the stick firmly.

“suck.” he commanded.

this time you opened your eyes as you did, to meet his but joel's eyes fixated on your mouth as you continued to suck on the lollipop, his grip on your hips tightening slightly as he felt his cock twitching. he let out a low groan, his head tilting back slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

"goddamn it," he muttered under his breath, his mind racing with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. "you're driving me crazy."

you humped, moaning softly, almost reaching the orgasm. he held your hips close to his bulge and thrusted.

your movements grew slower and he knew you were there, not only by how your movements went slow, but by how your lips were sucking on the lollipop, by how your humming was sloppy and delicate, and also, by how you were curling your toes.

he loved to see his girl having an orgasm. those little moans you make, the way your cheeks get all flushed and you become shy after you realize you’ve had an orgasm on joel’s cock.

he cupped you to his chest, trying to make you feel less shy.

his hands smoothed over your back, warm and steady, guiding you down until you were curled against him, small and safe. he shifted, turning with you until you were tucked into his side, his arm heavy around your waist.

“there you go, angel,” he murmured, voice deep, soothing. “you did a great job.”

you hid your face against his chest, still feeling the heat on your skin, the softness in your limbs. joel just held you closer, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

he chuckled. "you not talking to me?" you shook your head and looked at him through your lashes, his cock twitched, you look so damn innocent.

“already gettin’ sleepy, huh?” he mused, his lips brushing against your hair. “bet you’re all ready for bed now.”

his voice was teasing, but low, gentle. lulling. you didn’t answer, just let out a little hum, pressing closer.

“that’s what i thought. let's get you to bed.”

"what? no, no, please, i—i want to sleep here, with you."

he chuckled softly. "now you're talking,"

you weren’t even sleepy, you were just a little ashamed because of how you’ve finished, because he has seen you doing it—it’s not even new, but still.

you shifted, being his little spoon. he slipped his hand on your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

time passed and he was just pressing his lips sloppily on your shoulder, just hearing the way your mouth still works on that damn lollipop.

it’s driving him crazy because he can’t stop thinking about what you just did, about how damp you left his sweatpants, about how slick your skin must be down there.

it didn’t help that you didn’t stop moving your hips on him while lying there, feeling his bulge.

“daddy, why do i feel sticky in my private parts?” you played dumb.

he blinked. “did you pee?” he teased back, holding his laugh.

you rolled your eyes. “no, it’s not pee… can you check it out for me, please?”

you asked while your hands slipped the shorts down—this time, he didn’t stop you. you were bare naked for him, ready to be used.

you’re begging for it.

he rolled down his sweatpants, freeing his aching and swollen dick finally being free. you looked at him over your shoulder and he immediately turned you back, if you see him he’s gonna lose it.

the next thing you felt was flesh, warm and hard flesh against your thighs. you bit the candy and he got his cock between your inner thighs.

you were all sticky, you were a mess and he’s not planning on cleaning you or checking on you—as you asked. he’s gonna make more of a mess.

he thrusted, you squeezed your thighs and his cock at the same time, he let out a whimper, he was too big. your skin is way too soft down there, he can feel everything, how swelled your pussy is, how warm and wet it is.

he heard the click of the lollipop in your mouth and immediately shifted one of his hands to your face, sticking out the candy and throwing it somewhere in the room. he couldn’t care less.

he replaced it with his thumb.

you received him gracefully, pressing your tongue on him, swirling it and sucking him as much as you could, moving your head even, so he’d feel what you’d do to his cock.

“that it, sweet girl,” he grunted on your ear. "daddy's thumb is better, isnt it?"

you hummed in approval, you look adorable, closed eyes, tight lips around him, your body limp but your thighs, the little sounds you’re muffling on his thumb. his girl was made to please him.

he wasn’t thrusting gentle, it was desperate and needy, like he’s been waiting to do this for a long time—he has.

you were slightly digging your teeth on his skin when he was getting close to the orgasm, you could feel it—the way his cock throbbed, the way he was fastening his pace, the way he was whimpering, grunting, mumbling unintelligible stuff. it didn't help when you pushed yourself back, sticking your bodies together.

his cock was sliding on your slit, feeling how small and soft your pussy is. his thumb tensed on your mouth, just as his whole body and the next thing you felt was a warm, sticky fluid between your thighs, over your pussy.

he was lightly spasming, panting. but he didn't regret what he just did, he knows you wanted this as much as him.

his took his pruney thumb out your mouth. "you made a mess on me, daddy,"

he chuckled, gasping. "i'm gonna clean you up, baby, don't worry," he pressed his lips on your shoulder.

oh, and he did, he wiped you clean. it was the very first time joel saw your bare pussy, it was the most perfect one he's ever seen. it was all covered in his cum, flushed and swollen, he wouldn't share it with anyone else. he may have stayed wiping more time that he should've... but you didn't complain, his fingers were thick and knew what they were doing.

he opened your folds just a little to see the tiny hole. "you still virgin?"

"why don't you found out?" you teased, he rolled his eyes. "yes, i'm virgin..." you bit your lip. "i'm saving myself for you, daddy."

he breathed, you're gonna get him hard again, specially when he's looking at your pussy like this, so exposed and ready for him... but no. not tonight at least. he pressed his lips on your inner thigh and quickly put your shorts back on.

you sighed. "i thought—"

"you know we can't—"

"but, daddy—"

"no buts," he said firmly, lying behind you, his chest warm against your back as he softly pushed you closer to him. his hand rested on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

you stayed like that for a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the weight of his arm keeping you close. then, in a small, hesitant voice, you asked, "can i at least sleep with your thumb in my mouth?"

his breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he brought his hand up, brushing his knuckles over your cheek before pressing his thumb against your lips. "that helps you sleep, huh?" his voice was softer now.

you nodded, lips parting just enough to take him in, feeling the rough pad of his thumb rest against your tongue. a content sigh escaped you as your eyes fluttered shut.

"spoiled,"

[ennabear]

Hiii! I just read the tittie obsessed sevika (i get her) and omfg TITTIE FUCKING?? DO YOU WANT ME TO DIEEE???. I love your writing XX

HAIII BABYYYYY hehehe i was originally just gonna say thanks and i love u but i need to expand on the loser!titty lover!sevika agenda so here’s another blurb!!!!! please don’t dieeeee i love u so much 😭😭

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ men + minors dni

not a day goes by where sevika leaves your tits alone. the first thing she does when she wakes up is rolls over and gropes your chest, mumbling something sleepily about how much she loves your body and mind. you wake up to her with her big, warm hands pinching your nipples every morning, instantly giggling and blushing and rolling over to kiss her pretty face.

she’ll grab onto them even more as the two of you get dressed, pouting and whining when you cover them up with a shirt or a bra (or worse— both.) when you come to visit her at the bar, she’ll yank your top down like nobody’s business. staring down your cleavage without a care in the world, but shooting one of her signature deadly glares to anyone else who dares to peek.

sometimes she doesn’t even mean to stare, it’s just where her eyes naturally rest when she zones out, the curves and valleys of your tits a familiar, comforting sight. and by night, once you have her settled down and taken care of, she’ll fall asleep with one of your nipples in her mouth, forming a river of drool that trails down between them.

so when you bring up titty fucking to her? explaining to her how badly you wanna have her thick strap sliding in between your tits? she cries. happy tears, of course, but she falls to her knees and sobs into the front of your shirt, repeating something like, “i— i just can’t… believe… that you’re mine.”

she’s giddy with excitement the whole day, it drives you nuts. partially because she’s so goddamn annoying, but partially because it turns you on so much you can hardly see straight. she has a different twinkle in her eye, something more like a red-hot flame lighting her usual innocent, sparkly eyes. she’s practically humping you when she wakes up, responding to your “keep it in your pants, sev.” with a snarky, “guess i’ll just save it for later.”

when you arrive at the bar to steal her from silco, she’s not even playing cards with her usual crowd or having a drink at the bar. in fact, she almost runs into you as you enter, eager to make her way home to you. you can feel the excitement buzzing in her veins as she walks beside you, forgoing her cape to drape it around you because the arousing heat pooling in her core is more than enough to keep her warm.

the front door doesn’t even close before she has you pinned to the wall, greedily shoving her tongue in your mouth to savor your taste. her hands slide under your shirt in an instant, squeezing your tits in her warm palms and teasingly rubbing over your areolas with her fingertips. you whimper into her mouth, pulling her closer by her belt and rubbing her toned back and waist softly.

her legs tangle with yours as you attempt to get the door closed and make it to the bedroom, the two of you clumsily stumbling over each other in a giddy, shaky mess of nerves. sevika flashes you one of her big, sparkling grins as you undress yourself, and you almost fold in two when you see her cheeks reaching her ears and her tooth gap sitting proudly in the middle of them.

“well? you gonna get strapped up?” you ask, half naked in her gaze.

“shoot. i guess.” she giggles, her sweet smile turning into a shit-eating grin.

you stumble out of your bottoms as she stumbles into her harness, buckling herself up and tightening it accordingly. you lay down in bed, squeezing your tits in your own hands while you wait for your wife to get situated. her eyes grow wide and starry as she sees you and realizes what’s about to happen, and suddenly all of her confidence is gone.

“sevi?” you ask, grabbing her attention. her eyebrows perk up, but she’s frozen in place. “you ready, baby?”

she nods, slowly crawling up to you while carving every inch of your body into her memory. once her strap is hanging just a few inches away from you, you gently yet firmly grab her hips. you can feel her trembling, probably because she’s an overwhelming mix of horny and nervous, and it makes you giggle so hard you forget your objective.

“don’t laugh at me.” sevika pouts, staring down at your tits.

one last chuckle at your sweet wife and you’re done, spitting in your hand and rubbing it up and down the length of sevika’s strap. she squirms as if she can feel it, her human hand grabbing one of your own.

“ready?” you ask for a final time.

“f-fuck, yeah…” she whispers, just quiet enough for you to hear everything she’s thinking in that small response.

your elbows nearly meet as you push your tits together, and sevika gives one full thrust before her hips are stuttering wildly. you can feel some heat and wetness dripping onto your stomach, and you groan in response to her groans.

“janna, i can feel it. i swear i can feel it. you’re so fucking soft.” she whines, big eyes fluttering at the sight below her. your heart pounds every time her hips thrust closer to you, and you think you could cum just from this. just from seeing your wife panting and whimpering above you.

at some point, she sticks a thumb in her mouth, coats it in saliva, and brings it down to rub at your nipples. her human thumb is thick and rough, it gives you all the stimulation you need. but her mech hand? it’s somehow even better. the cold metal of her point fingers has your nipples puckering harder than ever, sending a chill down your spine. the way you’re both moaning is obscenely beautiful, like a choir mixed in with the creaking of the bed and the soft slapping of your tits against one another.

your fingernails dig into her thighs as you get closer and closer, honestly not suspecting this. you mainly thought this would be for sevika’s pleasure, but you’re enjoying it just as much as she is. every time the tip of her strap peeks through your tits, you whine and squirm, rubbing your thighs together in search of some friction. sevika senses this, speeding up her thrusts and pinching your tits in her grasp.

slowly but surely, you feel that familiar sensation bubbling up in your stomach, only doubling in intensity by the second. her dark eyeliner is smudging and starting to drip down her face as she sweats— or maybe she’s crying again? probably some mix of both. you cum when you make eye contact with her, moaning and squeezing your arms together as tightly as possible.

you can’t tell if sevika cums too or not, all you know is that when you come down from your orgasm, there’s a puddle of her slick collecting on her stomach and dripping down her thighs, and that she’s slumped over the headboard as she catches her breath.

“sit on my face?” you ask from under her, still breathless but you’d gladly suffocate between her thighs.

sevika chuckles, then giggles, then cackles as she reflects on everything that just happened. “i love you so much.” she giggles, tears in her eyes as she yanks her strap off and prepares to sink down on top of you. little did you know, this would be the longest night of your life.

[madamechrissy]

Fratboy Gojo

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

More headcanons from Took you Like a Shot - these are extra scenes set after chapter 2, but can be read alone- MDNI- explicit - whipped, longing Gojo- phone sexm, masturbation (Satoru and reader) dirty talk, fluffy ass cuteness, Satoru whimpers, lots of feelings -other headcanons here

Fratboy Gojo should be enjoying his trip with his best friends, but it's getting depressing, even on the cruise to the fucking Bahamas, shouldn't he be having the time of his life? His eyes don't even give anyone attention, how could he when he knows you're back home, pregnant- fuck have you changed in the past couple weeks?

Fratboy Gojo decides not to go out with his friends that night and stay in their suite himself, staring at the phone and contemplating for just a moment before he gives in, calling you. 'Hey Gojo' you say softly, sleep in your voice, making him ache. 'Hey sweetheart, were you asleep?' he hears your yawn, smiling like a lovesick idiot. He guesses that's what he is. 'No, just reading' 'ya reading that smut?' you giggle now 'mmhmm'

Fratboy Gojo hears your little sigh, driving him insane with need, just hearing it makes him hard, throbbing under his boxers while he lays sprawled in the giant, fancy suite that feels empty without you. 'Ya miss me brat?' you scoff now. 'no, never - why do you miss me?' Satoru scoffs now 'no, never, so peaceful without you' you glare at the phone, and he can damn near feel it 'I'm kidding' you bite your lip now, shifting in your bed, hearing his husky voice rushing through you. 'I was kidding too, I kind of miss you, just a little' he smirks, a hand leading down his flat abs, slowly, picturing your pretty body in his mind. 'you just miss cumming, hmm?'

Fratboy Gojo glares when you retort - 'think I don't make myself cum?' 'you're a slutty girl, aren't you?' you feel it, the heat clenching in your tummy. 'I'm mad at you, Satoru - leaving me in this state right after you did that... thing with your mouth' he chuckles, thumb brushing over the trail of silvery hair under his belly button, as you slip up your shorts just a bit, brushing yourself over them, whining before you can stop it. 'You liked me drinking that pussy up, hmm?' you're throbbing around nothing, dammit. 'shouldn't you be partying, dancing or whatever? smoking?' 'maybe I just wanna talk to you, maybe I wanna... be back between your thighs, fuck you'd like that, wouldn't you?'

Fratboy Gojo grins when you huff so clearly over the phone. 'Can I get a picture you think?' you hesitate a bit. 'picture of what?' 'titties' You roll your eyes, but he gets an image- moaning when he sees them 'fuck they're so sexy, wanna suck on those nipples - touch them, would you?' you do as he asks, thumbs running over your nipples in circles. 'they hurt' you pout as your back arches, your nipples pressed against the thin top you're wearing, pussy soaking your shorts even worse while Satoru frees his cock, which is already leaking precum against his lower belly button. 'imagine how they'll be dripping milk, hmm? I'm gonna suck it all up' 'Satoru!' he's chuckling just a bit, but it's too late, you're both too far gone

Fratboy Gojo eases his boxers down fully, thick cock so hard it hurts, imagining just that, milk dripping from your puffy nipples. 'what, you wouldn't like it?' you feel yourself heating up then - 'perv' - he laughs softly, but it turns to a whine when his thumb presses his tip. 'are you stroking yourself, Satoru? thinking of me?' he curses internally, when that bratty little voice is crying out. 'you're touching your pussy, wanting my mouth, aren't you?' you nod, knowing he can't see, as the two of you play with yourselves, his eyes close, hearing you then. 'I can hear how wet you are, fuck' 'mnh!'

