#v gradual progress but

[chryblossomjjk]

still sad n struggling but am thankfully in a much better place than i was in the beginning of the year

[momonokopan]

5/5/2023

now that i think of it i always draw young hijikata for his birthday

[nayedoll]

Baby came home

joost klein x fem!reader

rpf below, pls don’t read if you’re uncomfortable!!!

read part 2 here

summary: reader and joost used to be together but broke up. four years later they meet again, having realized their mistakes.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut (blowjob, unprotected p in v), angsty

word count: 6k

a/n: this is kiiiiind of based on the songs ‘baby came home’ and ‘baby came home 2/ valentines’ by the nbhd fyi if u want to listen to them!! also im sorry that im yapping sm in the first paragraphs i promise joost is gonna show up lol🥲. anyways enjoy!!!!!!

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You enter the bathroom, the deafening music from the club reducing to a muffled sound as the door behind you closes. Your hand immediately reaches for the sink and you look up to see your blurry reflection in the mirror. The dark red tint of your lipstick has faded by now and your eyes look tired under the bathroom lighting, lightly smudged with mascara.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut in order to get ahold of yourself. The floor underneath you is vibrating with the sound of the loud bass, mirroring the quick rhythm of your heartbeat as you open your eyes again, meeting your distressed gaze in the mirror. You feel lost, unable to recognize yourself under the layers of makeup as tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. You expected it to be another long night of partying with your coworkers, the group of you sat in the fancy vip sofas as always, drinking champagne and gossiping. You never really liked them or their snobbish attitude, the only reason you always agreed to go out with them being your job — a stylist for one of New York’s biggest fashion magazines.

You had always wanted to be involved in fashion so naturally when you got the opportunity to work for such a prestigious magazine two years ago, you accepted every part of the job, the good and the bad. It was sort of an unspoken rule; if you wanted to go higher, you’d have to make compromises — and for you that compromise was to tolerate all the rich elites you worked with, pretend to be one of them.

You thought your plan had been working, especially with how your boss was treating you lately, even promising to give you the promotion you so badly wanted and deserved.

So naturally, when she announced another person as the art director today, you couldn’t help but protest, ask for an explanation from your boss who called you crazy in her usual patronizing tone. With the help of alcohol in your system, the complaints soon turned into a heated argument as you resigned, left the table and ended up… here.

Maybe I should have never left the Netherlands; this is the only thought going through your mind right now as you let out one last shaky breath and your tears gradually come to a stop, leaving a reddish blush on your cheeks as a confirmation that you have been crying. You slightly fix your makeup, clearing the smudged mascara under your eyes before leaving the bathroom.

The music gets progressively louder as you re-enter the large venue filled by people dancing.

You glance at the vip section one last time, easily spotting the people you unfortunately know so well, dressed in expensive designer clothes. They are chatting and laughing as if nothing has happened, the same fake smiles lingering on their faces. You scoff to yourself, all those years of working together and not one of them cares enough to check on you.

You don’t bother to stay any longer and make a turn for the exit door, as the music from the club gradually fades.

The familiar security guard opens the door for you and you smile subtly at him for what you hope will be the last time.

The air is cold and humid against your hot body, causing you to wince as you put on your lightweight jacket that doesn’t do much to warm you up.

You look around you, blinded by the vibrant lights reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings and restaurants. Despite how late it is, the city is still as busy as ever with numerous people walking by, going from club to club and the loud music from cars is booming at every corner.

You decide to rest on a wall a few meters away, seeing as your ride home was one of your coworkers but that scenario doesn’t seem very likely anymore.

You pull out a cigarette from your purse and your trembling fingers rush to light it, desperate to feel the addictive burn in your throat.

For the first time in a long while, you suddenly feel better, relieved as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It almost feels liberating to not work at that place anymore, knowing you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not, that this may be your chance to escape the toxic environment you’ve been living in and find your old self back.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you instinctively whip your head to the direction you heard it come from, then pause. In front of you, is standing Joost.

Joost as in your ex boyfriend from the Netherlands.

You met him shortly after having moved to the country because of your dad’s job, both of you being just 17 without the experience of any previous partners and big feelings. It didn’t take long before you got into a relationship, the newfound passion of a first love quickly drawing you closer together and taking over your minds. It was the first time in your life that you had such strong feelings for someone, especially someone you had known for so little at that. You really thought you had found the perfect man, the one you would someday marry and start a life with, no matter the hardships.

But as time passed, the problems soon began to emerge in your relationship. The main issue lied with the fact that you both didn’t exactly know how to convey your feelings and emotions to one another; Joost opted to ignore them and move on, whereas you often came off as controlling and selfish in an attempt to show him just how much you cared.

You loved each other a lot — and you both knew that — but inevitably you broke up with him in the heat of an argument, the biggest one you’d had yet. In the following month, you barely talked and it was then that you made the impulsive decision to move back to New York, finding no reason in staying in Amsterdam anymore. You didn’t tell Joost but he found out eventually, leading to another big argument just one day before your flight and then another month of no contact.

At last, you did talk things through, him calling to apologize and try to make things right again as you cried over the phone because you knew it was too late for either of you to make up for all the problems.

It’s been 4 years since then in which you kept some sort of communication, mostly on your birthdays and on holidays or when he replied to your story sometimes and vice versa.

You stare up at him in shock. “Joost?” You blurt out, blinking repeatedly as if to make sure he is actually here.

He smiles, his dimples bringing back a bundle of memories and you get chills just at that.

“Hey,” He pulls you into a hug which you reluctantly return, careful to not burn him with your cigarette as you linger in his arms a moment longer, taking in the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with what seems to be cigarettes.

“How have you been?” You ask, eyeing him up and down.

He looks slightly different, having grown into his face through the years. His hair is still the same shade of blonde, though grown out as it sticks out under his hat and you notice the small trimmed mustache on his face. He’s just about the same height, maybe slightly taller as he towers over you even with your heels on.

“Good, everything’s good I guess,”

“Yeah? I heard your album did well last year,” Albino; It had popped up on your feed a few times but you hadn’t looked into it too much, in fear of undoing all your efforts to get over Joost.

“Are you stalking me?” His question coaxes a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes at him.

“Get over yourself,” You say playfully, “I saw Tantu post about it on Instagram,”

Joost grins and nods as a response. “How have you been?” He redirects your initial question to you.

You take a moment to respond as you awkwardly look away from him. If you were to be honest with him, you’d say you’re basically all alone, crying and second guessing yourself on the daily — also without a job from now on — but you find that it may be too direct of an answer for the situation.

Instead you say, “Not too bad either,” giving him a weak smile.

“Still in fashion?” He asks, his words unknowingly sting but you try your best to look okay.

“Mhm,” You nod, “I uh- I work for a fashion magazine,” Or maybe worked would be a better word, you think to yourself.

“That’s awesome,”

“I guess so,” You can’t help but let a sigh fall from your lips, hinting at the insincerity of your words. Joost senses it because he furrows his eyebrows at you as if to ask you what’s wrong but you don’t let him.

“Want a cigarette?” You hold out your pack of cigarettes that’s almost empty, in hopes of changing the subject. Joost gets the message and takes a cigarette from the package, deciding not to bother you with any more questions. Besides, it isn’t exactly his business after so many years of barely any contact.

You light the cigarette that hangs from his lips as your eyes meet over the small orange flame and you stay silent, watching as he takes a long drag.

“By the way,” You utter “Why are you in New York?” Maybe it’s a dumb question as obviously a trip would be the reason, but frankly you’re more curious about who he is here with.

Joost goes on to explain, “Me and my friends booked this trip a while ago,” He exhales a thick plume of smoke.

“I don’t see anyone here,” You look around, searching for the familiar faces of his friends.

“They’re sitting at that bar over there,” He nods to the small building that is just a few meters away, the one you have passed by countless times after leaving the club. “I just came out here to make a few calls,” He adds.

“To your girlfriend?” You can’t help but ask him, the drinks you had earlier playing a part in your bluntness. You’re not drunk but definitely intoxicated enough to not feel embarrassed, especially when you see how Joost’s face lights up at your question.

“Nee, I don’t have one,” He gives you a cheeky smile, “Why? Are you curious?”

You shake your head, looking down to the concrete ground, “No, just… asking,” Your voice is weak as you shy away from your words.

“Alright,” You hear him chuckle, it makes you smile too for some reason.

“But I’m sure you have a boyfriend,” He says causing you to look back at him in confusion, “He must be waiting for you inside that club,” He points to the same building you were in just a few minutes ago.

“Where did you get that from?” You laugh in between your words, making it clear you do not in fact have a boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs his shoulders, smiling down at you. “You’re pretty, why wouldn’t you have a boyfriend?” You bite the inside of your mouth, fighting back a smile but Joost sees you, secretly enjoying the effect his words still have on you.

“Haven’t found the right one yet,” Both of you know that’s not true. You had found the right one, in fact he’s standing right next to you but you both just had to ruin everything.

Joost knows you don’t mean that, but still, the thought that you have moved on from him stings even though it’s normal all these years later. He has matured, you both have and he often thinks how things would turn out if you got back together again, right now.

His silence doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you put out your cigarette with the sole of your shoe and turn to fully face him.

“Anyways,” You sigh, “I was going to leave soon,”

“Oh,” Joost takes one last puff of smoke before also putting out the cigarette on the ground, then he looks at you again. “Ja, I should probably head back inside too,” He says but none of you make a move that indicates you’re leaving.

You don’t want to say goodbye and possibly never see him again, knowing that once he’s gone you’ll sink back into the misery of your life. He’s currently the only person you feel comfortable talking to and you don’t want to lose that feeling just yet.

You say, “Joost?” Your voice soft and quiet.

“What?” He gives you a sweet smile.

“Do you want to… come to my place?” You’re reluctant in your words, trying not to make them sound suggestive because really, they aren’t.

“Sure,” He smiles, not having to think about it for long which leaves you satisfied. “I’ll just call Appie to let him know,” He adds, pulling out his phone.

You wait for him to end the call as Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, presumably because the music from the bar is too loud for Apson to hear. Your Dutch isn’t the best but you manage to make out most of what Joost is saying, catching your name in between sentences. You hear Apson yell something on the other line which makes Joost giggle and mumble shut up as you give him a weird look.

He hangs up the phone, “Should we go?” He asks, you nod as you walk with him to a taxi down the road and usher him inside.

The ride is quite long, given the inevitable city traffic as you pass by more tall buildings that are sparkling with light. You’re sitting next to Joost in the backseat as your shoulders lightly bump into one another every time the driver makes an abrupt turn. Joost whispers little jokes to you every now and then, making you laugh with his humor that has not changed one bit. It fills your heart with warmth, reminds you of the old times. You keep glancing at him as he looks out the window and the lights illuminate his face beautifully, bringing out the beauty mark under his lips or how blue his eyes really are. He catches you staring a few times, smiling to himself at your poor attempt to hide it and the pattern repeats itself until you reach your apartment complex.

Joost thanks the driver, quickly closing the car door behind him to catch up with you as you’re already at the old-looking entrance door of the building, unlocking it.

“Quick, quick!” You giggle as he jogs to you in his usual silly manner and you let him in.

You take the elevator and on the way up you lightly hold his hand, bringing it closer to see the tattoos on his knuckles.

He chuckles to himself, “You like them?”

“Mhm,” You nod, letting your thumb lightly graze his digits. Your eyes return to his, he’s much closer now and you feel your heart beating faster than ever with the way he looks down at you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Your faces get closer and closer as you let his hand fall from yours, forgetting all about his tattoo, then ding.

The elevator door opens, revealing the narrow dimly lit hallway your apartment is in and just like that, the moment ends as you both step back from each other and out of the elevator.

You hurry to the end of the cold hallway and unlock the door to your place, ushering Joost inside.

The lights reflecting off of the surrounding buildings come through the big windows of your apartment, illuminating the room with a faint brightness. The space is relatively small and simply decorated, the only luxurious thing about it being the view of the city.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask, already making your way into the kitchen. “There’s wine and tequila,” you say loudly.

“Tequila,” Joost responds quickly, taking off his puffy jacket and leaving it on the coat rack next to the door.

By the time you’re back to the living room, Joost is sat comfortably on the big couch and you notice he’s turned on the lamp next to him which now casts a warm yellow light in the room.

You hand Joost his shot placing the half empty tequila bottle on the table, then sit down next to him, maybe in closer proximity than truly needed.

“Cheers!” He grins as you both down the shots, the feeling of the hard liquor going down your throat momentarily giving you goosebumps. Joost drinks it like it’s water before slamming the glass on the table, a sight that makes you laugh in surprise as you remember how easily he used to get drunk when you first met him.

“I needed this,” You sigh, your words implying how shitty your night — or life in general — has been.

Joost narrows his eyes at you; he had already sensed that you’re not well from your previous implications but now he has to ask. Even after everything he still worries the same amount, hates seeing you unhappy.

“You okay?” You turn to look at him, smiling at his question. You can’t even remember the last time someone asked you that.

“Yeah,” You nod repeatedly in an attempt to convince Joost, not wanting to ruin his night with your seemingly unimportant problems but he sees right through you, his face making it clear he doesn’t believe you. “Or no,” you laugh to loosen the tension, covering your face with your hand in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Joost asks calmly while he caresses the small of your back.

“I don’t know, it’s just…” you mumble, “Sometimes I get the idea that I made the wrong choice returning here,”

You’re looking away from him, not used to oversharing like this. Usually, you would have stopped at the first sentence but the drinks from the club paired with the shot you just had, make it harder for you to shy away from sharing your feelings.

“Like what if I’m not good enough at this? Maybe this life isn’t for me after all,” Your voice becomes strained as you fight back tears, this being the first time you express your fears out loud.

“That’s not true,” Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, “You’re great with fashion, you’ve always been great. You even picked my outfits for me sometimes, remember?” He chuckles at his last words, the shared memory making you both giggle as you finally face him again.

Your eyes linger in his and you get the urge to kiss him, realizing that you may want this night to end differently.

He stands up straight in front of you and says, “Here,” smiling widely as you look up at him confused, “Judge my outfit,”

“Judge your outfit?” You repeat his words to him and laugh. Joost nods as he turns around, letting you see the full outfit and posing in between. You’re clearly amused, letting small chuckles slip from your lips every now and then, watching as Joost shows off his clothes one by one.

Your eyes can’t help but fall to his belt as he plays with it, the metallic letters that read Albino glowing in the darkness of the corner he’s standing at. Your body feels warmer at that as a sinister thought flashes through your mind which you quickly shake off.

“Models aren’t allowed to touch their clothes, you know?” You point out sarcastically, mimicking the tone that your boss usually had when she talked to the models.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” He says in a half serious tone as you nod.

“So?” He asks, you’re assuming he’s waiting for you to judge his choice of clothing as you sit up straighter on the couch.

“Well…” You take a coy expression, holding back the smile on your lips, “It could use some changes, with my help,”

“You think?” Joost takes a look at his outfit, not directly understanding the true motivation behind your words. “Like what?”

“Come closer and I’ll show you,” Joost pauses for a second, a smirk grows on his lips as he starts to catch on to what exactly it is that you’re suggesting. He takes a few steps forward, so close to you that your face is practically aligned with his belt as you suck in a deep breath. You don’t really know where you’re going with this but the alcohol in your system doesn’t let you think of your choices thoroughly right now, instead you’re overcome with need, the desire to touch Joost in any way possible.

“I’m all ears,” He says, his voice low and raspy.

You bite back a smile, tugging on the soft material of his t-shirt. “This needs to go,” You say, masking your lust with an innocent voice.

“Do you want to style me or undress me?” Joost raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused by your intentions.

“I need a clear canvas to work,” You respond coyly and once again pull on his shirt, coaxing him to take it off.

“Fair enough,” Joost pulls the shirt over his head, revealing the blonde hairs on his happy trail. His pants are hanging low on his stomach, making the waistband of his underwear stick out all the more, the letters supreme on it and you shamelessly take in the image of his bare chest.

Joost soon brings his hand to your chin, lifting your head up so that you can see his face clearly. Your body is practically aching with need by now, imagining how his fingers would feel in other parts of your body.

He silently leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You’re initially taken by surprise as it takes a few seconds for you to part your lips before you finally get to feel him against your tongue. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor but you don’t mind, it only serves as a reminder that this is actually happening.

Joost lowers his body, resting one knee on the couch to balance himself as he pushes you back into the big pillows. His lips wander off to your neck, peppering small kisses on it which later turn into gentle bites that are sure to leave marks on your skin.

“Do you like that?” He asks, noticing the small whimpers that escape your mouth. You hum in agreement, feeling yourself grow more wet under his continuous touch.

“It’s been so long,” He mutters in between more kisses distributed evenly across your neck and jaw. You wonder if he has missed this as much as you have, whether he has also been thinking of you every now and then, searching for you in every girl he has met since you left.

