#who can only be soothed by barley

[filthyfundie]

the hotly anticipated follow up to my ‘dipping bread in soup” post :

toasted bread w butter

[amostimprobabledream]

The Sweetest Violence (Homelander x Reader)

Just a lil drabble, also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57696463

"Sssh..." Blood. So much blood. The fetid stink of it is everywhere. It fills up your nostrils and chokes up your senses. It's thick and sticky in your hair, hot and drying in stiff patches on your skin. You feel like you could take a hundred showers, soak in the bath for hours and hours and it still wouldn't get rid of the sensation of blood clinging to your flesh. Homelander doesn't seem to notice or care about the blood. He carries you easily, clasped to is chest, his own face splashed with blood, dark patches of it staining his blonde hair. The brilliant blue of his eyes seems to burn through a streaky veil of scarlet, made all the more vivid by the contrast. "It's all right," he whispers to you as he walks, his soothing tone at odds with the gore-soaked state of him. "It's okay now. Ssh. You must've been scared, huh?" Yes. You were. The people who took you saw you as nothing more than an object, a tool with which they could use against Homelander. You could tell by the impersonal way they handled you, the way they barley looked at you and didn't bat an eyelid at your screams and shouts. That scared you more than anything, the dead, cold looks in their eyes, like you were trying to communicate with machines, not people. If they could be so indifferent to your fear and confusion, what would they care about doing more permanent damage?

So, when you heard it - the rush of air and signature boom of one of Homelander's signature landings, those dramatic superhero drops that signify I am here, it was like divine intervention. The relief that hit you was like no high you'd ever experienced before, the way you imagine a shipwreck survivor must feel when they finally see the boat that's come to save them after being stranded in the brutal, unforgiving seas. That was, until Homelander got to work. Bodies. Ripped apart like paper. Heads not rolling but exploding like watermelons struck by a bat. Unholy shrieks of horror and agony drowned out in wet gurgles of blood. Eyes shining like warning lights in the gloom - inhuman, like a monster from a nightmare. You could only curl up as best you could and close your eyes to the carnage, a sob tangled in your throat, but you couldn't quite drown out the screaming and your imagination supplied you plenty of images that rivalled the horror of what was happening.

When Homelander calmly melted the chains on you and hoisted you up into his arms, you briefly wondered if you were about to die too - even though he'd come to rescue you. Your mind  is in a haze -a long time ago, somebody had explained to you the difference between horror and terror, and you felt it keenly now. You're not screaming or thrashing to escape, or outwardly freaking out at all. Instead, you feel like you've been plunged into a pool of still, frigid water and simply wait under the surface, unwilling to expend any energy into swimming up to the surface and peering out at whatever may lay above. You retreat into numbness, curiously swamped with cold despite how hot Homelander is. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his suit, your breath coming out in sharp little pants. Homelander can hear the frantic pounding of your heart and how you breathe like there isn't enough air, but he assumes that it's from the fear of being kidnapped, of men in dark clothes and with dead eyes. It probably hasn't even crossed your mind that the one who has driven you to this heightened state of fear is him. And you don't want him to think it, so you nuzzle deeper into him, you can't seem to stop hyperventilating no matter how you try. "S'okay," Homelander shushes you, misunderstanding your trembling, a gloved hand petting your hair like he's trying to soothe a skittish animal. He's so monstrously strong he can hold you, a grown woman, easily to his body with just one arm, and you automatically wrap your legs around him, a gesture you've done many times before, but never in this context. He's being so gentle with you that it's hard to believe you just witnessed a man being torn in half by Homelander's bare hands. "You're safe. I've got you." Yes, he does. You're locked in his powerful embrace like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. You bury your face in his chest to hide your expression as well as seeking comfort - it seems perverse to look for it from a man soaked in blood, but what else can you do? You let yourself be lulled into a calmer state, his warmth seeping into you and the slow, rhythmic motions of his hand in your hair weirdly comforting.

But you don't miss the gravel, the hint of threat in his voice when he speaks again. You know it's not directed at you, not his sweetheart, but you still feel a shiver lick down your spine as he speaks; "No one will ever take you away from me."

[lieutenantsluvr]

༉‧₊˚✧

❝ cough medicine & kisses ❞

pairing : sick!simon riley x fem!reader

tags : NSFW, Undefined relationship. (Unprotected p in v, mentions of overstimulation.)

Synop : sub!simon who isn't actually a sub, but just so overworked he wants to fuck himself dumb.

w/c 3.8k

Sick. It’s a word you never thought you’d hear from your Captain’s mouth. “Sick?” You repeat, like a broken record. It only earns a small nod from Price, followed by a short breath of annoyance. Yeah, Okay. You can practically read the older man's mind, “Go check on him yourself if you’re so worried.” Is what he would say if he had any less humanity in him. But, he saves you the hit to your already fragile ego. Did you even want to see Simon? The feeling of seeing him in a state any less of… cold? makes your stomach churn in an uncomfortable turmoil. 

Softly knocking on the door to his barrack, peeling your knuckles away from the cold wood frame. Noise within his barrack ceases, only for a few seconds before you hear a groan. Followed by a cough. Maybe two, or three more. Simon opens the door. He's still sporting his usual balaclava - But, his eyes are deep, darker and glossy. Dark circles line the bottom of his lids, similar to that of a raccoon. Blonde hair slightly tufted up, messily sprawled over his head. Sure enough, he looks sick as a dog. 

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice an octave lower than it usually is. Still dark, gravelly, but it has more ache to it. The way his voice strains almost sends you to your knees. Vulnerable. It’s the only word that comes to mind as you look at him right now. Would he tear the limbs from your body if he knew you thought of him this way? Absolutely. But, as much as the big brute tries… you care for him nonetheless. “I’m here to check up on you.” You state, voice coming out a little bit more weakly than anticipated. Nice one. You try to recover, eyes briefly flicking somewhere else in the dimly lit hallway to escape his unrelenting gaze down. “You haven’t come out of your room in two days,” You add with a small tut of your lips, breaking the silence that seems to only make you uncomfortable. “Have you been eating?”

“I don’t need a nurse.” He states, flatly. His eyes languidly trail against your body, as if sucking up every detail, and then spitting it back out. Simon has taken a comfortable position in his doorway, his arm hiked up above himself to lean against the frame of the door. He has a fever. In fact, you know he has a fever. Tiny sweat beads forming above his brow, barley in sight from the way his balaclava is messily dragged across his face. He heaves for a second, as if trying to conceal a cough. Then, he spits it out - Coughing again, throat dry and raw. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, blinking away the blur that choked itself into his vision. “And, I eat when I feel like it.”  Despite the sickness, he doesn't step down from his authoritative role. Big fuckin’ baby. 

“I can practically feel your fever from here.” You huff, a quick folding of your arms to defend yourself from his princess attitude. “Have you taken medicine?” You continue, feeling the urge to take care of him swirl in your gut. No, you weren’t a mommy to the men of the taskforce, but more often than not, you found yourself stirring up a pot of soup to soothe their aching throats. Or placing a cold cloth on their foreheads when they ignored the chill in their bones. As much as you loved to tease them about their uselessness when it came to taking care of their bodies, part of you actually enjoyed the play. Okay, maybe you were mommy. 

“I can take care of myself, thank you.” He chuffs, a small wheeze from his constricting lungs. You can feel the heat radiate from his body. The smell radiating from the inside of his barrack is deep, and musky. A mixture of his sweat and natural scent. Something about it makes your skin rise, and your heart scutter. You remind yourself that he’s sick, and probably wouldn’t take too kindly to the thought of getting you sick either. The sound of him clearing the phlegm from his throat quickly pulls you from your thoughts - now, no longer turned on. . . just a little more empathetic, you sigh. It’s like the man can feel your persistence from where you stand in the doorway. You just won’t back down. His head slightly lowers, eyes shutting for a second before they reopen and stare back at you. “No.” He says, flatly. All you do is quirk an eyebrow in wake of his question, and he’s shifting in front of you. Clearly his sickness is wearing down his resolve, and he’s almost submitting to your obvious request to take care of him. It's like a cowboy stand-off. Two idiots staring each other down, too stubborn to admit they just want to cuddle. 

The stare is only broken as he wheezes out a choked out cough, eyes fluttering shut against the tears that build against his lid. “Fine,” Another cough, “You win.” He slides his arm down from the frame of the doorway, fingers flexing for a moment before resting at his sides, now unmoving. A single stare, until he crosses the room to his bed, sitting on the edge - almost robotically. Clearly he’s uncomfortable with your presence. Clearly he’s uncomfortable even having someone in his room. 

You step into the room, eyes taking in the unfamiliar sight. A sight you’ve honestly been dreaming of. It’s a larger room, one that comes from the privilege of being Lieutenant. There aren’t really any decorations, perhaps a plant or two. Mixtures of grays and blacks littering the color scheme of his room. From there, your eyes drift to his bedside table - a tiny bite of what seems to be four crackers on a paper plate, an empty glass of water, and a multitude of used tissues. Not the… good kind of used. Nonetheless, your brain wracks with the sudden realization. He’s sick. Not just, sniffly, but genuinely sick. 

“Go on,” You prompt, a soft wave of your hand, “Lay down.” He’s quick to obey you, though, not without protest. He grumbles to himself, incoherent sick whining. Eyebrows furrowed, and an ached whine as he slides himself into bed. “I’m not tired.” He chuffs, but even he knows that’s bullshit. His eyes are barely opened, glassy, and the dark circles that line them almost look painful. “You’re tired.” You reply, knowingly. It’s a quick walk across the room, opening his bathroom door and searching for a washcloth. Once found, you wet the rag, wringing it from excess water and then trotting back over to the side of his bed. Eyes falling down on his sicken frame, you see the way his muscles contract with every labored breath. Simon seems in pain. His scowl visibly softens, his eyes flicking between the soft hold you have on the rag, and your face. A quick quirk of your eyebrow, as if saying, are you going to let me do this? His eyes lower, and a pained chuff emits itself from his scratchy throat. You’re already at the side of his bed, there’s no stopping you now. “I’m not a child.” He reminds you, though, it’s clear he could use the coddling. “Yes,” You begin, leaning over and lowering the cloth to his forehead, “Such a big boy.” Tone lacking malice, and only harboring love for the sick man. He's stubborn - even as sick as he is, Simon doesn't want to be babied, even if he knows he desperately needs it. He keeps his lips clamped tight, trying to stay stoic. Stilling even when he feels the cool washcloth press to his forehead, when his skin is flushed and on fire. It takes a great deal of willpower to stay quiet when the cool cloth soothes his aching body. He's breathing deep, and slow now. It doesn't matter how he feels about you, his body needs the rest. 

He’s out like a light. Unmoving, and slow breathing. Broad shoulders, and firm chest rising with every sickly breath he inhales and exhales. A quick glance around the room, and you plan your next attack. Simply cleaning up his barrack, and preparing him a small meal. Though, the tasks do take awhile, having thoroughly cleaned the place. It’s the least you could do. Right? 

It wasn't until he stirred in bed that you finally approached him again, a small groaning emitting from his lips as he stretched the sleep from his aching muscles. “Hey..” You cooed, fingers haunting the area of his forehead to check his temperature. He was still quite warm, definitely entering the cusp of breaking the fever, but still quite sick. His eyes take a moment to register your presence, glossed honeyed gaze rising up and taking in your concerned gaze. 

“You stayed?” The words were like a knife to your gut, twisting, sinking, and ripping it out. Stayed? Why the hell wouldn’t you stay? The realization hits you even harder, a freight train dragging your body the whole span of the track. “Of course,” You sigh, your hand softly trailing down his face, thumb grazing in wake of his jawline, “Why would I leave?” The touch brings him peace. A wake of molten arising on his very skin, eyes clamping shut. Your touch - It's a gentle, comforting gesture, one you seldom see in your line of work. “I don’t know.” He croaks out after a moment, eyes only opening enough to watch as your thumb ghosts the fabric of his balaclava.  He wants to respond, he can feel the words forming at the tip of his tongue. But, they're caught when she drags her thumb down his chin again. He swallows hard, looking around for a way to avoid a response, but finds none. “Shut up,” You interrupt before he can grasp on to the feeling in his chest, “Take this.” 

You’re quick to reach over to the bedside table, handing him one or two pills from the bottle, and holding the glass of ice water in your other hand. He looks at it, awkwardly before taking the medication from your palm. His hand raises to his balaclava, hooking a thumb underneath and raising it up just enough to place the pills on his tongue. You try not to look. Keyword, try. Soft stubble from days of not shaving, sharp jawline, and lips full enough to lay claim against. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Eyes flicking down your face, then down to the glass of water. Simon takes hold of it, his fingers grazing against your own as he slips the glass into his own hand. The contact sends shivers down your body, now aching from the servitude you’ve dove into. It’s like fucking shell-shock, the way his touch rattles up and down your nervous system, until the only thing you can think about is pushing him against the bed, and stuffing down on his cock so- “Are ya gonna give me the glass?” He mutters, a slight pressure as he tries to take the glass. You sputter, only for a moment, before letting him take it. Simon makes quick work to the glass, putting it to his now, unclothed lips, and taking a few swigs - soft drops of water forming against lips. Lips so soft you can almost feel the sensation. Lips so soft you can hear the demons in your head screaming to roll it between your teeth. 

You avert your gaze, hushing the demons that claw themselves from the pit of your stomach. It was like something in your body shifted - a sense of you shouldn’t be here eating up your consciousness. Quickly, you stand up, eyes flicking over only to catch the clink of Simon setting down the glass. “Where are you off too?” His words are thin, and hoarse, as if he can barely speak against the sickness building inside of him. You actually had no clue where you were going, only crossing over to the kitchen to make yourself look busy. Being away from him was helping, though, the butterflies in your stomach pitter pattering against gummy insides. “Just gonna do some of your dishes, no big deal.” You chide, the heat you once felt on your back from his stare very quickly becomes real heat. “Why are you acting weird?” Simon asks, placing a hand down on the countertop beside you, his body loosely caging your presence. You could walk away, simply move from the spot you’re in, and he’s giving you that option. But you don’t. “You’re sick, go lay down.” You usher, trying to get him to back up. Hand slipping to push on his waist, only a little, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his tight gray t-shirt. He’s quick with his movement, a single hand snapping up to grab hold of your wrist - the same wrist linked to a hand pressed a little higher than his hip. “I thought you were nursing me back to health, yeah?” He chuffs, the reverberating ache in his throat causing his usual tone to deepen by an entire octave. So, there he is, caging you to the kitchen countertop. A hand on your wrist, and the other placed against the granite, fingers visibly curling. I might just take him on this countertop, you think to yourself, the demons practically chewing on the bars of your brain. Deep in thought, he takes a small movement in your daze, his hand cascading up from your wrist to your shoulder - a soft grip, but one that still drips of possession. “I asked you a question.” He asks, head dipping down to meet your height. Dilated pupils, a small form of sweat against his brow, and the remaining flush of his fever. His jaw is clenched so tight you swear it’ll stay locked like that forever. It’s really the only tell that he’s affected by the sight of you. The warmth dripping from his body is scorching. Tickling down your entire body, as he inches and inches closer it’s like molten lava clawing at your very flesh. But, there isn’t a single syllable you’re able to utter in response. You don’t know why you react this way when he’s close. You don’t know why you feel your heart slam against your ribcage when you make eye contact. You don’t know why you wish to map out the entirety of his back and use your hands as the ink that cascades down on paper. “I don’t know.” A simple, and blunt answer falling from your still parted lips. 