Fratboy Gojo can't take it, the longing, he can't hold back like he has been, not on the phone, drunk off your voice, the memories. 'I wanna lick it all up, so wet, isn't she?' you're gasping out, while you pump two little fingers in your soppy little hole. 'y-yes, do you want that, me pouring all over your face?' 'god you're a freaky brat, gonna dirty talk better than me!?' you're both whining, him stroking, you pumping. 'I r-read a lot of smut' he's breathless, listening to your moans grow louder and louder, while his cock twitches, he leans down to spit on it, while you drool down your own fingers. 'that journalism degree- ah f-fuck- it's j-just for you to write... smut... fuck!' you can't glare, you're too wet, pulsing around your fingers, whining 'm'close, Satoru, p-please...'

Fratboy Gojo moans as your words wash through him. 'I wish I was there right now, fuck... want my fingers instead, don't you? yours can't hit that spot?' you whine in frustration. 'y-you little... conceited- shouldn't have g-gone...' he exhales, head leaning back on the soft pillows as yours do 'I know, fuck I know... work your clit, it's easier baby, okay?' you do as he suggests, running in circles, engorged clit twitching under your touch. 'm-mad at you...' he gulps now, cock so close to busting. 'm-mad at myself, please just... will you cum for me baby?' Baby, he's calling you baby, and you're close, hearing his breaths, hearing his wet strokes. 'picture me right there' you do then, shattering, cumming so much you soak your hands, while Satoru chases his release from hearing you.

Fratboy Gojo loses it when you whisper 'you cum for me, now, hmm Satoru? be good' 'fuck you for that, mnh! close, close' you're sucking yourself off your fingers. 'I taste yummy' oh god, he's done, busting so much all over his hand now, white ropes endlessly pouring sticky across his hand, as just hearing him makes your cunt pulse in response. 'want a picture, for fap material?' you roll your eyes, shaking your head. 'you're so annoying...' you pause then. 'yeah.'

Fratboy Gojo uses his clean hand, sending it so quickly, and it makes your pussy clench again, pretty cock coated with cum - with some dumb little cat sticker with it's tongue out - 'fuck... your cock is pretty' 'is that a compliment!?' 'psh... no. a fact. jerk' Satoru cleans up, pressing you on speaker then, as you clean up as well, laying back down, putting him on speaker too. 'I'm upset you left, but I don't blame you for having a life... I guess, I'm just... lonely' Satoru pauses now, emotions in his throat after having that release. 'I wish you told me not to go... I could leave early?' you shake your head. 'no, it's okay, I told you, you're sacrificing enough, this wasn't your choice'

Fratboy Gojo feels something just gnawing at him now, what was he doing here? trying to cling to some bachelor life while you're changing everything about yourself for this. 'I should let you get some sleep' you murmur then, and Satoru shuts his blue eyes, snowy lashes fluttering, when he pulls a pillow close. 'wanna fall asleep on the phone?' you pause, tugging your pillow against yourself. 'yeah we can... Satoru why aren't you out?' because all he can think about is you, that's why. 'I didn't feel like it, get some sleep brat, aren't you growing my baby inside you?' His baby. His. The thought makes him crave you so badly it's difficult to stand it. 'your parasyte you said, remember?' he snorts in laughter. 'it still technically is, you're just emotioal about it'

Fratboy Gojo doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he wakes up and you're still on the phone, lightly snoring... and he knows then, he made the wrong fucking decision. When his friends stumble in and bring girls back, heading to their rooms, Satoru shuts his door, so he can listen to you breathe instead, the only good sleep he's gotten since he's been here.

I'll be doing these between chapters as this story will have some time skips- I hope you enjoyyyy <3

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[nerdygirlramblings]

the pups come home!

an: it's another long one. sorry?

cw: poorly executed accents, omegaverse biology, m/m anal sex (including knotting)

previous

Quiet but not quite. Still but reatless. Nervous energy crackles in the air. Excited tension. The house holds its breath, waiting. Your parents and the new pups are on their way home.

Every passing car causes a cascade of glances before the eventual, "Not them," from Ben, positioned at the front window until the gentle rumble of the engine in the drive sets everyone in motion.

Surprisingly, it's Davy who beats everyone to the door, opening it, revealing Mum mid-reach. From the sofa, you watch first as surprise then love chase away her momentary shock. Shaky arms come up as she enfolds Davy in a hug, murmuring softly to him. He returns the embrace, the muscles in his arms tensing as he squeezes her back. Michael and Helen drop quick kisses on her cheeks before slipping past her into the front garden. The three of you decided last night how you'd help when everyone came home from the birth centre. Their job is to help the moms bring Dad and the new pups in. You job is to get everyone fed and settled. There's soup for Dad, full plates for Mama and Mum, and two bottles ready.

While the elder twins bring in the younger twins, you let the triplets greet Mum and then Mama and Dad as they come through the door. All three adults give all three teens the same treatment: whispered words and tender hugs and kisses. It's a much more joyous return from the birthing centre than the triplets have seen your parents have before. All they've known is the litters Dad lost. You want them to be able to celebrate this miracle.

Though the elder twins bring the new ones in, it's the triplets who are officially introduced to them first, lifting each baby into the crook of their neck for just a moment to let the baby smell them, imprint their scent, and know this is family. Watching the ritual your parents established when the first twins were born, telling the triplets, "They aren't our babies, they're your babies too. You'll be here to love them and guide them. To look out for them. And one day, when we're gone, you'll be there for each other. Family."

Hearing it again, you realize your parents always stressed family, but they never said pack. You know many people see them as synonymous terms, but Mama was a literature major at uni, and you were raised with the importance of using the right words. You know there is a reason they use family instead of pack. You wish you understood what it was.

When you finally have a chance to be introduced, you take each baby from Michael, Grant first then Amelia, holding their little heads close, whispering the same thing you've only said five times, "You are more than my sibling. You are part of me, and that will never change. I will love you and support you and care for you always." Each reverent phrase accompanied by a kiss to the baby's temple before passing the child off to one of your parents.

Michael and Helen swing through the kitchen and pick up the bottles to feed the babies. You all remember how tired Dad is after a delivery, so you wrap an arm around his waist in the guise of holding him close after the successful delivery, Mum and Mama slowly trailing after you. You settle them all at the table, then join them to catch them up on how the household has fared in their absence.

You hadn't had a chance to talk with them when you first arrived, and now they ask why you're home. "Clearly you couldn't have expected this," Mum huffs a laugh.

"No," you smile indulgently at first her then Dad, "this was a pleasant surprise."

The question of why you're here, now, is tied up in feelings about your team you don't quite understand and aren't sure how to process, so you don't answer it. Hopefully your parents are too fatigued to notice, but it feels like Dad is watching you pick at your fingers even though his eyes are on his food and the doorway through which you can hear Michael and Helen teaching the triplets how to hold and feed the pups. Mum and Mama must catch on something too - your avoidance, your nervous tic - and blatantly watch you over their plates. "Did something happen with your team?" Mum whispers, keeping this conversation to the kitchen.

A shoulder rises and falls. Your lips twist for a moment. Small movements there and gone belie the mess of emotions you don't know how to name.

Mama's hand on yours, a warm weight tethering you. "I think we need to talk when the rest are in the nest and the pups are sleeping." You can only nod.

"Dunno if ye heard, but the lass's Da had his pups," Soap whispers into the quiet evening. All he receives is a grunt in response. He's wrapped in Ghost's arms, Ghost's knot slowly deflating in his ass. A cock in the ass is one thing. Heat and stretch. The burn pleasant, a successful workout. An alpha's knot is an altogether different experience. Heat hot enough to scorch if you're unlucky. A stretch too far to be comfortable for either party, despite biology at play. Micro tears and burst capillaries. But he and Gaz do this for Ghost and will do it for Price in a few months if you aren't pack by then. It's one way they help the pack with balance.

Soap keeps up his running commentary in these stolen moments when Ghost is lucid, unconsumed by his instincts. "Price said 'e thinks she may be open ta courtin' when we get back." The arm around his waist grips tighter, and Ghost's scent goes briney with his arousal, a perfect compliment to Soap's own marine notes. "Ye like tha', huh, havin' Ren as oor own 'mega?" He knows the other man wants you. They all want you. And Ghost has been vocal this rut, calling out your name. Soap overhead Price's side of yesterday's call with you. Could hear a tinny version of you voice through the phone. The sadness there unmistakable. He knows Price is playing the long game. He only wished he knew how it will all play out.

Things are dark, closed, safe by the time your parents pull you from the nest. The pups and triplets are fast asleep, but Helen startles from half-slumber and Michael turns from his screen. "Just need to chat with your sister before she heads back to base," Dad tells them. "Can ya watch the pups? We'll be in the kitchen, yeah?" Michael nods, back to scrolling through his phone in the dim room. Helen scoots into the space Mama left next to the new pups, her body a gentle barrier to the nest's edge.

In the kitchen, the quiet feels oppressive. The lights don't make the room warm and inviting, instead you're on the wrong side of an interrogation, like when your parents caught you sneaking in from a party when you were in Lower Sixth. A butterfly under glass. Pinned by the weight of their knowing gazes.

The air takes on weight. There's some silent conversation between the moms and Dad. You remember the looks they shared when you told them about being on the boards on base. Finally, you crack. "What?" you ask, nervous and unsure of your footing.

"Baby," Dad starts, "why are you here?"

You avoided the question earlier but know they won't let you deflect now. "We'll, the team had leave, so I came home." The omission is deafening.

"Ya didn't want to take leave with yer team?" Mum asks. "Get ta know them without all the trainin' ya do?"

Somehow they've mastered the art of seeing past your artifice, and if you don't start telling them now, Mama will cut through your bullshit faster than a dog can lick a dish. You shift uncomfortably. This is somehow worse than the conversations you had in your teens about sex and consent and your heats and an alpha's ruts. Your jaw clenches briefly before you force yourself to relax. "Well, I'm here cause it isn't really leave fer the others. One of the pack alphas has his rut, and the whole pack takes a week to handle it together." You don't rush because if you go too fast and have to repeat yourself, you will self-immolate.

Mama blinks while Mum stares at Dad. Clear whatever planned conversation they had, this is not the information they expected you to share. "Er," Mama says, "that's very... progressive of them, yeah?" She recovers quickly because she asks, "Aren't they on suppressants?"

You shake your head. "Captain Price said they only use 'em during missions. Keeps 'em from throwin' anyone off valance for too long." Dad nods, and you hope he's remembering your bad reactions.

He's the one who breaks the silence next. "How do ya feel about them doin' that? Takin' off together, without you, to handle their alpha's rut?"

You think he's asking about you, but he could be asking about your omega, and you hate that you don't know which one answers when you say, honestly, "I miss them."

Mum hums and Mama nods along, but it's still Dad who speaks. "Have ya given any more thought to the other half of yer Captain's offer?"

There's no denying now this is about you being 141's omega, being more than teammates. Your hands fiddle in your lap. The longer you wait, the more obvious your answer seems to be, to them and to yourself. "I don't want things to change," you finally whisper, sounding so much younger. Vulnerable in a way you haven't let yourself be in too many years to count.

"Hey, pretty girl," Dad croons. You can't help but look at him. "Captain Price seems like a good alpha. We know he's a good Captain and a good man. From what you've told us, the whole team supports you and wants you to be a successful soldier. They're already looking out for you in their way."

Your parents let you sit with that truth for a few quiet minutes before Mama tells you, "Seems like they've shown interest. And it looks like your omega is interested. You deserve a pack of your own, honey. You've already put so much faith in these men. Maybe it's time to take that last leap, yeah?"

Mum chimes in with, "You'll always be our sweet girl, but you deserve a pack who will love you in a way we can't." There are tears lining her eyes, but she blinks them away before they fall. "We want you happy."

When they head back to the nest, you don't immediately follow. You sit in the stillness and listen, really listen, to your omega. How the team makes her feel safe, desired, cared for. How she wants what your parents have: the love and support and eventual family.

You know the 141 wouldn't make you retire. They'll support your career, and in that way, they're already better than most packs you could find. If rumors spread about you sleeping your way into the team because you're their omega, you know the pack would have your back. Isn't that what you've always wanted? To be seen as who you are, not what you are?

Isn't it worth it to try?

next

~~

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[oldsoul007]

stuck here like me

joel miller x reader

summary: After twenty years apart, you and Joel reunite in Jackson, but while he spent decades surviving, you built a life without him—one he can only look at from the outside before walking away in silence.

a/n: angsttttttyyyyy, some fluff, takes place when joel and ellie make it back to jackson to live there, let me know if you want a part two because I reached the limit hehe, enjoy ;)

joel miller masterlist

I spot Tommy before he even makes it up the path.

I know that walk—slow, deliberate, like he’s carrying something heavy and trying to figure out how to put it down. It’s the same way he used to walk when we lost people, back when grief was a daily visitor we learned to live with.

He doesn’t come out this way often. Not unless it’s important.

The ranch is a little ways from town, far enough that most folks don’t bother making the trip unless they’ve got a reason. Tommy’s got a reason.

I wipe my hands on my jeans and step off the porch as he slows to a stop by the fence. He swings off his horse, and I meet him halfway.

“Hey, stranger,” I say, brushing the dust off my hands. Tommy’s mouth twitches into something close to a smile. “Y/n.”

I step into him easily, arms wrapping around his shoulders. He hugs me like it’s nothing, like it’s second nature—and maybe it is, after all this time. After everything.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out here today,” I say as I pull back.

“Yeah, well. Thought I’d check in on you.” His eyes flick toward the house. “Been a while.”

“Two weeks, Tommy. You’re slacking.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, the corner of his mouth tilting up. But the lightness doesn’t stick. His gaze drops to the ground, hands sliding to his hips.

I don’t notice at first. My mind’s already moving, still caught in the easy rhythm of conversation.

“Well, the kids were just talking about you the other day,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans. “They wanna hang with Uncle Tommy soon—take the horses out maybe, or—”

I trail off when I see the way he’s looking at me. “What’s wrong?”

His mouth pulls tight. The lightness in his eyes fades into something heavier.

“We got some new folks in town,” he says carefully. My stomach tightens. “Yeah?”

Tommy hesitates—just for a second—but it’s enough.

“It’s Joel,” he says finally.

My breath catches.