At this point you’re eager, unable to keep your composure any longer. You pull him away slightly, ignoring the confused expression on his face as you quickly shove him back against the couch, switching roles with him.

Your knees fall to the wooden floor, you bring both hands to his knees, looking up at him then towards his belt.

“Your pants are next,” You say, in reference to your previous conversation. Joost chuckles, mumbling some curse under his breath, he’s flustered and it’s because of you. He unbuckles his belt impatiently, shifting slightly to pull his pants down as you do the rest for him, tugging on the rough material of his pants to fully take them off.

His legs are also littered with tattoos, similarly to his arms and your fingers instinctively trail up his thigh until they reach his underwear. You can see the outline of his hardened cock as you gently press your palm on top of it, earning a stifled groan from him.

“These can stay on,” You decide to tease him, Joost laughs at that.

“Fuck off,” He says, earning a smile from you.

Gladly, you think to yourself as your fingers play with the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes shift to his face briefly, quietly asking for his consent to which he nods at. With a final pull, his cock springs free from his boxers, reminding you of its big size. The tip is leaky with precum as you lick it, making Joost hiss at the sensation.

You take him in your mouth eagerly until the tip reaches the back of your throat, causing you to wince ever so slightly.

“Easy there,” Joost coos, pushing your hair out of the way for you and keeps it in a gentle grip as you skillfully begin to suck his cock. The way your mouth stretches around him coaxes a mixture of groans and curses to fall from his lips, his hold on your hair tightening. He looks down at you, still in your fancy little dress and on your knees for him, the sight turning him on all the more.

The fact that you’ve gotten so good at this makes him think of all the men you’ve probably been with after him and he can’t help but feel a little jealous at that.

“Like that,” His voice is breathy as he mumbles different kinds of praises to you, sending a rush of heat through your core. He starts guiding your head with gentle force, careful not to hurt you, slowly pushing his cock until it nudges the back of your throat . Your face feels hot and despite Joost’s gentleness, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, most definitely smudging your mascara and the dark eyeshadow on your eyelid.

Joost is close but he doesn’t want to come just yet, opting to come inside of you later. He pulls your head back slightly, drawing his cock out of your mouth with one last breathy moan.

You’re breathing heavily as you lock eyes with him, your lips swollen and eyes glossy with tears. He caresses your cheek with his big tattooed fingers, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“You wanna get undressed too, baby?” He says in a low tone.

“Sure,” You mumble softly, getting up from your knees that are red from how long you’ve been sitting on the floor.

You take off your black boots that end just below your knees, uncovering the rest of your black patterned tights. Your fingers impatiently reach for the zipper to the back, fumbling with it until you finally loosen the silk dress you’re wearing, letting it fall to the floor as you stay in nothing but your black lingerie adorned with tiny bows here and there. Joost’s eyes linger on your body and he swears this is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, noticing how beautifully your body has grown over the years and how confidently you stand in front him now, more like a woman and less like a girl.

You can sense his infatuation with you with the way he’s looking up at you and it only fuels your ego, a sudden cockiness coming through you.

“Are you just gonna stare?” You taunt him, Joost smiles at that.

“As if you don’t enjoy it,” He says, you assume he’s right.

He reaches his hands out to your hips, pushing you closer in between his legs as you place your arms loosely around his neck. He massages the area of your ass, though the material of your tights is in the way, preventing him from fully feeling your skin against his palms.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” You smile in agreement and give him a small nod as he begins to lower your tights inch by inch, exposing the soft skin of your legs. Once they’re off, he presses wet open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing but solely the idea of his mouth in between your folds, tasting you with his tongue as it swirls around inside of you.

The momentary fantasy draws loud sighs from your lips, correspondingly to the kisses Joost places on your skin. He notices, unable to hide the cocky smile on his lips as he starts moving higher, towards your stomach.

“Your bra,” he mutters, continuing his work on your body, “Take it off,”

You do as he says, trembling fingers rushing to unhook your bra, all the while Joost keeps on kissing your stomach that is rising up and down from your intense breaths. You pull your bra off, tossing it to the floor where the rest of your clothes are as Joost stares at your breasts, your nipples hardened as a result of his previous touch on your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” His small compliment sends a warmth to your face, a sweet smile forming on your lips and you can’t help but caress the sides of his face with your thumb.

You place one knee on the surface of the couch as you come face to face with Joost, giving him better access to the upper half of your body. Now that you’re this close to him, you notice the small stain that your red lipstick left on his lips earlier, letting out a small laugh at that.

He smiles, kissing you deeply on the mouth, jaw, collarbones, then finally your breasts. The tingling of his tongue on your nipples makes you moan quietly as he takes one of your tits in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive skin.

The inside of your thighs is practically burning with anticipation now as more moans fall from your lips. “Joost please,” You breathe out in desperation as he hums against your boobs, “I can’t wait any longer,”

“I get it baby,” Joost withdraws from your chest, places a peck near your lips then nods to his side, “Come on, lie down,”

You lie down on your bare back, resting your head against one of the pillows to get a better view of your body. Joost turns to you, his hands slowly sliding up your stomach as he gazes down at your naked body, the only thing covering it being your panties.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks, his voice soft.

“You make it sound as if I’m being drafted into the military,” You say, causing him to giggle.

“Just asking,” He slightly puts his hands up in the air, “It’s been a while,” He says ever so softly as you both share a smile, silently expressing how much you want this. To anyone else, it would just look like a casual hook up but to you it’s so much more than that, layered with feelings and memories.

“Okay, you have my consent,” You say slowly, your voice close to a whisper. He nods satisfied, planting one last quick kiss on your lips before his fingers find the waistband of your black lace panties. His cock is hard, falling on your inner thigh, an image that only adds to the heat you’re experiencing.

You lift your ass, only a little so that Joost can slip your panties off of your legs, not bothering to tease you much about it. The air of the room feels cold against your wet pussy, causing it to twitch as Joost mumbles some curse in Dutch.

“So wet for me,” He coos as he collects the wetness from your folds with a quick stroke of his tip, making you gasp, your thighs closing at the sudden friction. He props one hand close to your face for balance and lines his cock with your entrance before starting to push into you slowly. The sensation of your walls clenching around him inevitably lets a shared moan fall from your lips as Joost bottoms out, then begins to thrust into you in a controlled manner that makes your head dizzy with pleasure.

“You’re so tight schatje,” The pet name is familiar, yet you still fight back a smile at the sound of it.

You stare up at him in adoration; his bare chest is glistening in sweat, his blonde hair is messy and his lips are slightly parted as soft grunts escape them. He was and is still the most beautiful man to you, despite all the insecurities that linger on his mind.

You notice he’s kind of tired because he’s struggling to stay propped up on his arms above you and you wrap your arms around his back, pulling him down to your chest. His body is heavier against yours but you don’t care, you embrace him while he continues his deep thrusts to your core that gradually become faster.

The way he fucks you is so perfect that it drives you wild. He knows your body so well, knows all the right places to touch as his tip keeps on hitting that one spot inside of you, pushing you closer to your climax.

Joost is close too, burying his head on the crook of your neck as you feel his hot breaths and the vibrations of his groans on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the sticky flesh of his shoulders, your breaths are shallow and you can’t suppress your loud moans given the frantic pace at which Joost is now slamming his shaft into you.

You try to tell him but it seems like the only words you can utter right now are continuous curses in between your uncontrollable whimpers.

“I’m- fuck,” Joost breathes, “I’m coming baby, I promise,”

Before you can respond in any way, you’re driven over the edge. Your vision becomes blurry, the only things you can hear are your embarrassingly loud moans and Joost’s own groans as you come on his cock.

Joost follows shortly after your orgasm, his warm release spilling inside of you while he sloppily fucks every part of you.

“Fuck,” He exhales and collapses on top of you. Your fingers graze his back, trying to soothe the red marks that your fingernails left on him earlier. Joost places his arm around your waist as you both let your deep breaths fill the silence of the room.

You stay like this for a minute or so, then he carefully pulls out of you as you hiss slightly at the feeling.

-

You’re the last one to take a shower and as you come back to your bedroom, you see Joost lying comfortably between the pillows and your stuffed animals, an image you wish you could see everyday. You climb atop the bed, also lying down as you cuddle him without hesitation and he’s quick to wrap an arm around you as well.

“When are you leaving New York?” You ask, hoping for the answer to be never, despite how unrealistic that sounds.

“In two days,” You nod against his chest but really, you want to break out into tears at the simple thought of losing him again and so soon.

You feel him take a deep breath, “Joost?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Can we spend the day together, tomorrow?”

He smiles even though you can’t see him, a bittersweet smile at that. He feels the same way as you, dreading the moment he’ll have to leave you, wanting to make up for the lost time. “Of course, liefste. Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know,” You mumble, “Oh! Maybe I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant, it’s not too far from here,”

“Okay, that sounds perfect,” His hands caress your hair and he leans down to place a reassuring peck on the top of your head.

You wish this moment would never end. If you could, you’d move with him back to the Netherlands tomorrow and start over, do everything right this time. But for now, all you can do is hold him tighter, make every moment count until he leaves. And then who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be together again.

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thank you for reading !! <3

[juxi2218]

TOWEL TROUBLE!!!

Fushiguro megumi x reader ( 1.3k )

Warnings: English is not my first language, please bear with my ass; I'm trying to improve it by writing for my pookie gumi!!! (Feel free to correct any grammatical mistakes I may have made) (Might delete it later if it flops lol)

A little preview for yall: “wh-what are you doing?” he panics. You smirk slightly. “What? Am I not supposed to hug my own boyfriend?” you move your head from his nape to his shoulder, trying to get a look at him. His cheeks flush crimson and his eyebrows furrow in a cute little scowl, and he’s still staring fixedly at his cupboard.

You and Megumi stumbled into his apartment, both of you soaked from the rain. Today was your date and it was going well until the rain stormed in. You had been at a café and neither of you had an umbrella so you had to run to his place, which was close by. The cozy apartment was a welcome respite from the storm outside.

“Ugh, I hate getting wet” you murmur to yourself as you finish untying your shoe lace; and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Megumi. He gives you a glance and says “you can go have a shower first. I’ll lend you some of my clothes.” Your ears perk up and you go give him a peck on his cheek.

“Thanks a lot gumi!!”

“Yea, it’s nothing” he says while his cheeks show a visible blush of hot pink. You chuckle a bit before running to his bathroom for a warm and peaceful shower.

It hasn’t been long since you both started dating. Say, it’s been a few months and it sure was hard to get this man to open up. Your relationship started when he came sprinting to you one day, assuming the love letter was a confession from you to your other male friend. However, unbeknownst to him, you were actually playing matchmaker and had agreed to deliver the letter on nobara’s behalf.

Nobara had requested that you give the letter to the other guy, but Megumi got hold of it instead and, unaware of the truth, tore it into pieces. You and the other guy were shocked until Megumi confessed that he likes you. You had a good laugh and explained him what actually was happening. He turned red. You still remember his stupid face from that time.

All red and cute.

He apologised to you both and ran away. The next day, you reached out to him and boom! You guys started dating.

Yeah sure, the confession wasn’t the grand, romantic type you’ve imagined, nor did it unfold like a scene from your favourite movie or book. But despite that, you’re grateful as you never expected him to confess his feelings to you first.

It was really slow at first. The shy pinky holds gradually turned into hands intertwined, progressing to gentle hugs. Yes, you both have kissed for 5 times already and you were the one who initiated it because you know that this poor man would go nuts if he had to make a move on you first. He knew that you were a little bold when it comes to these things, and he had zero complaints with it. He’s so shy, you want to bite him to nothing!! (This man is making me go weak in my knees istg.)

You come out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around your body, hot steam rising from your skin. 

“Gumi! I’m done showe- OUCH!” the man threw one of his sweatshirts at your face.

“Don’t just come out wearing nothing like that!”

“I’ve got a towel wrapped around me you idiot! And why’d you have to throw this at my face?!” you say while rubbing your poor face. As you regain your composure, your eyes roam around his bare chest showcasing his abs (chap 156 argh I’m so proud of my guy) and a pair of black trousers hanging loosely from his hips not failing to show his V line. You were practically drooling over the marvellous sight in front of you.

“you’re naked too!!” you exclaim.

“What? I’m decent? “.

“Huh? You’re only wearing your pants.” You point at his lower half and pout.

“Whatever, just go and change.” He exhales softly, closing his eyes. He then turns his back to you and closes the door of his cupboard while murmuring a few curse words to himself.

You cheekily sneak up to him, wrap your hands around his waist, and rest your forehead against his nape.

“wh-what are you doing?” he panics.

You smirk slightly. “What? Am I not supposed to hug my own boyfriend?” you move your head from his nape to his shoulder, trying to get a look at him. His cheeks flush crimson and his eyebrows furrow in a cute little scowl, and he’s still staring fixedly at his cupboard.

“Shut up” he mutters.

You smile, your grin growing wider as you tease him. He sighs. “I told you to go and change.” He looks at you, then swiftly turns his head away, avoiding eye contact as he takes in your damp hair and the scent of his body wash radiating from your skin. Your hand slides around the other side of his shoulder, gently coaxing his face back towards you. “But I wanna hug you!!” you whine, pouting.

“Yes,” he breathes, his tone husky as he nods, “yes you can do it after getting changed, yeah?” he says, his voice weakening. You shake your head, “yes, but!” you pout again, giving him your most innocent puppy eyes. You can’t help but feel a little mischievous as you keep him wrapped around your fingers.

“Stop being stubborn.”

“I like to hug you like this!”

“y/n, jus- “

“Do whatever you want! I’m not gonna step back!” you retreat your arms from his shoulders and tighten them around his waist.

With only a towel separating your skins, heat surges through his body as he feels your chest pressed against his bare back.

His head spins, and he’s overcome with a sense of weakness. He feels like he’s going to faint. His head is numb.

He doesn’t know what to do, but his body seems to have developed a mind of his own.

“Whatever I want huh?” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He takes hold of your hands, pinning them against the cupboard on either side if your head as his grip intensifies, your back pressed firmly against the cupboard’s surface.

You look at him with wide shocked eyes.

Your towel slips from the grasp you had (now gone) and you gasp in unison as Megumi’s hand reaches down to steady it (before the disaster). You feel your breath coming in ragged gasps as you look down.

His hand wraps around both of yours, holding captive as his other hand still cradles your dear towel, holding you close. You feel your heart beating wildly, racing at an alarming rate... You’re sure it’s going to burst out if you don’t get your shit together. You feel hot, incredibly hot; like all your senses are heightened. The warmth of his skin, the rush of blood to your head. This man is going to be the death of you.

You gaze up at him, and his cerulean eyes lock onto yours, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You feel your face grow hot as he looks down at your lips, his gaze piercing and intense.

You feel heat creeping up your face. He leans in. You close your eyes. You swear you can hear your heart begging you to set it free so it can go jump off a roof.

He stops when he’s an inch away from your lips, his breath warm against your plush. “If you don’t stop this, I can’t promise where this will lead us” He warns.

Shivers run down your spine again at the sudden change in his demeanor and his deep voice sending a thrill through your entire body. He lingers there for a few seconds and pulls away while a proud smirk paints his face so as to tease the shit out of you.

You flutter your eyes open as your hands move to hold your towel and watch him as he walks into the bathroom, leaving you feeling frustrated and flustered.

“Hmph! asshole” you mutter to yourself.

[godidontevenknowwhat]

Missed Lessons

Tonowari x Metkayina!Reader (Romancing Pandora 2024 Day 6 - Heat Cycle)

A/N: Later than I had hoped but it is finally complete, my magnum opus, my first Tonowari fic

Sequel now posted: here

Tagging: @eywaite @neteyamsyawntu @pandoraslxna

Synopsis: Tonowari placed an incredible amount of trust in you when he asked you to assist him in teaching the Sully family the ways of the Metkayina. He placed the reputation of the clan on your shoulders. When he finds out from his son that you didn't show up to Jake's Tsurak training with no explanation and no sign of you at your Marui the concern of your friend mixes with the disappointment of your Olo'eyktan. That is, until he manages to catch a whiff of your scent leading from your Marui.

Fic Includes: NSFW so MDNI, bullshit about the Metkayina culture that I made up heavily using Māori culture because there's not a whole lot of information on the Metkayina but I know the Māori culture was a big inspo for them, reader being in heat, random lore about heat cycles that I will not be expanding on, no reference to Ronal but Ao'nung and Tsyeria exist so it's up to you, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, oral (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, breeding kink, I'm feral for him I stg, 3.8k words

You and Tonowari had been close throughout your lives, spending your childhood days running across the warm sand of your home Awa’atlu. You had passed your rites together, became adults in the eyes of your clan together, danced around the fire after drinking too much kava made from the fermented, sweet fruit that could only be harvested from the swampy inland of your home. So when the time eventually came for Tonowari’s father to step down as the Olo'eyktan, you were the one to crush the rare shells that you’d painstakingly collected together and fashion them into a beautiful, glisting paint that sparkled when the light of the fire hit it and the one to paint the delicate swirls and waves of ceremonial importance onto him all the while berating his skxawng ass for not sitting still. 