“Well, figure it out, yeah?” Simon chuffs, before leaning back. The sudden loss of heat is what gets you, knees practically buckling from the cool air kissing at your skin. His eyes drift down, still glassy, and far - but, looking at you, nonetheless. “Si,” You utter, softly. It’s like the gods got tired of looking at the way you pathetically stare at him - deciding, hey, give this one a little push. He tenses, an almost growl as he glances down at you. Fuck, that nickname. “You’re right,” You murmured, feeding into his words, hand sinking back down against his hip, “Let me take care of you.” 

It was like an apparition entered his fucking body. In seconds, hands your wrist, backing you up into the countertop. He falters for a moment, head dipping down to your shoulder - an almost soft inhale of the shampoo you use. The smell alone is practically creating a tent against his sweatpants. Finger curling against your wrists. You glance up at him, only seconds as you catch those dangerous honey-like irises inspecting you. Dilation. Quick to hike up his mask, he kisses you. It’s messy, desperate, and almost clumsy. Giving in, you part your lips - an immediate attack of his teeth drawing in your bottom lip, biting down with a force. Groaning into the kiss, he pushes his hips against yours - the cold granite of the countertop pressing into your lower back. A desperate, “Fuck..” as he flattens his tongue against your teeth. Being sick has obviously caused something in his brain to rewire, something to calm the constant ache in his head - or the warmth your body projects feels like healing. 

His hands cascade up to your hips, a tight grip as he lifts you - almost effortlessly even in contrast to his sicken state. Almost delirious, setting you down on the bed - hands attacking the hem of your own sweatpants. “Lovie,” Simon exhales through a tight groan, fingers shimmying down the fabric to your ankles, “need this… ‘so fuckin bad.” Maybe it’s the cough medicine rewiring his brain, but he’s practically whimpering for your touch. You feed into his head, hand lazily dragging down the fabric of both his sweatpants, and boxers. Obviously, he’s not going to go for any sort of foreplay. He’s too fucked dumb, eyes desperately searching your gaze as you realize just how drunk he wants to get off of your pussy. His hand slides up to the valley between your breasts, pushing down until your back hits the soft plush of the mattress. “so ‘fuckin pretty.” A tightening of his hands against your hips. His eyes flick down, simply just staring at the state of that pretty fucking pussy. A bite to his bottom lip, before placing himself against you. Still watching you closely, he drags the crown of his cock up and down in slow lines - shuddering against the slickness that oats your entrance. 

The sight continues to make him whine. He’s practically teasing himself at this point, only using your body as a means to soothe the sick ache in his head and push his cum so deep into your cunt that he’s the only thing you’ll think of for weeks. You stare up at him, hips circling slowly to further the teasing he plants upon himself. The hand not placed against his cock is quick to snap against your stomach, pushing down until you reside still on the bed. Oh. The crown of his cock latches against your entrance, a shudder from his flesh as he pushes his hips against yours. The motion is slow, sensual and you can practically feel the air leaving your body against the fit. Tight. “fuck, lovie.. ‘so good.. ‘so fuckin good..” Simon whines, his head tipping back from where he stands. The build up is astronomical, in and in, and.. In, until you almost can’t believe he’s not even halfway fucked into you. The tight fit sends electricity to every nerve in your body, gummy walls barely able to clamp together as they get filled. “Fuck, Si-” You choke out in hesitance, only for it to be met with another whine from his throat. Somewhere between a cry, and a whine, he lowers his torso down to meet yours - within seconds he’s buried fully inside of you. 

He’s plunging into you like a man starved. Back, and forth - creating his own whimpers. He likes to drag it out, pulling his cock all the way out, leaving only the tip - stirring there for a moment until his own body constricts, and then slamming in as hard as possible. Hands vice gripped around your thighs, bringing you to and from him like a pocket pussy. “fuck, such a good girl.. Oh my god..” Simon whines, his face burying itself deep into your locks, inhaling deeply to consume every last fiber of your scent. Lazily gasping between every fluid motion of his hips, clumsiness peeking around the corners as he fucks into you. “oh, lovie.. jus’ what I need.. ‘so fuckin good.” He whines again, his hand curling into a fistful of your hair just to stop himself from jerking about. Simon constricts for a moment, pulling out, and then circling his tip at your entrance - his body twitches, and convulses as if overstimulating himself on purpose. Pussy sloppy around him, already drenching the area between you two - wet squishing noises as he drags back the mixture of pre and slick, just to bury it back inside of you. “sweet girl, oh fuck.. fuck..” He sputters out again, another whine into the crook of your neck as he clumsily slams his hips down against yours. What the fuck was in this cough medicine. Lifting himself up, a hand placed at the side of your head, fingers curling into the sheets. His eyes trail down to your connection, and now you’re painfully aware of just how pussydrunk he’s become. Bottom lip taken between his teeth, glossy eyes staring down at the sight of his cock sliding in and out. “Up.” He shudders out, his other hand slipping from the sheets and placing itself behind your lower back, holding you up against the edge of the bed. His knee sinks up onto the comforter, and now he’s plunging into you even deeper. Fucking the same spot, over and over again - abusing the gummy wall he seems to be intent on murdering. “sweet girl,” He practically wheezes, the reminiscent of his sore throat, “just like that ‘yeah.. milk my ‘fuckin cock.” You’re too busy blissfully indulging in the art piece in front of you. A man, who is usually cold and stoic, so pussy drunk he’s whining. 

The feeling is quick, sweeping, and hits like a freight train. Your insides curl into a tight coil, and release like the snap of a rubber band. A simple, “S-Si!” Sputters from your mouth, earning a jagged groan from his throat. Simon’s fucking into you like an animal, rutting in and out to ride out the way you clamp down on him. Practically whining, and crying - every time he pulls out, it earns a quick, “Hnng-” from his tickled throat. “fuck, please.. right there, oh fuck, lovie..” He practically cries out, hips clumsily and weakly slipping against your wet meeting point. A continuation of the rutting, followed by a small cry of relief. He cums, and a lot. So hot and filling it practically burns. Simon continues his sloppy pushes in, and out - using the cum to push deeper, and deeper. He’s a writhing mess on top of you, his muscles twitching and contorting as he grinds out the sensitivity. “Ha- Ha.. fuck, lovie.” A quick sputtering, until his face is once again buried into your shoulder.  Simon doesn’t bother pulling out, instead basking in the heat. Soft, and absentminded twitching of his tight muscles - whimpers still slipping from his mouth as he rests against you. Vulnerable.

“Ya’ tired?” You ask softly, eyes flicking down to see his head still buried in the depths of your hair. A few seconds of silence, before you’re met with a small hum of acknowledgement.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you a nice shower, yeah?” You chide, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his jawline, fingers making their way down his spine - slight tickling of your nails against the aching muscles.

[historyslittlebish]

Hiii, I'd love to submit a request if possible? I love your writing so much :3

Been thinking about King Baldwin iv, and he strikes me as the type of man to absolutely *melt* at head scratches. I'm thinking he's in pain and so tired, but super wired from having to deal with everything that's thrown at him. His wifey comes along, scratches his head, and he is ~out~. (And who doesn't love em: titty pillow???) Hope my rambling makes sense!

-Anon <3

A/n: I barley wrote much but tysm! I really like this idea because as someone who is sensory sensitive in general, its a great feeling. I was told I had really fluffy hair by a girl in my class in 3rd grade and she would spend most of reading time playing with my hair and stuff so yeah. Anyways here's a mini one shot. I hope this is accurate to some degree because again I never saw the movie and I was doing this at 2am soooo

=======================================

Warning: insecurities, slight angst, comfort and fluff

Baldwin sighed as he entered his quarters. Parts of his body were sore and aching for a relief of sorts. His eyes wandered towards the bed and he saw your beautiful/handsome figure. Your soft H/C hair was being braided/brushed by your own hand. After you finished the last of your nighttime routine, you turned and with a soft smile, beckoned your husband to come sit on the bed with you.

Happily, Baldwin obliged and slowly trudged his way over to you and slowly sat down.

As he sat down his muscles felt weak and sore. He let out a pained groan before settling on the bed, relaxing himself.

"My love, are you in pain tonight?" You asked as your hands reached over and gently stroked his clothed arm. Baldwin sighed and looked over to you, his eyes felt wet and he took his only functioning hand and grasped your smaller one with it.

"How can you love a man like me? What do you see in me?" Baldwin asked. He felt his heart ache for a true answer.

"Because you are a great man, you were god's design, you are a kind and strong ruler." You replied as you gently hugged his arm and rested you face on his shoulder.

"Would you like me to soothe you before you sleep?" You asked and you slowly reached to take off the yarmulke from his head while at the same time, hesitantly, Baldwin reached to remove his iron mask.

You both sat in silence as you stared at your dear husband. You smiled and leaned over pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, then beckoning him to lie down on your lap.

He allowed himself to lean into your touch as rested on your thighs.

While gently stroking his deformed face, you began to massage his scalp and stroke his shoulders and back.

There was a deep rumble in Baldwin's chest, a sound of pleasure from whatever sensory he could feel. He slowly lifted himself and pushed you onto the bed and grabbed the blanket to cover the two of you.

He nuzzled himself onto your chest and let out a sigh on content.

You giggled as continued to stroke, massage, and scratch him. He thanked God he is blessed with a woman/man like you as his love...He also prayed you would be alright, never contracting the same, awful disease he has.

Edit: @bl00dyarak I fixed it so the fic can be applied to both female and male people (or nonbinary too because you can read it as such) :)

[luvyurself]

I’m going blind, I gotta have it somehow

I listened to two asmrs of francis and now I’m dry humping the phone

c/w: she/her pronouns, doppelgänger francis, suggestive but no smut, we rocking with the copycat cause he’s rocking with us

this is based off a c.ai omfg I’m the biggest fucking gooner UGHHHHH

______

this job was more overwhelming then what she thought it would be. being a doorman seemed like easy work, checking people in and making sure they were getting to their right apartments, it definitely felt like it could be smooth sailing for a good deal of pay.

of course, it would be that way, if the city she lived in wasn’t currently facing the ever growing doppelgänger problem that would be putting its people at risk of being killed.

the d.d.d branch had ways of dealing with these copycats that included checkpoints around the city, tight knit security in public areas, and of course her job: a doorman in an apartment complex.

people always have that mentality of thinking they can easily spot a doppelgänger, and for a while she thought she could too.

she came across multiple ones that can’t get the appearance right, one of them having an extra eye on his forehead, one lady with her entire face stitched up, or some other obvious abnormality in their appearance.

those encounters made her think that this job wouldn’t be as difficult, until some of them started to really put their time into getting the appearance right.

she nearly let in one of it wasn’t for the mole that she realized wasn’t even on her face like it was in the picture. or how quickly she shut the window after hanging up the phone with the real one answering saying he was still there.

after those ones, she finally started to get the idea that this job was going to be an overwhelming nightmare.

today was one of those days with multiple close calls and three held in emotional breakdowns.

she sighed out of her nose as she let in the last tenant of the night, groaning softly as she placed her hands on her head and tiredly rested it on the desk.

she was just about ready to conk out and take a nice long sleep, moving to stretch her body to sooth it’s aching muscles from sitting down for a long period.

she felt the back of her head meet with something and froze up, letting out a short gasp before a hand covered her lips, a low shushing sound came next to her ear.

“mmm….I could say thank you for letting me in….” the voice spoke lowly, his other hand reaching to hold hers that was near the phone. he didn’t have a tight grip on it it, but the way his fingers barley rubbed her knuckles made her not even think to move.

a deep chuckle tickled her ear, “you’re one of the more…..easier doormen to convince….” he let his hand that was on her mouth drop, his thumb rubbing her bottom lip gently as he stood next to her, showing himself to her.

she felt her heart pounding against her chest, of course, of-fucking-course this doppelgänger chose to copy the milkman that lived in this apartment.

francis mosses was a man who she became very familiar with when she started here. he was always tired, spoke in a low and quiet tone, and was very very attractive.

she couldn’t help but fumble with her words like a school girl whenever she saw him. whenever he’d slide his id and entry request under and she’d shakily grab it, not daring to meet him in the eye while she compared the photos to make sure they were correct.

it was embarrassing multiple times when she’d slide his id back, only for their hands to briskly touch before she would pull away and apologize like a cliche rom-com movie. but that ghost of a smile that would grace his face would always make her want to relive it again and again.

and maybe, just maybe, she mistook the weird feeling in her gut the moment the copy cat of him walking in today was just the butterflies in her stomach from seeing him.

his hand going to run through her hair brought her back to reality, his fingers gently combing through and twirling it with his index finger.

“it’s funny how easy it was to convince you to open the door….you were practically drooling over me.” he spoke in a almost teasing tone, the hand holding hers went to squeeze it a bit more tighter.

she didn’t know how she was sitting there with her voice in her throat, but she finally felt it coming back as she let out a weak voice, “please…..please let me go…” she let her gaze look down to the hand holding hers, feeling her fingers twitch slightly.

in under different circumstances, if this were actually francis, she would definitely would be melting on the spot and be practically on her knees.

but this wasn’t francis, just a copycat looking for its next meal. she had to keep telling herself that to overcome the growing feeling of flustering and something else she will not entertain.

the doppelgänger gave her a small smile, one that looked exactly like how the real francis would, but this one had an eerie feeling to it. he cooed slightly, “aww….why would I do that?”

the fingers in her hair moved to her chin, tilting it up so she could meet his gaze, “what would you do, hmm? call the d.d.d?” he took a quick glance towards the phone, before back at her, “I could kill all these tenants in seconds before they could arrive….and you really don’t look like you can even overthrow me.”

the fake francis tilts his head, leaning closer to her, “in fact….I don’t think you would have the strength to even call them, I mean after all…” he gave a low laugh, “I practically have you melting in the palm of my hand.”

she felt her ears warm up, breathing getting shaky as she stuttered out her words, “I….I should….I….” she trailed off, the man in front of her humming, “you should, but….will you?”

god, god this affirmation wasn’t working. this doppelgänger was way too good at this. she felt like a mess for actually wanting it.

he brushed a hair away from her face, the hand trailing down to her shoulder as he leaned in closer to her ear, “you won’t tell on me….will you?~”

she swallowed sharply, her eyes squeezing shut as she embarrassingly shook her head, humming softly as she gripped her palm tightly.

the copycat smiled, his other hand resting on hers reaching to place on her thigh as he massaged it, “oh….you want me bad don’t you?~”

she let out a soft whimper, her hands reaching up for him to have a touch. a soft tut, his hand blocking hers from reaching out to him, “come on, baby….use your words.” he spoke in a sultry tone, making her melt even more into him as she mumbled out in a pathetic voice, “yes….yes I do.”

she didn’t care at this point that he wasn’t the real francis, she just craved anything that could satisfy her longing in her heart for him. and this doppelgänger was more then willing to satisfy himself and her.

francis let out a low laugh, letting go of her hands so she can finally reach out for him. he let his hand slip under her skirt, feeling himself shiver slightly at her hands going under his shirt, “oh….im going to enjoy eating you up~”

omg francis I’m coming ngh~

[lordgrimwing]

How Elwing Lost A Silmaril

The first letter—sealed with an eight-pointed star pressed into red wax and delivered just before dawn—left Elwing trembling in her small office, stomach rolling and the taste of bile thick on her tongue. What was she to do? What could she do? Her parents’ murderers were coming here.