I stare at him, feeling like I’ve misheard. But I haven’t. I know it in the way Tommy looks at me—soft and steady, like he’s bracing himself for impact.

Joel.

My Joel.

The world tilts under my feet.

I hear him, but my body won’t catch up. My breath locks in my chest. I shake my head, staring at Tommy like I can will the words away. “No,” I say, too quiet. “That’s not—”

Tommy’s expression softens. “It’s him, y/n.”

“He’s not alone,” Tommy had added, his voice soft. “Got a little girl with him.”

Something deep inside me clenches so tight it hurts. My vision blurs at the edges, and for a second, I feel untethered—like if I don’t hold on to something, I might just float away.

He’s alive, and he’s here, in Jackson, in the same place as me, breathing the same air, walking the same streets.

For the first time in twenty years.

I don’t realize my hands are shaking until Tommy steps closer and grips my arm. “Hey,” he says gently. “I know this is a lot.”

I nod, but it’s automatic. My throat feels tight, my chest too full.

Tommy hesitates, like he’s not sure if he should say more. But in the end, he just squeezes my arm once before letting go. “You okay?”

No. But I don’t say that.

Tommy shifts his weight, the heel of his boot scuffing against the dirt. “He asked about you.”

My heart jolts painfully against my ribs. “What did you say?”

“Told him you’re doing fine.”

I press my lips together, nodding.

Tommy watches me closely. His eyes soften. “Y/n—”

“I’m fine.” My voice is too quick, too thin.

Tommy’s mouth twitches like he’s about to say something else, but in the end, he just sighs.

“You don’t have to see him,” he says quietly. “If you don’t want to.”

I swallow hard. “I know.”

Tommy hesitates for a second longer, like he’s waiting for me to crack. When I don’t, he steps back toward his horse and grips the reins.

“I’ll be around,” he says.

I nod. “Alright.”

He swings back into the saddle. His eyes linger on me a beat longer before he clicks his tongue and guides the horse down the path. I stand there, arms crossed against the chill, watching him disappear toward the tree line.

The breeze shifts through the dry grass, brushing over the porch steps. I hear the faint sound of the horses in the stables, the quiet creak of the weathered barn door swinging in the wind.

Joel is in Jackson. And he asked about me.

I head back toward the house, the screen door creaking under my hand as I push it open. My hand is still on the doorframe when I pause, looking out toward the horizon.

I know this land better than I know myself. The stables, the hills beyond the creek, the trails that lead into the woods. I’ve walked them a hundred times.

But now it feels different.

Like maybe there’s a ghost in these hills.

—

I don’t see him. Not at first.

“He’s not alone,” Tommy had added, his voice soft. “Got a little girl with him.”

A little girl.

That’s what pulled me toward town, even when I knew I should stay put. I didn’t even remember leaving the ranch, but somehow I was here now, standing just outside the square, breath hitching in my throat as my eyes caught him.

Joel.

He was talking to Tommy, his back to me, but I knew him like I’d seen him just yesterday. Broader now, a little more gray in his hair, his shoulders tense beneath his worn jacket.

And next to him—there she was. The girl. Maybe fourteen. Freckles, wild brown hair, arms crossed over her chest with the kind of defiance only a kid could wear so comfortably. Joel stood close to her, protective. Always protective.

My chest squeezed.

I should leave. I should turn around, go back to my house, pretend this moment never happened. But I don’t.

I stayed frozen there, my boots planted firmly in the dirt. I could’ve turned back. Maybe I should have. But then Joel shifted, like he felt me, and when he turned—

His lips part slightly, like he wants to say my name but can’t. His face flickers through a thousand things at once—shock, disbelief, something deeper, something broken. His hands twitch at his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to reach for me or run.

The world shrinks to just the two of us.

His face… the years were carved into him like stone. Deep lines at the corners of his eyes, at the crease of his mouth. But those eyes—they hadn’t changed. Dark brown, the same way they used to soften when he looked at me.

“Y/n.”

It wasn’t a question. Just my name, rough and low and familiar.

My breath hitched. His eyes swept over me like he was trying to take me apart, piece by piece. My knees locked to keep from swaying under the weight of it.

I took a step toward him, then another. Joel didn’t move at first—he just stared, his eyes sharp and dark. And then his jaw tightened, and he crossed the distance between us in three long strides.

And then his arms were around me.

I stumbled into him, my hands pressing against his back as his arms locked tight around me, one hand curling at the back of my head. My breath hitched as his chin dropped against my shoulder.

“Hey,” I whispered against him.

He breathed out, his chest rising and falling hard beneath my hands. His arms stayed locked around me, one hand splayed against my back like he was grounding himself. My fingers curled into his jacket.

We stood there too long. Longer than anyone would call just a casual hug. But neither of us let go. His heart thudded against mine. My eyes burned.

Finally, Joel’s hand slid from the back of my head, brushing down my hair. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands framing my arms. His eyes softened, but there was something sharp in them. Something guarded.

Joel’s jaw tensed. His hands flexed around my arms, but he didn’t let go. “Tommy said you knew.”

“I did.” My breath hitched. “I just… I didn’t know if you’d want to see me after all this time.”

Joel’s eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything. His gaze flicked over my face, searching, and then his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure me out.

A small voice broke the silence.

“Uh… hi?”

Joel’s head turned toward the girl standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. She was watching us with open suspicion, one eyebrow raised.

Joel’s hand dropped from my arm. His posture shifted slightly, more guarded now, his protective instinct flaring up the way it always did when Sarah was nearby. My stomach squeezed painfully at the thought.

Joel’s gaze lingered on me for half a second longer before he spoke.

“Ellie,” he said. His voice was steadier now. “This is y/n.”

Ellie���s eyes narrowed. “You know each other?”

Joel’s gaze sharpened. His mouth twitched like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We know each other.”

Ellie’s eyes slid toward me. “How?”

Joel hesitated. His jaw flexed. “It’s… complicated.”

Ellie snorted. “Figured.”

Joel’s hand dragged down his face, weariness etched into the lines of his face. His eyes met mine again, dark and searching.

I glanced toward Ellie, then back at him. “She yours?”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly. His mouth parted like the question had caught him off guard. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “She’s not mine.”

Ellie made a face.

Joel shot her a look. Ellie just shrugged.

“She’s… with me,” Joel said after a beat, his voice low. “Been taking care of her.”

My heart twisted painfully.

“She’s lucky to have you,” I said softly.

Joel’s jaw tightened. His eyes lingered on mine for a long moment. “I don’t know about that.”

Ellie made a scoffing noise. “Yeah, well, I’m still alive, so he’s doing something right.”

Joel’s gaze sharpened toward her. “Ellie.”

She held up her hands, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

Joel’s eyes softened just a fraction as he looked at her. My chest squeezed at the sight. That protectiveness—that quiet steadiness—it was still there. Still Joel.

Joel’s eyes slid back toward me.

I hesitated. My hand twitched toward my chest—toward the thin gold band on my finger—but I stopped myself before it could catch his eye.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said quietly.

Joel’s eyes softened, something flickering beneath the guarded expression. “Yeah.” His voice was low. “Me too.”

Ellie shifted impatiently.

“Yall should get settled,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Jackson’s a good place. Safe.”

Joel watches me a second longer, his jaw tight, like there’s something he wants to argue, something he wants to say. But instead, he nods.

I turn before I do something stupid—like let my heart remember what it was like to be his.

I avoid him after that.

It’s not easy. Jackson isn’t a big place, and people talk. I hear his name in passing, see glimpses of him from a distance—helping with patrols, talking with Maria, fixing up some old building with Tommy. The girl, Ellie, is always nearby, a shadow at his side. She reminds me of Sarah in some ways, the way she carries herself, the sharpness in her eyes.

But I don’t go near him.

I don’t trust myself to.

The hug was a mistake. I should have turned and walked away the moment I saw him, but I didn’t. I let myself feel something I buried a long time ago, something I had no right to hold onto anymore. And Joel… Joel felt it, too. I could tell in the way he held me, in the way he didn’t want to let go.

I can’t let it happen again.

So I stay away.

I stick to my routines, my family, my home. I keep my head down, and for a while, it works. Until it doesn’t.

—

It happens a week later.

I’m standing near the garden beds in the middle of town, hands resting on the edge of a planter as Maria talks. The smell of soil and cold air hangs between us.

“So, we’ll need someone to cover the north patrol this week,” Maria says, arms crossed over her chest. “Could use someone who knows the area.”

I glance toward the street where my kids are playing with a couple of the other town kids. Their laughter cuts through the crisp air, sharp and clear.

“I don’t know, Maria,” I say, quiet but steady.

Maria’s gaze follows mine. “They’re old enough now,” she says, voice soft. “You know they’ll be fine.”

My stomach knots. I know that. But it doesn’t make it easier.

“You’ve done your part,” Maria says. “Hell, you’ve done more than your part. But Jackson’s safer with you out there.”

I’m opening my mouth to respond when I feel it—someone watching me.

It’s not loud or obvious. Just a shift in the air, the way my skin prickles under the weight of a gaze I know too well.

I turn toward the street, and there he is.

Joel stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, broad shoulders tense beneath the worn canvas of his coat. His face is unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes are heavy and sharp, searching me for something I’m not ready to give.

Maria’s gaze flicks toward him, then back to me. Her expression sharpens. “Think about it,” she says, tone clipped. Then she gives Joel a look before stepping away.

I don’t move until she’s gone. Then I force myself to turn toward him fully. “Hey.”

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Been tryin’ to find you.”

I shift my hands to my jacket pockets. “Been busy.”

Joel’s eyes narrow slightly. “Yeah,” he says, but there’s doubt in his voice. “Guess I just thought… after all this time… you might wanna talk.”

My gaze flickers toward my kids again. I force myself to keep my expression even.

“There’s not much to say.”

Joel tilts his head, studying me with that quiet intensity that always made it hard to breathe. “That why you been avoidin’ me?”

My chest tightens, but I keep my face neutral. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

His brows lift slightly. “Right.”

The weight of his gaze is unbearable. I glance toward the street again, toward the sound of my kids’ voices, and it feels like I’m standing on the edge of something sharp.

Because I have a husband. A family. A life.

But Joel doesn’t know that. And I don’t tell him.

Because the moment I say it out loud, the moment I name it, everything between us will become real again. He’ll look at me the way I know he will—like I’ve slipped through his fingers all over again.

So I don’t say anything. I just shove my hands deeper into my pockets and shift my weight. “I should go.”

Joel watches me, his jaw tightening. His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Guess you should.”

I turn and walk away before I do something stupid.

Before I tell him the truth.

I try to keep my distance after that. I really do.

But Joel has never been the type to let things go.

—

The next time I see him, it’s late. The town is quiet, the sky thick with stars. I’ve just finished putting my kids to bed when I step outside for air, wrapping my arms around myself as I breathe in the cold. The past week has been suffocating—knowing Joel is here, knowing I can’t let myself get close.

And yet, somehow, he still finds me.

I hear the scuff of boots before I see him.

“You always did like the quiet,” he says, voice low and rough.

I turn, and there he is—leaning against the wooden railing of my porch, arms crossed. He looks older in the moonlight, more worn than he did all those years ago. But he’s still Joel. That part of him hasn’t changed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, but my voice lacks any real conviction.

Joel huffs a soft breath. “Yeah, well… got the feelin’ you weren’t gonna come find me.”

I sigh, pressing my hands to my face before letting them fall. “Joel—”

“Just talk to me, y/n.” His voice is quiet but firm. “You can’t just—see me again after twenty years, hug me like that, and then disappear.”

I close my eyes briefly, willing the lump in my throat to go away. When I look at him again, his face is softer—like he’s pleading, like he’s just as lost as I am in all of this.

I sink down onto the porch steps. For a moment, I think he’ll leave, but instead, Joel exhales and eases down beside me. We sit in silence, the night stretching wide around us.

“Didn’t think I’d ever find you again,” he admits after a while. His voice is lower now, almost hesitant. “Hell, didn’t think there was anything left worth findin’.”

I swallow hard, staring at my hands. “I stopped wondering a long time ago,” I say quietly. “Had to. Didn’t see the point in hoping for something that wasn’t gonna happen.”

Joel nods slowly, like he understands. Like he lived through the same kind of grief. “Guess I shoulda known you’d make it,” he says. “Always were tough.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “I wasn’t tough, Joel.”

“You were,” he insists. “You are. You… You saved me more times than I can count, you know that?”

I glance at him, startled. “Joel—”

“You did,” he says again, voice thick. “Even when you didn’t know it.” He exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “After Sarah… I wasn’t sure I was gonna keep goin’. Didn’t see the point. But you—” He pauses, shakes his head like he’s searching for the right words. “You kept me human. Kept me from bein’—”

The kind of man he became.

He doesn’t say it, but I hear it anyway.

I blink back the burn in my eyes and look away. “I should’ve been there,” I whisper. “I should’ve—”

“No.” Joel’s voice is firm. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, y/n.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing against the ache in my chest. “I still think about her.”

Joel’s breath shudders. “Me too.”

The silence that follows is heavier than the last. I stare out at the town, at the flickering lights in the distance, at the life I built. A life Joel was never supposed to be part of again.

“I miss her,” I admit.

Joel nods, his voice barely audible. “Me too.”

We sit like that for a while, side by side, ghosts between us.

I know I should end this here, should get up and go inside before I let myself get too close again. But I don’t.

Because for the first time in twenty years, I don’t feel so alone.

—

Joel doesn’t show up at my house again right away.

For a while, things stay the same—I see him in passing, hear his name spoken in town, feel his presence like a shadow I can’t shake. We don’t talk about that night on the porch. Maybe we both know it’s better that way.

So when I open my front door one evening and find him standing on my porch, I’m not surprised.

I am, however, completely unprepared.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

I grip the doorframe like it might hold me upright. “Joel.”

His gaze drifts past me, into the house, and I know he’s taking it all in—the warmth of the fire, the sound of laughter from the other room, the smell of dinner lingering in the air. A home. A life. One that isn’t his.

One that never could be.

“You gonna invite me in?” he asks after a moment, his voice light, but there’s something beneath it, something heavier.

I hesitate, just for a second, before stepping aside. “Yeah. Come in.”

Joel moves past me, slow, his eyes sweeping over everything—the framed drawings on the wall, the worn blankets draped over the couch, the little boots by the door. His jaw tightens. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his hands curl into fists before he forces them loose again.

He’s seeing everything he never had. Everything he lost.

And then—

“Daddy, look!”

I freeze.

Joel does, too.

My son barrels into the room, waving a wooden toy in the air, and runs straight into the arms of the man who walks in after him—my husband.

I feel the air shift before I even turn to look at Joel.

Because I know what he’s seeing.

My husband laughs, ruffling our son’s hair, his smile easy, warm. He’s kind, steady, everything I needed when the world felt like too much. He doesn’t hesitate when he lifts our son into his arms, doesn’t flinch when our boy clings to him, laughing.