Tonowari trusted you with his life and everything in it. So, when the winged creatures of the mountains far to the west arrived with a family of na’vi hailing from the Omatikaya, your eyes were the first he met and it was your nod of approval that solidified the Suli family’s place at Awa’atlu.

It had been a quarter of a cycle since that day and the clan had become well adjusted to the family of forest people, leaving Tonowari to gradually withdraw from training Tsyeyk Suli and give more attention to his duties as Olo’eyktan once again. A discussion between the three of you ended with Tonowari granting you the responsibility of training the once great Toruk Makto in his efforts to learn the ways of the txampay taronyu (Ocean Hunter) and more importantly how to master the riding of the viscous Tsurak, a milestone all Metkayina must meet while passing their rites.

Teaching Tsyeyk became a daily task of yours, one that you excelled in if his progress was anything to go by. In fact, if you pushed him enough, Tsyeyk might go as far as to say he’d made more progress with you than with Tonowari himself and you took an incredible amount of pride in that.

Your clan observed a special community kinship, sharing duties equally based on talents and specialities. Whakairo (Carving), Raranga (Weaving), Tā moko (Permanent Marking/Tattooing) and Txampay Tìtaron (Ocean Hunting) being the most respected. Every adult in the clan contributed what they could and shared responsibilities amongst themselves.

In the many cycles Tonowari had known you, you were not a person to skimp on your responsibilities. A skxawng? Maybe. But Eywa herself couldn’t drag you to the lows of disappointing your clan. You knew for a fact that being so close with Tonowari meant that your actions and reputation reflected on him, so when the warm tones of the evening sun began colouring the sea and Tonowari was assisting the late returning tarpongu (hunting party) with distributing their catch he was surprised to hear his son calling his name.

“No one has seen her today”. Despite the irritation bubbling inside him by the fact that you had left Tsyeyk with no help for the day, concern for you itched under his skin and forced him in the direction of your Marui to check for you himself. 

His concern for you only increased when he noticed your privacy coverings were still pulled shut and when he entered your home only to see it a complete mess it was all he could do in his power not to yell for you like a wild man. Your belongings were rifled through, strewn across the floor. Your portion of the community meal laid untouched near your sleeping mat, it had been long enough that the uneaten food was congealed and filled his nose with an unpleasant smell. 

Taking a deep breath to try and scent you through the overwhelming smell of rotting food he was able to catch a faint trail of your distinct scent leading from your home, a strange, staggering sweetness clung to the inside of his nose as it mixed with your usual smell. It clouded his senses, made an unfamiliar prickling sensation appear along the back of his neck and spread down his spine all the way to the base of his tail that swayed with unease.

As Tonowari followed the trail of your scent through the humid, dense mangrove forest of your village he thought back to the last evening meal, were you even there? Did he actually see you engaging with the clan at any point? If you were there, how could he not have noticed that something was clearly wrong? Wrong enough for you to disappear for almost a full day. 

Bile churned in his gut at the thought of something awful happening to you because of his nonobservance, blaming himself immediately for whatever state he would find you in. 

Sweat beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck despite the cooling air of the evening, the loose curls that cascaded his back in a delicate waterfall were beginning to stick to his slick skin. 

Taking another deep breath of your scent, Tonowari was able to follow the trail to the edge of the water where it suddenly dispersed, indicating to him that you’d gone into the water. It wasn’t until the first spits of rainfall began to hit his skin, the cool shock breaking through the cloudiness that seemed to have settled over his mind the moment he smelled that strange sweetness to your scent, that he realised just where he was and where you would most likely be.

In your teen years, before he was Olo’eyktan, before either of you had even begun to think about your Iknimaya, you’d gone exploring. Past the swampy inland together, through the mangrove forest and to the edge of the water at the other side of the island. You’d quickly spotted a rocky outcrop in the distance and before he could convince you it was time to turn back you’d already dived into the water. He remembers rolling his eyes, calling you childish, hiding his real feelings about how pretty you were with water clinging to your lashes and slicking your hair back before jumping into the water with you. You spent the night together camping in the hidden beach of the outcrop, laying by the fire and talking about your futures. It was the night you promised to paint him for his ceremonial induction as Olo’eyktan when the day came, picking an iridescent shell out of the sand and vowing to make the paint yourself with the shells from your special outcrop.

Hanging his heavier, more ornate items of clothing over a branch after he removed them, Tonowari feels a literal and metaphorical weight lift from his shoulders. How long had it been since he’d been here last with you? Surely before he became Olo’eyktan, before his life became an endless cycle of being the most important person in the clan, weighed down by his duties, responsibilities and the representative clothing that he still didn’t feel he carried like his father once did.

Left in his tewng with his knife still sheathed at his hip and his songcord blending into the heavy leather fringe, Tonowari runs his thumb over the small shell you gifted him so many cycles prior before diving into the water and making the swim to your outcrop.

Tonowari took care to enter your space slowly, if you were injured or ill then you’d most likely react to his presence negatively. Entering the cave of your outcrop, he feels the water of the sea begin to dry against his skin as the lit fire inside warms him. 

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Tonowari finds it almost unbearably strong in this area, the strange sweetness clinging to you is stronger here too. It’s thick in the air and it makes an unfamiliar ache radiate through his kuru, trickle down his spine and spread throughout his body. 

His jaw ticks in thought, he’s never reacted like this to your scent. Never reacted like this to A scent at all. 

A deep, rumbling hiss rips through the air. Vibrating through your vocal cords in a warning grumble that makes Tonowari’s hand instinctively reach for his blade, his fingers barely brushing the hilt before he’s knocked off his feet. His head throbs with the collision on the sand but the sensation can barely push to the front of his mind through the pulsing of his heartbeat in his ears and the feeling of your burning hot skin scorching his own. 

Your pretty eyes don’t hold their usual warmth as you glare down at Tonowari and the cool, sharpened tip of your knife threatens his Adams apple, for a moment he’s convinced that you aren’t even aware of who he is from the way you’re snarling at him until you speak.

“You should not be here! Skxawng!” 

The harsh tone of your voice echoes through the mist that your scent placed over his mind and his earlier irritation boils up again tenfold. 

“You would hold a knife to your Olo’eyktan?”

“To my Olo’eyktan? Of course not. To the Skxawng that followed me out here though?”

Tonowari snarls at you, a noise you’ve never heard in the cycles you’d spent together. It’s so out of character that even Tonowari himself looks shocked at the authoritative noise before his expression hardens once more and he pushes you off of him, sending you back on your ass in the sand with your knife dropping with a thud beside you.

Your ears drop back uncontrollably, a whimper slipping out before you can stop it at the way Tonowari stands over you. You’d seen him shout, yell and berate people before that deserved it and it had never caused a reaction like it was causing from you right now. If you were in your right mind, not overtaken by the swirling intensity of your heat, then you would have had more fight in you.

Tonowari immediately notices your subdued nature and takes a chance to properly look at you. Your hair is unkempt, loose from it’s usual neat updo, your skin is flushed with such a deep colour that he worries for a second you may be suffering from sun sickness before he notices the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Your breath is quick as Tonowari looks at you, every second around him is harder for you to get through and the heat in your gut is burning hotter than the fire lit beside you. 

“Y-You need to leave Tonowari. You cannot be here.”

Tonowari’s eyes drop to your clenching thighs and it finally clicks for him what is happening to you, maybe he really is a skxawng. His irritation, the heat burning him from the inside out since he caught your scent, the odd sweetness clinging to your scent even from such a distance creating a fog in his mind. It was all because of your heat. 

“Your heat? How is your heat here? It is not mating season and you..”

An irritated hiss rips out of you uncontrollably and you glare at Tonowari with whatever fierceness you can muster when all your heat riddled brain can tell you to do is submit to this dominant presence. 

“What? I am unmated? You think I do not know that? Why else would I have come out here by myself?”

Getting to your feet quickly you busy yourself with brushing the sand from your body that clings to your sweat slick skin. 

“You could have come to me for help. Or the Tsahik”

“Do not be ridiculous. What good would that have done?”

A growl of frustration leaves Tonowari’s lips and it takes all your remaining strength to stay on your feet and not immediately fall to his but the tell tale signs of your submission show themselves anyway. Your ears drop once more, your head bowing forward and your eyes refusing to meet his. Your fists clench with defiance but you can’t hide how Tonowari is only making the effect of your heat worse.

Your slick is flowing uncontrollably and it has been since you picked up Tonowari’s scent coming towards you. The truth was that your avoidance of group meals and your duties was purely due to Tonowari and his lingering scent being present in every part of your village. Even your own Mauri. 

“You need to be filled”

Your eyes roll back in your head at the thought, almost going braindead over the image that plagues your mind of Tonowari sitting you on his fat cock and plugging you full of his cum.

“Do not be so crass, I will survive without it. I would be doing just fine if you hadn’t shown up”

The waver in your voice makes Tonowari take a step towards you, he sees your ears twitching and listening for his movements but you make no move to stop him so he takes another and another until he is directly behind you. 

For a second there is silence and he basks in it, it reminds him of your simple shared childhood, when you could be with each other from sunrise to sunset without anyone bothering either of you. He thinks to himself that if he’d never been born into this family of his, if he’d grown to be a simple fisherman or weaver instead of the Olo’eyktan then maybe.. maybe the courage to approach you like this would have came without a push from nature and maybe, just maybe, you would have been his long before he’d had children with another.

Tonowari clears his throat and it startles you for a moment before you feel his large, rough hands settle themselves on your waist. The sensation of his skin against yours so purposefully forces a gasp from your lips that you can barely convince yourself was meaningless.

“Perhaps.. I really am a skxawng like you say-”

“You know I don’t mean anything-”

“Mean anything by it or not, it’s all you call me by anymore.”

Shame burns in your throat and your eyes sting with the prick of tears as Tonowari continues  voicing his thoughts to you.

“Maybe I am a skxawng.. but I have never, ever questioned the will or the way of Eywa.. and I know in my heart you have not either.. so to end up here, your scent enticing me and finding you in heat despite being unmated I..”

A fond smile spreads across your face as you listen to Tonowari speak, cycles and cycles of being Olo’eyktan had taught him how to speak to crowds and how to speak to the clan but yet in this moment he was reduced to the mild mannered boy you used to know.

“Perhaps it is Eywa’s will..”

Tonowari sucks in a breath at your words, waiting for you to accept or deny his thinly veiled confession. 

“And who are we to question Eywa?”

You gasp as Tonowari spins you to face him, a giddy smile spreading across your face to match the one on his own. Tonowari smashes his lips to yours in a kiss so passionate it makes up for all the years of dancing around each other, the way his tongue licks into your mouth makes an embarrassingly loud whine escape you and you worry for a moment that he may feel the rapid beat of your heart against his chest that’s pressed against your own. 

Your body is burning hot against Tonowari’s and he’s almost certain the shape of you will be scorched onto his skin like a brand when you finally pull away from him. He can feel your breath getting shorter and more laboured the longer he kisses you but the real sign that your heat is well and truly taking over you is the almost buckle of your knees when he purposefully presses his knee between your thighs and against your soaked cunt.

Taking the brunt of your weight, Tonowari hooks your legs around his waist and lays you back in the sand. The stretch in your hips forced around the thickness of his waist will surely burn once you’re in your right mind once again but for now the only thing you can focus on is the pressure of your closest friend's rock hard cock pressed against your pussy.

You’re so distracted by finally feeling Tonowari’s fat cock pressed against you that you don’t recognise him reaching for your discarded knife until the cold blade is touching your skin, immediately becoming foggy from the pure heat coming off of you. In a swift series of movements your clouded brain can’t keep up with, Tonowari slices through the material of your tewng and the delicate beading of your chest covering. The cool air finally hitting your body only gives momentary relief from the heat eating you from the inside out. 

Tonowari feels the pressure of your thighs squeezing around him and he drops his hips into your own, the roughness of his tewng against your bare cunt bringing a startled squeal of pleasure from you and your clit pulses overwhelmingly at the minimal contact.

Large, rough hands grip the backs of your thighs and force them higher, almost bending you in half as Tonowari settles between your plush thighs. Your slick coats every inch of your pitifully swollen and neglected pussy, your swollen, pulsing clit begging for attention from between your lips. 

Your voice comes out in a whiney rasp and you barely sound like yourself in the way you beg.

“Please! Please! Please!”

Tonowari takes a moment to admire you fully, every part of you begging for him and him only, before he gives a firm lick through your folds. His wide, rough tongue licking from your slick dripping entrance to your twitching clit forcing a breathy sob to rip from your throat and your back to arch almost painfully as you grip onto his hair.

Purring against your soaked cunt, Tonowari licks up every drop of your slick he can to savour the taste of you on his tongue. The obscene sounds of his tongue lashing against your wetness combined with your high whines fills the air.

You feel Tonowari suck your sensitive clit into his mouth and your hips automatically rock towards his face. His right hand reaches for your plump tits, tugging on your pebbled nipple in rhythm with his suction on your clit as the fingers on his left hand trace your entrance, teasing your clenching hole by pressing the tips in ever so slightly.

Tonowari growls into your heat as he feels your rough tug on his hair but he relents and lets you feel like you have some power from gripping and pulling him until his lips meet your own once again.

Moaning at the taste of your slick on his tongue, a possessive part of your brain is elated at the thought of him tasting like you, smelling like you, being a part of you. Parting from the kiss you can barely catch your breath, little whimpers huffing against his lips as he stares amusedly down at you. 

“It hurts, ‘Wari” 

A large hand brushes the sweat tangled strands of your hair out of your face, cooing at the tears wetting your lashline while his other hand works on positioning his cock at your entrance.

Tonowari rubs the head of his cock between your lips and over your clit, picking up a combination of your slick and his pre-cum that makes pressing into you an easy feat. 

Crying out at the stretch, the conscious part of your brain in the deepest part of your mind is relieved that you didn’t get a good look at Tonowari’s fat cock before he started pressing into you. He was easily the largest man you had ever been with and you felt like he was ripping you in half the further he pushed inside but your heat and your dripping cunt just wanted more. 

Tonowari feels your heels digging into the meat of his ass, encouraging him deeper despite the gentle wince on your face. 

“You can take it, ma’yawne”

Your mouth parts in awe, a choked whimper rumbling from your chest as he finally reaches the hilt. You can feel his heavy balls pressing against you as the tip of his thick cock kisses your cervix. 

Tonowari’s eyes lock onto your own as he begins thrusting, each drag of his cock against your gummy walls threatening to send your eyes rolling so far back in your head they would never return to their normal position. You swear you can feel him hitting your stomach, knocking the breath out of you as each thrust gains momentum and knocks against your g-spot with unimaginable precision. 

Reaching for your clit, he rolls it between his fingers as he kisses at your neck and shoulder, selfishly biting at the flesh to mark you as his as if the scent of his cum stuffed inside you wouldn’t ward off any idiot who came around sniffing at you.

The brutality of his pounding thrusts only increases with each punched out whine he receives from you as a reward. He can feel your cunt tightening around him every time his head bullies its way against your g-spot and with renewed vigor he viscously rubs his fingers over the sensitive nub of your pretty little clit.

Your vision goes white for a moment, your ears ringing and when you finally return to your body you hear a high pitched wailing that you’re shocked to realise is coming from you. Tonowari continues his pounding thrusts, each one punching out another gush of cum from you and a fucked out noise from your throat.

Digging your nails into his shoulders you peer up at him, eyelashes clumped together with tears that you can’t hold back any longer.

“Need you to cum inside, want you to fill me up ‘Wari”

Large hands grip onto your hips, tight enough ,you’re sure, to leave ugly discoloured bruises that you’ll wear around the village with pride. Tonowari's thrusts are animalistic as he chases his release, mutterings of a wild man talking about the image of you round with his next child. Tits plumper than usual full of milk for the baby.

Hands leaving your hips, they slam into the sand next to your head. A punched out snarl leaves him as he finally allows himself to cum inside of you so deeply he’s sure not a drop will spill out. 

Tonowari’s nose brushes against your own, a gesture almost too intimate in comparison to the way he just ravaged you. You bask in the silence, breathing each other’s air and feeling each other’s heart beats as the sweat cools on your skin and the mist clouding your mind finally settles. 

You can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of you and you watch a fond smile stretch across Tonowari's face, the smile lines at the edges of his beautiful eyes crinkling and reminding you of how long it has taken you both to finally get here.

“Nga yawne lu oer..”

You stroke his hair as you smile up at him, the love of your life, your best friend.

“Skxawng..”