The letter didn’t say as much outright. The writer (Maedhros, she’d learned his name eventually, but he would always be the red-haired orcish monster that took her home away and haunted her worst nightmares) veiled every threat behind eloquent lines of meaningless placations and enteritis for the silmaril. He asked her, granddaughter of a thief, to return it to him, eldest son of its maker and rightful heir. But she could read what he did not say: that if she did not bend to his will he would do to Sirion as he did to Menegroth. He would come with his fell army and slaughter everyone in his way.

But how could she give up the jewel? It protected them, kept the forces of darkness at bay just enough for the refugees to eke out a living on the shores. And should Eärendil, her dear, brave husband, find a path to Aman, its light might be the only thing that could stay the Valar’s Doom long enough for them to listen to him. She could not give up their hope.

The second letter—sealed in red wax and delivered as the barley fields were harvested—brought more promises of horrors unnamed falling upon the settlement. She wept after throwing it in the fire. She could not do this on her own. The city council was terrified into inaction at the thought of what lay before then, and Eärendil was still out at sea. She missed him. She missed him so terribly when the councilors looked at her with fearful eyes and asked for her decision.

The fifth letter arrived in the hands of an underfed Mannish girl as the first winds of winter blew in from the sea. Elwing gave her food and a family offered a spot in their home, but the girl said her lord instructed her to go nowhere else until she had a reply for him. Elwing thought of banishing her from the city unanswered, of telling the guards with their rough-made weapons to see that the Fëanorian did not return. She regretted the thought nearly as soon as she had it. The girl was young and it was not her fault that her parents joined themselves to a mighty Elf lord. She could stay for a day.

Tell me whatsoever you desire, the greatest or smallest need of your heart. 

The letter said in handwriting that was fast becoming too familiar. 

I will give unto you that thing and greater still if you would part with my father’s Silmaril. I would bring you all the provisions of my camp, all the weapons of my army, every other precious thing of power left in this land if you would but willingly part with that one small thing that I must otherwise be driven to take by force in the spring. Tell me your desire, and I will give it unto you. Let this not end with blood.

She fumed in her office, angrily pacing the thin rug gifted to her by the weary-eyed wife of one of her father’s guards who fell in the tunnels of Menegroth. She does not need anything from the murdering bastard! Sirion has all it requires. They would be safe if only they were left alone. How can Maedhros think that he could ever give her anything to make up for what he’s done, to convince her to do what he wants? He’s a monster and a coward who wishes to soothe his conscience by acting as if the attack is all her fault, an inevitable consequence of her resistance. He wishes to absolve himself of yet more evil.

She will not let him. If it is the only thing she can do, she will defy him.

Elwing takes up precious ink and paper. She throws herself into her chair and leans over the beaten desk, pouring her anger and helplessness into the words she scratches across the page.

You’ve taken everything from my people. You wish to take everything from me again. You are monstrous, servant of Morgoth. May the Valar stand against you as I cannot. What would I have, you ask? I would have what you’ve taken from me restored: I would have Dior, my father, and Nimloth, my mother; I would have Eluréd and Elurín, my brothers, alive again and in my arms. But I shall never have them for they died at your hands and at your command.  You cannot give me my parents. You search for my little brothers but still cannot give them to me.  So, what would I have? I would have your brothers. Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.

She signed the bottom with a vicious strike that split the quill’s nip, blotting the page with ink as dark as orc blood. Her heartbeat in her chest, thumped against her ribs under her breast as though it would escape fate. Her letter would change nothing and she hesitated for a moment before dripping wax from a flickering candle for the seal, tempted to throw the paper to the fire. 

She’d written in a tantrum, a final kicking of her feet against what would come in an impotent rage. But what did it matter? Did she not deserve to beat her fists against the Doom once? Everyone looked to her for leadership and guidance as Dior’s heir but she felt like little more than a child. This would be so much easier to handle with Eärendil at her side but he still had not returned and at times she doubted he ever would (what Doom had befallen him on the waters? What lonely fate for him and the crew on the waves?). She would send this letter then say goodbye to all childishness and face what came bravely as her parents and grandparents did. 

Resolved, she dripped the wax and sealed the letter. She’d give it to the messenger tomorrow with what small food they could spare so the girl did not starve on the journey. And then…

And then all would be out of her hands and fate would fall as it would.

The sixth letter came in the hands of two red-haired Elves on tall horses. The men sat straight and tall in the saddle, their heads held high. Elwing would have called them haughty if they hadn’t dismounted and bowed deeply before her, falling to one knee as one might before royalty. A third Elf, dark-haired and somber-eyed, rode with them, though he kept himself aside and astride his steed.

“Queen Elwing,” one of the red-heads said, his face fire-scarred. He paused, waiting for permission to go on.

She nodded and waved her hand impatiently, wondering what new trick Maedhros was playing or if this was how he announced an impending slaughter.

The speaker went on, looking up slightly though he stayed kneeling. “We are Ambarussa–” he gestured to the other– “youngest sons of Fëanor. We give ourselves up at your request in exchange for the silmaril.”

Elwing stood in frozen silence as he continued, icy sea breeze biting at her fingers and face. 

[bitchyycapricorn]

Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.2K

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: introduction fluff, angst, mentions of death and loss of family.

AN: not edited

Peter swung through his open window, allowing the breeze to carry him in. His limbs tired and his hair a sweaty mess under his mask. When he entered his room he expected to find it empty, not a figure of a girl on his bed, seemingly waiting patiently for his arrival. His eyes narrowed at the sight of you, unsure how you got into his 5th story apartment. He was also unsure of why you appeared to be transparent, your whole figure seemingly glowing in the moonlight. Peter took a step forward to the bed, about to speak before you broke the silence.

“You can see me can’t you?” Your voice was soft and soothing, barley above a whisper.

Peter hesitated to respond, unsure of what to make of your peculiar statement. Of course he could see you, why wouldn’t he be able to see you? “Yes?” Is all he managed to get out, still wracking his brain for some sort of answer.

“I’m surprised,” you reply wistfully, your gaze slowly lowering to the ground. “Most cannot, usually only the children.”

Peter hesitated again, still unsure of you words. It didn’t help that his eyes were playing trick on him. As your body shifted ever so slightly to better face him he could’ve swore you’re figure flickered. “Who are you?” He didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he had hoped he would. Rather he sounded more nervous than anything.

“Y/N L/N, I died a few years ago in the elevator accident.” You averted your eyes, gaze focusing on the full moon outside rather than the boy in front of you.

Peter froze, your words seeping in. “You…died?” He had never felt so unsure of what he was saying as he did in this moment.

You looked back over to him, giving a small nod. “Yes, the elevator, it fell while I was inside. The impact killed me.” You dropped your gaze once more, this time focusing on his red bedsheets. “I’m kind of trapped here, I can’t exactly leave.” A frown settles on your face as you attempt to pick at Peter’s sheet, your fingers coming in and out of reality.

“I didn’t even know ghosts existed,” Peter replied honestly, focusing now on your fingers. You were able to freeze your body back into reality for some time, but it was exhausting and took away most of your energy. You look up at him once again, scanning his red and blue suit.

“Where do you go every night? You are never in bed, not like the last boy.” You frown.

Peter stepped towards you, finally removing his mask and tossing it onto his desk. Your eyes lock on his face, examining all of his features. You had only seen him from between the walls so far, and occasionally through the window while you were on the balcony. “I go on patrol,” Peter replied hesitantly. “I’m kinda Spider-Man.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “Spider-man?” You repeated.

“Like, I’m a superhero with super ability’s.”

A smile grazes your lips “Oh? So you are half spider?” You ask slowly.

“Well, yes and no. I have you know, like super strength and can climb walls and all my senses are really heightened.” Peter replies, struggling to explain exactly what he can do without sounding too strange.

A smile officially settles on your face as you consider his words. “So that is why you can see me. You have super sight. That is good, I have missed having company. My family moved after the accident, the memories too much for them.” Your frown returned, recalling the day your folks left.

“Could they not see you?” Peter asked, slightly thrown off that your family would just up and leave.

“People cannot normally see me. The exception is children. The little boy who lived here before, he was around five. I used to play with him everyday after school but then he moved. His parents were concerned that he was seeing things, which I suppose he technically was. It just hurts, I really cared for him and they took him away.” Tears would have been falling from your eyes if you had frozen yourself.

Peters eyes flickered down to the carpet as he played with his suit. “That’s really horrible, were they the last people who lived here?”

You nodded, going back to playing with the blanket between your fingers. “Yes, the man before that family was always drunk and yelling. He was very angry and often scared me, even if he could not see me.”

“Oh, that’s, I’m so sorry.” A frown had settled on Peter’s face as well. His heart hurt for your story, even if he was still freaked out that he had a ghost sitting on his bed in his room. Nothing about you would have made sense if it weren’t for everything he’s ever experienced with the Avengers, including going to space and fighting a purple alien.

Your eyes drifted back up to Peters, a sad smile on your face. “Won’t you join me…”

“Peter, Peter Parker.” He finished.

“I like the name Peter, won’t you come lay with me Peter? I’ve missed being near someone. And you’re always gone so late I rarely have a chance to come see you.”

Peter hesitates once again, feeling suddenly flustered by the fact you’d been waiting to lay with him. “You want to sleep with me?”

You nod, confused by his hesitation. “Yes, the young boy used to lay down next to me and we would tell each other stories before he fell asleep. His parents did not pay him much attention.” You feel your heart drop at the memory of the little boy you loved so dearly, wishing more than anything he would’ve been your son.

“I-I’ve just never had anyone share a bed with me before.” He replied honestly, still feeling alarmed by the thought.

“Oh, I do not have to if you are uncomfortable. It just helps,” You admit, suddenly feeling bad for requesting to lay next to Peter.

But Peter nods, deciding he would give it a try since you were merely a ghost after all. “Alright, let me get my pajamas on and I’ll join you.” Peter begins to strip out of his suit, expecting you to turn around as he did so. But your eyes stay glued to his muscular body, taking in how good he looked in that moment. It wasn’t until after Peter had his pajama pants and shirt on did he notice your longing gaze.

“I miss my body.”

“Were you staring the whole time?”Peter squeaked.

“Yes?” You watch as Peters face heats up a bright red in the moonlight. “Are you embarrassed? You look very good.”

Peter shuffles over to the bed at a loss for words. “Normally people don’t watch others change.”

“Oh, well yes I just, you started changing so fast.” You admit, crawling up onto his bed to get under to covers. Peter crawls in next to you, awkwardly laying there as you both settle in. You exert all your energy into making your body whole again, solidifying your body and appearance before cuddling up to Peter. He jumps slightly, shocked at the feeling of your cold but solid skin. “You’ll hold me won’t you? It’s been years since I’ve been held by someone else.”

Peter nods hesitantly, wrapping his arms around your body. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispers, dozing off to sleep almost immediately.

“Goodnight Peter.”

When Peter wakes the next morning you’re gone. He can’t help wonder whether it was all some twisted dream or if he would be seeing you again that night.

+++

TAGLIST

[minty-drop]

Hello can you do Yandere Funtime Freddy x Male hand puppet child reader like Funtime Freddy ends up losing bon bon and Freddy turns male child reader into bon bon plz. If you can’t do it then can you do Yandere Jurassic park x raptor reader or Yandere Godzilla x kaiju reader

Yandere Godzilla x reader

Reader is gn, and using they/them pronouns so all readers can enjoy. This will be platonic due to the fact that Godzilla is an animal as I do not support zoophilia. This is write as if Godzilla and y/n already are friends

Type: headcanons

Warnings ⚠️: possessive nature, slight jealousy

- 🌊 goji never cared for humans, and never did. They are pests, annoying and violent. Humans have always been a pain to him for as long as they had walked the earth, claiming they were superior. What foolish creatures. To think as if they were the Center of the earths core, like they were the supply of life to each and everyone of the living and non living. They destroyed themselfs, and dragged everything else with them because of their own selfishness and greed for power they will never hold.

- 🌊 it disgusts him, the burning hatred never ceased. only growing with each and every new day waking up to the bunch of humans latching onto each other for their own needs. The mistakes turning into poison, the fear turning into war. And the obsession with power, becoming so great, it destroyed everything in its path to only end in more death. Within victory is truly a disguise of destruction for gains that do not exist. Humans bound them self to their doom, fates sealed to their graves as they wail why. Why do they deserve this. It sickened him to see such plain narcissism.

- 🌊 but when you had came out of no where, seemingly out of thin air only to show him kindness and tenderness without wanting or searching for anything in return. Lacking hidden motive or greed for power. It was new, different from the harsh intentions of the many, many other humans he has encountered during his times surfacing. Different from the intentions he’s seen.

- 🌊 no matter what he did, no matter how many times he huffed and puffed, grunting at you to leave him be. You never did. It confused him. For as long as he could remember, man had been curious, nosey little creatures of destructions. And curious you were.

- 🌊 the soft tips of your fingers fluttered on his scales, barley noticeable to the touch as they gently caressed the thick dark scales that encased his snout. It was nice. The small, warm pads of your hands petting him ohh so gently, it cradled him, soothed him like a lullaby. He subconsciously bugged his enough into your hands, the hot steam from breathing was wet, making your hair stick to your face but the smile never left. Your coworkers stood far from the titan the claimed to be a beast. Who was, in fact enjoying the touch of your hands gliding over the scales.

- 🌊 Godzilla who began to anticipate for your return each time you left to end your work shifts. Which were gentle sessions of affection through Pets as you swabbed his scales to study to scales. It intrigued you how thick the scales had become, though it was obvious that it was for durability when coming in contact with talons, teeth and claws, the biology of them was wanted, for so it was your job to study them. Using tools to your advantage.

- 🌊 he didn’t mind though. As long as it was you. He didn’t care

- 🌊 he seethed each time you were interrupted by the loud blaring of sirens, the weird noises and hand gestures your co worker made to you or the occasional conversation between you and a scientist, all taking you away from him. He didn’t want you to leave. Was he becoming selfish for your time?

- 🌊 you don’t have to worry anymore. Not when he has scooped you up in his claws to wisks you away to somewhere better.