Joel watches it all, silent.

I force myself to breathe.

“Y/n?” My husband looks up, finally noticing Joel. His brow furrows. “Who’s this?”

I swallow hard, ignoring the way my hands feel unsteady at my sides. “This is Joel,” I say carefully. “An old friend.”

Joel’s face doesn’t change. He just nods, his voice even when he says, “Nice place you got here.”

My husband nods back. “Thanks. Been a long time since y/n had any old friends show up.” He chuckles, bouncing our son once before setting him down. “She doesn’t talk much about the past.”

I feel Joel’s eyes flick to me. I don’t look at him.

“That so?” he murmurs.

My husband claps a hand on Joel’s shoulder, always friendly, always welcoming. “You should stay for dinner. We’ve got plenty.”

Joel doesn’t move for a long moment. I wonder if he’s going to refuse, if he’s going to say something, if he’s going to—

But then, he just shakes his head, offering the smallest of smiles. “No, I should get going, just wanted to stop by.”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and there’s something in his eyes I can’t name. Something deep, something that aches.

I wonder if he’s thinking about all the things he never got. A home. A family. A son who runs into his arms without fear. A wife who waits at the door, smiling when he comes home.

Joel’s gaze lingers for a second longer before he steps back toward the door. “I’ll see you around, Y/n.”

And then he’s gone.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my chest tight, my heart unsteady.

I don’t go after him.

Because I know—just as well as he does—some things aren’t meant to be spoken out loud.

—

I hadn’t been on patrol in years.

Maria had asked—no, begged me, really—about a dozen times to come back on the rotation. My kids were older now, the ranch wasn’t as demanding, and I wasn’t getting any younger. She said it would be good for me to get back out there. Said I’d be helping the community.

But every time she asked, I just found an excuse. I didn’t want to leave my family behind, didn’t want to risk being away from them for too long. They were my everything, my anchor.

But eventually, I relented. Maria practically wore me down. And so, here I was, gearing up for a patrol, reluctantly pulling my vest on and checking my gear.

I watched my three kids in the living room, the boys, already getting into some roughhousing, while my little girl, sat on the couch, clutching her stuffed bunny. She was so small, so fragile, even after all this time.

She was sensing the shift in the air, stood up and waddled over to me. Her little hands reached for my legs, and she looked up at me with wide, uncertain eyes. “Mama, I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice small but heart-wrenching.

My heart clenched in my chest as I bent down to scoop her up, holding her tight against me. “I know, sweetie,” I murmured, kissing her forehead. “But I have to go. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

I kissed her forehead, whispering, “Be good for Daddy.”

My boys, still half-distracted by their wrestling, looked up.

My husband stepped into the room just then, his eyes soft as he walked over to me. Without a word, he pulled me into a kiss, brief but full of unspoken feelings.

“Come back safe,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against mine for a moment.

“I will,” I said again, pulling away, my heart aching.

I turned to leave, one last look at my kids as they waved from the door.

“Be safe, Mama!” They shouted.

“I will, I promise,” I called back before heading out the door.

They waved from the window, and I waved back, trying to smile. My oldest hand was resting on my youngest little head, her face pressed against the glass.

—

“I’ll be fine,” I said to myself, as much as anyone else, as I checked my rifle. It wasn’t the patrol I minded—it was the thought of facing things I didn’t want to face again.

Jackson’s streets were quieter than usual as people prepared for the oncoming winter, most already taking refuge inside their homes. My boots crunched against the snow as I made my way to the stables, where the patrols usually gathered.

I should’ve known something was off when I saw Maria standing there, looking tense as she talked to a familiar figure. Joel.

Great.

My stomach twisted into knots when I saw him.

Joel was standing by one of the horses, adjusting the straps on his gear. He looked different—harder, with a rougher edge than I remembered. His eyes had the same weight to them, the same depth, but his body was broader, more solid, like he’d taken years of wear and tear and only gotten tougher.

Maria caught sight of me and gave a small wave. “Hey, y/n, thanks for doing this. Joel’s new at patrol. Thought you could show him around the area.”

I nodded curtly. “Sure. No problem.”

Joel turned at the sound of my voice, his eyes locking onto mine almost immediately. There was no surprise there, no flicker of recognition at the moment. It was as if he was already expecting me to show up, though his expression softened just a bit when our eyes met.

“Y/n,” Joel said, his voice as rough as I remembered.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to say, or if I even wanted to speak. The tension between us still hung in the air like an unspoken apology, the years that had passed only thickening it.

Maria handed me a map and some supplies before giving us both a nod. “I’ll leave you two to it. Just make sure to stick to the area. Stay close to town.”

I barely acknowledged her as she walked off, my attention already on the horse I’d need to ride. I kept my gaze trained forward, refusing to meet Joel’s eyes again.

Joel mounted his horse first, adjusting his gear, the weight of his gaze lingering on me.

“You gonna teach me the ropes, or what?” he asked, his voice quieter this time.

“Just stay close and follow my lead,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, but the underlying edge was there.

We started riding in silence, the snow crunching beneath the hooves of our horses as we made our way toward the outskirts of Jackson. My stomach was in knots, the quiet between us stretching longer than it should. The past twenty years felt like a lifetime, and every inch of space between us seemed to weigh a ton.

Finally, as we rounded a bend, Joel spoke. His voice was calm, but I could hear the tightness in it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shake my head, exhausted. “Tell you what, Joel?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” His voice hardened, just a bit, with the question. “Why didn’t you tell me you had kids?”

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not like this. The words were already there—sitting on the tip of my tongue—but I forced myself to swallow them.

“It wasn’t your business,” I said, more sharply than I meant to.

Joel’s jaw clenched, and I could see the way his hand tightened on the reins. “It wasn’t my business?” His voice was low but raw. “You think I wouldn’t care? You think I wouldn’t want to know what happened to you?”

I could feel his eyes on me, and I kept my gaze straight ahead. “It’s not like that, Joel.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, his voice thick with frustration. “You didn’t think I deserved to know? Or you just didn’t want me to know the truth? That you went off and got a family, while I…” His voice trailed off for a second, and I could see the way his fingers flexed around the reins, his knuckles white.

“You know what happened to me,” I said quietly, the sharpness in my voice slipping just enough for my vulnerability to bleed through. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want you to know.”

Joel’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but his frustration didn’t subside. “You think I wouldn’t have wanted to be there for you? To help you?”

I shook my head, my breath catching in my throat. “I didn’t need your help, Joel. I needed to move on. I needed something… something normal.”

He scoffed, clearly frustrated, his gaze turning cold. “Normal? Is that why you couldn’t tell me? Because you were so busy trying to create some perfect little life that didn’t include me?”

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped, finally turning to face him. “You don’t get to throw that in my face. You don’t get to act like I owe you some explanation for how I lived my life. You left. You disappeared.”

His face hardened, his lips pressed tight as if he were holding something back. “You think I wanted to disappear? I didn’t have a choice, y/n. None of us did.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. “I couldn’t just wait around. I couldn’t just stand still while my world kept falling apart.”

Joel opened his mouth to say something, but I turned away, refusing to let him see how close I was to breaking.

“I don’t need your forgiveness, Joel,” I said softly. “I just need you to understand that I did what I had to do.”

There was a long, painful silence as Joel rode beside me. I could feel his gaze on the back of my head, but I didn’t dare look at him.

“Yeah,” Joel said after a while, his voice quiet. “I get it.”

But we both knew it wasn’t that simple.

—

The gates creaked open as we approached, the familiar faces of the patrol guards nodding at us. Maria waved from the guard post, her smile genuine, but I could tell she could sense something was off. She always had that way about her.

“Y/n! Joel! Good to see you back in one piece,” Maria said, her voice bright but laced with concern.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I said, forcing a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “No problems out there.”

Joel, on the other hand, didn’t even glance at Maria. He just gave a small grunt and walked past her, disappearing into the gates without another word.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead as I followed behind. The weight of everything was crushing, but I didn’t want anyone to see it. Not now. Not in front of Jackson.

Inside the gates, everything was calm—too calm for what had just happened. The kids were playing in the streets, some people were talking, others were tending to the animals or making their way home. It was a normal evening in Jackson, and I should have felt relieved to be back in the safety of the settlement, but all I could think about was Joel’s words. His accusations. His anger.

And the way he’d looked at me before we left, like I was some stranger he couldn’t even recognize anymore.

I walked past a few familiar faces, nodding and greeting people, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. He wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay. But I had to pretend. For everyone else.

“Y/n,” Tommy’s voice called from behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see him walking toward me, his face lighting up when he saw me. “Hey,” I said with a forced smile, trying to push the weight of the argument and the silence from my shoulders. “Everything okay here?”

Tommy grinned. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just got back from the stables. We’ve got a new batch of supplies in from the west side. How about you? How was the patrol?”

I didn’t want to talk about it, but I couldn’t avoid it. “It was fine,” I said quickly, trying to make it sound like it had been just another patrol. “We got into a bit of a scuffle, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push. “You sure? You don’t look like you’re fine.”

I forced a smile again, brushing off his concern. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “Alright. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

I nodded, stepping away as I tried to make my way toward home. I couldn’t help but glance over at the direction where Joel had disappeared, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But there was nothing. The world was moving on, and I was stuck in this mess of old feelings and unspoken words.

I wanted to make everything okay. I wanted to fix things, to make it feel like it used to. But I knew it wasn’t that simple.

Joel wasn’t the same anymore, and neither was I.

But for now, all I could do was put on the mask and pretend. Pretend everything was okay.

Because there was no other choice.

Days pass. I avoid him. I shouldn’t, but I do.

I have a life now. A family. I can’t just let Joel drag me back into the past.

—

20 years ago

The kitchen was warm, filled with the smell of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan. I moved around the counter, chopping vegetables, the soft sound of the knife cutting through them mixing with the low hum of the oven. The evening light was fading outside, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.

Sarah in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, doing her homework or reading—something that kept her distracted. Her laughter occasionally bubbled up as she talked to me from across the room. She didn’t mind the quiet either.

I loved these quiet nights—just the simple rhythm of cooking dinner, the familiar routine. It made everything feel right, grounded. As I stirred the pot, I could hear the soft creak of the floorboards behind me, the sound of someone moving closer. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The familiar weight of his presence, the warmth in the air, was enough.

And then, just as I added the last of the spices, I felt his arms slip around me from behind, pulling me in close. His chin rested on my shoulder, and for a moment, everything stopped. The knife in my hand was forgotten as I leaned back into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re making my favorite,” he murmured, his voice low, warm with affection. His breath brushed against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

I smiled softly, glancing over my shoulder at him.

He tightened his hold a little, like he wanted to pull me into him more. His lips brushed my neck in a soft kiss, lingering for a moment. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of him flood over me, savoring the comfort of this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” he whispered, the words so quiet they almost seemed like a secret just between us.

I felt my heart tug at the simple honesty in his voice. The world outside, everything that had happened, seemed to fade away in that moment, leaving only this—us—together in the quiet of the kitchen.

“I hope not,” I whispered back, turning in his arms, our faces only inches apart. Joel’s eyes softened, the weight of everything we’d been through settling between us, but in that moment, there was nothing else but the peace we’d found here, together.

With a small, quiet smile, he leaned down and kissed me, his lips soft and sure. It was gentle, but it carried the weight of all the things we didn’t need to say. Just us. Just this.

And in that instant, I realized that no matter what else happened, I’d always hold on to this. This small, perfect moment. Just Joel and me, in a kitchen full of the smell of dinner and the quiet hum of life moving on.

—

We were careful. Cordial. Friendly, even, in that way people are when they have too much history and not enough words. We saw each other in passing, at the stables, at town meetings, in the market. He kept to himself most of the time, but I saw how he watched over Ellie, how he was trying, even if he didn’t always know how.

And then there were the moments that caught me off guard.

Like when I’d be in the town square, helping my husband with the livestock trade, and I’d glance up to find Joel watching from a distance. His eyes would flick from me to my husband, to my kids, to the life I had built without him. He never said anything about it, never let his expression betray anything more than quiet observation, but I knew him too well.

I knew what he wasn’t saying.

And maybe that was why, on a cool evening, I found myself walking up to his house with a basket in my hands.

It wasn’t much. Just a small batch of cookies, warm from the oven, the kind I used to make for him before.

I hesitated outside his door. It was stupid, really. He might not even remember. But before I could overthink it, I knocked.

The door creaked open a moment later, and Joel blinked at me, looking more surprised than anything. “Y/n.”

I lifted the basket slightly. “Brought something for you and Ellie.”

Joel glanced down, and for the first time in a long time, something like warmth flickered in his eyes.

“You remember,” he said quietly.

I huffed out a small, nervous laugh. “Hard to forget how you used to hoard these things like they were gold.”

Joel shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Still are.”

Something in my chest ached. This—this easy familiarity, this old rhythm of knowing each other—was dangerous. It made me remember too much.

Before I could linger too long in it, there was a noise from inside.

“Who’s at the door?” Ellie’s voice called out.

Joel sighed, stepping back and nodding for me to come in.

I hesitated.

And then I did.

The house was simple but warm—lived in. A fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of old wood and leather filling the space. Ellie sat on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, whittling something in her hands. She glanced up as I entered, brows raising.

“Hey,” she said, studying me like I was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet.

“Hey,” I replied, setting the basket down on the small table near the couch. “Brought you something.”

Ellie perked up instantly, setting her whittling knife down and leaning forward. “Wait. Are those—” She lifted the cloth covering the cookies, eyes widening. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Joel exhaled, shaking his head. “Manners, kid.”

Ellie ignored him completely, already stuffing a cookie in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Okay, these are so much better than the ones they make in town.”

I smirked. “Well, I was always better at baking than Joel, so that tracks.”

Joel let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “I didn’t bake.”

“Exactly,” I said with a grin.

Ellie perked up at that, something sparking behind her eyes. “Wait, wait, wait—you knew Joel before all this?”

Joel stiffened slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just waited, watching me.

I hummed, tilting my head. “Oh, yeah. Way before.” Ellie’s brows shot up. “How far back?”

I glanced at Joel, but his expression was unreadable. “Before the outbreak,” I admitted.

Ellie’s mouth fell open slightly. “Whoa. So, like, you knew young Joel?”

I bit back a laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t say young—he was already an old man in spirit.”

Ellie choked on her cookie, grinning. “Oh my god. I knew it.” Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus.”

Ellie ignored him, leaning forward like I’d just promised her the juiciest gossip of all time. “Okay, What was he like?”

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… well, he was stubborn—”

“Big shock,” Ellie deadpanned.

“—and bossy,” I added.

“Still checks out.”

“And,” I drawled, smirking at Joel, “he thought he was so cool, but really, he was just a huge dork.”

Joel groaned, shaking his head. “Y/n.”