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l seven

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Yours and Joel’s romantic relationship progresses; Ellie confronts you about Joel in stables and encourages you to make a choice; when Joel gets injured while out on patrol, it leads to a confession.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SMUT. unprotected p in v sex (as always, wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation (if you squint), Joel and his big cock can go multiple rounds because i said so, creampie (these two really are just going at it without a care in the world), Joel gets injured (gunshot wound) mentions of blood, MEDICAL INACCURACIES (per my research, the way gunshots wound are treated depends on a number of different factors, but we are going full hollywood here). Luke and Joel have an interaction (that is a warning in itself).

word count: 8.4k

September, 2024

“Oh fuck Joel, please don’t stop. Please don’t fucking st—”

You stop short and bury your face into the blanket underneath you in an effort to muffle the loud moans and cries of pleasure spilling from your lips.

Although the chances of a single soul being out of bed and outside near the barn at this godforsaken hour in the middle of the night are slim, it’s better to be safe than sorry. But keeping the noise to a minimum is a challenging feat when Joel Miller is positioned behind you, fucking you into oblivion.

You can’t hold back, not when his long, thick, calloused fingers are gripping your hips like a vice, digging deeply into the soft flesh as he brings them back, slamming you against him with each thrust of his own. Not when every inch of his throbbing cock is stretching your cunt, filling you up and satiating your unbridled need for it. Your need for Joel.

Over the last few weeks, he’d shown you what real pleasure could—and should—be. Sex isn’t an obligation a wife has to her husband, and a woman deserves to enjoy it as much as a man does. Joel made making you feel good his goal, his priority, and there’s no coming back from it. He is the only man you want to touch you, to satisfy you, now, and for the rest of your life.

You lift yourself off the blanket, your teeth sinking hard into your quivering bottom lip as you desperately drive your hips backwards and meet his thrusts halfway out of your own burning desire to feel more and more of him. Arching your back, you squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the sweet, heavenly sound the backs of your sweat slicked thighs make as they slap roughly against the front of Joel’s over and over and over again.

Joel's grasp on your hips tightens. “Yeah, that’s it baby. Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he pants from behind you. He picks up his pace, delivering smooth strokes that gradually become harder, sloppier as that sweet release draws closer for both of you. But somehow, he’s still careful. Even when he’s lost in the heat of the moment and his mind is in a cloudy haze, he keeps himself grounded, at least enough to make sure he isn’t being too rough. He can’t bear the thought of crossing the line between pleasure and pain, not with the woman he’s grown to care about more than anything. But you make being careful difficult. Pleading and begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, you bring out the primal in him and he can’t say no to you, much less when he’s buried balls deep in your cunt. “What a good fuckin’ girl. Y’take my cock so fuckin’ well, sweetheart—s’good for me, baby. So, so fuckin’ good.”

“Joel,” you moan his name, forgetting all about staying quiet. You drag one of your hands down the length of your body and dip it between your thighs, rubbing quick, firm circles around your clit as your desperation to come mounts. Luke didn’t like it when you would touch yourself, he never allowed you to explore your sexuality or your own body, nor did he allow you to chase your high when you were together—but Joel?

He encourages it. Adores it.

He fucking adores you. And he always he makes sure to show you just how much he adores you.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, fuckin’ touch yourself—touch yourself while I fuck you.”

You swirl your fingers around the sensitive bud harder, the tension building in your core.

“Fuckin’ Christ, peach,” Joel groans behind you. “S’like this sweet little pussy was made for me. She was made just for me, y’know that?”

It’s hard to decide what does you in more when it comes to intimacy with Joel—is it when he’s soft and gentle, whispering beautiful, sweet nothings into the hollow of your neck while you’re underneath him, hands locked together and fingers interwined as he slowly slides in and out of your heat?

Or is it when he puts you on your hands and knees, obscene filth rolling off his tongue as he takes what belongs to him from behind?

He knows how to make love, but god, he also knows how to fuck and you can’t decide which side of him you prefer because they’re both perfect.

Unbelievably, devastatingly perfect.

“So fuckin’ tight, you feel s’good—” Joel grunts, driving himself deeper and deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that drives him just as wild as it does you. One of his hands abandons your hips and he glides it down the softness of your lower belly. What has to be one of your least favorite parts of yourself is one of his favorites and every night, Joel makes it his mission to prove to you just how flawless he thinks every inch of your body is. Lovingly, he caresses your tummy with his palm, and then trails his hand further down, slipping it between your thighs where his fingers join yours. Together, they circle your swollen clit and you hear the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears. 

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close—I’m gonna—” Your own gasp cuts off the end of your sentence. You try to warn him again, but your words are washed away by the wave of pleasure that crashes over you as one final stroke tips you both over the edge you’ve been teetering and you both come in tandem. Fisting handfuls of his blanket, you mewl out his name as your orgasm tears through your body, making it shudder.

Behind you, Joel releases a low, guttural groan, his chest heaving as his balls tighten. He spills into you and his eyes pinch shut when he feels you convulse around his cock, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth. “Fuck,” he chokes as he leans forward and drapes his body over yours, his length twitching and filling you until it leaks out of you, dripping onto the blanket. His breaths are ragged and labored, but eventually steady. Instead of pulling out of you, he gingerly pushes his hips into you once more. Feeling your walls clench around him, Joel drops his head and snickers, his warm breath tickling the damp skin on your back. He opens his eyes. “Feels like you’re ready for more, sweetheart,” he mutters, planting a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. Didn’t know I had me such a greedy girl, peach. Guess that innocent little angel face of yours had me fooled.”

You’re about to retort but when he bucks, all you can do is exhale sharply. Your pussy involuntarily flutters around him and though you can’t see it, you can picture the smug little grin on his face—he knows he’ll have your body begging for more if he keeps it up and so do you. He’s been insatiable tonight, wanting more and more and more, and you’re not all too sure if you have it in you for another round.

“We’ve still got some time left for one more,” Joel says. He peels himself off of you and palms the curve of your ass, kneading at the perfect mound with his fingers.

“Joel, I’m not sure I can handle it,” you mumble tiredly, shaking your head. “I think I’m all fucked out.” 

He laughs softly and pulls out of you.

You breathe out an audible sigh of relief welcoming the emptiness for once. Just as you’re about to get off of your hands and knees, Joel slides his index finger up your puffy, swollen slit and the arousal pools itself in your lower belly all over again. “God, no, please don’t,” you whine. “I can’t take anymore, Joel. I really fucking can’t.”

“Y’sure ‘bout that, darlin’?”

“Yes, I’m sure—” 

The lustful moan that echoes throughout the barn as he pushes his finger inside you says otherwise and you silently curse your own body for its cruel betrayal.

Joel hums. “Hm, doesn’t sound like you’re sure,” he teases, slipping a second finger into your pussy. He leans down and trails a line of hot, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your spine. He stops at the small of your back and murmurs against your skin, “I just fuckin’ know my sweet girl has one more left in her. I can fuckin’ feel it.” He curls his digits, eliciting another gasp from you. “Tell me, peach. Y’think you can be a real good girl and give me just one more?”

It takes less than a minute before you’re whimpering in defeat.

Of course you can give Joel one more—you can give him as many as he wants you to give him, as many as he can possibly coax out of you.

“Yes,” you breathe out in reply. “I’ll give you one more. But I just hope you know that I’m probably going to need you to carry me back across town after this.”

“Hm, I reckon I can handle that,” Joel muses with a small chuckle. He withdraws his fingers from you, his hands spreading your ass and revealing your needy, dribbling cunt. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his lips part slightly as he stares at you in complete awe.

Your face floods with heat, and though he can’t see your insecurity, but he feels it.

“She’s too fuckin’ pretty,” he remarks, admiring the way your folds glisten with your own wetness and his come. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze. “You’re s’goddamn fuckin’ beautiful, baby. Promise I ain’t ever gonna let you forget it.”

Your heart flutters wildly.

Before you have the chance to respond, he shifts his position, moving off the large bale of hay you two have been using as a makeshift bed for the last several nights. He lowers himself down onto his knees behind you. Joel looks at you and smirks when he sees the expression that crosses your features—it’s one of utter disbelief. He’s devoured you plenty of times before, but not in this position, and certainly not when you’re dripping, leaking with his come. His smirk widens. “Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?”

“Joel, I—I’m a mess right now,” you stammer out, nervously. “Are you sure you want to—?”

Joel flashes you an amused grin. “That a serious question, peach?” He chuckles when you nod in reply. “Well then, here’s my answer.” He buries his face into your cunt and swipes his tongue over your seam, flattening it out as slowly begins to drag it up and then down again. Joel groans into you, savoring the taste of you and your sweet muskiness combined with him and his slight saltiness. His tongue slips between your folds, eager, hungry for more.

“Joel,” his name tears from the back of your throat in a strangled cry. “Oh, fuck.”

He’d left you so sensitive. Your body involuntary jerks forward, squirming to get away from him—but Joel is having none of it. You can feel him grinning into your pussy as he wraps his hands around your thighs, curling his fingers as far as they can go around them.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice muffled between your legs. He tugs you back towards him and tightens his grip on you, holding you firmly in place, right where he needs you. He wraps his lips around your clit and swirls his tongue around it before engulfing the bud.

He might have teased you about being greedy, but truth be told, he’s the greedy one. Knowing his time with you is so limited only makes him even greedier.

Joel feasts on you, his desire to have you fall apart on his tongue again driving him to ravage you as if his very fucking life depends on making you come. The sounds of your whimpers, which are on the verge of turning into full blown sobs of pleasure, only spur him on. It’s more than just sending you home satisfied—he wants to make certain that, even when you’re apart from one another, you’ll still feel him. His tongue on your cunt, his cock buried inside of you, his lips and hands all over your body.

He can’t leave his physical mark on you to remind you of him when you’re not together, but he can, at the very least, leave you with a yearning for more of him.

You raise a tightly curled fist to your mouth, biting into it to keep from screaming out.

It’s too much for you to handle.

But somehow, it’s still not enough.

You want him to stop.

And yet you need him to keep going.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Joel, please! Please!”  

You beg him out of desperation, although you’re not really sure what you’re begging him for at this point—for him to make you come or for him to stop before you dissolve into nothing but a pathetic, whimpering mess. One of his hands abandons your thigh and without warning, he pushes two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you all the while his tongue laps at your clit. The muscles in your stomach contract and you explode, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you come undone all over again. There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t shaking, trembling—it takes you a minute to even realize Joel’s on his feet, helping you turn around to lie on your back.

“S’alright. I got you. I’ve got you, sweet girl.” Joel climbs onto the bale of hay and nudges your thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. Planting his hands on either side of your shoulders, he dips his head and peppers gentle kisses all over your neck and chest, giving you the chance to ride out your last high before it’s time to get up and start getting dressed.

After a minute or two, you find your voice.

Or at least, a tiny, meek version of it.

“Joel?” 

He hums, his nose skimming along your jawline. “Yeah, baby?”

“I think you really are going to have to carry me across town.”

Joel chuckles, gingerly nipping at your chin with his teeth. “Best cut that out, peach. S’gonna start gettin’ to my head real fast.”

You giggle. “Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you getting too cocky, Miller.”

You bring a hand up to his face, cupping it in your palm. Gazes meet in the moonlight and you give him a soft, contented smile. You sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat.

Those eyes. That smile. Oh, that fucking smile. He wonders if you've figured out by now just how effortlessly you do him in.

Joel’s throat bobs. “Peach?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitates, then admits, “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you.”

Your body stiffens underneath him, your eyes widening slightly.

“What is it, Joel?” 

Again, he hesitates. 

Joel’s been trying for some time now to say it—to tell you that he loves you.

But whenever he thought he’d finally mustered up enough courage to spit it out, he loses it the second those three words are about to fall from his lips. He can’t figure out for the life of him what he’s so afraid of. It’s obvious, to both of you, that he loves you, and he has no doubt in his mind that you love him too. But neither of you seem to have the guts to say it.

“Joel?” you say his name quietly, interrupting his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Letting out a small, frustrated sigh, Joel shakes his head. “M’sorry, darlin’. S’just that—”

He stops short and shakes his head again, cursing himself for being such a coward.

You understand him, though. “It’s okay, Joel. I know how hard it is to say it. It’s really not as simple as one would think.” You laugh in spite of yourself. Grazing his beard lightly with your fingertips, you manage to give him another small smile. “Please don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have to be right now. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or the day after that. I’m not going to pressure either of us into saying something if we aren’t quite ready to say it. It should wait until you are good and ready—until the both of us are good and ready.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me—”

“I already do, Joel.” You drop your hand away from his face and place it on his bare chest. His heart thrums steadily against your fingers. “And I feel the same way about you. You do know that, don’t you, honey?”

His heart skips a beat at the pet name. You feel it. 

Joel leans down, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. “‘Course I do,” he murmurs. He then pulls back slightly, assuring you, “Couldn’t be any fuckin’ clearer to me.”

You press a delicate kiss to the tip of his nose and the little token of affection prompts his dark eyes to flutter closed. “Good.” You start to drag your fingernails and scrape them lightly down the length of his chest. They move lower, gliding over his soft belly and the coarse hair below his navel. With a tiny, innocent smirk, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it until he begins to harden in your palm. “Oh? What’s this?”

His eyes snap open and he groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Christ, baby,” he gruffs. “What happened to not havin’ it in you for more?”

“Mm, I lied.” You run the head of his cock between your folds, moaning as you tease your sopping entrance with it. “I’ve got one more in me. Do you think we have enough time?”

Joel bucks his hips into yours and slides into you in one swift, smooth motion. Moaning, your back arches off the blanket, your breasts pushing up against his chest when he bottoms out. “Oh, I reckon we can make it happen, my sweet girl.”

“If you smile any fucking harder, your face might actually fall off,” Ellie quips.

You look up from the clipboard you’re holding in your hands and glimpse over Duke’s back, only to see Ellie smirking to herself as she runs a brush across the brown and white spotted Appaloosa’s side, its stiff bristles clearing his stunning coat of dirt and debris.

Clearing your throat lightly, you try, but fail, to wipe the stupid grin off of your face. Not that it would make a difference, because it’s been plastered on your lips all morning long. You raise an eyebrow at her, questioning, “I’m sorry, is there something wrong with me being in a good mood today, missy?”

“Of course not.” Ellie briefly pauses and her gaze meets yours. She shrugs. “It’s actually really nice to see you so happy.” Her attention shifts back to the task at hand. As she continues to brush the horse, her smirk widens. “So I’m guessing last night with Joel went pretty well then, didn’t it?”

You don’t even flinch. Thanks to the warning Joel had given you a few weeks back, she hadn’t caught you too off guard. More than anything, what surprises you most was the fact that it’s taken the teenager this long to confront you about it.

“Ellie—”

She snorts. “Don’t bother trying to hide it. Look, I know you two have been meeting up in the middle of the fucking night for the last couple of months,” she states in a blunt, matter of fact tone. “And I also know that the two of you know that I know. So let’s not beat around the fucking bush here, sweet cheeks. Are you two like in a relationship or something? Or are you just—what do the kids call it these days? Hooking up? What exactly is the deal with you and Joel?”

Gasping, you’re quick to shush her. “Ellie!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, relax princess. It’s close to lunchtime, there’s no one in here but the two of us. So fucking spill it. What’s up with you and my old man?”

You sigh. Setting your clipboard down on top of the mounting block beside you, you step around Duke and approach Ellie. Even though you know everyone else in the stables had taken off to the mess hall for lunch hour, you keep your voice low and hushed. “Yes, okay. We’ve been meeting up at night and seeing each other.” You’d tried your best to prepare yourself for this, made a list of things you could say to her to make the fact that you were having a full blown secret affair with the man who’s essentially her father seem a bit less shameful. But it was useless. No matter which way you could try to spin it for her, the bottom line was that you are a married woman who is cheating on her husband.

And you’re cheating with Joel.

“Listen, what we’re doing, it’s not right—”

Ellie lifts her hand and interrupts you. 

“You guys make each other happy, don’t you?”

“I can’t speak for Joel,” you reply tentatively, shifting your weight from one muck caked boot to the other. “But he definitely makes me happy. He makes me the happiest I have been in a long, long time.”

She chortles. “Oh, come the fuck on, you know you make his crabby ass happy too,” she tells you. She grins and continues to say, “Seriously dude, if only you could see him in the mornings after he’s been with you. Picture it, he’s getting ready to head out for patrol and he’s going about the kitchen smiling like a fucking idiot as he makes his coffee.”'

“Really?”

“Really,” Ellie confirms. “It’s fucking sickening.”

You can't help but chuckle at her remark.

There’s a brief bout of silence, but Ellie’s quick to cut through it. “Can I ask you something?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Figured,” you sigh. “Alright kid, go ahead. Ask away.”

“Do you love Joel?”

Anxiously, you nibble on your bottom lip. “Yes,” you admit softly after a minute. “I do.”