Do not claim or copy my work

[ranposbabe]

Wine settles the nerves part 2 | Aegon II Targaryen x implied Strong!Reader

A/n: Thank you to everyone who liked part one it means so much since only recently I’ve started writing here on tumblr.

Originally, I was only going to have one part but since people asked for a part 2.. gotta give people what they want 🤎

It had barley been a moment when you stepped down and your heels had touch the grounds of Dragonstone before being hurriedly swept away to your private chambers.

“What’s going on with our sister ?” Luke pondered, nudging to his older brother.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jace sighs, slightly reassuring his young brother.

“She’ll be fine.” He states, patting the younger boy on the shoulder. Despite Jace himself feeling uneasy due to not knowing the circumstances concerning his only sister, it felt like his duty to reassure his brother. “I hope so.” Luke mumbles before he himself was being ushered away to bed.

“Please leave.” You state, already climbing into your high bed. “Not until you inform me as to what happened this night..with your uncle.” Rhaenyra pauses, taking a seat before you on your bed. “We spoke.” You mutter, crossing your arms. “About what ?” Your mother questions, her brows furrowing in confusion.

You sunk further into your silk cover, clearly refusing to indulge further. At this moment all you craved for was endless slumber. “You can talk to me, y/n.” She says, playing her hand on your knee. “Are you sure ?” You question, gently placing your hand on top of hers. “Not too busy preparing Luke to take Driftmark and my other brothers gods know what.” You spat, pulling your hand away.

“What has caused this sudden change, my sweet ?” Her hand suddenly placed upon your cheek, her thumb slowly soothing your skin.

“I want him !” You cry, growing frustrated as each moment passes by. If your mother now couldn’t grasp what had caused your heart to weaken then she never would.

“He is the only one who doesn’t treat me like I am a duty !”

“We all have a role to play, my daughter. Sooner or later you’ll learn that there are no exceptions.” Rhaenyra sighs, raising from her seat. “Mother please !” You beg. “He truly is the only one who understands !” You cry as your mother slowly walks towards the door.

Her hands rests above the handle, slightly twitching in anxiousness. She turns her head slightly with her long silver hair neatly thrown over her shoulder and her curious eyes meeting your melancholy pair.

“Must there be moon tea prepared ?”

“Do not insinuate such filth.” You scoff, pulling the sheets over your head.

At that, the realm’s delight leaves.

“Let me go !” Aegon yelled, desperately trying to pull away from his brother.

“I have no wish to rule ! No taste for duty, I’m not suited.” He whined, still trying to find the strength to run away from Aemond’s grasp.

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Aemond replies, still not letting go of his elder brother. Suddenly Aegon turns, grabbing Aemonds face with both hands to lure him close to listen intently.

“Let me go and I’ll find a ship and sail away never to be found.”

“I’ll even drag Rhaenyra’s daughter along the way.” He adds. Aemond could only stare down at his brother somewhat dumbfounded at his statement. Yet the look in his eye gave away a look of consideration. “The queen awaits.” Cole states, patting the soon to be king on the shoulder. Soon to be.

It had been a while since your mother had left your chambers, you assume to rant to Daemon.

You however pull the sheets off from your face and slowly but hesitantly rise from your bed. If you clearly had a role to play as your mother had clearly stated before, then that role was clearly not here in Dragonstone.

Suddenly your eyes catches a red dress lying on a chair belonging to you that you assume a servant brought in.

Biting your lip in contemplation, you take the dress in your arms, running your fingers along the thin fabric.

That settles it.

“What about y/n ?” Aegon wonders, still holding the blade. “What about her ?” Alicent questioned, sitting side her eldest son in the carriage. Soon he’d be crowned king. A desperate sigh escapes his lips.

“Here I am, no wife nor heirs yet you want me as king.” “Everyone knows that she is of Ser Harwin Strong’s blood, my son.” Alicent whispered as if the gods could hear her words.

“We were betrothed years ago.” Aegon sighs, staring off. “I’d doubt y/n would even remember that, Aegon.” Alicent replies, shaking her head. “Yet her stepfather Daemon put a stop to it and neither you or father questioned it !” Aegon turned with an accusing look in his eyes.

“Aegon when you are king no one will deny you.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “So what is it that you wish of me ?” She asks with genuine concern.

“Betroth y/n to me.” He simply states.

Alicent turns to longingly stare out the window. No one denies the king.

You sneak round the dark corridors, practically confidently now due to sneaking away so often. You can recall some fond memories of you and your willingly younger brother Luke sneaking around the corridors late at night, your giggles being evidently heard.

You can remember trying to convince your older brother Jace to join you yet he simply disapproved, wanting to be a good example. Yet he seemingly never outed his mischievous siblings. Not once.

You couldn’t help but smile as soon you steeped outside and the wind had managed to cool you down.

“Ryax !” You call to your girl.

Acknowledging you, she happily roars nudging down her large head close to you, already craving pets and rubs.

Despite being one of the last to hatch, Ryax was the biggest out of dragons between you and your brothers. You couldn’t help but stare in amazement as you pet the young dragon. Her scales were a dark shade of purple indigo yet when the sun had struck right she glowed like a amethyst.

You then hurriedly climb to your saddle, adjusting yourself before calling to your beast. “Sōvegon Ryax !” (Fly Ryax !)

Time Skip…

“Princess !” A serving girl gasped running towards you as you leaped down from you dragon. Some dragon keepers following being the girl. “Please look after Ryax.” You giggle, already making your way past them. “She’s quite tired some.”

“Princess wait !” The serving girl called out to you yet her words fell silent as you made your way to your destination.

You couldn’t help but cautiously step into the throne room despite feeling excitement at the thought of seeing Aegon again.

It was if though he were wine and you craved to have another taste.

You keep your head down, slightly dragging your feet. It wasn’t like there was anyone else in the-

“A āmāzigon Dāro ñuha tala.” (You’ve returned to Kings Landing, my girl)

You gasp, your head raising and your widen eyes meet those of the man you were seeking. There he was perched up on the Iron Throne. Your eyes wonder around the room and you couldn’t help but notice that there was no guards in the room. Just you and him.

“Ozmijegon I?” (Miss me ?) You smirk, coming closer to the throne.

“Trūmirī.” (Deeply) He whispers yet your ears managed to catch his soft spoken words. “So what are you doing sitting here ?” You question, standing right in front of him with your knees slightly hitting off his legs.

“Especially with no guards present aswell.” You wonder, looking down upon him.

“I sent them away, I needed to think.” He mumbles. “And why would that be ?” You take his hand, gently running your thumb over the back of his hand.

“My father is dead.” He blatantly put it.

“What ?” You step back in shock before being pulled back with his arm now round your waist. “News has not yet struck Dragonstone yet I take it.” He says, pulling you down to his lap while you remained in a daze. “You ? A king ?” You inquired, meeting his eyes. “Your king.” He corrected.

Just then, looking down did you realise the position you found yourself him.

The prince-no the king’s arms tucked round your waist while his other arms rested on the throne.

“So my grandfather’s really gone ?” You mostly mutter to yourself.

But then it dawned on you.

Had the news actually hit Dragonstone yet or did you not hear due to being with Ryax ? When was the coronation ? Since when was he now suddenly fine with being king ? Has anyone realised you’ve gone missing yet ? If so who ? Jace, Luke, Daemon or even…your mother.

Oh. Your mother.

“Jurnegon I.” (Look at me) Aegon whispers, placing his fingers under your chin and turning you to face him.

You barley turn before his lips meets yours. You find yourself being consumed in the act and turn to properly straddle the king’s lap while still remaining on the throne. The kiss loses its innocence and becomes more intoxicating as his hands run through your hair and his tongue meets yours.

Pulling away for air, your hand rests on his chest. “Kipagon jeva zaldrize.” (Ride your dragon) He smirks, leaning in for another kiss. Your hand pushes back his chest slight as you remove yourself from his lap and head down the steps to the throne. “Not until I’ve made my presence known to the others.”

“No need.” He states, he himself following you down the steps. “ I had a feeling you’d return.” You turn to face the now king as he places his hand on your cheek.

“Mother and I have come to an agreement.” “An agreement ?” You wonder, raising a brow. “We will be wed now.” He nods. “A king of course needs his queen. Not to mention a couple of heirs.” He whispers, for a moment placing his hand low on your stomach.

Your hand grasps his as you try to pull your thoughts together.

You had always imagined yourself being wed yet being here now in the moment was more than just unexpected.

You feel as if though around Aegon you didn’t need to contemplate things as much. Here you were feeling as if though you could finally take a breath of fresh air and oh how you enjoyed it.

“Very well then, husband.” You smile, placing a small kiss to his cheek.

Time Skip…

Later the same day, those present which consisted of you and Aegon and of course the elder marrying you stood outside feeling the calming breeze.

You couldn’t recall the words the elder spoke but the same could be said for Aegon. You came across as being smitten as you stare longingly into Aegon’s eyes and the smirk on his face was evident and couldn’t be easily wiped off.

You snap out of your daze as soon as Aegon pulls you into his arms and declares you his. His lips pressing against yours almost immediately.

After the ceremony, you join your husband to one of your favourite activities.

“Oh gods !” You scream with laughter as Ryax was soaring through the air with Aegon flying on Sunfyre behind you. Ryax as usual performs her tricks by flipping round and flying upside down.

You hear Sunfyre’s blaring roar from beneath you and look down to meet your husbands admiring eyes.

You raise your arm above your head, seemingly reaching down to him.

Yet somehow, your finger tips manage to graze his. Suddenly you feel something light touch your face. His fingers manage to linger touching it and just then you had realise it was your necklace that he had gifted you all those years back that had fallen on your face.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Ryax finally turned back to fly properly.

You watched as Sunfyre flew by as the clouds disappeared every time his golden wings had flapped.

Now in this moment you finally felt at peace. But… for how long ?

[ilygetou]

APHRODISIACS — THOMA.

PAIRING: thoma x fem! reader.

C/W: drugging (?), dub con if you squint, virgin! thoma, creampie, kinda of sub! thoma, overstimulation, hints of jealousy, cowgirl position, MINORS DNI!!

NOTE: me posting acting like i didn’t say that i will be taking a break 🧍‍♀️ (not proofread, please be aware of grammatical and spelling mistakes) (not that i think there are any, idk)

you were craving thomas attention for way too long, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint. even though, thoma was more like your best friend, your crush. you’ve been sexually frustrated, not being able to please your sexual urges. getting yourself off alone with your fingers wasn’t enough for you, you needed someone to help you, and who can do that other than your best friend, thoma? best friends are supposed to help eachother when in need, right?

the only thing keeping you from asking thoma was how busy he was, there was no possible time for you to ask him for any help. he’s always busy with the kamisato siblings, it makes you more frustrated, Thoma was barley around, he would occasionally come and visit you every now and then, but he would only stay for about 10-15 minutes only — and he would always use the excuse that he’s busy and have work to do.

but, what about you? You are his best friend, the person he’s most comfortable with, you guys used to stick together all the time, never leaving each others side – that was until thoma got the job to work as a housekeeper in the kamisato state. you would barley see him, and when you do, it’s always short conversations about each other’s life and whereabouts.

you know that you have no right to be annoyed at this, he was only your best friend after all, but was also your crush, complaining about not being able to see or talk to your crush was quit reasonable, right? but, on the other hand, Thoma probably sees you as his best friend, nothing more. the thought of thoma not returning your feelings always hunts you, if you do end up confessing would he return those feelings to you? does he even feel the same way? or does he just see you as someone he got close to?

you would always brush those thoughts away, because what you need right now doesn’t require thoma to have any romantic feelings towards you, maybe only sexual, which at least was what you needed right now. if thoma turns out to not have nether then all you have to do is use the aphrodisiacs you’ve been hiding, mix it into his drink, since thoma will be stopping by later today.

as you were lost in your own thoughts, the door bell suddenly rang three times. when you went to unlock and open the door you were met with a tall, huge, muscular man, his hair blondish, he had a black tie that was separating his bangs, his green colored eyes boring into yours as a huge grin covered his face. you felt yourself heat up from his presence, your face turning into a dark shade of red.

“y/n! hello” he uttered in a cheerful voice, his voice was soothing and so soft, it makes you melt. you can listen to him talking for hours. you felt yourself hitting up with embarrassment when you realized how long you’ve been standing there, just staring at your best friend without saying a single word to him. “t-thoma! come on in,” you moved from the door, giving thoma space to step into your household.

thoma walked into the living room and made himself comfortable, a long sigh leaving his lips as he threw his head back. “overworked yourself again?” disappoinment all over your tone, Thoma chuckled and nodded his head, you shook your his head and let out a sigh, “should i get you something to drink?” a small smile made it’s way to thomas face, “i would love that.”

you walked to the kitchen, feeling bad about what you were about to do to thoma but you had no self control, your sexual desires have been getting so much lately, and you couldn’t find a way to help yourself. pouring cold water into a glass cup as you crushed the aphrodisiacs pills into dust, pouring it down the liquid – you started mixing the aphrodisiacs with a spoon until the water looked normal, again.

you walked back to the living room, holding the cup with a soft, innocent smile plastered on your face. you bent over to the tired man and handed him the cup, “thank you” he muttered, you shook it off with a wave and seated yours beside him. now all you have to do is wait for the aphrodisiacs to kick in.

trying to hold a conversation with Thoma while waiting was hard, you seemed to always be nervous around him. “thoma, what do you usually do at work?” you questioned, trying to start a conversation while waiting. thoma hummed before responding; “well, i do basic housekeeping stuff, sometimes would accompany lady ayaka and be like her personal body guard, that only happens when i’m done with work though,” Thoma mimicks a thinking pose, trying to remember all the stuff he does because now that you asked him, his head went blank.

while thoma was taking his sweet time, his words were repeating themselves in your brain, lady ayaka? kamisato ayato sister? thoma hangs out with her...? jealousy started running in your veins your expression slowly changed to a bothered one. “huh? are you okay?” concern was written all overs thomas face so you simply shook your head with a smile, “i’m okay.”

after a short while thoma was starting to shift uncomfortably in his place, he was sweating, his face was red, he had his hands on his crotch — as if he was trying to hide something. you tried to hide the smirk that was forming on the corners on your lips and act concerned, “thoma? you okay?” panic was seen all over thomas eyes when he felt how you were inspecting him, your eyes focusing on him. “i-i’m fine, don’t w-worry” he stuttered the bulge he had making him fumble with his words.

you got closer to thoma, your plan was about to start. your hands started tracing his clothed abs, “you sure your okay?” your hands tracing slowly and teasingly all the way downwards to where thomas crotch was, thoma gulped he was now sweating, even more. “what’re you —” thoma was suddenly cut off by you seating yourself on his lap, you didn’t know when and how you suddenly got all this confidence, but you were enjoying it.

you were circling your hands around thomas bulge, he bite his lips to cut off a whimper from slipping out, “thoma? you sure you’re okay?” you asked again, this time, thoma shook his head — he finally decided to give up. “n-no, i suddenly started sweating and feeling hot — and then i suddenly felt myself getting h-hard...” sadness and shame in his tone while you were grinning the whole time.