I grinned. “What? You were! Always muttering under your breath, acting all broody—” I turned back to Ellie. “You know, I once caught him singing to himself while he was fixing his truck?”

Ellie’s face lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, nodding solemnly. “And not just any song. It was some cheesy ‘80s ballad, and he was really into it.”

Ellie clutched her stomach, laughing. “Joel, is this true?”

Joel sighed heavily, like he was reconsidering his entire existence.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice like I was sharing a secret. “And he used to smile all the time. Like, actual, real smiles.”

Ellie’s laughter slowed as she blinked at me. “Seriously?”

Joel went quiet.

I felt my own smile falter, something heavier settling between us.

I cleared my throat, forcing some lightness back into my voice. “Yeah. He was a good man.”

Ellie looked between us again, clearly picking up on something, but thankfully, she didn’t push.

Instead, she sat back, munching on another cookie. “Huh. You know, I think I like you.”

Joel shook his head, exhaling sharply. “Lord help me.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

For a second, it was easy—too easy—to pretend like things weren’t broken. That Joel and I weren’t standing on opposite sides of something too wide to cross.

—

I should’ve known better than to let my guard down.

That night at Joel’s, sitting with Ellie, laughing, letting the past slip off my tongue like it wasn’t still a wound—it was a mistake. A stupid, reckless mistake. Because now I can’t stop remembering.

The way Joel used to smile at me like I was his whole world.

The way I used to look at him like he was mine.

The way we used to belong to each other before everything fell apart.

And now we live in the same town, breathing the same air, orbiting around each other like ghosts of the past we never buried.

I do my best to avoid him.

I keep myself busy—taking care of the kids, helping my husband on the farm, working in the stables. It’s easy to pretend when my hands are full, when my days are long, when I fall into bed too exhausted to think.

But Joel doesn’t make it easy.

I see him everywhere. Walking through town, talking to Tommy, riding out for patrol. I feel his eyes on me when I pass him on the street, when I’m at the market, when I’m laughing with my kids. And every damn time, I pretend I don’t notice.

But then, some nights, I slip.

Like tonight.

It’s late—spring air thick and cool, the sky stretched wide and star-freckled above Jackson. I’m at the stables, brushing down one of the horses, the rhythmic strokes lulling me into a quiet, distant place.

I don’t hear him at first. Not until his voice cuts through the quiet.

“You always did love the stables.”

I freeze. My heart lurches painfully, betraying me before I can shove the feeling down.

Slowly, I turn.

Joel stands a few feet away, holding a saddle in one hand, the other resting against the wooden stall. His eyes are dark in the dim lantern light, watching me like he’s trying to read the parts of me I keep hidden.

I swallow. “And you always loved sneaking up on me.” His lips twitch like he wants to smile—but doesn’t.

He steps closer, setting the saddle down on the nearby bench. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

He nods, but his gaze flicks over me, like he doesn’t believe me. Like he still knows me well enough to see through the cracks.

Silence settles between us, heavy with things we don’t say.

I turned toward him, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. His eyes flicked down immediately, and I realized too late what I’d done.

The scar.

It stretched over my shoulder, pale against my skin even in the dim light. My husband always told me it had faded, but I knew better. It was still there. A reminder.

Joel went still.

His gaze darkened, brows pulling together, and before I could say anything, his fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should.

“What happened?” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

I swallowed. “Joel—”

“Y/n.”

I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening around the brush in my hand. “It was years ago.”

Joel didn’t say anything, just waited.

I turned away, running a hand down the horse’s mane, grounding myself before I spoke.

“It was before Jackson,” I murmured. “Bandits found our camp. We fought back. I—” I swallowed. “I got lucky.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “That ain’t lucky.” I forced a small smile. “I survived.”

Something in his expression shifted, something deep and unspoken. He took a slow step forward, his hand hesitating before it finally reached out.

His fingers barely grazed the scar, the lightest touch, but it sent a shiver through me.

I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve stepped back, laughed it off, said something to make it less. But I didn’t.

Because his touch was careful. Reverent. Like he was mourning something he never even knew he lost.

Joel swallowed thickly, his voice quieter now. “Did he take care of you?”

I knew who he meant.

“Yes,” I whispered. Joel nodded, but something in his eyes was raw, something heavy pressing between us.

We stood there for a long moment, neither of us moving, his fingers still hovering just barely over my skin. The air between us felt thick, charged with something we weren’t supposed to name.

Then, just as quickly, Joel pulled back. I cleared my throat, stepping away. “You should get some rest.” Joel exhaled, like he was letting something go. “Yeah.”

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away. I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand over my shoulder—where his touch still burned.

—

It had been a few months since Joel and Ellie settled into Jackson. Things were… good, mostly. Better than I expected, considering everything. Joel and I had found a rhythm again—not quite the way it used to be, but close. Close enough that some days it felt easy to slip into old habits.

He’d come by the stables when I was working, make some dry comment about how I hadn’t changed, and I’d roll my eyes and give it right back to him. He’d show up at my house sometimes, too—usually under the pretense of asking about patrols or Jackson’s defenses—but he’d stay longer than necessary, and we’d find ourselves talking about things that had nothing to do with Jackson. Things like Sarah. Things like the life we almost had.

And it was fine. It was safe. It was a line we both knew better than to cross.

Until today.

We’d just gotten back from a longer patrol—a rough one. A couple of clickers had gotten too close to the perimeter, and Joel had gotten clipped. Nothing serious, but he was pissed. His shirt was torn at the sleeve, dried blood crusting the fabric. He wouldn’t stop flexing his shoulder like he was trying to work the soreness out, and it was starting to grate on me.

“You should’ve let me handle it,” I muttered, brushing down my horse as Joel stood nearby, watching me with that same hard look he always wore after a fight.

“Yeah, and let you get yourself killed?” Joel scoffed. “Not a chance.” I rolled my eyes. “I had it under control.”

“Yeah, sure,” Joel bit out, shaking his head. “Looked real under control from where I was standing.”

I spun toward him, frustration bubbling over. “God, Joel, why do you always have to make it a thing?”

“Because it is a thing!” His voice rose, sharp and cutting. “You think I’m just supposed to stand there and watch you throw yourself into danger?”

“That’s how patrol works, Joel. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

Joel’s jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. His eyes were sharp and dark, cutting right through me.

“Yeah? And where the hell was your husband while you were out here risking your life?”

I froze. My hand stilled on the horse’s reins, my breath catching in my chest. Slowly, I turned toward him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Joel took a step closer, his shoulders tense, his eyes burning into mine. “It means you’ve got a whole family waiting for you back home, y/n. And yet here you are, out on patrol, risking your life every damn day.” His voice was low, rough, like he was trying to hold it together but barely managing. “Why the hell are you still doing this?”

I shook my head, trying to laugh it off. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

“Don’t I?” Joel’s voice sharpened. “Because last I checked, we’ve been doing this together for months now. And I don’t see him coming out here with you. I don’t see him keeping you safe.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not his job.”

“It should be.” His eyes flashed. I felt the heat rising to my face. “What are you even trying to say, Joel?”

Joel’s face twisted into something complicated—anger and hurt and longing all wrapped up together. He shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. “You know what I’m saying.”

“No, I don’t,” I shot back, my heart pounding. “So why don’t you just say it?”

Joel’s mouth curled into something bitter. “Fine,” he bit out. “Your husband—he got everything I wanted.”

The words hit me like a gut punch.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes burning into mine. “You think it’s easy for me? Watching you with him? Watching you with your kids?” His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply. “You built a life with him. A whole life. A family.” His jaw flexed, his voice trembling. “And it should’ve been me.”

My mouth went dry. My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it.

“You think I don’t think about it?” Joel’s voice dropped, low and raw now. “About how different things could’ve been if you’d stayed? If I had pulled myself together and told you how I felt before you left?” His eyes darkened. “But I didn’t. And now I get to watch him have the life that I should’ve had with you.”

My chest squeezed painfully. “Joel—”

“No.” He cut me off, his eyes hard. “I need to say this. You think it didn’t kill me? Knowing that you moved on? That you built a life with someone else?” His breath hitched, his eyes sharp with something almost desperate. “That you had his kids?”

I blinked, feeling the sting of tears that I refused to let fall.

“I’m happy for you,” Joel said, but his voice sounded anything but. “Really. You deserve to be happy. But don’t stand here and act like it doesn’t kill me every time I see him put his arm around you. Every time your kid calls him ‘Dad.’” He took another step toward me, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body. “It should’ve been me, y/n. It was supposed to be me.”

My throat tightened. “Joel, you don’t get to say that.”

“Why not?” His voice sharpened again. “Because it’s true?”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “Because it’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes searched mine, desperate, angry. “Tell me you’ve never thought about it. Tell me you’ve never looked at him and wondered if it should’ve been me instead.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Joel’s eyes were sharp, his breath shallow. “Yeah,” he said bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”

We stood there in the cold barn, the sound of the horses shifting restlessly around us, the storm still lingering in the distance. I didn’t know what to say. What the hell could I say to that?

Joel’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hand flexing at his side like he was barely holding himself together. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I could feel was the weight of what he’d just said sitting between us like a live wire, burning and dangerous.

Joel shook his head, his eyes dark. “You don’t have to say anything. I already know.” Then he turned, his hand running through his hair as he started toward the barn doors.

“Joel,” I said, my voice strained. He stopped, his back to me.

“I…” I trailed off, not even knowing what I wanted to say.

Joel sighed, his shoulders sinking. Without looking at me, he said, “I’ll see you around, y/n.”

Then he walked out, leaving me standing there, heart racing, head spinning, wondering how the hell we were supposed to come back from this.

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 | mark grayson x gender neutral reader

love mail — 2 in a row... maybe it IS coming back to me.... a tad experimental — got a lot kissing / slightly suggestive so please bear w me ! i've never done this before, can you tell (;つД｀) NEW LAYOUT WHO THIS

maybe it was the booze,

maybe it was the shitty mission prior to tonight,

it could even be the fact mark forgot his powerbank at home— which meant his phone was dead,

but seeing a hand that isn't his on your waist was really starting to piss mark off.

college has been fun. mark's made a bunch of friends, he's at one of the biggest parties of the year, hell — he's got an amazing partner, but that amazing partner was currently having some random get all handsy after rejecting their advances all night. oh hell no.

he can hear your panicked heartbeat, the familiar rhythm is impossible to miss. so his body moves before his mind even gets a chance to think, not that it matters. it would probably come up with much worse things to do.

"babe," mark swoops in, appearing behind you out of nowhere. he finds immense joy in forcefully pushing off the dirty hand off of you, noticing how your heartbeat begins to relax at his presence. (feeds his still-kind-of-teenage boy ego but regardless..) "you got a minute?" his smile is sweet, but you can see the strain, the frustration in his eyes.

you don't even get to answer, just stutters of protest coming from the strange man and your boyfriend pulling you away — unknowingly fighting the urge to just throw you off his shoulder, but regardless.. he's getting out of there. and fast.

you find yourself watching mark fumble to open a spare room door, pushing you in a hurried but very gentle manner. you'd love to be able to get a word in but firm hands on your shoulders stop you, a vice like grip as mark stares straight at you. he's so distressed over this, but with very little self control, he can only muster up whispers;

"i'm really, really upset." he huffs, pressing his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "and I really.. really want to kiss you." the scent of alcohol is a little overwhelming. after all, he's practically breathing in your face, but who are you to deny your loving boyfriend?

and so you nod, and mark's eyes light up — he's just happy to get what he wants. so with only a sharp breath to spare, he leans in to kiss you, while hands trail up to your hair and pull you almost impossibly closer. it's like he's trying to breathe you in, mumbling incoherent praise through short kisses.

"perfect," kiss. "so.." kiss. "damn.." kiss. "perfect."

your brain goes blank as his hand cups your cheek, tilting his head so perfectly you melt. "every single time—" he let's out a trembling exhale. "you do this to me every single time, do you even feel guilty?—" you're trying to figure out what he's talking about, but the way he effortlessly makes your brain malfunction is serving such a task to be difficult. "that you turn a hybrid alien into nothing but a— a man."

you mumble his name, "mark.." so sweetly he wants to faint, like his knees have suddenly gone weak and all of that posessive energy dies. andp granted, there's knocking on the door and mark's free hand was halfway up your shirt.

you decide to wrap it up quickly, but the viltrumite left a pretty mark on your neck for the night.

[star2fishmeg]

honestly all I can think of is sleepy sex with luke. like after he comes back from a roadie and you tried to stay awake, but failed ultimately. and he’s also just exhausted. so he‘s just spooning you and his little mustache/beard situation is tickling you, while he kisses up and down your neck. and that’s like the only thing keeping you awake, because he‘s being so gentle with you that it dangerously calming.

Luke opens his bathroom door slowly, praying it doesn’t squeak like last time, praying the hum of the fan turns off soon. It’s too late to worry about the suit he’s abandoned on his bedroom floor, he’s too enticed by your figure lying in his bed, back facing him. You’re breathing slowly, soundly, in his t-shirt he recognises too well bunched at your waist. With a faint smile, he slips in beside you gently, leaning on his elbow. He doesn’t want to wake you, but he longs for your affection again, his lips desperate to feel yours and arms screaming to mould to your waist after weeks of being pried away. He’s been gone for so long seeing the shape of you feels like a dream, running his knuckles of his free hand over your skin tenderly, down your back and following the curve of your ass, his fingertips running under the hem of your cotton panties - his favourite ones with little wave patterns. He’s missed you, dearly, and his increasing heartbeat speaks volumes.

He dips down close, one arm propping himself up and the other sliding under your t-shirt, his palm settling and latching onto your tit as he buries his face into your neck, planting slow and lazy kisses along your skin and leaving wet trails in their wake. Warm lips meet your jaw, trailing firmly lower down your neck, not just kissing once in the same spot but multiple times over with his teeth nipping sporadically, his facial hair brushing the nerves in your skin and stirring your slumber. His hands kneading your tit gently, hips rubbing into your ass with his throat freely allowing his faint groans to fill the silence of his room. And you feel every second of him and his hunger, every kiss, every scratch, every grope and every rut of his hardening cock. 

Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, but you lull your head over your shoulder into his curls, his mouth still working against the crook of your neck. You mumble out to him, “Your bumfluff tickles.”

He sighs as he pulls away, lifting his head up and to hover over yours. His briefs tighten at the sound of your voice, his lips parting with eyes searching yours. It’s too dark to completely see each other, but you know his pupils are blown out from the way he’s poking into your ass, all his movements freezing like you’d caught him in a crime. But your voice, that sleepy rasp he missed, the pitch, the tone, he missed it substantially in person. His lips tug upwards, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

“Mmm you love it,” he hums with a chuckle, making sure he nuzzles into your cheek to feel the scratch of it, “it’s a very manly beard.”