Ellie glances down at the brush in her hands. She fiddles with it, running her fingers over the coarse, stiff bristles. “Wow,” she murmurs, quietly. Any trace of humor had completely vanished. “It must really fucking suck having to hide being with the person that you love, huh?”

“Yeah, it does. It really, really fucking does.”

Ellie opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates.

Frowning, you take a step closer to her. “What is it, Ellie?”

“You could leave him, you know. Luke.”

“What?” Your mouth dries. “What are you talking about?”

“You could leave him,” Ellie repeats. Pausing, she chews the inside of her cheek. She seems nervous as she shuffles from foot to foot, something you find strange considering how brazen the girl can be. “You could move in with us into our house, you know?” For as tough as she could be, it tugs at your heart strings whenever her innocence peeks through, much like it is now. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

You smile wistfully at the thought.

A life where you can openly be in a relationship with Joel—take your place by his side and live a life of peace with him and Ellie?

Of course you do. 

But it’s a dream that’s too far out of reach.  

“I would love that,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. You let your finger graze the softness of her cheek before dropping your hand back down to your side. “You honestly have no idea how happy that would make me, Ellie. But it’s not all that simple—it’s much too complicated for me to leave Luke.”

“How the fuck is it complicated? You aren’t happy with a man you aren’t even really married to. The world fucking ended, it’s not a real marriage. Just take off the ring, pack up your shit, and it’s done. I don’t see what’s so fucking complicated about it.”

You sigh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because you’re not even giving me the chance to fucking understand,” Ellie shoots back at you, anger and frustration glazing over her brown eyes as she tries to make sense of it all. “You could actually be happy with Joel—and with me. We could be a family, a real fucking family.”

Caught off guard, you stare at her in complete shock. It’s not like you aren’t aware of how close she’s grown to you since you’d met, but you never expected her to see you as family. 

“Ellie, please. You have to believe me. Nothing would make me happier,” you choke out in reply. You furiously blink back the hot, stubborn tears that threaten to fall and hold it together for her sake rather than for yours. “Being together with Joel—being with the two of you and living life together as a family would be incredible.”

“Then why won’t you just fucking leave him?” she demands, growing more irate. “Why miss out on the chance to be fucking happy for once?”

Her questions are met with silence. 

How do you even begin to explain it to her?

How do you tell a teenager that you’re trapped with no way out? How afraid you were of your husband?

You don’t. You can’t.

“Well?” Ellie impatiently prompts you after a minute. “Come on man, just tell me the fucking truth already. Why can’t you leave Luke?” Her gaze finds yours and her eyes widen when the realization suddenly starts to sink in for her. “Oh shit.”

You quickly shake your head. “Ellie, wait—”

“It’s because he won’t let you leave, isn’t it?”

Fuck.

For a second, you feel like you’re going to be sick all over her sneakers. 

Before you can even think of how to respond to the accusation, the sound of Tommy Miller’s voice echoes through the stables. “Ellie!” he shouts. “Ellie! You in here?”

Relieved, you call out to him. “Hey, Tommy! Yeah, she’s here—she’s with me in Duke’s stall!”

Scowling, Ellie points a menacing finger at you. “This conversation isn’t over,” she mutters. “Far fucking from it, princess.”

Tommy rushes into the stall, his chest heaving. He’s out of breath and sweating profusely, his curls plastered to his forehead. His light blue denim shirt is stained with crimson and so are his hands—he’s covered in blood.

“Tommy!” you gasp out his name and run up to him, grabbing onto his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright! Blood ain’t mine,” he says, giving you a reassuring nod as he wraps his hands around your forearms, smearing your skin red. He then looks over your shoulder at Ellie. “It’s Joel. He’s been shot.”

Your nails dig into his arms, a chill running down your spinal cord.

“What?” Ellie cries, running up to the two of you in a panic. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck happened? How did he—is he okay? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” Tommy tells her, eliciting a breath of relief from her, as well as from you. “He got hit in the shoulder. I had to come find you and tell you right away,” he explains to her. “Needed you to hear it from me and not from anybody else.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s down at the clinic. I can take you there now—”

Ellie drops the brush in her hand. “What are we waiting for? Let’s fucking go!”

Tommy nods and lets go of you. He whirls around on the heel of his boot and leads her out of Duke’s stall.

You start to follow behind them, but freeze.

What business do you have seeing Joel?

As far as Tommy’s concerned, you’re nothing to his brother. Just a neighbor, maybe an acquaintance. The veterinarian his kid works for, if anything, but certainly nothing more.

“Wait.” Ellie halts in her tracks and turns back to you, beckoning with her hand. When you don’t move a muscle, she rolls her eyes and hurries over to you, taking your hand in hers. “Come on!”

Tommy shoots her a confused look.

“Ellie, what are you—?”

Ellie’s head whips around and she glares at you, as if telling you to be quiet. “I need you to come with me,” she says. “I’m going to need you for uh—you know, for emotional support and shit.”

It suddenly clicks. You know what she’s doing.

She’s giving you the excuse to see Joel. 

Squeezing Ellie’s hand in a silent thank you, both of you follow Tommy out of the stables and across the commune towards the clinic.

“Tommy, what happened out there?” you ask him.

“Raiders,” Tommy answers over his shoulder. His long strides are difficult to keep up with, and you and Ellie are forced to break out into a jog just to keep up with him. “Motherfuckers came outta nowhere and ambushed us. They got Joel in the shoulder, hit Carl in the stomach. Peter got shot in the chest—he’s in real bad shape. We don’t think he’s gonna fuckin’ make it.”

Your stomach churns. Peter. Marther’s husband.

“Anyone else wounded?”

He shakes his head. “No, but we did lose two of our horses. Daisy and Cash.”

“How could this fucking happen?” Ellie demands furiously.

“We think it was that same group we were trackin’ back a few weeks ago.” Tommy’s voice is strained. He tightly shakes his head, his hands curled into angry fists at his sides. “They must have realized we stopped with double patrol. Those fuckers caught us with our guard down. I fuckin’ knew we shouldn’t have eased up with patrol duties, I should’ve had every able bodied patrolman man out there day and night—”

You frown at the back of his head. “Tommy, please. You can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known they were still out there after all this time.”

“Tell that to Martha,” he replies bitterly. “Tell that to Carl’s wife and to his daughters.”

Knowing there isn’t anything you could say to console Tommy or ease the guilt he’s feeling, you clamp your mouth shut.

Now isn’t the time to even try.

The three of you arrive at Jackson’s clinic.

Before the outbreak, the building had served as an urgent care facility for the town.

Abandoned and picked clean over the years, it had taken a lot of time and effort for the community to restore what was left of it into a safe, reliable place that could be used for healthcare services. It still wasn’t much even after the fact, but the clinic boasted three examination rooms for patients, and its shelves, once bare, were now decently stocked with precious medical supplies such as bandages, vials of penicillin, and clean syringes.

Tommy leads you and Ellie inside and the first thing the both of you notice are the trails of splattered blood on the speckled linoleum floors. You pray none of it is Joel’s.

In the first exam room, you can hear Carl, a man who used to work in the stables with you before he’d be assigned to be a patrolman. He’s sobbing, screaming out in agony as he begs for someone to help him. In the second exam room that’s just across the hall from the first, you can hear Luke. He’s speaking to someone, presumably one of the nurses, instructing them to hand him more gauze, along with a scalpel.

“Joel’s in here.” Tommy walks to the last door at the end of the brightly lit hallway and opens it, stepping aside to allow you and Ellie into the room. “Hey, big brother. Got someone here who wants to see you.”

Your stomach churns, breath hitching in your throat when you see him perched on the examination table without his shirt on, firmly holding a bloodied cloth to his left shoulder to conceal his wound.

“Shit,” Ellie breathes out, dropping your hand. She hurries over to his side. “Joel, are you okay?”

Joel glares at his brother. “Thought I told you not to fuckin’ bring her here, Tommy.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause she’s your—” Tommy pauses, searching for the right word. “She’s your Ellie. She should be here with you, Joel.”

“She doesn’t need to fuckin’ see me like this—” He stops abruptly when he finally sees you standing there at the door looking like you’d just seen a ghost.

Noticing that he’s about to question what you’re doing there, Ellie cuts him off and pins him with a stern look as if to tell him to shut the fuck up. “I asked her to come down here with me,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him and hoping he’ll get the hint. “Hope that’s okay?”

His eyes flit back over to you and he gives a single, subtle nod of approval. “You can come in,” he tells you. His gaze meets your own, but he’s careful not to let it linger for too long. “S’alright. Come on in.”

You stand there frozen. It’s not until Tommy puts his hand on the small of your back and nudges you forward that you you finally move. “Hey,” you say to Joel, your voice small and feeble. Cautiously, you approach him, your mouth and throat dry. Resisting the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him, you fall into step beside Ellie. She reaches for your hand again, holding it in hers as she gives your fingers a comforting squeeze.

“M’okay.” Joel looks from you to Ellie, nodding his head in reassurance. “M’gonna be okay. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

“Anyone been in here to see you yet?” Tommy asks.

“It look like anyone’s been in to see me yet?” Joel deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “When is someone gonna take a look at him? He’s been fucking shot!”

“We’ve only got one doctor and two nurses,” Tommy reminds her gently, placing his hands on his hips. “They do what they can, kiddo.”

Letting go of Ellie’s hand, you stand in front of Joel and gesture to his shoulder. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

Reluctant, Joel’s lips purse together. “Y’sure you wanna do that?”

You nod. 

“Go ahead then,” he murmurs.

Carefully, you peel back the blood soaked cloth from his shoulder to inspect his wound.

“It’s right there—the bullet. I can see it. It looks like it’s still intact as well. The good news about that is that it’s going to make extraction a lot easier since the bullet didn’t break off into fragments.” You manage to keep a calm, cool and collected demeanor. On the inside, you’re anything but. Words could not even begin to explain how fucking terrifying it is to see Joel injured, covered in his own blood. Still, with Tommy in the room standing just feet behind you, there’s no choice but to stay composed to avoid raising any kind of suspicion.

“And the bad news?” Ellie prompts worriedly.

“Well, he could get a serious infection if that bullet doesn’t come out of his shoulder. It needs to be removed and his wound needs to be flushed out and cleaned. It also looks like something we can stitch up. He will be fine but he needs to be tended to sooner rather than later.” You glance back at Tommy. “He can’t just sit here like this for much longer.”

“Luke’s still workin’ on Peter. Carl’s next in line since he got hit in the stomach. Luke said he needed to tend to the injuries in order based on how bad the injury is. Said it was called triage or somethin’ like that—”

“Well, what about Donna? Or Rose?” You refer to the two nurses who work in the clinic alongside your husband. Every nerve in your entire body is on edge. All you want is someone, anyone—even if that fucking means Luke—to tend to Joel. It’s quite selfish on your part considering the severe nature of the other two men’s injuries, but you can’t help yourself. You need Joel to be okay or you won’t be okay. “We can have one of them do it. I’m sure they’re capable of an extraction.”

Tommy runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I know Donna is helpin’ Luke with Peter. Rose is in the room next door tryin’ to stop Carl’s bleedin’—”

Your emotions boil over and finally, you snap. Turning to the younger man, you nearly shout at him in frustration. “He can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tommy!”

Taken aback by the outburst, Tommy raises his eyebrows but he says nothing.

“Wait a minute.” Ellie grabs your arm, garnering your attention. “Didn’t you take a bullet out of one of the horses once?”

“Yeah. She did,” Tommy realizes. “My horse, Ranger. He got in the shoulder durin’ an attack a couple years ago. She took the bullet right out and had him all patched up within an hour.”

Your eyes bounce between them in absolute disbelief. “Ranger’s a horse.”

“How different could it be?” Tommy wonders out loud, raking his hand through his black curls once more.

Furiously, you shake your head. “I’ve never treated a human wound before, at least not one like this. Cuts and scrapes, sure. But this is a gunshot wound, guys. I can’t—”

Ellie’s fingers dig anxiously into your arm. “Please do it,” she whispers, her eyes looking up into yours pleadingly. “You’ve got to help him. Please.”

Slowly, you turn to Joel, who hasn’t uttered a single word. “Would be kinda nice to get this fuckin’ thing outta my shoulder,” he remarks after a minute. He brings his gaze to meet yours and holds, forgetting all about subtlety. “I trust you.”

“Joel, I can’t. I’m not capable—”

“Oh fuck that, you are capable,” Ellie insists, shaking her head at you.

Helplessly, you turn to Tommy for backup.

“I’m gonna have to agree with with the kid, little lady. You’re capable. I just know it.”

“Please,” Ellie begs you. “It could be fucking hours before Luke gets to him. You said it yourself just a minute ago, Joel can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet in his shoulder. He could get an infection. Please, you have to do it. Do it for me.” Do it for him, she wants to say. But she knows she can’t.

Hearing the desperation in her voice, you don’t have much choice but to reluctantly agree to it. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it,” you relent, exhaling a sigh of defeat. “But if I’m going to do this, I would rather do it without an audience watching me.”

“Say no more.” Tommy gently takes Ellie’s arm and starts tugging her towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s wait out in the hallway, kiddo.”

“But—” She begins to protest. 

“Ellie.” Joel grits out her name. “Listen to Tommy.”

Annoyed, she huffs, “Jesus, okay. Fine.”

As soon as they disappear and close the door behind them, you turn back to Joel, your heart slamming against your ribcage.  

“I trust you,” he repeats, firmly. “Alright?”

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Alright.”

Walking over to the opposite side of the room, you begin digging around through various cabinets and in drawers, searching for the supplies that you would need—a bottle of saline solution, a pair of surgical forceps, and a clean needle for the stitches. You toss them onto a small silver tray along with plenty of gauze and a packet of nylon sutures that had expired well over fifteen years ago. The only thing you can’t find are gloves, and while you were sure there had to be a box somewhere in the clinic, you don’t have the spare time to search for them. You wash your hands as thoroughly as possible with warm water and a bit of natural, handmade antibacterial soap one of the women in the commune makes and sells in her apothecary shop on Main Street along with her healing ointments and salves.

Your mind spins as you dry off your hands and pick up the tray, slowly making your way over to Joel. You set it down on the exam table and stand in front of him, inhaling a long, deep breath through your nose. Exhaling it slowly and steadily through your mouth, you ask, “Are you ready?”

Joel places his hand on your hip, his fingers brushing the skin that peeks between the waistband of your jeans and the lace hem of your yellow camisole. “Think I should be the one askin’ you that question, darlin’.”

You could have laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You can do this, baby. I know you can.”

“How can you be so sure about that, Joel?”

“‘Cause. I know my girl,” Joel murmurs, softly. He makes certain to keep his voice low, just in case Tommy and Ellie happen to be standing too close to the door. “And I know she’s capable of a hell of a lot more than she thinks she is. I believe in you, peach,” he asserts, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “I trust you with my fuckin’ life.”

Your eyes glaze over with tears and you exhale a shaky breath. It’s not just his words, it’s the sincerity behind them—he means it when he says he trusts you with his life. If it ever came down to it, he would put it right in your hands.

“It’s going to hurt like hell,” you warn him. “I don’t have any anesthetic to numb the area.”

His hand falls away from you and he curls it into a loose fist on his thigh. “Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse, sweetheart.”

Reaching for the cloth on his shoulder, your hands threaten to tremble but you will them to stay as steady as possible as you remove it, setting side before picking up the bottle of saline and a piece of gauze. The bleeding had ceased. You clean the area well and give yourself a clear view of the thumb sized projectile. “It’s pretty superficial,” you observe, wiping at the wound and causing him to wince. “It doesn’t look like it caused any kind of severe damage, either.” Throwing the used gauze aside, you take the pair of forceps and show them to him. “Ready?”

“Ain’t got much of a choice, do I now?”

“Nope.” You flash him a tiny, wry smile. “Okay, I’m going to count to three and begin the extraction. I need you to stay as still as possible, alright?”

Joel nods grimly, his jaw clenched and lips pressed in a tight line.

“One, two, three—take a big, deep breath in and let it out slowly through your nose.”

He does as you instruct him, his fist tightening on his leg as he braces himself.

Firmly holding the forceps, you carefully insert the jaws of the instrument into his wound. Although you want to get the painful procedure over with as quickly as possible, you have to be careful not to cause any kind of further damage to his shoulder. “Fuck,” Joel hisses through gritted teeth, his eyes pinching closed. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Didn’t think it’d hurt this fuckin’ bad.”

You manage to get a good grip on the bullet with the forceps. “Almost done,” you assure him. “I’m going to pull it out now. Take another deep breath in for me and hold it.”

He nods and inhales, his chest expanding.

“On three, let it out—one, two, three.”

Joel exhales sharply as you swiftly pull the bullet from his shoulder. “Fuck!” he curses again, shaking his head. Even though his shoulder feels like it’s on fire, he does feel a huge sense of relief as soon as the round comes out.