“do you want me to help?” thomas eyes widened, are you sure you want to help him? “do y-you want to? you don’t have to if you don’t want to, i can take care of it–” you shook your head, “nono, i want to,” you started rubbing yourself against thomas bulge, your bare cunt dripping & drooling on his pants. you weren’t wearing any panties, and thoma felt himself getting shy, the tip of his ears turning red.

you tugged down thomas pants, his cock hitting his abdomen, you licked your lips at the sight of thomas cock — his reddish tip, the thick veins that were visible on the side of his cock. you were getting more impatient and needy by the second, you started slowly sliding thomas cock against your folds, while he was letting out choked moans.

“y/n — wait! i haven’t done something like that before...” thoma looked away, embarrassed. you felt a sudden wave of relief brush past you, you didn’t know why but you always thought that thoma wasn’t a virgin, and that he has already lost his virginity to some lucky girl.

“don’t worry about it” a reassuring smile made it’s way past your lips as you slowly seated yourself on thomas cock, pushing it against your entrance before it was buried deep inside your gooey cunt.

thomas cheeks flushed red, his breath heavend as he felt your walls tighten around his cock, a shaky whimper left thoma as he felt you slowly moving your hips, his cock massaging your insides with every move of your hips.

you gave thoma a quick peck on the lips before you started to bounce up and down his cock, small mewls and squeaks leaving you at the feeling of Thomas tip hitting all your good spots, spots you couldn’t reach using your own fingers.

“moremore, please!” thoma pleaded before his hands reached to hold your waist, bouncing you up and down his cock at a velocious speed, causing your moans to fall from your mouth uncontrollably. thoma was sensitive, the feeling of your pussy clenching around his shaft had him on the edge, eyes watery as he felt himself getting closer to his climax.

without any warning thoma let out a loud groan followed by his white thick fluids filling you up, Thoma let out a low moan, his dick now sensitive. but despite that you were still going — moving your hips as thomas cock was dragging along your walls, bouncing as his tip kept hitting your womb.

thoma sat there, soft and low whimpers escaping his mouth as you kept using his sensitive dick,“ah! so close!” you moaned out, your walls tightening around tthomas cock before you let out a loud moan of his name, cumming and milking his cock. soon after, Thoma came a second time, the tip of his cock flushing with an angry red color.

despite cumming twice, thomas dick was still rock hard, he sniffled a moan before speaking up; “i..i don’t know what’s wrong with me today, i never had this happening to me before...” you smirked at thomas obliviousness, you don’t mind going on for more rounds, this would also give you an opportunity to try different positions with Thoma.

“s’ okay thoma, i can help you” and you could see sparkles in thomas eyes, “you will?” you could hear excitness in thomas tone. you nodded your head before you started grinding on his cock, “wait...i still have work to do..” he muttered, in a low, disappointed tone.

“work can wait, plus, you’re not feeling well” you replied as you squeezed Thomas length causing him to let out a choked gasp, thoma looked down, considering and thinking about it.

“okay, sure...” he muttered in a soft voice, you kissed the tip of his nose before positioning yourself on his cock, again.

The aphrodisiacs you used was a strong one, so it would take Thoma more than four orgasms for the effect to shake off. and that would be enough to satisfy your libido.

[sterekmpreg]

I 100% believe that even though Stiles tried his hardest to enjoy his pregnancy with Eli, most times he just can’t. For the most part he can keep his feeling hidden in front of most the pack but when it comes to Derek, his father, and Peter he can’t fool them.

He’s in pain most days, all day. His nausea sets in early and stays all the way through labor, delivery, and recovery. His feet are swollen after the 4th month 90% of the time. He struggles without his medicine dosage, lacking his normal amount, and this causes his depression to peak. Some days, even in the early stages of the pregnancy, he can’t bring himself to move from the bed; this only gets worse after his 8th mo the an many days he's forced from the bed to walk around or go see the others. (he's grateful his family cares and makes he be proactive as much as he can because he knows sleeping won't help his anxiety or depression.) He has to completely put his college career on hold because he just couldn’t handle it on top of the stressful pregnancy. He’s Way more hormonal than most pregnant people, crying and uncontrollably for no real reason, having rage episodes, guilt because he loves his baby but hates the experience of carrying them. He’s overdue by weeks when his body finally has enough in him to give birth.

Birthing his and Derek’s son isn’t any better either. He screams his lungs raw, hands weak from griping sheets or his mate's hand, throwing up before almost all contractions, and not being able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Eli is breached, feet out first like he was just born to go, go, go; “just like his mother,” Derek muses later and earns a weak laugh from Stiles. His water breaks early and by the time Eli decides to make his debut, there is not much of anything aside from his weak pushing to help Stiles get the baby out. He’s exhausted before he can even start pushing from all the pain and barley any sleep. Derek can only do so much and his scent/presence can’t even help soothe the human because werewolf babies don’t come into the world with ease, especially with a human male carrying/birthing them.

Stiles passes out the second he feels the baby slip out of him because his body just HAS to stop after all the stress and trauma of the last nine (nearly 10) months, only running on pure adrenaline and instinct at that point. He needs immediate care because he was bleeding out, fast. Derek has to leave the room because it's taking everything in him to to not bite Stiles to save him, even if he knows Stiles would never forgive him for taking his choice away. His dad gave blood to keep his son breathing and heart beating. When Stiles wakes up days later he’s in such a sick pain he can’t even hold his baby and he feels like shit because all he wants is his baby in his arms that he couldn’t even muster the strength to lift. He has to watch Derek hold their son to Stiles' own chest and won’t let anyone other than Derek, Deaton, his dad, or Peter even touch his cub until he can and he feels so bad but he couldn’t stand the thought of them holding his baby boy before he even has the power to.

Recovery is shit and slow and painful. Stitches take weeks to come out of his lower region. Post-partum depression hits him like a train and most days all he can do is cry after getting enough strength to hold his son for more than a few seconds to feed him. Guilt and self-hatred at being a horrible mom who couldn’t do anything right. Feeling like his pack, his family, hated him and wanted him to leave because he wasn’t good for Eli. It’s all hard. But it also makes the good swing in recovery so much happier for the while pack when Stiles is starting to be ‘pack mama Stiles’ again.

[way-of-love]

Mayor Que Usted (PART 2)

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x LatinaFemReader) (18+ ONLY) (NO MINORS)

A stop in Puerto Rico can mean a lot of things, refuel, some R&R, family vacation or maybe just hiding from the Cuban drug lords. Simon Riley didn't think this tropic island was a good spot to stop before heading back t base in the U.S. but Price called the shots so there they were. But while watching the locals gather for Halloween and doing their little celebration he didn't expect to be consumed by such spice and fierceness from one little local woman who seemed to know his type just fine.

(UPDATE: The name of the female character is Amelia Cruz)

PART 3

Some say, the least expected people make the best parents and fortunately that was the case for Amelia. She never expected nor hoped to become a mother at the ripe age of 22 and neither did her own mother. Her mother was a hard working seamstress who was barely paid enough to make a livable wage growing up, she has now since retired.

Life was already difficult as it is going to school, working and trying to make rent on time, cooking and cleaning, her mother did her very best. Trying to manage the house after her father fell through and abandoned them both for a younger prettier woman; it was too much to handle for one mother let alone one that was currently pregnant at the time. She questioned everyday how did her life become such a mess?

And every time she asked herself the question every woman would ask themselves in her position, she remembered Simon.

The tall, mysterious British man she once met and could never forget. An intelligent and witty man that played his life like chess. Always calculated even during that night, she will never forget just how calculated his moves were. He knew where to touch, where to squeeze and how much strength he needed to use to make sure it felt good not only to him but for her.

And it wasn't the passionate love making that went far beyond her wildest dreams, it was the conversation. Words spoken to one another that she believed were true, she believed that when they spoke to each other it was truly him. That he was shining through his dark shell and opening up. But no, it tore her apart, he tore her apart because it was only for one night and she felt that there was more. More than just some silly fling on Halloween night and honestly, she could have taken anyone to bed that night but she decided the man in the skull mask would be it. He intrigued her. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Little did she know that he would be leaving her with a parting gift to sooth that heartache. An unexpected one but a gift that she cherished nonetheless.

Each and every time Amelia looked at her she could only see the eyes of him. Simon, the man who had such passion and vigor that helped her create such a beautiful little thing.

And now that he knew he had a kid with the woman he spent one explosive night with things would begin to change. After learning of his childs existence he never once came back to the medical bay, not even to get checked up when he went a little overboard during his missions or sparring sessions.

Simon needed time.

Time to devise a plan, to evaluate, to adapt to this new change. But how? How could a cold calculated killer and a combatant who can easily adapt to on field change... adapt to having a child? A child that he knew nothing about?

War was different than parenting. Civilian life was never meant for him and he hoped Amelia knew that. They had a great night but that's as far as it went. His duties were first. No woman nor child could get in the way of that. If he lost his head in this then his whole team would suffer as well. And he would hate to see that happen.

How could he change? What could he do? Simon was a man of duty, and he already had his plate full...he didn't needed the added package, did he?

"Oi! Ghost enough!" Soap yelled out while barley missing the hard swing of Ghosts fist aiming directly at his face.

Simon faltered at the yell and quickly pulled back into his stance, fists raised ready to strike. He couldn't lose his cool, he needed a solid head on his shoulders. No more distractions. Don't think about her or her.

"We're not done here Johnny, you think the enemy is gonna stop when you say so?" Cold and made of ice, as usual. Poor Johnny needed a break after deflecting all of his punches, it seemed Ghost was really out for him.

Wiping the sweat off his brow he crouched and tapped on the blue mat. He yielded and fully sat back with a big exhale.

"You weren't listening to me. I've been tryna' tell you about this lass I've met," there he goes again, women were Soaps lifeline. If it wasn't about the mission it was definitely about a woman.

Ghost rarely showed his annoyance but he did so now with the roll of his eyes. Turning he walked to get a towel from the nearby table and a bottle of water.

"You're always goin' on about lasses and fucks. If you cared about your training as much as you did those women, you'd probably beat me,"

It was a lie. Completely. But Johnny fell for it anyways.

"Really? You think so?" He grinned when Ghost returned handing him the towel and bottle.

"No."

Johnny snickered twisting the cap of the bottled water and tossing it back, chugging about half while the ghost silently looked over at the direction of the double doors, seeming to wait for...something or someone.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his sweaty hand the Sergeant noticed the hard stare at the doors. It wasn't unusual for Ghost to stare off into things when he was deep in thought but Johnny still felt there was more meaning to his gaze. Ever since that new doctor came along a bunch of the guys and some of the women were immediately charmed by their new doctor. And Johnny was definitely one of those people, and by the looks of it so was Ghost.

"You know, the lass I was talking about works here, on base, says she works with a few people in the medical bay." Coming to a stand he wiped sweat off his face with the towel Ghost had given him.

"Says she's, Puerto Rican, I think most of the girls that work in med bay are." Testing...testing.

Without missing a beat Ghost's brows furrowed together in confusion. There weren't that many women working in the medical bay at all, he could count the women in one hand and the rest were men. And out of those few women only two were came from the same island and only one of those two were married. Quickly turning to face the sergeant he looked rather disturbed.

"Johnny, you don't mean-"

"Doctor Amelia! Came all the way here to see me?" Johnny's entire face brightened as soon as he saw her. A few of the medical staff came in through those double doors carrying a few medical items they would need for the soldiers check up and the one leading them all was Amelia. Wearing her usual lab coat with her wavy thick hair held up by a clip, bangs out, and her dark eyes shining, but lacking that spark it usually held.

"We're working mister MacTavish, you can't just go saying my name out of nowhere," Her voice was still as sweet as Ghost remembers. Its been weeks? No a month, since that confrontation and they both pretended like it didn't happen. Well, he pretended like it didn't happen.

She knew it would play out like this, rather, she hoped it did. Simon was not fit to be a parent, or even a partner, no matter what she said to him to have him apart of his daughters life, nothing seemed to get to him. And it was fine by her.

He told her it was best to not get involved with each other because for a man like him it was dangerous to have a weakness. To have a woman and a child meant targets, easily obtainable targets when he wasn't on the same continent as them. Amelia understood but still, it made her feel completely unwanted, it made her feel like her child was unwanted. And she's never been unwanted by a man. Especially not a man who she wanted.

Dressed casual in a tight turtle neck, skinny jeans and heeled boots she carried a clipboard. It was check up day and all the boys had to partake in it. Everyone had medical records except for Simon, he was a ghost, and he'd keep it that way. For him everything was under the radar, checkups were word of mouth.

If one doctor check him it wouldn't be recorded on paper, it'd be told.

"Does that mean we get to be on a first name bases when I take you out outside of base?" Simon felt an ungodly amount of ick and second hand embarrassment for Johnny, clearly she wasn't interested by the way she leaned away from him, the forced kind smile, and the too sweet tone of her voice in response to be respectful.

And poor Johnny already knew. He just needed a little more evidence to prove his hypothesis right.

"That will never happen Sergeant. We are colliges, it'd be unprofessional." she smiled kindly to him before leaning in towards one of the nurses. No doubt telling them to check Soap themselves so she didn't have to.

Ghost was left somewhat satisfied with her actions, Johnny didn't deserve her attention. That sort of attention was meant for a real man and that man was him; Ghost had that attention all those years ago and he relished in every moment he got to touch her body and made it sing for him. Slowly he approached her with a masked expression, eyes clear of any emotion except, dare he say possessiveness. He never had an issue with maintaining his expressions nor his emotions but seeing her in all her glory getting hit on by such a beta after avoiding her all this time filled his chest with something. This was a woman no little boy could handle and Johnny was no man, not like him.

Seeing the lieutenant approach her that kind forced smile wavered. The ghost of the 141 looked deadly, sweaty and big. Bigger than before, was he always that big? Shoulders squared, thick and broad shadowed over her. Now standing before each other Ghost glanced down at the clipboard noticing the names of his teammates. She already checked Price, Gaz and a few others. Simon and Johnny were the last two.

"Let's hurry this up shall we? We have training to get to doctor," Voice even and cold as usual. He walked around her brushing his shoulder against her own. She had to hold back the names she was ready to throw at him because this was, in fact a professional setting. If she dared to insult the 141's most prestige member then she'd be looked down upon, then her secret would be out, their secret would be out.

So instead of retaliating she exhaled sharply through her nose," Yes, sir."

The check ups went on pretty smoothly. Vitals were all okay, Soap kept up his side remarks of her beauty and flirting with her any chance he got. And every word he said got the ghost angry. Didn't Johnny know that the doctor was not interested in any of his advances, Johnny needed to stop.

While Amelia had the two sitting down on foldable chairs by a quick set up table, she was able to check on who needed their shots and who didn't. Right now the only person who didn't have any records of any kind of vaccines was Simon, the only man she wished to avoid.

Making her way to him with gloved hands she hesitates to even look at him, least say anything to him. It felt like her mouth had gone dry.