When you curl your arm up and backward, so your fingers slide into his hair, his face hides in your neck again. His breathing’s hot, and he moves to lie down, pressing his naked chest into your back and inhaling your natural scent. His lashes fan over your skin as they close, the scratching movement of your nails on his scalp consoling him into dormancy yet his hips still hump into you, fingers rolling your nipple like a comfort device while your clit throbs for his touch.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask, voice laced with sleep but he says nothing but groans, “Baby, I need you to use your words.”

Luke’s lips latch back onto your skin, heavy and wet along your neck but his voice is perfectly clear when he speaks up, husky, “Tired ‘nd jus’ need you. Sorry for wakin’ you.”

“S’kay, pup. You have me, m’kay?” he can hear the flirty smile on your face. He knows what that means when you push back into him and he lets a whine slip, his cock aching and finally finding relief. 

His hand leaves your tit temporarily, a cold breeze keeping your nipple perked for his return, but his warm palm remembers to glide over your waist on its way to his crotch. He doesn’t waste time with pulling his briefs down, he’s tugging his dick through the fly and giving himself three strokes where he’s painfully feeling the prurience pulse through himself. You reach behind you, pulling your soaked panties to the side and breathe out an elongated sigh of appeasement when he slides through your folds carefully, dragging back and forth to douse his cock in your warm arousal and to tend to your clit crying out for attention, knowingly satisfying it when you whimper quietly as the tension in your lower stomach washes free and riles you up for more. 

“I’ll be gentle, promise.” He whispers into your ear, humming when his cock slips inside you with ease, his hand meeting your tit again as he pushes his hips into you, until his skin meets yours and he can feel your pussy stretch and hug him. “Fuck, yeah, this is what I needed.”

He keeps his promise and thrusts gently with no rush in his strokes, your walls committing every ridge to memory and the remedying pleasure shooting to your head, your eyes becoming heavy as he finds his slow rhythm with his hitched breathing to muffle his groans. 

“Feel so good, Lu. Fuck me so well,” the way you’re tugging at his curls makes him nuzzle into your neck, his facial hair tickling all over again as his kisses against your neck become elongated, teeth nipping and softly suckling just to let go and trail kisses again as he thrusts with more languid desperation. You moan sharply under your breath, mouth releasing sharp pants as his cock fills you entirely with raptures intoxicating your whole being, “show me how much you need me.”

His arms around you become tighter, possessive, needy as if he’s trying to hold you as close to his body as he can in case you’ll slip away. There’s something about the shared body heat, his deprived rutting of his tender cock sliding in and out of your cunt, the raw smell and sploshing of sex, the euphoric release of hormones blanketing you that dangerously lulls you sleepy. The only thing keeping you awake is Luke’s mouth moving along your neck and his hand groping and toying with your tits. 

“Take me perfectly, angel, squeezin’ so tight. Missed you…missed this. So much better than my hand.” He murmurs, the vibrations awakening the hairs on your neck and his words enticing you to hear more of his husky octave. You need to hear more of his after-hour activities, which photos made his dick twitch, which videos he palmed himself to until it became unbearable and had to stroke one out until he came over himself, how many wet dreams he had craving your pussy. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been dating for; you’ll still miss each other's presence and spend no time pouncing back onto each other.

[sweetiestars]

“Lovely Teeth” with Floyd Leech, Idia Shroud

Floyd Leech

He eyed you suspiciously as you grinned. He was oddly skeptical of your intentions when you complimented his teeth. “What are you tryna pull, fishy? You know I can squeeze ya if I have to.”

You hummed, bringing a finger up to his lips. A quiet prompted question of permission. “I’m very aware of consequences to upsetting you, Floyd. It’s why I always treat you with the utmost care.” Your voice was so sweet when addressing him. More like a coo than assurance.

He opened his mouth though. And when he did, you were given a chance to trail along the sharp divots. How pointed and clean they were didn’t surprise you.

You both sat in his bed for a while as you traced the grooves of his jaw inside. You did know when to stop at the wink he gave you before slamming his mouth shut.

It is a wonder how your finger remained intact afterwards.

Idia Shroud

“Ugh, don’t tell me this is some weird fetish of yours…” he murmured when you brought up the idea of seeing his smile up close. Despite your protests, he called you a weird little freak.

After he won a level in his game, which took only a few minutes, he turned to face you. His crazed grin failed to deliver the confidence he tried to exude. His anxious and watchful eyes made sure of giving him away.

The heavy atmosphere in his own doing dissipated. You pounced on him in a small fit of giggles.

You wrestled him to the ground after a bit of play-fighting. He was still breathing heavily. And it gave you the chance to stare, to admire.

“Eugh, you’re making this weird again…”

“I am not!”

[gpcwsl]

Leah Williamson x Reader

Used to it

WC: 566

MasterList

Warnings: neck kisses, Light-hearted prank, Playful teasing, intimate physical affection, Slightly suggestive tone, short?

Song: Electric - Alina Baraz feat. Khalid.

You adjust the camera, making sure it’s angled just right on the kitchen counter. The Arsenal Women’s logo sits in the corner of the screen, a little touch of authenticity to sell the illusion. You’re not actually filming for the channel, of course—this is just a harmless little prank on your wonderful, unsuspecting girlfriend, Leah.

The kitchen is warm, filled with the scent of garlic and butter as you stir the pasta in the pan. You hear Leah walk in behind you, but she doesn’t say anything. You know she’s watching.

“This one’s a special request,” you say, keeping your voice light and professional, as if this is just another content piece for the club. “I always try to make meals that suit everyone’s tastes, but my wife—” you say it so casually, “—she likes it plain. Like always.”

You pause for a second, just to see if you hear anything. A sharp inhale. Silence.

You don’t turn around, but you know Leah just blinked. Probably twice.

“My what?” she finally asks, but there’s no irritation, no teasing edge—just curiosity.

You keep stirring the pasta, pretending like you don’t hear her. “Anyway,” you continue, barely biting back a smirk, “this is a super easy dish, perfect for anyone who’s a bit picky with flavors—like my wife.”

Leah doesn’t say anything else. She just waits.

You know she’s waiting.

And it’s killing you.

But you power through, finishing your totally real cooking segment with a final, “Alright, and there you have it! A simple, plain pasta dish, approved by my very plain, very lovely wife.”

You turn off the camera, placing your phone down on the counter. The moment you do, Leah moves.

Before you can turn around, her arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against her. She rests her chin on your shoulder, her lips brushing the skin there as she sighs dramatically, like she’s been waiting forever to touch you.

“You done?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your ear.

You nod slowly, feeling her smile against your skin. “Mhm.”

Leah doesn’t say anything—she just starts kissing. Your neck, your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear. Slow, deliberate kisses, her hands firm around your waist, like she wants to make sure you don’t slip away.

You melt into her immediately, your hands reaching back to hold onto her arms. “Leah…”

She hums, her lips trailing down to your shoulder. “Missed you today.”

You huff out a laugh. “We were apart for like an hour.”

“Too long,” she murmurs, kissing up the side of your neck again. She’s doing this on purpose, and you know it. You can feel the smugness in the way her hands hold you close, in the way her lips linger just a second too long on your skin.

You shiver when she presses another slow, warm kiss to your pulse point. “Leah—”

“My wife,” she finally says, and you feel the smirk against your neck.

Your whole body heats up instantly. “Oh my God.”

Leah chuckles, tightening her arms around you. “That’s what you wanted, right? Calling me that all casual like it’s normal?” Another kiss, this one slower, firmer. “Guess I better get used to it.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands, and Leah just laughs, pressing more kisses to your skin—because she knows she’s won.

[forunct]

[12:57 pm] ♧ + showers w/ bf!jaehyun

the water from the shower head was the perfect temperature to help you decompress from the stressful week. the weekend finally arrived after countless meetings with representatives and numerous presentations you did for potential clients. the week took a lot out of you to say the least and to reward yourself, you decided to sleep in and take a steaming hot shower to bring you peace.

you were so focused on lathering your body with your loofa that you didn’t hear the door open ajar.

“love?” jaehyun’s voice caused you to jolt away from your thoughts and back to reality. jaehyun had decided to sleep in with you and when you woke up you tried your hardest to not wake him while you headed to the bathroom to take your shower.

“yes?~” you were standing there watching his movements from the corner of your eye, waiting for his response. he was stripping from his pajama pants and swiping on his phone. you mentally scolded yourself for not being more quiet, knowing that jaehyun needed the sleep.

the small speaker you both had in your bathroom started to play music from his playlist. as you stand facing the water, the shower door opens from behind you, letting in cool air. you turn to see his toned naked body climb in, closing the shower behind him and letting the steam cloud your vision. jaehyun reaches for you and immediately pulls you into his firm chest and kisses the top of your head.

“i swear, you always take the hottest showers,” his voice is an octave lower than normal and it’s clear that he just recently woke up, it’s your favorite version of him. so raw and untamed, reminding you that no matter how perfect he is, he’s still human. you look up at him, offering a soft smile.

“it helps calm my mind,” you wiggle out of his embrace and begin to work the soapy loofa into his chest, careful to not let your gaze avert to lower than his v-line which is always harder than you think, his happy trail leading to one of your favorite places on his body.

“i don’t wanna smell like your fruity body wash.” he’s giggling as he frantically tries to grab the loofa from you, succeeding almost immediately.

“well, i figured that you wanted me to help you get clean considering you’ve hijacked my shower.” you laugh only half joking. as much as you love showering with jaehyun you had your mind set on a meditation shower alone.

“can you blame me? i’ve been yn deprived all week. i’m putting myself in your schedule wherever i can.” he’s pulling you closer yet again, his grip tighter than the last time. “i’ve missed you.”

“i’ve missed you too, jae.” you blow out a huff of air as you shut your eyes. “you have no idea.”

jaehyun’s hands traveled from your waist down to your ass, giving it a small squeeze. the kiss he plants on your lips is needy and hungry, as if you were the meal he’s been waiting to have all week. your arms wrapped around his neck as you sunk into his touch, getting completely lost in the kiss. your moan was almost inaudible but he heard it and he smirked against your lips. jaehyun knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“why don’t i show you how much i missed you, love?”

it didn’t take long for you to think that maybe this is the kind of meditation shower you needed.

[spiderb00bs]

- TRAITOR

Shauna Shipman x reader | Natalie Scatorccio x reader  

“You were fucked!” 

Genre – smut  18+ MDNI Warnings – Toxic Shauna (how I love...), love triangle 

Now playing –  Crazy Girls, by TOOPOOR

"Will hurt you, and might make you hate me. But i'll still love you."

Things were tense, everything that was happening between all the girls, the constant fights between Shauna and Mari, the Shipman girl's anger, finding out that the coach was alive... it all hit you hard.  

Especially Shauna.  

Things for the brown-haired girl were getting worse and worse, her anger was growing day by day and everything around her irritated her. Ever since you and Shauna broke up, the Shipman girl had made it her life's mission not to leave you alone. Now, you were constantly bullied by your ex-girlfriend. Bumping shoulders, making discreet little traps for you to fall on the floor face-first, putting dead bugs in your food, looking at you menacingly while sharpening that frighteningly large knife of hers. It all gave you the creeps.  

You thought it would all be over when you saw Shauna start hanging out with Melissa, knowing exactly that this wasn't just a new friendship blossoming in the middle of the forest, but you couldn't have been more wrong. She seemed to tease you, as if she wanted to rub it in your face that she had someone, while you were sleeping out in the cold alone.   

But you knew that things weren't quite like that.  

You'd never gotten that close to Natalie, you weren't exactly best friends when you were at school, but she was always nice to you, greeting you when she saw you in the hallways, even making assists for you to score the game-winning goal on the pitch. Anyway, you were never very close, until she became the queen. 

You seemed to be the only one who could see the frustration in the clear-eyed girl's eyes, the only one who could see how overwhelmed she was, carrying the weight of dealing with everyone who was there. It wasn't intentional, at first you offered an understanding look, which made her slightly puzzled, then you just asked how she felt, doing simple things until her barriers broke down and she let you in. It was natural, neither of you had really noticed.   

But Shauna had.  

Shauna caught every exchanged glance, every micro-expression, every one of the little smiles you two shared when you thought no one was watching. And she didn't think it was innocent at all. At first, she was wrong, you just met up to talk and talk bullshit, just to clear Natalie's head from the constant stress of being the queen. But after a while, you found other ways to empty your minds, turning the talking and joking session into a making out session.  

And that's how you were now, your back resting comfortably on a tree while Nat was on your lap, her fingers running through your hair, making your whole body shiver. Your fingers lightly squeezed the skin of her hips, and she sighed into the kiss. You couldn't resist her today, usually you just escaped the girls at night, but today, when you saw Nat in those tiny shorts and that T-shirt showing the muscles of her arms, you couldn't help yourself.   

“You look so hot today...” Your hands ran down Nat's back, her skin burning against your fingertips.  

“I know. You weren't exactly disguising it.” Nat's smile made your heart leap, you loved seeing her smile.  

“I don't think I can disguise it any longer.” You said, smiling as you trailed kisses down Nat's neck.  

Natalie was mesmerized, your touches felt so right on her skin, she loved moments like this with you. But as not everything in that place is good, your moment was quickly interrupted when you both heard a branch break a few meters away, making you both jump. 

“Shit! Do you think it was someone?” You asked, not wanting to get Nat into trouble if anyone found out that you and the light-eyed girl were seeing each other more intimately.   

Seeing the look of concern in your eyes made Nat's eyes light up. She knew you didn't want to get her into trouble, and with the girls constantly pressuring her about everything, she appreciated the fact that you cared so much about her.   

Laughing as she took your face in her hands, Nat looked at you with heartfelt eyes. “I think you should focus more on me.”   

Her tone made you smile, rushing to kiss her again, momentarily forgetting the noise you had heard. Consequently missing the shadow of a very angry brunette between the trees.   

Chopping wood was a job immediately destined for you, the girls always saw you as one of the strongest people on the team. You've always had muscles in all the right places, before joining the team, you'd already played several sports, your parents never giving you a break - that was surely one of the things you didn't find so bad about the forest, your parents weren't here to make you be perfect at everything.   

Picking up the wood you had just cut, you tied them together, putting them on your shoulders, only to be pushed to the ground as soon as you turned to walk back to the camp. The wood fell, along with your body. Groaning in pain, you turned around quickly, lying on your back so you could see who had pushed you.  

“What the fuck, Shauna?” You asked, trying to get up, seeing the brown-haired girl with a terrifying expression on her face.   

When you tried to get up, Shauna quickly pushed her foot into your chest, making you groan and lie back down on the dirty floor. “You think you're so clever, don't you?  

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You said, squirming in Shauna's grip. “Get out!” You shouted, only to be silenced when Shauna sat on your stomach, pulling out her knife and putting it to your neck.   