“Got it,” you say, lifting the forceps. You show Joel the projectile clamped in the instrument’s jaws. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that there was even a slight possibility that the bullet you’re holding in your hand could have hit him somewhere else—it could have been a fatal shot. Shoving the nauseating thought out of your mind, you set it down on the tray and pick up the bottle of saline and a couple pieces of clean gauze. After flushing the wound and cleaning it a second time, you take a closer look at it just to be sure there’s no serious damage to the tissues in his shoulder. “Everything looks alright from what I can see. I cleaned it as best I could, but there’s always a risk for infection so you’ll have to take a round of antibiotics. You’ll also have to wear a sling for about four to six weeks. Doctor’s orders,” you add with a tiny, jeering smile when you clock the disdain on his face.

“Shit. That mean’s Tommy’s gonna pull me off of patrol,” he realizes, miserably. “What the hell am I gonna do for four to six weeks?”

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Recover from being shot?”

“Yeah I s’ppose I am,” he mutters with an eye roll.

Calm, tranquil silence falls over you as you prepare the suture, looping it through the needle. The moment you start stitching him up, an emotional lump rises in the back of your throat and you’re not sure why. Joel is fine. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay, and yet, all you can do is think about how frightened you’d been when Tommy ran into the stables covered in blood and said that Joel had been shot. How terrifying it was to think he was dead. 

He says your name softly.

When you don’t acknowledge him, he reverts to his nickname for you. “Peach.”

You hum, trying to stay focused on finishing the task of closing up his wound. “Hm?”

“Look at me, baby.”

“Joel, I’m kind of in the middle of someth—”

“I love you.”

Stopping mid stitch, you look at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Darlin’, I can’t count the number of times I almost fuckin’ said, but couldn’t. How many times those words have been right there on the tip of my tongue and just when I’m ‘bout to say them, I lose the nerve. After what happened today, m’gonna stop bein’ such a fuckin’ fool. M’gonna tell you every chance I get,” Joel vows, his gaze piercing into yours. “You had my heart from day fuckin’ one and you’re gonna have it for the rest of my life, sweet girl. I love you.”

His declaration knocks all of the wind out of your lungs and leaves you breathless. Speechless.

“AIn’t gotta say it back to me until you’re ready,” Joel reassures you. “Y’know how I feel ‘bout you—but I think it was time you finally heard it.”

You choke down your emotions—now isn’t the time to break down, not when you have a needling poking through his flesh. It’s not exactly how you pictured you professing your love for each other, but it feels right. “I love you too, Joel,” you whisper back to him. “I’ve been wanting to say it to you too, but I’ve just been afraid.” You pause and realize, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Joel tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Do me a real big favor darlin’ and finish stitchin’ me up quick ‘cause I’m fuckin’ dyin’ for a kiss.”

Letting out a tearful little laugh, you carefully finish pitching him up. As soon as you finish with the last stitch, Joel wraps his uninjured arm around your waist. “C’mere baby,” he murmurs. He tugs you forward so you’re standing between his legs and tilts his head up towards yours. 

You smile at him before leaning in, molding your mouth to his in a sweet kiss. 

As you do, Luke’s voice echoes loudly out in the hallway. “What the hell do you mean she’s—”

Jerking away from Joel, you jump back just as the door swings open.

Luke bursts into the examination room with Tommy and Ellie behind him. His dark green eyes flit from you to Joel and then back to you again.

“Joel!” Ellie shoves past him. “You okay?”

“M’alright,” he replies stiffly, his eyes carefully trained on your husband.

“Tommy told me you were treating Joel’s wound.” Luke approaches you, and while he is keeping a collected composure for the sake of not causing a scene in front of the other people in the room, you know him better than that. He’s furious, but he’s masking it well.

Nervously, you nod. “Yes. I extracted the bullet from his shoulder, flushed and cleaned the wound, and stitched him up.” You notice the blood on his light blue medical scrubs and glance around him at Tommy. “How is Peter?”

His expression is grim. “Didn’t make it.”

“God,” you mutter, your heart clenching in your chest as you think of Martha. She’s just lost her husband.

Luke walks over to Joel, whose hands are curled into fists in his lap. He inspects his shoulder, observing the work you’d done. He then looks over his shoulder at you and frowns. “You shouldn’t have done this,” your husband chastises you, shaking his head tightly. “You aren’t a trained medical professional. Do you even realize—”

“Your wife did a good fuckin’ job,” Joel cuts him off. “She knew what she was doin’.”

Luke’s head whips back around and the two men’s eyes meet in a tense exchange.

“Give her some more fuckin’ credit than that. She’s amazin’,” the older man states, his nostrils flaring. 

“Yeah,” Ellie chimes in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. She narrows her eyes at Luke. “She’s fucking amazing.”

Luke turns to her and arches an eyebrow. Before he can say anything, the sound of Donna’s voice comes from the room next door.

“Luke! I need a little help in here!”

Lips pursed together, Luke takes a step back from Joel and turns on his heel to leave. As he passes you, he stops briefly, long enough to whisper to you quietly, “We’ll talk about this at home.”

A chill runs down your spine.

You know exactly what he means by that. 

Luke tosses you a subtle glare and stalks out of the room.

“I should go and find Maria,” Tommy states with a sad sigh. “We’re gonna have to break the news to Martha about Peter.” He gives you a nod. “Thank you, little lady. For takin’ such good care of my big brother.” He disappears, closing the door behind him and leaving the three of you alone.

Ellie comes up to you, curling her arms around your waist. “Thank you. We fucking owe you one.”

You say nothing as you hug her back, holding onto her tightly.

You try not to think about what’s in store for you later that evening at home.

[loverseon]

SOUL SWAP .ᐟ masterlist coming soon ᯓ★

pairing female reader x ???

genre royal au, fantasy, kinda mystery ish

synopsis you wake up in a bedroom thats not your own. curtains that arent your own, bed thats not your own. a life thats not your own. no one around you seems to take you very seriously when you try and explain that youre… not exactly who they think you are. but hey, who are you to complain when everywhere you look theres a handsome man who wants you?

word count tbd (around 30k+)

warnings angst, fluff, themes of death, suggestive (tbz being sexy what can i say) cursing, slow burn, gradual pairing reveal, will add more tags as we progress

teaser one moodboard playlist

part i. the dream of the golden bedroom

part ii. the hero of the first water

part iii. the saviour of the fallen

part iv. the master of the wild

part v. the commander of the gods

part vi. the ceremony of the conqueror

part vii. the end of the beginning

part viii. epilogue: the princess of stars

a/n shakes u by the shoulders ohhhh its happeninf its happeningg

[metal-mouse]

Let Me Make it Up to You

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (m/f) themes: creepy liminal lake. smut. sort of established relationship. warnings: 18+ this contains spice and filth. oral sex. p in v unprotected sex. dominant-ish Sebastian. m/f pairing. characters aged up. not safe for work y'all. mc almost drowns. summary: just over 3k words. After a poorly executed treasure hunt, Sebastian Sallow must make it up to you somehow. note: something about shower sex with Sebastian just really appeals to me idk. This is mostly self-indulgent but I liked it enough to post it. It's way longer than I thought it would be lmao. 99% unedited because I'm lazy. i've never like properly tried to write smut in a way that makes sense for other people bc of course I can picture what I'm writing in my head, so it's a little detail lacking currently. it'll be interesting to see my writing style progress.

You stood beside Sebastian Sallow at the edge of a dark lake found deep within a cave he’d read about. Sebastian had heard a rumor of a ‘great’ treasure within the cave, and had begged you to come along with him to retrieve it once he had located it. You had agreed, but now you were a little less enthusiastic. From your spot on the shoreline, you could see a painted chest sitting on a small mass of land closer to the middle of the lake. The only way to the chest was to swim. You’d both spent a rather long time trying to summon the chest, and it wouldn’t budge.

“Draw sticks?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head as you looked up at him.

“You always cheat.” You frowned. You already knew it was going to be you to swim across the gap. Sebastian’s ability to ask something of you and for you to agree was… unfortunate at times.

“You’re just so much better than I am at everything.” Sebastian pouted. His hand stroked down the back of your arm, the warmth piercing through the thin fabric of your shirtsleeve. You stepped out of his touch and kicked off your shoes with a sigh.

“This treasure better be worth it, Sallow.” You looked back at him, unbuttoning your trousers and stepping out of them. You pulled your shirt off, discarding it next to your trousers. There was no use in getting all of your clothes wet. Aside from your undergarments, you kept the small pouch that Ominis had helped you enchant to hold far more than should be possible for the size of the pouch. You walked to the edge of the lake, looking down into the murky water. A pulse of fear passed over you, making your heart flutter. It was unnerving not being able to see anything in the lake - you didn’t like not knowing what was coming. Taking a deep breath, you stepped off the edge. You panicked momentarily as you plunged entirely under the frigid water. There was no gradual slope to deep water, it was just a drop-off. You pushed upwards, gasping for air as you surfaced.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, his concern would be touching if he hadn’t just guilt tripped you into doing this.

“‘S cold.” You managed to say, the cold water made it a little difficult to breathe. You kicked your feet and used your arms to propel you forward towards the island, spurred on by the thought that you had no idea what was beneath you. The sooner you were out of the murky water the better. It didn’t take you long to get to the island and haul yourself up onto the stone surface. Being in the air was even worse than the water now, the cool air of the cave chilling you thoroughly to the bone. You hurried across towards the chest, silently hoping it would be easy enough for you to open.

“What’s in it?” Sebastian called out, his voice echoing around the chamber.

“Alohamora!” You cast. The lock clicked open and you eagerly lifted the lid. The chest held an assortment of jewelry, and a bag of gold coins. They weren’t galleons, they were some sort of ancient muggle currency. They’d certainly fetch a fair price either way. Your anger towards Sebastian was fading quickly, especially as you picked up a particularly ornate necklace. You made quick work of stuffing everything into the leather pouch, eager to be out of the chilly cave. It was easier this time jumping back into the water, you knew what to expect this time. You swam back towards Sebastian who called out words of encouragement. As you neared the middle of the stretch, something felt wrong. An overwhelming sense of danger filled you, and that’s when a cold hand wrapped around your ankle. You barely had time to gasp for breath as that hand was joined by several more and you were pulled under the surface.

Sebastian yelled out your name as you disappeared under the surface. He ran to the edge, but could only see a stream of bubbles coming up from the black water. Panic clouded his mind at the thought of you being hurt, and it would all be his fault. This wasn’t exactly an enemy he could see and fight. He had no idea what to do, how could he save you if he couldn’t see you? He reasoned that you were very capable and strong, you’d gotten out of sticky situations like this before. Far too much time had passed for his comfort, and he knew he had to do something. He dumped his cloak on the ground, preparing to dive in for you when he saw a flash of red light from the deep. As soon as he could see you, he dropped down and snatched your hand hauling you out of the water. Your skin was freezing cold, and you began to cough violently as you flopped down. About a dozen grindylows floated to the surface dead until their surviving companions yanked their bodies downwards, no doubt to feast on them.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian gasped out, putting his hand on your shoulder. You snatched his wrist, looking up at him with bloodshot, furious eyes. They almost seemed to glow with your rage. Sebastian knew then he was in a lot of trouble.

“Don’t.” Your voice was a strangled wheeze, and Sebastian withdrew his hand like he’d been burned. He had half a mind to run away from you, his eyes flicked to your wand still clutched in your other hand. He knew what you could do with it and he suddenly wasn’t keen on dueling with you. Sebastian obeyed, stepping back from you as you got to your feet. He apparated as soon as you pointed your wand at him. The last time he’d pissed you off he had ended up with no eyebrows and two inch long front teeth that had taken three hours for Nurse Blainey to fix.

Sebastian ran the rest of the way back to Hogwarts, he knew he didn’t have much time to hide from you or get you calmed down. He had to find Ominis. If anyone could get you to calm down, it was Ominis. Sebastian knew he had a habit of fanning the flames of your anger, while Ominis did a wonderful job of quelling them.

Students watched him and more than one person called out to him as he ran past. He was panting heavily by the time he found Ominis who sat with Poppy Sweeting. Poppy looked up at him with wide eyes as he thundered to a halt in front of them.

“What did you do?” Ominis asked calmly.

“You have to hide me!” Sebastian was desperate.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything - how was I supposed to know there were Grindylows?”

“Grindylows? Where did you find Grindylows?”

“A cave. It’s a long story. Please hide me. She’s going to kill me.” Sebastian pleaded.

“Is she alright?” Ominis asked. Sebastian knew his time was running out. He had to find somewhere safe until you cooled down enough for him to safely approach. He’d make it up to you somehow. He’d find a way to make you forgive him.

“She’s fine. Please, Ominis! You have to talk to her. I’ve never run so fast in my life.”

“You ran from her? What is wrong with you?” Poppy burst out, smacking Sebastian on the arm. He gave her a stunned look, unused to such outbursts from her. Ominis sighed sharply through his nose, shaking his head slowly.

“My friend, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you. She only gets angrier when they run.” Ominis’ lips pressed together in a firm line. Sebastian knew the bastard was trying not to smile. When they run. Sebastian knew he was right, he’d been on enough quests to rescue beasts with you that he knew how furious you got when you had to chase what you sought.

“I’ll buy all your butterbeers for the rest of the year!” Sebastian burst out. Ominis tilted his head, considering the offer. Sebastian bounced on his feet, anxious to get to safety.

“Go. I’ll try to talk to her.” Ominis said, smirking.

“SALLOW!” Your voice boomed through the hallways, and Sebastian turned and ran.

“My goodness! What happened to you?” Poppy Sweeting asked.

“Where is he?” You snapped, and Sebastian took a pinch of floo powder and went as far away as he could.

You knew Sebastian had put Ominis and Poppy up to pacifying you, and while your friends hadn’t eliminated all of your anger they had made you promise not to kill Sebastian. He should consider himself lucky that you respected Ominis and Poppy far too much to go against their wishes. You were cold, damp, and uncomfortable, so you had decided to give up your hunt and make your way to the showers. You stood in the warm water, letting it rinse off the remnants of nasty lake water from your hair and body. You were absorbed in fantasies of revenge as you ran your hands through your hair to loosen some of the knots that had formed during your pursuit of Sebastian. The warm water was a blessing compared to the frigid and dingy lake.

You let out a little hiss when a cold breeze pushed around the steam you had accumulated in the shower room leaving goosebumps all over your body. You shrank further into the shower, annoyed thoroughly with whoever was intruding on your murder plotting time. When the steam closed around you again, you sighed with contentment and closed your eyes. Broad hands gripped your hips. You knew those hands. Sebastian planted kisses on your shoulder as his chest pressed against your back. You ignored him, just as you ignored how easily his touch affected you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, nudging your cheek with his nose before kissing your jaw. “Let me make it up to you.” He said, pulling you back closer to him. You could feel his hardness pressed against your backside, and it took a lot of effort to not react. You fought to keep a straight face as his hands moved from your hips. One hand moved up towards your chest, the other down to your lower belly. Sebastian kept you pressed against him as his knuckles lightly traced the underside of your breast. He leaned in and kissed your neck as his fingers brushed against your nipple. You were determined. Adamant. He wasn’t going to get a single thing from you. You could feel him watching you very carefully, and when he bit down on that spot where your neck met your shoulder you couldn’t stop your reaction. All it took was a slight tilt of your head, and he knew he had you.

“There’s my girl.” He murmured, his hand on your lower belly traveling downwards. His girl. Eternally possessive. When his fingers slid between your wet folds, he let out a dark laugh.

“I knew you wanted it. Look how wet you are already.” He said, nipping your ear with his teeth. He began to rub his fingers in small circles over your clit and you relaxed into his arms.

“I hate you so much.” You breathed out, one hand reaching back and gripping Sebastian’s thick hair.

“Mmmm I can tell.” The depth of his voice in your ear sent chills through your entire body as he kept up a steady, lazy pace between your legs. His other hand rolled your nipple between his fingers. You subtly ground your backside against Sebastian’s erection. You smirked at his abrupt groan. His fingers on your nipple pressed harder giving you a sharp pinch. You twisted enough to look up at him, marveling in his appearance. The flush of his cheeks, the fire in his eyes, the arrogant bastard smile playing at his lips. He let go of your nipple, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He turned you around and pushed you against the wall of the shower cubicle, not once stopping those lazy little circles that were quickly unraveling you. Your hands fell to your sides.

Sebastian kissed you then, deep and intense like he always did. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, and you opened up for him. His taste was intoxicating and mixed with the feeling of his teasing touch on your sensitive clit you were approaching an euphoric sensation. You moaned into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan like that.” Sebastian’s voice was husky as he mumbled against your lips. He kissed along your jaw and down on your neck finding that spot that made you so weak. His hand moved from your throat up to your hair which he gripped tightly as his fingers curled delightfully inside of you making sighs and small moans tumble from your lips. How he could do so little to make you feel so good was incredible.