"What is it doctor?" Simon was watching her the entire time waiting for her to speak up. When she didn't he did.

"There's...you have no record of getting your vaccines last year. Did you get them or not?" Started off weak but go to the point, good job.

"Yes," He stuck his arm out, the one with the sleeve of tattoos, his hand was palm up.

Each soldier needed vaccines every year, even the flu shot. And all needed their blood drawn first before they were injected. Simon already knew this but that didn't prepare Amelia for their next interaction.

A nurse nearby placed all what the doctor needed to begin the blood draw process then leaving to grab the vaccines.

"No fair Ghost, you get the doctor all to yourself," Johnny snickered while a male nurse who was currently attending him rolled his eyes.

Simon didn't want to take the bait, nor did she want him to but Simon knew his ego, his pride wouldn't let the comment pass. The ghost fully placed the arm that would be getting blood drawn from over her hip, almost possessively and looked up into the eyes of the mother of his child with a heated glare.

"Do it."

It took her a moment to realize he meant to draw his blood. Which she did so rather quickly. When you rush something usually it doesn't go as planned and instead misfortune happens. Holding his forearm she tried to peel it away from her hip discretely but he was stubborn and strong using his own strength to make that arm of his was heavy. He even dared to grip her lab coat. She didn't want to make a show for all to see, for Soap to see but Simon did. He wanted to show the sergeant just who had the doctors attention and it wasn't Johnny.

Giving Simon a hard glare of her own she wrapped her gloved fingers around his forearm, fingers never touching, his skin was hot. The ink decorated his forearm very well no doubt hiding whatever scars he had under them, she remembered that night she touched them, traced her red nails over the dark patterns on his arm when he laid beside her fast asleep.

The room was dark, the only light came from the orange hue of a lamppost from outside trying to burst through her floral hick curtains, but even then it didn't give her enough light to actually see the entirety of his face. From what she could make out, he had strong facial features, stubble decorating his jaw and cheeks, a strong nose and the most expressive colorful eyes she's ever seen.

Anyone else would have shone a light to his face to see what he actually looked liked under that mask of his but she wasn't anyone else.

She witnessed his brute fore, his dominating aura, his raw need to feel whole with the woman he desired most that night. And the need to be at peace.

Amelia let him sleep after their conversation, let him rest before he woke up to take her again.

Simon watched her face grow distant while she held his forearm starring at the tattooed patterns on his arm. Those dark eyes of hers could hide everything she was feeling but Simon saw the dilation of her dark pupils and the reddening in her cheeks. It made him narrow his own colored eyes in response.

"You...like men in tattoos, doctor?" Soap watched the two before him while getting up preparing to head out. The nurse who tended to him was long gone. Now it was just the three of them. Johnny thankfully already got his answer but there was no harm in poking the lion some more.

Pulled out of her trance Amelia shook her head and forced another smile.

"Of course not," taking an alcohol wipe she cleaned the thick vein by the crook of Simons inked arm and had no mercy when forcing the needle in. This was the one thing she was taught not to do, stab a patients arm with a needle.

Simon didn't even flinch, he just stared at her with cool eyes, watching every expression she made. Watched as her brow twitched with annoyance and watched how she tried to avoid his gaze.

"Tattoos are a bad reminder of memories that should never exist."

Now, she made eye contact with the ghost, not that she did so on purpose. She was just reaching for the first vial to collect his blood in, and her eyes were immediately drawn to his. And he...just stared at her with that painted skull balaclava. She hoped to one day see the entirety of his face but with how their paths are always crossing and never intertwining she fears she will never have that chance.

Ghost and Amelia shared a look of heat, a heat only two angry lovers shared when they had a disagreement. There was definitely something between them and Johnny MacTavish finally discovered that the two knew each other, in more ways than one.

The 141's doctor had no interest in any other man besides Ghost, and usually woman frolicked around him like ants to honey. But this woman, Amelia, was no ant nor was she attracted to honey. She was a powerful light, a flame. Burned so bright she'd burn your eyes. And Simon was a hungry creature, a dark greedy being that would take and smoother that light until there was nothing left of it but smoke. Her light only illuminates what it wants and excludes the rest of the world but he had been illuminated, he was chooses to see a path filled with that light and during that moment they created such a precious firefly that, barely knowing who she was, made Simon rethink everything.

There's a limit to how long he could stay in the light without burning and he feared he would no longer be the same man if he basked in it longer than he needed to. So, back into his shadows he went leaving behind what could have been. Now there was a giant forest between the two of them, a forest neither one was ready to cross. The flame tried but this forest was too dangerous to tread alone and the creature for the first time, wished to never cross such a place.

Simon wasn't ready to become a father and Amelia was forced to take on the responsibility of a parent. How could she do it but not him? What was he lacking? He never had a mug worthy father and always wished he'd never known him but with this girl, he knew deserved to know at least who he was. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to be a father. Or was he just afraid?

While she finished up drawing his blood and injecting him with his latest dosages of vaccines she made sure to give him a very pink colored band aid curtesy of her daughter.

The doctor thought it was quiet, too quiet and turned her head to see if Johnny was still there. And he was not. She exhaled heavily silently praying that he didn't go off and start up the rumor mill with his little buddies about the tantrum that transpired earlier.

It was now just the two of them, Simon didn't realize Johnny had already left nor did he really care. Right now, he had the doctor all to himself. Staying seated he watched her pick up and clean discarded pieces of paper, gauges, medical tape, and needles placing them in a mini hazardous bin. Looking at her up close now she looked...beautiful. Just as she did all those years ago. And from what he could see from the picture of their daughter on her desk, though briefly, he could see a mix of them both. His features, hair, eyes, skin tone but she had her mothers smile, bright hopeful eyes, wavy hair and that spark. A firefly.

"How is she?" His voice was deep but quiet.

"Fine." Her voice sounded flat. She didn't want to answer his silly questions.

"Hold old is she now?"

She slammed her clipboard down on the foldable table and exhaled sharply through her nose. No one was here to witness her wrath so she wouldn't hold back. How dare he ask about her daughter? If he cared this much, he should have gone to seen her himself!

"You know hold old she is, stop asking things that you should have asked a month ago. Stop acting like you care,"

Why did he ask out of the blue? It wasn't like he was never curious, it was just...he had to try. How could things work if he didn't try? Though hearing her snap made him quickly shut his 'nice' side down and glared at her coldly. He wanted to try. Did she think, that because he pulled himself away meant that he didn't care about the one child he had? Quite the opposite. He didn't know how to be a father nor did he know how to take care of a kid who was already in her toddler stage. Was it so wrong of him just to inquire about it? To see if he, if they both could give it a shot? The doctor matched his glare with one dripping with anger.

"Be careful with what you say next doctor," He was calm, voice collected but she's been holding this back for weeks. After he left her office telling her that their daughter was a weakness and no one should know, she knew this would not end well. He avoided her for days after that. Whenever she called to him to ask him even the simplest of questions, he'd grunt or avoid it all together. Then Johnny would come and answer the questions after Ghost left the room.

So, his little warning meant shit to her.

With hands free from gloves she placed her hands on her hips now standing before him," You're right, you are no fit to be a father. Maybe, I should date and marry a man who is fit to be one. As you can see, there are many fitting men who are more than willing,"

That made Simon abruptly stand forcing her to take a step back. Her glare almost soften and she almost back down. Almost.

Pointing at those double doors, with a thick finger, where Johnny no doubt left through Simon leaned down close to the mother of his child and spoke low.

"He can never be a father. Less, a father to my daughter. And even less of a husband to a woman like you," He turned his finger to her chest and poked her in the center of her chest right above her breasts.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly, she was angry. When he dared poke at her chest she smacked his hand away and did the same to him with her dark red claws.

"She's not your daughter, cabrón. She's mine, you lost that right weeks ago when you called us both unwanted!" Simon saw it then, the emotion that resided within her shiny eyes, the spark was shrouded by the pain he inflicted with his words. Hurt. He shrouded that spark of hers.

"Unwanted was not-" What in the world was she saying? Unwanted? That word never left his lips! Simon tried to explain but she quickly cut him off.

"But it was. Unwanted child, unwanted woman. Both are weaknesses anyone of your enemies can exploit and blah blah blah! Shut up Simon, all this military crap is tiresome. Callate ya! Aren't you tired?"

During this whole duration she was smacking her hands together, pointing into her palm and overall expressing with her hands what she was feeling. Just like before.

He was in fact tired. After avoiding her for weeks he felt empty, he felt incomplete but...his work overshadowed it all, it had to. How else could he protect them? How could he shield these two women, if he wasn't careful? With shoulders slump he looked at anything but her, he couldn't see the emotions in her eyes because he'd fall. Simon would succumb to his emotions, and there was so much it would pour over overwhelming not only himself but Amelia. Yet, he couldn't overwhelm her with how he felt. she would never understand that his duty overshadowed everything, even a family.

"See? This is what I mean. You men, military or not, are all the fucking same," With a soft suck of her teeth she turned and started to collect her belongings, her clipboard and other papers. It was a waste of time trying to get her point across to this stubborn asshole, he already made up is mind. And whatever was up in his mind, she thought she knew, but she wasn't aware of the raging battle of tug a war in his head.

There were no more words to exchange, she needed to pick up her daughter who was currently in her office being entertained by a married colliege.

Before the doctor could fully turn and leave, Simons hand reached out taking her upper arm, and pulled her back. Confused she looked at him with brows furrowed and angry dark eyes.

"What?" She snapped.

Simon fully looked at her, biting his bottom lip behind his mask, unwanted wasn't the word he'd describe the woman and child, far from it. Unexpected would be the better word to describe the two.

"You were never unwanted Amelia. Neither was our daughter," Now the ghost spoke quietly, carefully, trying to sooth the raging lioness.

Looking at him somewhat skeptical she tugged her arm back and he let it go. Right now she didn't care if he wanted her or not, this was about their daughter and him. She was more than willing to give him that chance, she was going to give him that chance up until he decided to avoid her. Now he'd have to work for that chance.

Amelia looked at the ground briefly before she boldly looked back up into his eyes and with a soft whisper spoke.

"Then prove it."

Honestly, she didn't know herself how he could but if she told him to then he would always find a way. Crossing her arms she raised brow at him expectantly hoping he'd apologize or even show that he was sorry but instead he looked around the large training room looking for something or rather trying to find a more isolated place.

When he found it he made no hesitation to take her by her arm once again by force and practically drag her towards the supply closet. And of course she struggled trying to pull away, clawing at his tattooed arm while throwing curses at him. It wasn't until he tossed her inside the supply closet did she realize what exactly he was going to do to show her that she was not unwanted. Her face grew warm and a familiar tight knot formed at the pit of her stomach. God please don't let what happened that night happen here.

Stumbling over a yellow bucket used to mop around the training room she caught herself on a shelf full of cleaning supplies. The doctor was ready to give him an ear full when she turned just in time to see the heavy door finally close enveloping them both in pitch black.

"Simon, what are you doing!?" She yelled waving a hand out to feel out where she was going. Simon gently took hold of her wrist and guided her over to him where she went willingly, she wasn't about to say no to the help.

He lead her to his body where she stayed pressed against his sweat stained chest, he smelled. Definitely, but this was the first time in weeks that they were so close to each other like this. So she stayed. She was greedy enough to take whatever and burn it into memory. Because who knew when something like this with his would happen again.

Simon didn't know what he was thinking dragging her here inside the supply closet. But he wasn't, he was feeling. She wanted proof that both her and their daughter were not unwanted by him, so now he'll show her before he made that step to show that their daughter was more than welcomed by him. He was willing to take that step but slowly.

A large arm wrapped around her waist pulling her even closer to him and her hands had no choice but to reach for his upper bulging arms. He wasn't this big before, Amelia remembered him as leaner, a bit thinner, and now he was thicker, solid, she liked him like this.

The sound of fabric sliding off skin was heard in front of her and she now assumed he took his mask off. Was he going to kiss her? She knew he couldn't really show his face off to others but was dragging her in here really necessary? He could have just asked her to close her eyes.

"I'm...not an easy man Amelia. I do things, unforgiveable things to people in order to survive. And having a family, a woman or a child were never meant for me," His hand came up and cradled her warm cheek in his palm, his thumb gliding across her chin.

Despite how dark it was in this tiny little space, she saw him. His worries, his concerns, his want to try and do this with her.

"The way my life is, is not meant for either of you to be in. I take orders, I leave and I may never come back," God, was it always this hard to talk to someone? Simon licked his lips ready to dive into his whole speech of wanting to try when he felt that soft touch, her hands running up his warm dry sweat neck up to his cheeks.

She felt the growing stubble under finger tips and the scar he had across his cheek. This was her Simon, the man who poured into her while she collected everything he gave, waited patiently to hear him out and poured herself right back into him. He let her pull him close, bending a bit to get closer.

The greedy creature yearned for the flame, yearned to be seen and to be welcomed by that warm light that only Amelia knew how to give.

Simon didn't hesitate to bring his arms down and around her middle keeping her as close to his front as possible. Breaths mingling together, lips only a hair away she felt almost complete.

"I know you live a dangerous life Simon but you shouldn't cut yourself short of the things it has to offer, it may be dangerous but there can be peace too," Amelia spoke ever so softly brushing her red tinted lips against his own teasingly and he followed wherever her lips touched with his own.

"Peace? This is the most peace I've ever felt," Peace was a luxury someone like him never felt but in this very moment, he felt it and he had to admit, it felt pretty damn good.

"What about when we met? Did you not feel at peace?"

Simon smirked. The night they met there was peace, she made him feel like a normal man that had no kind of responsibility except take her that night. It was a peace he would never forget. Sliding his hands down to her hips he gripped them familiarizing himself again with their roundness.

"Yes, I did," He pecked her lips quickly.

The doctor wasn't satisfied with that answer of his and pushed for more. She slowly placed a light kiss on his lips with closed eyes," Come on Simon, you and I both know you can elaborate some more," Their lips were so close, that there would be no doubt smudges of her red lipstick upon his lips when they got out, if he didn't wear that mask of his.

Simon exhaled and pushed his lips against her own, tongue darting out and licking her tainted parted lips. There was no need to elaborate how he felt with his words, he'd rather show her. And thus, began the battle of just how at peace Simon felt being with his doctor.

Ghost made no effort trying to be a gentlemen about kissing her. He was a greedy creature devouring her mouth and savoring her taste as if he was starved. Amelia wasn't too far behind, she pulled at him beckoning him to taste her further as their bodies molded against one another.

Alas tasting her and touching her like this wasn't enough for Simon, he needed to feel her, more intimately. So he quickly slid his hand to the back of her jean clad thigh and hiked her leg up around his waist making her flushed against him so she can feel just how at peace he was.

And by God was he more than at peace, he was hard, thick and bulging, just as she remembered it. But the clothes that laid between them hid and confined him. If only they weren't stuck in a closet like this; if only they were somewhere more private or rather...in her home.