“Say that again, you bitch!” The knife was sharp, you knew she had sharpened it that morning.  

“Fuck! Shauna, what are you doing? What the fuck?” you whispered, without taking your eyes off the sharp blade pointed at your neck.   

“You like serving your queen, don't you?” Her words echoed in your mind, leading you to Natalie. “I used to be your queen. So I guess that makes you a fucking traitor.”   

Shauna's words confused you. You weren't a traitor. She was a traitor! She was the one who was cheating on you and Jackie with Jeff, she was the one who was a liar, she was the one who was constantly bullying you!  

“I'm not a traitor!” It was the only thing you managed to say. “Get off me!” 

Shauna's sarcastic laugh annoyed you, but damn, she's so hot! No! You couldn't do that to Nat, it was wrong.  

“But your hands are on me now.”   

She was right, your muscle memory betraying you, your whole body betraying you. The memories you had with Shauna still vivid in your mind, making you desire her in the midst of the hatred you still felt for her.   

“Fuck you!” You growled.  

Laughing at you again, Shauna began to move on top of you. One of her hands was on your chest, while the other still held the knife to your throat. Lowering her hand quickly, Shauna lifted your shirt, catching a glimpse of the sculpted muscles of your abs.  

“You don't know how much I miss this.” She said, referring to your torso, running one of her hands over your muscles. “I also miss when you did everything for me, like my needy puppy.”  

Unable to contain yourself, you sighed as the brunette rubbed herself against you. The friction of the fabric of her sweatpants lightly scratched your skin, and you were too embarrassed to admit that you were enjoying it.  

“You're fucking crazy, you need help!” You tried desperately to disguise how much it turned you on.  

“Don't be stupid. You could easily push me out if you wanted to, but you're still here.” Shauna rubbed herself harder and harder against you.  

Even though Shauna was very strong, you knew that you could be stronger than her, physically. Pushing her off you would be extremely easy, but you couldn't do it.  

“You've got a knife pointed at me, you fucking psycho!” You gasped, feeling Shauna press the knife into your neck as her thighs began to tremble around you.   

“But you could fight, you know I've always enjoyed an arm wrestle.” Shauna's laughter filled your ears, followed by a moan as she came on top of you. 

You looked up at the sky, thinking about what had just happened. Thinking about Shauna's threats, thinking about Nat, thinking about Melissa, thinking about how your abdomen was burning slightly from the friction of the fabric, and thinking about how screwed you were.   

“Let's see how long you'll be loyal to your new queen.” That was the last thing Shauna said before she left.   

Maybe you were thinking of going back to your ex.  

Hi guys. Nothing much to see here, I just desperately wanted to write about my girls, coz they're wonderful this season.

I did very well in my first exam, but I still have to study for three that are coming up next week. Maybe after my exams I'll write a bit for Lottie.

Anyway, drink some water and stay safe

xoxo, spider.

[breakindishesinaelevator]

Invincible & Blue Diamond!Reader

^^pov you nuzzling mark

(yes these will be put in parts)

these bbls killin yall 🥀🥀

i never really watched steven universe so ive been doing super duper research and hope i got the idea of her character right

and this might just be platonic rather than romantic idk

if theres any romance in this it might be cecil and/or nolan

1.5k words tho i might be a beast (/j 🥀)

fic under the cut :P

“Mark, there’s some kind of giant that’s causing tsunamis, hurricanes, and some real fucked up storms up on the west coast. It’s also abducting people at random! I need you to go and settle this immediately! Before more lives are lost and more people go missing!”

Cecil’s voice cuts out from the comm in Mark’s ear. Mark sighed, he was enjoying his time chatting and having a nice barbecue with his friends. Rolling his shoulders and stretching out his limbs, Mark stands, preparing himself for what could be a possible fight.

“Well! See you guys later, I guess.”

Mark makes a move to walk away from the group before Eve speaks up.

“Another mission from Cecil? God, he can’t give you a break, can he? I mean, you just got back from those two bank robbers who do the same shit every week. What is it now?”

Putting her hand on her hip, Eve is very unhappy with how Cecil is overworking Mark. She stepped away from the team to do her things to help the world and stop being badgered around by the old fart. Why couldn’t Mark do the same? Sure, he needs to get his mind off of things after what happened with his dad, but he needs to know his limits…

“Some… giant on the west coast… Nothing big! Nothing I can’t handle. It’ll be quick! I’ll- I’ll be back for some more wings though!”

Mark’s expression goes from confident to a bit nervous. Yeah, he’s been in this hero business for about a year and a half, but giants were still a bit troublesome to him. Preparing to take off soaring into the sky, he stops after Rex speaks up.

“Hey, man! Why don’t we come and help!”

“Oh- no that’s not- you don’t have to…”

Rex gets up, a big stupid grin on his face. Placing his hands on his civilian clothes, he explodes them into his hero suit.

“If the giant is nothing big then we could come with and wrap things up quickly and have a long time needed beach vacation! We could beat that giant and tan in the sand afterward! And if Cecil needs the Guardians, then fuck him! He can have Samson and Immortal help him out!”

Monster Girl giggles, getting up along with Rudy. Rae smiles, standing up as well, and placing her hands on her hips.

“That’s not a bad idea. I’m so down for a beach day!”

“Then it’s settled! Robot! Fire up your little doohickey and let’s go take down a giant!”

The others exclaim in agreement and preparing for the trip over to California, Mark smiles warmly. He is so happy to have some hero friends like them. Even if they’ve had their arguments and scuffles from time to time (mostly from Rex), he’s still grateful to have allies and friends with them.

————————————————————————

Sighing, you look down at the tiny humans running rampant. Scanning everyone as much as you could, one caught your eye. Is that who you’re looking for? Reaching your hand out, you grab the human’s arm, dragging him up towards you.

The human screams out in pain as his shoulder dislocates from your handling. Dangling him in front of your hooded face, he looked close to who you were looking for. Mustache and seemingly young. It has to be him. It has to be Nolan. He’s probably the closest one you’ve found so far, along with the other 34 humans you’ve caught.

Humming, you move to put him in the bubble you have trailing behind you. A bubble that contains the aforementioned other 34 humans you’ve taken. The bubble wasn’t super uncomfortable for them— it contained little rock formations you found, along with fruits and fountains that could prove useful to them ever if they needed it.

Before you could place him in the bubble, you hear a whizzing sound, then boom! The human is gone!

“Wh-what?”

Flipping around, you search for him, before locking eyes on some pink figure floating a couple of yards in front of you. The same pink figure is holding your human.

You reach out to take him back from the random figure before the pink figure begins to fly towards the shore. Panicking a bit, you move through the ocean and follow her.

“Give him back!”

Now being closer to shore, you’re also closer to the flying pink thing. Reaching out once more, you flinch back as some sort of projectile hits your hand, blowing up on impact.

Whipping over to see what that was, you see a bunch of humans on, what looks to be a flying rubbish contraption, another projectile is thrown at you. The human throwing them laughing maniacally, obviously getting a kick out of hitting you with the explosives.

Grunting and getting annoyed very quickly, you watch the contraption fly around you. A robot on the contraption begins shooting beams at you, not like it was doing anything to you, just irritating you more. And as if those things weren’t annoying enough, some green ogre thing jumped off and gave you a mean left hook to the face before landing back on the contraption.

“Grrngh- enough!”

Swatting the contraption out of the air, the humans (and robot) rush off of it in order not to get injured. You reach out to grab them but then, the pink thing comes back, wrapping some kind of pink rope around you. Struggling to move, you get ready to break out of it before another flying being, this time a male, comes at you with a right hook. The force of it knocks you down completely. You gasp, knowing only one being who had that kind of strength.

Now down on the ground, bound by the pink bonds from the pink figure, you look up at what brought you down.

“Nolan?”

Gasping heavily, a blue aura comes from your body in waves, causing the ocean to stir and also causing the heroes in front of you to weep profusely. Tears coming down your face as well.

With Eve now feeling immense sadness, her powers begin to weaken. She looks to the others as they’re now groveling in the sand sobbing. Even Rex! She looks out to the coastline and sees the waves crashing into each other and coming to the shore in big waves. Gasping and looking back to Mark, she sees him staggering in the air, feeling the effects of the giant woman’s power as well. Not as much as them though, due to his Viltrumite genes.

Before the waves could sweep up her and the team and possibly drown them, she used the last of her strength to gather the team and fly them out of the giant’s range so they could recuperate.

“Mark! W-we’ll come back-! Urgh-!”

Mark nods to her in acknowledgment and understanding and Eve takes off with the team. Seeing that they’re gone, Mark flings himself at you, hoping that another few punches would make you stop inflicting this feeling on him and any possible person within a 30-mile radius.

Getting closer and closer to you, he reels his hand back mustering whatever strength he could into his fist. He is stopped though, your hands immediately clasping around him, bringing him closer to your face. Your hood coming down, Mark could see your face in full clarity and the giant tears that were treading from your eyes. You were… ethereal…

“Nolan! I finally have you back!”

Through your tears, you smile greatly, your aura intensifying and your waves getting bigger. Mark looks at you in confusion, his head tilting.

“What?”

Bringing him closer to your face, you nuzzle your cheek against him. Your ginormous tears almost drowning him, he sputters trying to find air. You pull him away from your face a little, fully taking in his appearance before gasping.

“You look worse than ever! In what universe could that possibly be fine?!”

Now bellowing loudly, you crunch over on your knees, sobbing.

“I’ve waited thousands of years for you to come back… Now look at you… Weak… Frail… How can you come back to Homeworld looking like this?”

Oh… The giant woman thinks Mark is his father. …Awkward. Mark squirms uncomfortably. You’re a bit calmer now though. Your saddening aura lessening substantially. The tears on Mark’s face slow down but yours still go. Mark’s vision beginning to clear up, and he finally got a good enough look at you. Long hair, long lashes, blue skin, curvy. Damn. He quickly tried to speak about the moment on hand. The unnatural disasters and the abducted people. But, the only thing on his mind right now is how you know his father and what your relations are with him.

“Uh- The- Where’s-? I’m not- Well- I don’t-“

You place a giant finger on his lips, shushing him.

“No, no. Don’t speak. You must save your voice and energy for the trial.”

“Trial? What trial?”

“Why, yours, of course.”

What. What’d his father do this time?!

[girlrotterr]

Hey, so, I have read almost all your work and I have loved all of them. I have no idea if you do request (I understand if you don’t x) but I was wondering if you could do a fanfic about pottery, I have been loving it recently and I cant seem to get Ellie Williams doing pottery of my mind. This can be a smut or just a fluff I don’t mind. Again I completely understand if you don’t do requests xx

P.S I don’t mean the ‘xx’ in a bad, it’s just something I do to be kind. 🪼<This is just so I know if you do my request, I don’t claim it in any way.

" 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍. "

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: ceramicist!ellie x apprentice!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: You start an apprenticeship with Ellie Williams, a renowned ceramicist known for her cold demeanor. When a sudden tension between you grows.

𝐀/𝐍: a little rusty on my writing so forgive me! I fell in love with this request and anon.

The first time you met Ellie, she barely looked at you.

You knew her name before you ever set foot in the studio. Ellie Williams—ceramicist, infamous in the art world. Her work spoke in textures and fractures, in pieces that felt like they had been unearthed rather than made. The kind collectors whispered about, the kind that never gathered dust in a gallery for long. And yet, she stayed here—buried in this dimly lit studio on the outskirts of the city, where the air was thick with the weight of clay dust and the sharp tang of burning glaze.

You had imagined this moment before, played out every version of it in your head—the quiet thrill of stepping into her world, the flicker of recognition in her gaze, maybe even the hint of a smile.

Instead, she barely spared you a glance.

She leaned against the worktable, exhaling a slow drag from a cigarette, fingers tapping absently against the wood. Smoke curled around her like an afterthought. She wore paint-stained overalls, the straps loose over a threadbare sweater, sleeves shoved to her elbows. Her hands—God, her hands—were streaked with dried slip, inked with tiny scars and half-healed nicks.

She didn’t acknowledge you. Just tapped ash onto the concrete floor, her expression unreadable, her eyes hooded like she had already decided you weren’t worth the effort.

You swallowed, shifting around “I’m supposed to start today. As your apprentice.”

Ellie exhaled smoke through her nose. Finally—finally—her gaze flicked toward you. A single glance, sharp and assessing, before she looked past you, as if already bored.

“Don’t fuck anything up.”

You should have been irritated. Should have rolled your eyes, maybe even walked out. But instead, something twisted low in your stomach.

Because for all her detachment, all her cold, effortless dismissal—Ellie Williams fascinated you.

And that was going to be a problem.

She turned away, flicking her cigarette into a clay-streaked mug on the counter, then gestured vaguely toward a wheel tucked in the corner. “Show me what you know.”

The air in the studio felt thick, pressing against your skin like damp fabric. You hesitated, then moved toward the wheel, rolling up your sleeves as you settled onto the stool. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the clay—a ball of cool, damp earth waiting on the table.

Ellie leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed. Watching. Always watching. Her gaze felt heavier than it should.

Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the clay against the spinning wheel. It wasn’t perfect, a little wobbly, but you knew the basics. You let your fingers glide over the surface, trying to shape something—anything—under the weight of her gaze.

The silence stretched.

Then—“You’re doing it wrong.”

You froze. “What?”

Ellie pushed off the counter and strode toward you, the scent of smoke and earth trailing behind her. She stood too close—close enough that you could see the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way clay had settled into the creases of her fingers. Close enough that you felt the heat of her without her even touching you.

Her chin tilted slightly, gaze dropping to your hands. “Your pressure’s uneven. You’re gonna collapse the whole thing if you keep forcing it like that.”

Frustration prickled under your skin. You weren’t bad at this. You had experience. But under Ellie’s scrutiny, every movement felt clumsy.

“Then show me,” you said, meeting her gaze. “Show me how to do it right.”

Something shifted in her expression, just for a moment. A flicker of something unreadable before she scoffed, shaking her head.

“You’re not ready.”

You frowned. “How do you know that if you won’t even teach me?”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. Her fingers twitched at her sides, as if she was debating something. 

“Just—figure it out,” she muttered, turning away too quickly, grabbing a lump of clay and throwing it onto her own wheel with more force than necessary.

You watched her, confusion twisting in your chest.

She wouldn’t touch you.

The days in the studio bled into nights. You spent hours covered in clay, your fingers wrinkled and raw from the water, the air thick with the scent of earth and smoke. Ellie was a constant presence—sharp, impatient, always watching. She never praised you, barely acknowledged your progress, but you started to learn her silences. The way she hovered just close enough to correct you without touching, the way her eyes lingered on your work longer than necessary.

She never let you get too close.

But then—one night—you caught her staring.

The studio was quiet, save for the occasional drip of water from the sink and the distant murmur of the city outside, and the quiet crackle of Ellie’s cigarette. You were finishing up a piece, smoothing out the edges, when you felt it—that heavy, lingering gaze.