“It’s so hard to be patient for you and that sweet cunt,” his breath tickled your neck, “can you be a quiet girl for me?” He asked, fucking you with his fingers. Right. You were in the shared showers during a Saturday afternoon where all of your classmates had all the free time in the world. You nodded, and instantly regretted it from the grin on his face as his fingers slid out of you and he knelt on the ground in front of you. One hand prompted your left leg to lift, you obeyed and he put it over his shoulder. Sebastian’s hands floated up and down your thighs as he moved in closer. He bit down on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, and your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your cry. He looked up at you with those eyes of fire, his tongue experimentally swiping along your entrance.

“Sweet. My sweet girl.” He gave a low groan, and started his assault. His tongue swiped shapes over your clit, and you had to bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making too much noise. He flattened his tongue lapping you up, you were already sensitive from his earlier work and it wasn’t taking long for an orgasm to start building up. He seemed to know it too. His tongue swirled over your clit, and he slotted two of his fingers back inside of you.

“F-fuck, Sebastian.” You stammered against your hand at the overwhelming sensation. The pressure of his tongue against your clit and his fingers curling against your sweet spot… it was too much. Your head fell back as you began to fall apart, your fingers lacing in Sebastian’s hair for fear that he would stop. You bit down harder on your hand to choke on the scream as your legs began to tremble. Sebastian moaned against you as you came for him. He let you ride out your orgasm on his face, not stopping until your fingers loosened slightly from his hair. You looked down to see him rock hard, flushed, and his eyes seemingly begging for you.

You took him under his chin, your leg falling to the side as you prompted to stand. He stood, his fingers once again leaving you empty. His hands curled around your ass, and he lifted you and pinned you between him and the cubicle wall. Your legs squeezed him, holding yourself up as he positioned himself at your entrance. His lips crashed against yours when he thrust inwards, both of you making a desperate attempt to remain quiet. His hips rolled as he fucked you hard and steady. When he was feeling particularly cruel, he would edge you until you were in tears, however today he was in just as much need as you were. You loved the way he filled you up. His steady pace had his head lightly pressing your cervix, hitting all the right spots. You hadn’t realized how good someone could make you feel until you’d slept with him for the first time. With the way he was fucking you, you could feel your pleasure rapidly approaching for the second time in a matter of minutes.

Sebastian was in your ear, whispering about how much he loved you, how he’d always protect you, and how he was oh so sorry for letting you jump into that lake for the Grindylows to attack. You were in ecstasy, unable to respond as he ground his pelvis against your sensitive bud. His rhythm faltered slightly, and you knew he was close.

“I love you.” You breathed out, knowing it was exactly what he needed to hear. His response was a low, guttural groan. His thrusts got sloppier, before he abruptly pulled out. You dropped your hand quickly, wrapping around his shaft and finishing him off as he came all over your stomach. Your legs dropped to the ground, and Sebastian’s head dropped to your shoulder as you both fought to catch your breath. After a few heartbeats, his head lifted and he kissed you again. His kisses after sex were always so sweet, so emotional.

“Are you okay?” He asked you, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze as he stood up straight. You nodded, admiring the loving glow in his eyes.

“I really am sorry.” He promised.

“I know, Sebastian. It’s alright.” You caressed his cheek, and he pulled you in for a long embrace. You stood like that for a long time, before cleaning off properly and getting out of the shower before someone could catch you in there together. You felt relaxed now, your anger completely forgotten as Sebastian put a fluffy bathrobe around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your cheek. He may be sweet now, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he filled you with so much rage you thought you could kill him. At least you could look forward to how he would make up for it.

“So, are we still splitting the treasure 50-50?” Sebastian asked, grinning at you. You smiled back at him shaking your head at his audacity, perhaps he would be making it up to you sooner than you thought.

[emhahee]

Hi hi,

So like I have a question around your Hayffie headcanon’s. Because if I remember correctly you ship them? If not please ignore this.

Two questions actually

1: When do you think they went from arguing (derogatory) to bickering (affectionate)

2: What do you think happened after the war with them Book Verse v Movie Verse. (I only differentiate because a lot of people have different interpretations because of what happened with Effie book v movie)

I think the progression of Haymitch and Effie’s relationship from genuinely not being able to stand each other to making bedroom eyes at each other was a lot more gradual than what we saw as an audience. Like as readers, we only saw the last three years of the development of their relationship when they had YEARS of lore before that that we never saw. I’m sure when they first met, they were both a lot younger and Effie may not have even been an escort at that point. My guess is that they met when she was just working with the stylists, still learning the ropes, probably caught up in being a regular capitol young adult person, which probably hugely impacted their initial impressions of each other when they started having to mentor together, especially considering haymitch’s demeanor. That’s not to say Haymitch didn’t call her “sweetheart” in his Appalachian drawl just to see if he could make her blush through her makeup. Because he would, and she did. But also, for years and years before katniss and Peeta, Haymitch and Effie experienced the losses of their tributes as one. Katniss observed that each of them have different ways of coping with having to send two children to their imminent death year after year: Haymitch uses alcohol, and Effie lives in a hazy cloud of ignorance about what the games even really are, wrapping herself in the glamour and excitement leading up to the games and presumably tuning most of the event itself out. I think over the years, Haymitch and Effie certainly developed a mutual empathy for each other in this regard, because you can’t really blame someone for how they cope with unimaginable loss and suffering. But I think there was a shift in their dynamic around the time of katniss and Peetas first games, not only when they experienced the hope of having victors for the first time, but simultaneously becoming wrapped up in a rebellion. Effie was one of few constants in haymitch’s life and it is my personal belief that their feelings had been stirring for a long time but probably really took off on the victory tour. I’m sure there were nights where effie had a few too many and started sloppily confessing her feelings for Haymitch and the attendants on the train just looked the other way because it would NOT be a good look in the face of unrest and uprising to have a capitol employee fraternizing with a district citizen. But in that regard it was also 🎊forbidden🎊 which makes it so much better in my opinion. But I don’t think Haymitch would really have been able to admit his own feelings for Effie until learning she had been taken by the capitol, much like katniss wasn’t really able to know she loved peeta until he had been taken, too. And like I legitimately cannot imagine the torment Haymitch must have been experiencing at knowing someone who, on the surface, had such an innocent perception of the world being tortured for her association with him and his colleagues. I think Haymitch got home to 12 after the war, fairly soon after got a phone call, and, remembering his phone lines had been reconnected, knew exactly who was waiting on the other end of the line. And from then on it was game over. Or whatever. At least that’s how it is in my head.

[renhaswritersblock]

hi, can you do C, G and V with wrench pls? :)

Wrench - NSFW ALPHABET REQUEST (C, G, V):

A/N: No thoughts...just a chunk of the brain that held all my motivation vanish without a trace.

I didn't know if you wanted WD2 Wrench or WDL Dilf Wrench, so I wrote mostly WD2 Wrench. I do hope you enjoy reading this, and like I said, Ima just taking my time writing these requests -- but not too much time.

WARNING: Mentions of the hot dog wiener going into the donut hole, slight cum, lil' bit of angst

Lemme know what you think. You can always ask me any other Request in the ask box.

Happy readings!

===

C: Cum (Ah, shit. Here we go again.)

Wrench will quickly cream his pants at literally anything. Going from committing violent acts, explosions/fireworks/arson, technology, his personal arsenal, glancing in your direction, staring at you sitting in the lounge part of the hackerspace, your smile, the slightest touch from you, a fantasy about you being on his workbench sprawled out barenake–

*COUGHS COUGHS* 

Basically, Wrench can easily break and sometimes gets embarrassed when it happens or simply just doesn’t care.

His load is pretty average – if you get what I mean – and is ok with cumming both inside or outside. But keep in mind, you’ll never stop hearing the shitty one-liners every time he shoots his “love snot” all over your body.

G: Goofy

Come on, this is Wrench we’re talking about. The guy is a figurative ticking time bomb full of the dirtiest jokes and remarks known to man. One little word that comes out of either you or any of the DedSec member's mouths – Wrench will emerge from the dark corners of god-knows-where and say the worse shit possible that’s gonna earn a few annoyed groans or snickering. Yet regardless of his goofy behavior, he also has a serious one too. 

Initially, Wrench fucked you with his mask on. One time, you mindlessly raise your hand to try lifting his mask off, causing him to seize and stop completely. Haphazardly jumping off the bed to grab all his clothes and rush out the door, leaving you with a perplexed look on your face. Although you both talk it out in the end, Wrench didn’t want to do anything intimate or sexual with you for nearly four months. 

Gradually, he slowly returns to doing more coitus acts with you, along with opening up about his issues and the importance of the mask. Even going as far as kissing you for the first time. He’ll still feel iffy about crossing his boundaries, but when he does, the room will be pitch black for you too see his face. But you don’t mind the long progress he’s making.

V: Volume

He is absolutely, without a doubt, totally the loudest guy to have sex with. Doesn’t matter if he’s groaning, moaning, growling, whimpering, huffing, or muffling – everyone can still hear him shout out and swear every cuss word in the book while pounding you. Leading to him getting kicked out of every hackerspace in the Bay Area and sneaking back in, and everyone putting on earbuds and trying to ignore whatever is going on in the next room.

===

A/N: Hope you enjoy, and lemme know what ya think!

[boxboxblog]

Technical: F1 Cars v Feeder Cars

Hello, this post is a response to an ask about the differences between F1 cars and feeder series cars. To better understand, I would recommend reading my How Do F1 Cars Work? series (first post linked here) before this one. Enjoy!

(Comparison of the four categories' cars)

Power Units:

F1: F1 cars use a hybrid power unit system, a 1.6-liter V6 turbocharged engine combined with Energy Recovery System (ERS). This can deliver 1,000 horsepower, get the car up to 217 mp, and also go from roughly zero to sixty miles in under 2.5 seconds. This kind of an engine means that the F1 car has tremendous speed and power, and takes corners and straights both at high speeds. To handle this kind of car an F1 driver must have fantastic race craft, good knowledge of engineering, and high precision. They need for focus on more than just driving, as they control a lot of what goes on in the mechanics of the car. In this case they also have to worry about ERS deployment,

(A basic drawing of an F1 engine. Credit: Craig Scarborough Twitter: @ScarbsTech)

F2: F2 cars use a naturally aspirated (non-turbocharger) 3.4 liter V6 engine and does not have a hybrid system. The engine delivers about 620 horsepower, and the car can get up to 205 mph. This means that F2 drivers focus on mechanical engine power. This also means that F2 drivers drive a little less complicated and do not have to worry about the electronic side of racing quite yet.

F3: F3 cars Have a 3.4 liter V6 engine that is very similar to F2 engines, but has a lot less power. It delivers around 380 horsepower, and has a top speed of around 186 mph. This is still at the level where drivers are learning the fundamentals of racing, but it kicks up the speed a bit compared to F4. You will notice that the progression toward F1's extreme speed is rather gradual.

F4: The simplest and least powerful engine, F4 used a 2.0 liter turbocharged four cylinder engine. This produces around 160-189 horsepower, and can reach 150 mph. This means the car requires more patience with the throttle and very simple driving tactics. It obviously is a very different power and speed than karting, but it allows young drivers to start to get used to speed.

Aerodynamics:

F1: An F1 car's aerodynamic system is very complicated. It has an intensely designed front wing, a very important and complex rear wing with DRS, and also uses ground effect in order to generate downforce. In general, the F1 car always tries to produce as much down force as possible, which keeps the car's grip up. This downforce means that F1 cars take corners extremely fast, and drivers must balance it well. They also tend to get more effected by dirty air than other series cars.

(An F1 car, you can see the complex front wing and the wide rear wing with it's DRS flap)

F2: F2 cars are slightly less complex, but still have a designed front and rear wing. They do not focus on downforce as much and have no ground effect in their cars. This means that F2 cars are much more reliant on mechanical grip over aerodynamic grip. Drivers must use a smoother way of cornering and focus on tire management to keep grip.

(an F2 car, Visibly less detailed but still has similar styling to an F1 car)

F3, F4: Even more simple ( I think you get the theme) there are minimal downforce-generating elements, and the designs for the wings are very very simple. The focus when driving this kind of car is similar to F2 in that tire management is paramount to keep grip and corners must be taken rather slow.

(An F3 car, has no DRS flap in back and the front wing has almost no details)

(An F4 car, front wing is completely different and rear wing is much more tall and open)

Weight:

F1: An F1 car is incredibly heavy. It weights around 1800 lbs without fuel, and most of the weight is due to the tires, power unit, and safety measures inside of the car. The tires that F1 car uses are the Pirelli 18-inch low profile tires, which are heavy and large and keep the weight of the car up. Because of how heavy they are, F1 drivers must manage the balance very carefully, especially during braking and acceleration.

F2: While they use the same tire size as F1 (just less complicated), F2 cars are lighter, but not by much. They are about 1740 lbs without fuel, and because of this they need to focus on much of the same as F1 drivers. This heavier weight gets drivers prepared for handling an F1 car.

F3: F3 car's are significantly light, weighing around 1500 lbs without fuel. they also use different tires, instead having 13 inch ones. This means that they are a much more nimble car, which allows for more aggressive braking and cornering.

F4: The lightest of them all, at 1100 lbs, this is by far the most nimble and easiest to handle. It has the same tires as F3. This lightness helps start new drivers out on learning how to drive a one-seater car without putting them in too much danger, as they can move around corners fast and make more mistakes with less consequences

Electronics:

F1: F1 cars are extremely technologically advanced. The steering wheel on an F1 car is basically a computer, and they control a variety of things with it. They have the ERS system, electronic gear shifts, engine modes, brake-by-wire systems, complex suspension setups, customizable engine maps, etc. This isn't even including the hundreds of sensors all throughout the car. This means that mid race they are focused on things like switching engine modes around, deploying ERS, and other such things. They have to be aware of how everything works together, so it also requires a high technical knowledge.

(An F1 steering wheel. The many knobs and buttons you see are used by drivers as they race.)

F2,F3,F4: These cars are simple and have essentially the same level of electronic complexity. Only F2 has gear shifts and basic engine modes, but everything else is much more mechanically focused. This allows junior drivers to focus on the actual car over electronics in their early career, and once they get into F1 the mechanical side is almost muscle memory.

Braking:

F1,F2: So, these two series both use a carbon-carbon braking system. These types of brakes have immense stopping power but require a lot of heat to function properly. This is why brake temperature management is so important in races. They manage this through rim heating (transferring heat from brakes to rims on front tires), coasting and gliding, and controlling air flow. In F2 the brakes have slightly less power.

(An F1 carbon-carbon system)

F3,F4: These series use a steel braking system. This is a lot less powerful and simple to use, which allows junior drivers to develop fundamental braking skills. They are much easier to handle and forgiving of mistakes.

(A steel braking system)

Alright that is the basics of it. There are of course other differences like in basic shape, but these are the ones that most effect how the cars operate and how the drivers handle them. I hope I answered any questions.

Cheers,

-B

[wildemaven]

How Good It Is

Pairing: Benny Miller x Single Mom F!Reader

WC: 1411

Warnings: 18+ Blog; single mom, mention of child, new relationship/secret for the sake of the child, p in v (unprotected; on birth control), cumplay (I think), oral (f receiving), nipple play, feelings and fluff!

A/N: This is set early on in their relationship, before Supply & Demand. This was mainly based off some steamy kitchen blinking, and then I decided to add some feelings to it too. This is not beta’d, so all the mistakes are my own doing. Title is based off of this song.

Wild Love Series / Playlist / Main Masterlist

You were familiar with early mornings. Seeking solitude in the stillness as you meander throughout the house, coffee ground and dripping steadily before the sun had a chance to penetrate the kitchen windows. 

Weekday mornings were more structured and planned out—  breakfast, work emails and light chores were tended to between sips from your ceramic mug. Then you were rushing through last minute homework questions, packing lunches and adjusting outfits before heading to the bus stop at the end of the block. 

Weekends were less demanding of your time. There was an ease to them. If it was your weekend with your daughter, there was nowhere to rush off to, your time spent reading the book you had picked up from the library recently as you gradually drained the coffee pot. 

That was until Benny ambled into your life 9 months ago. A steady friendship grew into something a little more intimate as the weeks went on. 2 months after meeting him, following the win of one of his fights, he was asking to see you exclusively— girlfriend. 

Between work emails, you now quietly text him asking about his plan for the day, how his training session the night before went, even an exchange of a selfie or two— him still laid back in bed with his tousled hair and sleepy smile; you with your freshly washed face and a light touch of mascara, standing in front of the stove with a few eggs sizzling in a greased pan. 

If there was an opportunity for an actual phone call, you took it. You felt like teenagers, spending hours chatting about nothing and everything— there was never a dullness when Benny was involved. 