As they continued to kiss and grind into one another Amelia found it harder and harder to pull away. He would not leave her like he did that night, nor like he did in her office. She clung to the poor ghosts shirt greedily as if trying to tear it apart and the ghost gripped her ever so tightly afraid she'd disappear if he didn't. The closet itself was filled with the sounds of their quick intakes of air and her soft pleased moans. Each and every time Simon bumped his groin into her clothed center her breath hitched ever so slightly and he could feel her desperately trying to grip his shoulders pulling him closer.

This was as close as they were going to get to one another in this tight little closet. But this was perfect. Simon took a step forward pushing her back but it only caused the two of them to bump into that mop bucket.

That pulled Amelia out of that dream like haze. She broke the kiss and placed her hands back on his shoulders, pushing and gently urging him away with a silly attempt. But Simon continued to kiss her chin, jaw and neck while maintaining her thigh up by his hip grinding into her center. The ghost wanted to ravish the beautiful woman in red before him and remind her again who he truly was, to sink into her depths and forget about everything outside of this small room.

But his pretty little flame kept pushing at him, he could hear his soft voice...what was she saying?

Whatever it was he paid it no mind, he licked up her slender neck savoring how sweet his woman tasted and wondered if her cunt still tasted the same now. He lowered his hand to her rounded rear and squeezed it as he did in the past. That rewarded him with a breathless moan from her lips.

"S-Simon...Please," She whined softly into his ear like a female in heat, aching. Was she needy? Did she want him like he wanted her? Was that a green light? It’s been so long since he had her in his arms practically melting at his advances, that he wasn’t too sure what he should do next.

Yet, he paid close attention to her. The sounds she made, how her body jerked and trembled with each grind of his thick bulge between her legs. God, how could she resist him when all he could smell, feel was her heat?

"I've wanted to see you dance so badly Amelia. To see you twirl and sway your hips like a tornado, that memory plays in my head often," The ghost lifted his head pressing his bare tainted lips against her pierced ear.

Breathlessly whispering into it with his gruff voice that caused her to visibly shiver.

Their hips moved in sync with one another. Two lost lovers slowly reuniting to finally overcome the obstacle that always seemed to hinder them both.

"Was...My body...all you could think about mi amor?" She whispered back just as breathlessly.

"No, your entirety was all I could think about." Simon licked the shell of her ear.

Amelia moaned out into the closet. He adjusted his grip and angled his hips so that his bulge was grinding against the area he knew where that sensitive clit hid underneath those clothes of hers.

So, he really did miss her? Was that what he was saying? Not just her body?

"I wanted to tell you how badly I wanted to see you again. You don't have the slightest idea how hard it was for me to leave you there,"

Simon pulled back to face her fully in the dark," I never wanted to hurt you Amelia-"

Greedily Amelia didn't bother to hear anymore of his apology and took hold of each of his cheeks and squashed their lips back together. There was no need for remorse or regrets when they were together like this. Right now, all that was needed was rekindling.

She, the flame will once again illuminate his world, showing him that there were so many different paths to take. That he didn't just have to see the world in black, white or red.

This world was bright, colorful and their daughter, was the most colorful firefly there ever was.

"Shut up. No more of that 'sorry' talk. You have me at your mercy Simon," Amelia caressed his cheeks with her thumbs and by this time their bumping and grinding ceased. He rested his forehead against hers taking in a breath to try and relax.

The doctor was right. She was right in front of him and he was pouring all of what he wanted to say and do in a moment where he should have been rearranging her insides and filling her up with his seed again.

That thought alone made him gulp. Not yet, first he had to get to know his first born before he even decided to have another.

"You're right. I told you I'm not an easy man Amelia."

She smiled a bit," Yo se querido."

----------

I updated! Woo!

Sorry for the super long wait but I hope this was good? It's not over yet but I thought I should give you guys all a little something before brewing a new chapter!

I hope you all enjoyed!

[chuuyasbbg]

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 ☽

“𝐼 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝓈𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.” -taylor swift

JOEL MILLER X FEM READER!

!! Mature themes and Dark content, NSFW, MINORS DNI 18+ !!

THE LAST OF US 2 SPOILERS!!

─────────────────────────────────

Summary: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘑𝘰𝘦𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘈𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘑𝘰𝘦𝘭, 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Content warnings: 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴: 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬.

Authors Note: 𝘐’𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘛𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!

────────────────────────────────────

You were aware of the risk that relationships during the apocalypse brought, but you and Joel had decided to take it anyways.

He was the hesitant one, the one who would end up at your doorstep saying how much he missed you, only to ignore your presence for days. It hurt, making you feel confused and led on for awhile. you’d express that to him, and soon after he began changing.

It was easy for him to let his guard down when around you. The day he met you, he knew he was going to be in trouble. Even though the world is dark and crawling with disgusting infected, being with you felt warm and inviting, like the world was actually glowing and healthy. That’s what you radiated; comfortability, sparks, and hope.

Joel never cared for smiling a ton. Of course he’d occasionally laugh or grin at Ellie or Tommy, But it came effortlessly as you both started talking about anything and everything. Conversing was smooth with you two, never running out of topics to discuss.

You fell first, but Joel fell harder.

He forgot about the state of the world temporarily during the moments you and him were together, and dove into you head first, never looking back. He didn’t regret it, none of it.

However, You wouldn’t ever get the opportunity to hear him say that for himself.

Because Joel’s gone.

It’s been a month without him, and oh, how lonely and void it is without his aura and spirit around Jackson. Around you.

You haven’t been up to much. Some patrols here and there when you feel like it, and then its back to your new home in which you haven’t payed much attention too yet.

Due to Living with Joel for two years, you got used to how perfect and content your situation was, pretending as though it would last forever. You basked in it, believing that the world can be good as long as you have Joel by your side.

But now there’s nothing making you happy. Nothing making you want to stay. You don’t eat, barley sleep, avoid your friends or go on patrol. Each and every day it’s the same shit. The reality around you looks and feels unbearably bleak, but Joel’s life was the soothing light.

With Joel, each day was a blissful mystery. He knew how to keep things fresh and enjoyable, that’s something you loved about him. He tried so hard for you, and you’d always appreciate that.

It’s unbearable when you’re not busy. Unwelcome flashes of the evil girl taking Joel’s precious life like it meant nothing, like he hadn’t changed yours for the better. No matter how hard you cried, begged and pleaded, she wouldn’t stop the harsh beating on him.

Even with Ellie’s help, the girl didn’t care. She decided to end it, to permanently take him away from the world. Away from you. How fucking dare she? You couldn’t and still can’t wrap your mind around why she would kill someone so warm and valuable to the dark world.

But the amount of rage you had didn’t matter thanks to the two men holding you down, making you unable to move out of their death grip. Your eyes were plastered on your lover’s mutilated face from the golf club, the chunks of his once delicate skin now stained with dark red. The sight churned your gut, bile rising in your throat. You wanted to throw up witnessing your lifeline take his last breaths.

The hot tears streaming down your cheeks were ignored as you screamed out once more, belting erratically, “I love you, Joel! I fuckin’ love you!”

You hoped with every fiber stored away in your soul that he somehow heard your confession. A confession that neither of you had a chance to admit.

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to you, he hadn’t.

He was the last thing you saw before one of them kicked you in the face, sending you unconscious. and when you woke up, it was confirmed what occurred hadn’t been a terrifying nightmare. It was the cruel reality check that was inevitably catching up to you.

When you, Tommy, and Ellie had gotten home later that day, Ellie pulled you aside and expressed how you all should go out, search for Abby and her friends, and give them the revenge they rightfully deserve. And you, without a second of hesitation, agreed with her. You’d be leaving tomorrow morning on your horses with her and Dina, since Tommy took it upon himself to unexpectedly leave sooner.

Since that haunting day, sleep for you became nonexistent due to the reoccurring flashback dreams of your boyfriend being brutally killed, invading your brain like a parasite.

Tonight’s no different. You’re lying in your bed, the flesh of your face stained with tears, new ones joining them not long after. Your vision is fixated on your ceiling, the empty feeling from next to you creeping up like a curse.

That spot was filled with such a beautiful person not too long ago, but now it only held you. It felt absolutely dreadful and mind boggling.

You’re alone again. And it’s your fault for believing you and Joel would live a long and happy life together while being in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. Where fast, infected cannibalistic’s roam around, trying to slaughter anything they see or sense.

And the despicable, disgusting human beings who resulted in using violence instead of common decency, selfishly murdering innocent people for their supplies and what not.

This is no place to have committed relationships, but you and Joel were so in love that that no longer mattered to both of you, even though it should’ve. Should you have been more distant with him?

No, then you wouldn’t know Joel’s intelligence and his beautiful brain that matched so effortlessly with yours, you wouldn’t know what being in love felt like, you wouldn’t know how a person should be treated. Joel taught you many things, including taking chances.

You don’t regret it. You’d never regret being with him. Even though your heart, body and mind aches and longs for his presence, its worth it to have the amazing memories you created with him.

The memories. They’re all you have left. Thank god you remember every moment you shared with Joel, that way you can revisit them whenever you want.

Right now was one of those moments. You miss him terribly, wishing you could see him even for one last time because that’s better than nothing. Anything to get that last image of him out of your head so it can’t haunt you anymore.

You turned your body to the side, eyes fluttering shut as you decided to imagine one of your favorite memories of you and Joel.

Specifically that September night.

───

Autumn leaves glided through the air until they fell onto the ground, the crisp afternoon air picking up with some wind.

The perfect temperature and visuals of fall, yours and Joel’s favorite time of the year. The weather isn’t too hot or cold, you get to wear sweatshirts, and cuddling up next to him is the cherry on top.

It’s been one year since you’ve moved in with your boyfriend, Joel, and you both couldn’t have been happier being side by side.

You know the risks, but to be able to call Joel Miller yours was very much worth it, and vise versa; he couldn’t get enough of you.

Currently, you and Joel just got back home from patrolling a new town a few hours away, scouting it out for potential enemies or infected.

While there wasn’t a living person there, multiple infected were and so you and Joel gained a kill count of 20, making both of you completely spent and exhausted.

You went right home, but didn’t go straight to sleep. Joel started humming to himself during his shower, and you decided to ask him to sing you another song while playing his guitar.

His voice was one of your favorite things about him. You could sit and listen to Joel sing for hours, your eyes glued on him the entire time, entranced.

Of course, Joel said yes. He wouldn’t deprive you of anything you wanted, especially when it comes directly from him.

You sat on the chairs placed on the porch, starring at Joel’s fingers strumming the guitar strings as he cleared his throat.

The moment Joel sung, you were dialed in. His voice was low and gruff, but smooth and controlled at the same time. It was the perfect melody for your ears, pleasantly listening to him while your lips curved into a smile.

Joel never made eye contact while singing, as it made him quite flustered, and he didn’t want to sound bad to anyone, but especially to you.

But with you sitting besides him, softly humming the same tune, eyes either locked on his face lovingly or down to his hands, he couldn’t resist connecting his gaze inside of yours, all the while still singing and you humming.

Your chest crackled like a fire, spreading an unbelievable amount of warmth throughout your body, and you suddenly had an epitome.

You felt euphoric in this moment with Joel, doing something simply domestic while living in a hellish nightmare. You’d feel kinda bad and guilty for feeling this happy, but truthfully, you both deserve it.

Joel stops singing to chuckle lightly, “What? Why are ya starring at me?”

I love you, you wanted to say, but instead you settled on giggling cutely. “I can’t look at you?”

One thing about your’s and Joel’s relationship that isn’t the healthiest is the only set rule you both mutually agreed upon: no saying I love you.

It made sense. No saying I love you so if one of you were to die, it would somehow make the grief easier. You were all for that rule at first, But now you wanted to screw the fucking rules and blurt it aloud.

You can’t no matter how much you may want too, though, because you know Joel promptly sticks to the rules and hates breaking them. He felt strongly about not saying I love you, he was the one to bring it up when you both started dating.

Confessing wouldn’t end up well. You’re sure Joel would run away the second he heard those words out of your mouth. He would be terrified, because him dying would ruin you, love is a big word with a big meaning and you feeling it meant that it was real.

Joel snickers and plays random strings on his guitar, “Right. I can tell you were in thought.”

A part of you sometimes hates when he can see right through you.

“Well, your voice is great and so is your guitar playing. I’m wowed every time you sing for me, that’s what I’m thinking.” Okay, not a complete lie. You just left out the part where you realized you had fallen in love with him. Not a huge deal, right? There’s a rule for a reason…

Joel mumbles under his breath, looking away for a second. He always does this when you boldly compliment him, he still isn’t used to that. He won’t complain, though, he loves when you explain why you like him.

Why do you like him? Joel can’t see what you do, constantly bashing himself any chance he can get. What makes your vision and opinion different than his? How come you don’t acknowledge his many flaws?

You’re too good for him. And that’s why Joel hates that he has loved you for months now, the feeling only growing the longer he spends time with you.

This isn’t like him. Should he get checked for something? Because Joel is shocked that he disregarded his own rules for another person. Let alone a romantic relationship.

Joel had a list of rules that you don’t know about to this day. The first time he saw your breathtaking face, and heard that dainty, addicting laugh, he knew he had to hold himself back. He knew that you’d cause him some inner turmoil. Just by seeing you for the first time ever.

He decided to ignore you’re presence all together, pretending as though you didn’t exist.

That was short lived when he got a little too drunk, finding himself approaching you by the horse stables. You were just getting back from evening patrol when you noticed him walking up to you.

You both found you had most things in common. Basic components like: Music taste, weather, your love for beer, camping out in the woods, etcetera. Long story short, you and Joel hit it off and the rest was history. Of course, over time, deeper personal stories and life experiences were shared, only making your connection stronger.

As much as he loves you, Joel refuses to say it. You voluntarily agreed with his rule, so he didn’t want to fuck everything up when you’d most likely get scared and distance yourself away from him. That’s the last thing he wants, so if he can’t say it to save what you both have, then so be it.

Joel faces you. “Do you got mornin’ patrol tomorrow?”

You bite your lip to suppress a smirk. “Nope. Jesse wanted another shift so he offered to go in my place. Why, do you?”

But you already know what his answer will be. “Good, ‘cause I don’t either.” His eyes lock in your pretty frame, tongue gliding along his inner cheek, the intensity making you feel hot.

You vaguely bat your lashes, “Come here.”

Joel instantly obliged, standing to his feet, you following suit, heart ramming against your chest as he crept towards you at an achingly slow pace, anticipation building inside you.

You haven’t been able to feel him all day, breathe in his intoxicating scent of woods with a hint of refreshing mint, shocking given the circumstances, but he always smelt good to you.

His eyes never tear from yours, his body coming to a halt just an inch away while he lifts up his muscular arm, hand cupping the side of your jaw, giving your flesh there a tight squeeze.

The sensations of his fingers digging into you sent goosebumps along your skin, the hungry gleam mixed inside his eyes sending arousal to form down below.

“Joel,” your soft voice was just above a whisper, his name masking a plea.

He playfully clicked his tongue, “Always so impatient.”