You looked up.

Ellie was sitting at her worktable, a half-finished sculpture in front of her, but she wasn’t working. She wasn’t even pretending to. Her eyes were on you—dark, hooded, something restrained simmering just beneath the surface.

Your breath hitched. Heat crept up your spine, curling at the base of your neck. You swallowed, heart pounding, hands still dusted with clay as you wiped them absently on your apron.

"Ellie?" Your voice was soft, careful.

Her jaw clenched. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead, she dropped her gaze, her fingers curling into fists against the table.

"Don’t—" She cut herself off, shaking her head as if she could will the words away.

You swallowed. "Don’t what?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes flicking back to yours, frustration warring with something else. Something raw. Something she didn’t want to name.

"Don’t look at me like that."

She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes flicking back to yours, frustration warring with something else. Something raw. Something she didn’t want to name.

Your fingers curled against the worktable, your pulse hammering in your throat.

"Like what?" you asked.

Ellie’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her hands twitched like she wanted to grab something—grab you—but instead, she pushed herself up from the table so fast her chair scraped against the floor.

"It’s late," she muttered, already turning away. "Go home."

The tension only got worse afterwards.

The kind of tension that crackled in the air, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

And maybe you were impatient. Maybe you wanted to see what it would take to make her snap.

So you challenged her—constantly.

Not with teasing, not with soft words or lingering glances, but with pure, relentless defiance.

You questioned her methods, countered her critiques, pushed back every time she dismissed you. When she told you your form was sloppy, you demanded to know why. When she muttered a vague correction, you pressed until she had to explain herself. When she tried to shut you out, you forced your way in.

And it infuriated her.

"You have to be precise," Ellie said one evening, watching as you tried—again—to carve the fine details into the rim of your piece.

"I am precise," you argued, scowling as you adjusted your grip on the tool.

Ellie scoffed. "No, you’re stubborn. There’s a difference."

"Or maybe you just don’t know how to teach," you shot back.

Her eyes snapped to yours, a flicker of something dangerous behind them.

"Excuse me?"

You shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "You don’t explain anything. You just bark orders and expect people to understand."

Ellie took a slow breath, the kind people take when they’re trying not to lose their temper. "If you actually listened—"

"I do listen," you cut in. "But you never show me."

Her jaw clenched. "I don’t need to—"

"Yes, you do," you insisted, pushing the piece aside and turning fully toward her. "If you want me to get better, if you actually want me to learn—then show me how you do it."

Ellie flinched. Just barely. A quick, subtle shift in her expression, gone almost instantly.

And then she stepped back.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head. "You’re not even-"

You scoffed. "Bullshit."

Ellie stiffened. You saw the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her breath came just a little too fast, the way she refused to look directly at you.

It hit you all at once.

She wasn’t saying you weren’t ready.

She was saying she wasn’t.

You stared at her, something hot curling in your chest, frustration clawing its way up your throat.

"What is wrong with you?" you demanded. "Why won’t you just—"

"Because I can’t," Ellie snapped.

Silence crashed between you.

Ellie’s hands curled into fists, her whole body tense, like she was trying to hold herself together.

You opened your mouth, but she was already turning away, already grabbing her things, already moving for the door.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Before Ellie could reach the door, you lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Not hard, not enough to hurt—just enough to stop her.

She froze.

The air in the studio went thick and silent. You could feel the tension coiled in her arm, the way her muscles tensed beneath your grip. Her breath was sharp, shallow, like she was bracing for something.

"Let go," she said, low and warning.

"No," you shot back.

Ellie finally turned to face you, and the look in her eyes was something dangerous. Frustration, anger—but beneath that, fear. A hesitation she didn’t want you to see.

"You don’t get to just walk away," you pressed, tightening your grip slightly. "Not this time. You’re gonna tell me what your problem is, and you’re gonna do it now."

Ellie’s nostrils flared. "My problem?"

"Yeah," you snapped. "The way you look at me like you hate that I exist. The way you won’t touch me, even when it would help. The way you’re constantly holding back like—" You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "What the hell is it, Ellie?"

She yanked her wrist out of your grasp and took a step back like she needed space, like being too close to you was the worst thing in the world.

"You wouldn’t fucking understand," she muttered.

"Then make me understand!"

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, exhaling hard, like she was trying to keep herself from breaking right in front of you.

"You’re my apprentice," she finally gritted out. "I’m supposed to teach you, not—" She cut herself off, shaking her head violently.

"Not what?" you pushed.

Ellie let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. She looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside her cracked open just enough for you to see the mess beneath.

"Not want to fuck you," she muttered.

Your breath caught.

Ellie clenched her jaw so hard you thought she might shatter her own teeth. She looked like she hated saying it, like admitting it made her weak.

"I can’t fucking trust myself around you," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "That’s the problem."

Either way, before you could react, before you could so much as blink, she was there.

Right in front of you.

Her arm came up, pressing against the wall above your head, caging you in, the heat of her body radiating into the air between you. Her breath was ragged, hard, each inhale like she was fighting something. Like being this close to you was driving her to the edge of something she didn’t want to fall into.

You swallowed hard, barely able to move, barely able to think.

"Ellie," you whispered, and the moment your voice hit the air, you swore you heard it—

A groan. Low and strained, barely there, like she was pained by the sound of her own name in your mouth.

The air between you was hot—too hot. Your chest rose and fell in tandem with hers.

Her hand curled into a fist against the wall, the veins in her forearm tight beneath inked skin. Her jaw clenched like she was forcing herself not to move, not to close the inch of space that still remained between you.

"Don’t," she whispered, but it didn’t sound like she meant it.

You weren’t even sure what she was telling you not to do. Speak? Move? Breathe?

Ellie was so close now, you could feel the tension in her body like a coiled spring. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in uneven bursts as if every inhale took everything she had.

It was too much. Too much pressure in the air, too much in the way her hands clenched and her jaw was set tight, like she was trying to hold herself together by sheer will. And you—you could feel it too, that pull toward her, a force that made your body lean in, that made your heart race.

Without thinking, your hand lifted, and you reached for the strands of her hair.

The moment your fingers touched it, you felt the soft strands slide between your fingertips, and you couldn’t help it. You let your fingers drift through her hair, feeling the warmth and texture of it—rough yet silky

Ellie’s eyes snapped shut, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Her breathing grew even heavier, sharper. Her chest was rising and falling as though she was fighting the urge to take control, to pull away, but also fighting to stay exactly where she was.

And then—oh, you couldn’t stop it.

You tugged.

Just a little. Enough to pull her head back slightly, just enough to make her hair stretch in your fingers. The instant you did, she let out a sharp, ragged breath, like the sound was torn from her against her will.

Ellie’s whole body tensed. Her eyes shot open, and for a fraction of a second, you saw something break in her expression. 

But you don’t pull away. And neither does she.

There is nothing soft about the way it happens. There is nothing patient. When she gives in, it is all at once, her mouth crushing against yours, all teeth and hunger, all the restraint she’s clung to shattering like fragile porcelain.

Her hands are rough as they find your waist, pulling, gripping, needing—her nails biting into your skin hard enough to bruise. A quiet, desperate sound escapes her throat, like she’s been starving for this, like she’s finally caving to a need she’s tried to bury. She gripped your hips, steering you back until you hit the nearest worktable, the edge pressing into your lower back. In the rush, your hand knocked over a bowl of slip—wet clay spilling over the surface, dripping onto the floor with a thick splatter. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but the feverish drag of her hands, the sharp pull of her fingers twisting in your shirt, yanking it up, her breath coming faster, rougher.

You taste months of tension snapping like a bowstring. Her hands slip under your shirt, dragging over your ribs, nails scraping as though she’s trying to mark you, trying to make this real. And maybe she is. Maybe she needs proof that she’s allowed to want this, even if she shouldn’t.

But then she jerks back, breathless, eyes wild.

"Fuck," she whispers, voice wrecked. She stares at you like she’s ruined something, like she’s just set fire to the last thread of her self-control.

And maybe she has.

Because now that she’s had a taste, she knows—

She’s never going to stop.

[dizzyditzblitz]

Hi I'm new here i already love how you do your fics so can you do this (this is after the wedding day fic of course) when one day y/n gets pregnant by shadow milk she pregnant with triplets and i just headcanon that when the babies are born shadow milk would just cry a lot because he never held a little baby before

Good luck dear ;)

I WAS LITERALLY THINKING THE OTHER DAY ON HOPING TO GET AN ASK AND I'M SO HAPPY THIS IS MY FIRST ONE SMDJEN

i hope i do this idea justice for you!!!!

—☆

Double— no.. Triple Trouble..?

Shadow Milk x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

the mention of pregnancy, birth, and suggestion of intimacy.

After the wedding, it seemed like the Shadow Milk and Y/N were hip-and-hip. Everywhere. All the time.

Y/N didn't mind it, seeing as she knew what prompted heavy attachments and refusal to let go for Shadow Milk. And with them married, it just made that attachment easier. Safer, in a way.

Shadow Milk still got a little stressed, but he knew Y/N would return whenever she would leave the house. Which seemed to be the only little hiccup.

Except for one other thing.

Children.

Y/N expressed her desire to want a family before, Shadow Milk often shifted at that idea. He can tolerate children, but he never thought about having his own—especially in a natural way. Considering Candy Apple....

Y/N didn't push Shadow Milk for little ones. But the intimacy and the closeness to envelope with one another wasn't lost on them either.

To be held. To be loved in such a way. Shadow Milk and Y/N both felt whole. Two halves of a heart.

But this didn't bring without consequences, which seemed to be both good and bad—depending how one looks at it.

" Shadow Milk..? " Y/N sheepishly called out, her voice trailing behind her as she searched the house for him.

Shadow Milk immediately perked, turning in his chair; apparently, he was in his studio, making more figures for puppet shows,

" Yes, my love? " He asked, attentive as always,

Y/N became hesitant.. she wondered if he would be upset. Shadow Milk has gotten upset before, but it was never at her. Would this be different? Oh she felt she was going to pass out from the stress,

He knew something was wrong, especially by the fact that her hands were shaking and fidgeting beyond control. Shadow Milk got up and gently coaxed Y/N into a hug, brushing and resting his cheek on her head,

Y/N felt the compression of the hug and softened, her worries melting into the abyss and her figure molding with his..

" What's wrong, sweetheart..hm? " Shadow Milk whispered, leaning his head back a little to look at Y/N, tucking her hair behind her ear,

Y/N slowly looked up at him, letting out a quiet sigh before looking back down in a little pout,

" I—.. " She attempted to start, gnawing the inside of her cheek, " I'm.. pregnant.. " Y/N finally confessed,

Shadow Milk's eyes lit up, both in surprise and something else. Although his heart felt it drop to his feet,

" You are sure..? " He whispered, gently cupping her face in his hands,

Y/N relaxed a little again, allowing her cheeks to be squished,

Shadow Milk felt.. conflicted, but he wasn't upset. Yet he did see the turmoil and dread Y/N was going through due to his lack of response, which caused him to softly laugh a little,

" I'm not upset, " Shadow Milk whispered reassuringly, gently bumping his forehead against her's,

Y/N returned the little nudge, almost like two cats rubbing their foreheads and noses together,

" I'm scared.. " Y/N hushed..

Shadow Milk paused until offering a small nod of agreement,

" Me too.. " He admitted, his voice heavy with vulnerability, " But I need you to know my love, even if I am scared.. I don't want you to think for a moment I'm going to leave you, " Shadow Milk began to reassure,

His hands carefully grabbed her heads to guide her forehead to his lips, giving it a soft kiss,

" You're mine; now and forever, " He mumbled against her head,

Y/N gave a weak nod before she burst into tears. She clung onto Shadow Milk, sobbing into his shoulder.

Shadow Milk couldn't help but jest, just a little,

" Hormonal already? " He snickered,

" Yes! " Y/N sobbed, her voice cracking,

Shadow Milk laughed a little, Y/N's cries slowly blended with little giggles and sniffles of her own..

Over the next few months, Shadow Milk often found himself trying to sort himself out emotionally.

He knew he wasn't going to leave Y/N, no matter what happens. But he was still scared. Shadow Milk was terrified, not of being a father, but of being a terrible father.

His heart ached at the thought of failing to be there. To provide. He hoped any mental struggles weren't passed down either. The whispers in his mind were haywire until that familiar weight broke the whispering static in his mind,

" Shadow Milk..? " Y/N softly called out from the couch,

His heart skipped a bit, his eyes flickering over to his wife. His beloved. Shadow Milk's mind eased a little. She was due soon.

" Do you want to feel them? " Y/N asked softly,

He felt his body freeze out of uncertainty. Shadow Milk gave a little nod, coming around the couch and hunkering down on his knees in front of his wife.

Carefully, Shadow Milk laid his head on Y/N's tummy, his ears picking up movement inside. He felt some kicks, as if they knew he was there.

Shadow Milk's eyes sparkled, leaning a little more into Y/N's tummy, a content purr left Shadow Milk. Apparently, he had dozed off just like that; on the floor and leaning against Y/N.

But this serenity was cut short. After a few more weeks, Y/N was rushed to the hospital to deliver.

Shadow Milk went haywire. He couldn't sit still even if you restrained him. He was pacing around the entire hospital, until Y/N shrieked in request for her husband.

Scrambling, Shadow Milk immediately went to Y/N's side. He bit his tongue when she snatched and nearly broke his hand from squeezing it.

Shadow Milk, despite his frayed nerves, tried to comfort and calm Y/N down best it could all things considered. He was met with tears, aggression, and hostility, but he knew she was in pain.

It took a couple of hours. Triplets were finally here.

Shadow Milk was dumbfounded. Both Y/N were expecting twins, but triplets?! How did they miss a baby in the screening?!

He stared at the three swaddles on Y/N's chest, his heterochromatic eyes displaying a secondary color due to how wide they were.

Shadow Milk stared... staring at the three bundles and his wife.

" Do you want to hold one...? " Y/N weakly asked,

'Should I? What if I drop them? What if I make them cry? I—' Shadow Milk's mind ran rampant before subconsciously nodding,

Y/N handed over a little boy, Shadow Milk gently taking the small baby in his hands.

Everything stopped...

Time stood still and it was just him, his wife, and their three kids.

Shadow Milk had broken himself down. Rebuilt himself to learn to be soft. To be vulnerable. To be gentle. To love...

He gently nudged some of the blanket from the little boy's face..

Shadow Milk began to tear up. He held the little one close, promising and swearing to the grave he'll keep his four treasures safe.

Cries left Shadow Milk. Ugly, pure, unadulterated sobs left him.

Y/N wriggled over a little, just a little due to the pain, and allowed Shadow Milk to lay with her in the hospital bed.

Shadow Milk wept the rest of that night, allowing Y/N to rest as he tentatively cared for the new babies..