Those early morning phone calls slowly progressed into steamier conversations. Pent up desires, eager to be released in any capacity, resulting in the exchange of breathy gasps and yearning moans as orchestrated pleasure ripped through the sound waves over the phone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough— holding you both over until the next moment alone together. 

It was mornings like this one that you looked forward to, the house decorated in a trail of revealing lingerie, boxers and abandoned blankets leading to the hub of your home. The kitchen is quiet, save for the passionate efforts between the two of you, that had you reeling in bliss. The two of you alone, hands finding purchase on bare slick skin and any sturdy surface. 

“Oh Fuck! Ben— don’t stop! fuckfuckfuck! I’m almost there!” You manage to say as Benny holds you against an open kitchen wall, your leg thrown over his hip while he avidly thrusts into you. 

“Same— shit! You feel so good, Babe! Not gonna last much longer!” His words muffled against your neck. 

With one hand firmly on your propped up leg, he manages to snake the other one between your bodies, settling on your little bundle of nerves. His fingers work beautifully in circular motions, your aching cunt seizing up instantly. 

“Ahh! Yes! Ben— fuckyesyesyes! I’m going to come!” A whine emerges from your throat, your head falling back against the wall as your orgasm begins to break— muscles tensing and pulsing in rapturous delight. 

Your fingers card through his sweaty blonde locks, scraping against his scalp in such a manner that has his hips stuttering as he chases his peak. 

“You’re so good! Let go, Ben.” Your words hit somewhere deep within him, plucking that last cord in just the right way. 

“Fuck! I— I lov— fuckhnnghshit!” His hand flying up and slamming into the wall behind you as his spend empties into your still pulsating heat. 

His head rests against your shoulder, releasing your leg gently onto the ground. His hands settle on your hips, his touch warm and thoughtful as you both come down for your highs. 

“Shit! I got too caught up, forgot to pull out. ‘M sorry.” His breath fans across your chest, his apology riddled with sincerity. 

You pull his head up to your face, his baby blues still beaming in a lusty daze as he gazes at you, your fingers still toying with his hair. 

“It’s okay— I told you it was fine with the birth control they put me on. It was kind of hot too!” You smirk at him. 

His lips find yours in an unhurried manner, a post kitchen sex make out, all while those 3 words he almost said were still fresh in your mind. 

“I love you too.” You say against his kissed out lips. 

Pulling away briefly, a smile plastered on his handsome face, taking in fully what you had said. 

“I wanted to say it fully, but then— ya know.” 

“I know. And I still love you, too. I want Rory to meet you.” You say, the l-o-v-e word still tickling your lips. 

“Meet me? I’m confused, she knows me pretty well.” His brows fur at you suggesting he meet your daughter, again. 

“Yeah, but she knows you as Benny— the MMA fighter, the fun guy at the barbecues who lets her have an ungodly amount of sugar, the guy who listens intently to her stories and makes her laugh at his silly jokes. I want her to meet you as Ben, my boyfriend.” 

“Yeah? Are you sure?” Your words hitting him fully, the possibility of being able to openly act like your boyfriend has excitement stirring in him. 

There was an understanding when you began seeing each other, that you wanted to wait until you were ready to tell your daughter. You wanted to be sure that he was serious about not only you, but your daughter as well— and over the last few months he had been nothing short of amazing in proving that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Very sure.” 

His softened cock finally slips out of you, his spend trickle down your thigh prompts him to grab a towel from the counter, kneeling down and gently wiping it off. 

“When is Rory due back?” He asks, kissing your hip then standing to his full height. 

You peer over to the clock on the stove, noting it’s 7:00 am and  your ex should be dropping her off around 8 am. 

“In the next hour or so.”

“Okay. I can grab my stuff, be outta here in the next 20 minutes.” He says before taking a drink of his forgotten coffee. 

“Or— you could stay and we can all have breakfast together?” Grabbing the mug from his hands, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. 

“Today? You want to tell her today?” You nod softly, smiling into the mug as you finish off the rest of his coffee. “Shit— Yeah! You think she’s going to like me?” A worried look creeps over his face. 

“Ben— She loves you! Don’t worry— we can have breakfast here, then maybe walk down for some donuts and more coffee— I drank the last of yours and I’m out of beans.” 

He grabs the cup from you and places it on the counter, pulls you from where you’re still against the wall and spins you over to the kitchen island. Patting at your hip, encouraging you to jump as he grabs the back of your thighs to help you onto the counter top. 

“How much time did you say we had?” He says as he plasters kisses along your collarbone. 

“Mmmm— ‘bout an hour. Her dad will call when they’re almost here— Ahh!” You gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue massaging over the pebbled flesh before releasing it with a pop. 

His hand pushes at your chest to lay back, a few tugs at your hips to get you to scoot closer to the edge of the counter. A counter stool scraps across the wood floor, placing in front of your spread legs, he takes a seat. 

“Plenty of time for round three!” His breath is hot against your sensitive and wet cunt. 

A sexual essence infuses with the faint aroma of coffee, the minutes ticking away as Benny enthusiastically seeks out another earth shattering orgasm— discovering early on that over achieving was one of his best qualities. 

“Oh god!” You moan into the room as licks through your folds, his own moan vibrating against you as he tastes the salty mixture of you both. You grab on to the side of the counter, your back arches as his tongue flicks smoothly over your clit. 

“Just Ben, Babe.” 

[empiredesimparte]

Episode III

Coup de Majesté

A coup de Majesté is a brutal act or order dictated by the monarch, notably to forcibly subdue the beginnings of opposition, or even rebellion or revolt against him, and thus re-establish his authority or power.

Marie-Joséphine

Age 48.

Born Marie-Joséphine de Chevalier. Elle est la mère de l'Empereur Napoléon V des Français et de Madame Hortense de Francesim.

Sa Majesté Impériale, Madame Mère

Marie-Joséphine is a very maternal woman. She has progressive ideas but is constrained by the rules of the monarchy. After the death of her husband, the emperor Napoléon IV, the protection of her children became her priority.

She hopes to gradually influence her son towards modern, progressive ideas. She is constantly worried about him, and hopes to be able to ally herself with Empress Charlotte without offending her daughter Hortense.

⚜ Family tree of Simparte dynasty

⚜ Napoléon V, Charlotte, Hortense, Oliver

[incongruence-osaf]

The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers PART ONE - Chapter One

1948

Space Colony ARK, Mobius’s Orbit

The brilliance of white heavenly fire gradually disappears behind the blue and green marble of planet Mobius. As the tenth dusk prepares room for pockets and fields of stars to shine in the never-ending darkness, a stout elderly scientist sits on a swivel chair in the frame of one of Space Colony ARK’s tall laboratory windows. He quietly observes the familiar changes of the station’s daily orbit while absentmindedly twiddling his long gray mustache. The dissipating halo of sunlight winks goodbye to Professor Gerald Robotnik, the reflection no longer glinting in the clean lenses of his round glasses. 

The beige and gray surfaces of the lab’s machinery will be darkened by shadows once more for another ninety minutes. He eases out of his focused state and becomes aware of just how much time has passed when the glaring glow of the computer screen in front of him can no longer be ignored behind the tint in his glasses. Stress from transferring complex genetic data charts to colleagues, as well as impatiently checking for emailed test results from the Pediatric Endocrinology department, had finally caught up to him. More testing had been determined necessary by his granddaughter’s on-site care team within the last week. Her conditions were changing in curious ways, creating more puzzles to solve inside the complex enigma of her deteriorating brain and body, the progression of which is slowed down by the low gravity in space. The scientist rubs his wrinkled face and stands up to stretch his creaking joints in his now cold and unlively workspace. 

A new light source from the adjacent hallway illuminates a path toward the weary man after a blonde-haired child opens the door. A shiny keycard dangles from a lanyard around her neck. His granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, is wearing a baggy blue hoodie over a hospital gown and sleepily saunters past the tables of equipment to join him.

 

For a few moments, the only sounds interrupting the silence are the grippy steps of her socks, the ambient hum of computer beeps and fans, and their relaxed breathing syncing as she wordlessly leans into his plump embrace. Her lean feels heavier and unsteady today, the poor girl, while she buries her face into his wrinkled white lab coat. Gerald pecks the top of Maria’s head that’s decorated with a daisy-patterned blue headband. Her hair is thin and rather yellowish in tone. It used to have a healthy golden luster before her body started to attack itself. The memory of the sun with its summery hues filtered through the barrier of Mobius’s atmosphere flits through his mind.

“Táborák.” Gerald quietly muses to himself.

Maria furrows her brow against the pen pocket on his chest.

“What's that Grandpa?”

He pulls away slightly but keeps a gentle arm around her shoulders as a guide while he walks them along the wall of windows. “It’s a Slovak word I learned when I was a young boy. It means ‘campfire’. Like in the Western film we watched yesterday after your tests, when the cowboys were cooking meat and laughing over the fire pit. You might have been too young to remember, but we had several family campfires with your parents before you and I moved to the ARK.”

The preteen girl squints her eyes for a moment before speaking, taking interest in the newly visible specks of stars. “...I remember a little bit. You had your funny sweater on that made Dad laugh. I was cold, but my parents warmed me up in their laps. I was really small but the sky seemed so big and pretty,” she recounts, the corners of her eyes creasing upwards.

“I’m glad that fascination sprouted in you since you were a little tot,” the elder wistfully smiles down at her, now holding the forgotten cup of coffee he obtained from the nearest wall of cabinets. “Say, there’s an almost imperceptible cluster of stars located just past the shuttle bay, through the corner of this window here. Their colors would look very much like a campfire if we were to view them through a telescope. Do you remember what kind of stars those are?”

Maria presses her floppy blue sleeves against the glass to follow where his finger points. “Hmmm…those could be spectral type K, or M, such as red dwarf stars. Those live the longest and are the coolest…just like Shadow is.” Maria snickers with a proud grin.

 Gerald wheezes, coughing up the small sip of cold coffee he just inhaled, “Haha! Very good Maria! You are correct on both accounts.” His chuckles trail off as he almost puts his mug into the wrong microwave, closing the door of the one used to dry lab materials and instead opening the household microwave beside it. Its uncentered turntable clicks in a sporadic pattern compared to the rhythmic whirring of the machines and computers in the wide room. Maria looks lost in thought and her face droops while staring at the dark liquid turning round and round.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes, słoneczko?” 

“Are the stars really as pretty as I think I remember? From Mobius, I mean? We spin so much that I get the constellations mixed up and forget where they are. I forget where we are, and what they looked like. They’re cool, but…” she huffs in frustration. Gerald can see that Maria’s eyes have become glossier in the dim glow of the microwave at her eye level before it shuts off. He ignores the now heated coffee and carefully leans down to put comforting palms onto her shoulders.

“They’re absolutely as beautiful as you remember, if not more. When I was a student in Poland, I’d gather around campfires way too big for my mother’s liking. I'd talk about the meaning of life with fellow stargazers, friends who are no longer alive. When the same stars that we see so frequently start to peek out in the darkness of the Mobius sky, especially in the country where no city lights can reach…it’s the closest I’ve gotten to feeling a higher power. Sometimes there’s so many that it looks like a living painting, glittering all together on a more focused canvas than the infinite darkness we see in orbit. The stars keep company and comfort in such a way that we often take for granted here aboard the ARK.”

Maria blinks the teariness out of her eyes and settles her gaze on the vacuum of space only kept separate by the thickly reinforced glass. Gerald does his best to make sure her life on the ARK is holistically nourishing. But he knows that what the adults sometimes consider to be an escape from an imperfect world full of multitudes of harm, a growing utopia…to Maria, it’s cold isolation during her most formative years. Gerald resolves that Maria will be able to live on Mobius again, healthy and safe. That she will see with her own eyes the wonders of the world outside of books and pictures. It doesn’t matter that he’s past his prime; he will dedicate the rest of his days to make sure that her dreams become reality.

“Let’s add making a campfire to the ‘bucket list’. When we go to Mobius, we’ll find a quiet place where pesky city lights won’t obstruct the view of the true night sky. The flames and the stars will shine on the new memories all of us will make together. You, Shadow, and me.” Gerald reassures her warmly. 

Maria rubs her eyes with her sleeves and clings to her grandfather for another hug. He feels and hears her stomach gurgle through her oversized clothes.

“Sounds about time for a snack. Want to come with me to the cafeteria? I need to give my old eyes a break. And here, use my cane.” Arm in arm, the pair slowly exit into the hallway, leaving behind the flickering red, blue, green, and white buttons of the machines blinking like eyes in the pitch-black laboratory.

CHAPTER TWO HERE

[telluriaen]

Werewolf Strains

IV. Long-Eared

Long-eared werewolves are a common strain of lycanthropy in the New World, particularly in tropical regions. As the name suggests, werewolves of this lineage have abnormally long ears, with some individuals having ears that even trail along the ground. While distinctive, these oversized ears can be a hindrance to the lycanthrope, and it is not uncommon to find long-eared werewolves with injuries or even amputated ears.

V. Rougarou

The rougarous are, without a doubt, one of the most unique strains of lycanthropes, primarily due to their blood-feeding diet. Unlike other lycanthropes, they do not undergo a full transformation; as long as they maintain a steady diet of human blood, they can retain a humanoid form and conceal their lupine nature. However, if they go without feeding for an extended period, the transformation gradually progresses, causing them to lose control over their human faculties and become slender, hairless werewolves. Interestingly, this process is reversible if they resume consuming blood, which leads many rugarus to live hidden among society, much like vampires. This similarity fuels the belief that rougarous might be the result of an improbable union between vampires and werewolves, though this theory is heavily contested, as vampires are strictly infertile.

VI. Vironsusi

Vironsudet are a strain of werewolves predominantly found in the vast wildernesses of Scandia. Unlike other lycanthropic strains, vironsudet exhibit a notably more peaceful behavior and avoid human contact whenever possible. This aversion to human presence has given rise to several theories, one of the most popular being that vironsudet possess near-human intelligence or even the ability to retain memories from their previous life. However, these speculations lack evidence and remain within the realm of folklore. Along with their gentler temperament, another characteristic trait of the vironsudet is the presence of a tail, an anatomical feature rare among lycanthropes.

VII. Vukodlak

Vukodlaks, often simply called werewolves or, in some regions, loup-garou, represent the most common and possibly the oldest strain of lycanthropes. Due to their prevalence and classic characteristics, many consider them the "typical" species of werewolves, serving as a reference for describing other variations of the curse. Already represented:

[dustedmagazine]

Alessandro Cortini — Nati Infiniti (Mute)

Photo: Emilie Elizabeth

Nati Infiniti is based on an installation that electronic musician and instrument builder Alessandro Cortini created for Sónar Lisboa 2022. Each of the four floors of a huge dwelling — a converted mill — had a different sonic design. Cortini used Strega, an instrument that he co-developed with Make Noise.

Strega

There is no comparison to walking through the actual exhibit, but Marta Salogni’s five-movement mix of the work is about the best substitute I can imagine in two-channel audio. As a bit of a synth head, I’ll admit to Strega avarice: great-sounding machine.

The gradual morphing of sounds that Cortini uses supplies the music with a constant sense of flow. The harmonies too are motile, with some surprising shifts that keep things interesting. The first movement, “I” (each is solely designated with a Roman numeral), begins with a lower and an upper drone softly emerging. These sounds build a gradual crescendo. Other drones are added in resonant stacks and occasional chordal slices drift through. “II” begins with buzzing glissandos. A long major chord is cut off by a sharp eleventh dissonance, a pattern that continues, with various added dissonances distressing otherwise consonant walls of sound. After Cortini focuses for a time on the upper register, the interplay of tenor and bass voices creates a swath of melodies. “III” is filled with multi-octave drones to which various upper partials are added. There is a noteworthy moment where this yields a sumptuous minor chord and in other places a flattened seventh reveals Cortini’s awareness of the microtones in the harmonic series. As the movement progresses, small pitch bends are added. “IV” is the shortest movement, but perhaps the most interesting in terms of design. Cortini begins with an upper register drone that persists, then adds a brassy mid-register and finally uses the Strega for powerful bass punctuations. With the horn sonority, he adds a seventh and then drops away for an octaves and fifths conclusion to the movement. Thirds are stacked in the upper register to begin “V,” and then the lines, moving faster than in previous movements, create overtone-filled verticals in a state of constant change. When the tempo moves at this pace, it is more possible to hear the pile-up of drones as progressing through chord changes, and the ones Cortini selects make an asymmetrical mélange. “V” moves successively faster and in phase, with a denouement that finishes the piece, and the entire installation’s music, with a long soprano note.

Nati Infiniti otherwise has the pervasively slow tempo of much ambient music, but the album is only thirty-seven minutes long. Fits nicely on two sides of an LP, and perhaps it includes the whole installation’s music, but one could imagine stretching out the experience even longer. Perhaps Cortini will make an extended mix for online consumption.

Christian Carey