Before you could retaliate, Joel’s lips crashed into yours, blissfully in sync, your soft mouth pushing more force into his lips as your desire grew.

Joel groaned huskily, disconnecting your mouths, leaving you in a pout. He chuckles at your dim reaction, reaching for your hand. You intertwine with him, smiling warmly.

“Can I take you to the bedroom?” He asks genuinely, making sure that you still want this.

And god, do you.

“Please,” you tease, chewing your bottom lip, doe eyes laced with a plea.

Joel leans in dangerously close to your lips, “I’m gonna need a yes, darlin’.”

Heat rushes to your core at the nickname, and if you’re honest, him wanting your verbal consent poured more gasoline onto the sparkling fire.

You ghost your lips over his, so subtly, “Fuck yes.”

He smirks handsomely, gently pulling you behind him as he leads both of you through the house, up the stairs, and into your shared bedroom.

You kick the door shut as Joel spins around, his fiery eyes boring into you intently, stepping an inch away from you, bringing either of his hands to grip your waist possessively, tingles running through your flaming skin at the touch.

He forcefully pulls you flush to his body, more warmth radiating off from him. Your arms wrap around his neck, head tilting to the side as he did the same, lips moving together feverishly, desperately, like this was the last time you’d be able to kiss him.

Your fingernails dig into the back of his neck, earning a low growl from the back of Joel’s throat, making your clit pulse and wetness collect in your underwear.

Your kisses become more passionate but impatient, moving your hands down the front of Joel’s clothed stomach, hovering them over his belt.

He chuckled, flicking his gaze below. “Eager Darlin?”

You nod without a second thought, “I want you, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes widen, something shifting inside of them as he admires you, drinking in your sight and how fucking gorgeous you look before him, eyes begging for him to do more, lips moist and red from the rough kissing, hair slightly messy due to Joel’s wandering hands. It was heaven on earth for him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments lowly, knots forming in the pit of your stomach, heat rushing to your cheeks.

You bite your bottom lip, “Come back.”

Joel cups your jaw harshly, the stinging causing adrenaline to rush throughout you as he returns his mouth to yours the hardest you’ve think he’s ever done, the force making you stumble back a little so you fist his blue button up shirt with both hands, a noise of surprise leaving your lips.

He groans gruffly, shoving his tongue into your mouth when it opened for him, and you gladly accepted, your fingers sliding up to the top button of his shirt, starting to undo them quickly.

Joel parts away, watching you practically rip his shirt off, tossing it across the room. You take his hands and guide them to the hem of your short sleeve, letting him know it was okay to do the same.

You lift your arms up so that it’s easier to peel off, Joel pulling it off you with ease, throwing it to where his shirt fell.

His eyes instantly lock with your bare chest, nipples perky and breasts full, his mouth watering just from starring at them. You feel slightly flustered, but Joel dives in, sucking your nipple and nibbling it softly, the sensation purely perfection, a soft moan escaping your mouth. Your hand flies to the nape of his neck, shoving him harder into your flesh, his tongue swirling around your areola and teeth gently biting your nipple.

“Fuck, Joel.” You tilt your head back when he gives the same treatment to your other boob, biting the inside of your cheek due to the pleasure.

“You sound so pretty like that,” He praises, looking up at you, and the sight made your core drip. You needed more. You needed him.

You take it upon yourself to yank him away, and he glares at you with confusion, but when he notices your thighs squeezed together, he smirks with realization.

“My pretty girl want more?” He asks tauntingly, standing up straight and gazing directly into your narrowed eyes.

You nod. He clicks his tongue. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your clit pulsed at the pet name, arousal becoming unbearable. “Yes, I want more.” You admit bashfully, bathing in too much desire to care about embarrassment.

Joel furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah? C’mere.”

You oblige, walking towards the bed, laying down on your back but holding yourself up with your elbows, watching Joel kneel down in front of you, full of anticipation.

He just takes a moment to observe every crevice of your body, the healed scars from your dark past, only adding to your beauty, the random freckles along your skin, your perfect thighs, waist, face—- everything. You are stunning in Joel’s eyes, not just on the outside, but inside too.

He begins pecking his soft lips down your legs, reaching closer to where you needed him most, but he’d retreat and kiss the other way, blatantly teasing you.

“Joel.” You complain with a groan, and he sucks on your inner thigh. “Want something, darlin’?”

Your eyebrows pull together, “Please, I need more.”

He wanted you to be clearer with your words, but with how much you’re begging for him and how pretty you sound, he don’t deny you anymore.

Joel grabs the undersides of your thighs, dragging you closer to him and he moves your legs to dangle over his broad shoulders, displaying his toned muscles and brawny build, your mouth dropping at the sight.

“You look so fuckin good.” You daintily gushed, softly giggling as Joel’s cheeks flushed. He gives a thank you by kissing your covered pussy, your annoying pajama pants still on, but nonetheless the pressure felt good, but you yearned for more.

He knows what you really want, but he won’t give it to you just yet. He’s gonna teach you some god damn patience.

His tongue darts out, applying blissful force to your clit, your head falling backwards as your mouth parted open again. Your right hand pulls at his hair, trying to shove him harder into you, but he relents.

“So needy,” he scoffs, “Can’t I play with you for a bit?” He suggests with amusement, knowing that isn’t what you want.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Please, Joel. At least take these off.” You gesture to your pants, and he snickers.

How could he reject you when you sound so desperate for him? “Okay, baby. Lift up.” You do as told, lifting yourself up while Joel pulls your pants down, taking them completely off and discarding them behind him. Your legs return over his shoulders, this time the only garment covering your pussy being your black panties.

It was a step closer, so you’d take it. Joel’s warm mouth sucks your skin, his teeth biting every so often, slowly but surely making his way down to your core.

Your heart is practically thumping out of your chest, desire building the more his lips work their magic, your clit starting to ache from wanting to be touched. You choke out a irritated moan, glaring at your unfazed boyfriend.

He ignores you, keeping his slow pace down your thighs, leaving dark purple hickeys in place. You watch him, letting out whimpers.

Finally, his wet tongue glides over your slit, stopping to suck at your clit. Your back arches as electricity pulses through you, belting a satisfied whimper, Joel groaning into your pussy, the vibrations making it feel euphoric.

The noises coming from you shrink Joel’s resolve, and soon he’s moved your panties to the side and started devouring you like you were his last meal on earth.

His lips encase your clit and he harshly sucked while two fingers thrusted inside of you over and over again, you letting out uncontrollable cries and whines from the immense pleasure.

Your legs and back would be hovering off the bed if it wasn’t for Joel’s strong grip on them, holding you down with all his might. The tip of his tongue circled your clit deliciously, sparks of pleasure coursing around it.

His fingers hit your g spot each stroke, your high catching up to you faster than intended. Joel’s assault on your pussy felt amazing, it’s not your fault you won’t last when he’s a master at this.

When he felt your walls clench around his digits, Joel knew that your orgasm was coming soon. Since he felt he’s denied you enough, he came to the decision to award you.

Joel’s tongue works quickly at your clit, hammering his fingers faster than before, rocking your body and tits back and forth, his dick hardening uncomfortably tight in his pants from looking at your contorted facial expression, mouth agape, moans and high pitched whines releasing like beautiful notes, eyes screwed impossibly shut with furrowed brows, head thrown back, enunciating your jaw line.

“You gonna cum sweetheart?” Joel muses, already aware that you were, but the tease earned him a dragged out groan of his name. God, his favorite part of sex is having the privilege of making you cum on his tongue and fingers. He doesn’t even need his dick to make you all fucked out, and he feels proud that he has the ability to make you feel good.

You chew your lip roughly, sharp pain emitting from the flesh there, but you hardly care. You’re on the verge of letting go, and your desire to cum grows bigger each second his fingers pound your pussy, his mouth returning to your swollen bud, both sensations adding to the desperation.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You warn, the back of your head involuntarily slamming into the pillow beneath you, feeling your orgasm build rapidly as Joel continues his actions, going faster when you grip his hair and shove him further into your core, one more stroke of his fingers and one more lap at your clit makes your inner coil explode, your orgasm washing over your body harshly, fingernails digging through Joel’s skin, legs uncontrollably shaking, your desire seeping out of your hole and covering Joel’s fingers, soaking them entirely.

You’re a panting mess, and you haven’t even fucked him yet. Your chest rises and falls while your heart pounds speedily, feeling as though it was about to tear out of your body. You stare at Joel lovingly in your post orgasmic daze, watching as he sexily brings he fingers inside of his mouth, sucking your juices clean off.

Your pussy throbbed, yearning for more of him. Your eyes flicked to his jeans, and the apparent bulge only added to your want. He met your gaze, smirking at your approval, he motioned you over with a tilt of his head, his need for you rising as you get on your knees for him, hands roaming over his tent.

Joel quietly sighed with relief when your fingertips ghost over his clothed dick, electric waves streaming inside of his veins, teeth gnawing at his cheek. Your hand cupped his cock, caressing it through the dark blue material. He groaned huskily, hand reaching your hair to create a makeshift ponytail.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease. Can’t you suck it for me?” Joel boldly questions with dripping inclination, thick eyebrows drawing downwards. He sounded frenzied and intoxicated with arousal, and you’d be honored to give it to him.

You nod sheepishly, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through his jean loops, throwing it onto the floor. Next, you undid his button and pulled the zipper down, his pants following suit until Joel was left only in his grey boxers.

His dick was springing upwards, begging to be released and finally touched. You could tell he was becoming eager from how his grasp on your hair tightened, causing pleasurable stinging on your scalp.

You beam at him through your lashes, his eyes peering straight inside of yours, letting you know this was okay, so you slid down his boxers, freeing his large, thick shaft from its restrains. Purple bulging veins were prominent through his skin, leaking pre-cum dripping from his flushed tip.

“What’re you waitin’ for?” Joel complains impatiently, and you send him a glare. “You made me wait much longer, I think you’re fine.”

He shakes his head, not able to retaliate because you were right, he had took his sweet time with you deliberately to tease you, to make you want more, to have you beg for his mouth, and now he was being a hypocrite, demanding for you to hurry up and suck him off already.

But he didn’t particularly expect you to show him attitude, since majority of the time you never act dominant, but something about the sharpness and how bratty your sultry voice sounded made blood pulse in his cock.

You lean your head down to his dick, sticking out your tongue, running a stripe of saliva over his stiffened shaft, up to his tip where you halted your mouth and gently sucked, lapping up his creamy pre cum, the salty and bitter taste melting on your tongue.

Joel sucked in a rush of oxygen through his teeth, exhaling a shaky growl at the feeling of your wet appendage wrapping his dick delectably, his heart starting to thump a mile a minuet.

Your hand snaked the base of him as your tongue continued to lick over his tinted skin, darting it out when you approached the slit. You opened your mouth wider, preparing to take his huge cock inside.

You take a deep breath using your nose, slowly lowering your hot mouth down his throbbing dick, Joel’s hand clutching your hair, pulling on it harder than before.

“Fuck.” Joel grunts, eyes glued to your pretty form taking his while dick without having to ask. “You’re such a good girl.”

You mewl onto his cock, sending warm and tingly sensations to encase him pleasantly, watching as you begin to bob your head quicker, taking advantage of your free hand to jerk what you couldn’t fit, which wasn’t much. You enjoyed being stuffed with Joel’s dick, choking on it and hearing the sexy noises he belts out thanks to you.

The oxygen in your lungs was about to run out, so you slid his cock out with a pop, gathering saliva inside of your mouth, spitting it slowly onto his tip while your eyes bore into his narrowed ones, smiling at him mischievously, suddenly going back in for more.

You were relentless this time, sucking, lapping, spitting, and jerking his swollen, girthy dick. Joel borderline whines at the merciless attack, but the intense and overwhelming desire distracted him from acknowledging that.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by you, however. The whine was monotone, yet the last string of his voice changed octaves, your walls clenching at the beautiful noises.

Joel yanked your lips off his cock, saliva dripping onto your chin as you glanced up at him cluelessly, wondering why he wanted you to stop. But he pulled you back up so that you both were aligned, grabbing the bottom of your chin to kiss you feverishly, his tongue immediately finding home in your inviting mouth, softly moaning into his.

He pulled away, scanning your features and gorgeous body, and he realized he couldn’t take anymore foreplay. Joel wanted to fuck you, to make you feel blissful, euphoric, enchanted. He wanted you to only want him forever, only want him to do this to you, kiss you, feel your supple skin, admire the scars the normal eye can’t see. He wants to be the only one you curl up with at night, underneath the comfortable and warm blanket, bodies touching with gentle carcasses.

While Joel paused to stare at you with an unreadable yet soft expression, you tilted your head to the side and brushed your fingers along his jawline.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worried that he might’ve changed his mind about continuing.

But he just laughed. “Of course I am. I can’t look at you?” He uses your words from earlier on purpose, and you chuckle along with him, agreeing.

“That’s fair,” You conclude, licking your lips. “Joel?”

He leans in closer, his hot breath fanning your face. “Yes darlin’ ?”

You repeat his actions, noses brushing together subtly. “Please, fuck me.”

Your beg ignited an animalistic fire in Joel’s chest, his possessiveness over you fueling because of how bad you craved him, and how could he deny you of that when it’s so blatant that you want him just as much as he wants you?

Joel nudged you to lay flat on your back, the back of your head and neck resting softly on your pillow, but corked enough to have a clear visual of your boyfriend, who was now hovering slightly over your frame, arms caging you in between them, bent at the elbow as his face drew an inch from yours.

His pretty brown eyes with a tinge of green were gaping at you, him becoming enthralled once again by how fucking beautiful you looked underneath him, legs already spread out, giving him full access to your most intimate parts.

You displayed no ounce of hesitations, showing that you fully trusted him to take care of you and your body, and satisfaction filled Joel to the brim.

His cock poked at your soaked entrance, your walls clenching around nothing, desperately wanting to feel him inside of you.

You pout at him, eyes begging. “Please.” Your eyes fly shut when he suddenly thrusts his dick in your pussy, the size stretching your walls perfectly, coating him with your delightful juices.

Joel unleashed a dragged out groan, his dick feeling remarkably euphoric, your wet pussy pulsing around him repeatedly, your hands flying to his back where they mindlessly clawed at.

It felt good; the burning pain. Because he knows it’s due to you feeling good too. Joel always ensures that he isn’t the only one having a good time, and always makes you cum first.

Joel begins at a slow pace, his hazy, narrowed eyes boring delicately into your lust-filled ones, you both starring as he thrusts inside of you, the tip of his cock hitting your G spot relentlessly.

Your nails dug so harshly into his back that they ended up breaking skin, but Joel only groans at the feeling, tingles wracking up through his flesh.

He suddenly changes his speed, using his elbows to hover above you while he hammers his dick continuously in your gushing pussy, juices leaking down his shaft and the sight makes blood flow down his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Joel growls, grabbing each side of your lower torso, forcing your body to fuck him harder, the intense pressure curling your toes and slamming your head back into the pillow, a yelp ripped out of your throat, one of your hands finding their way to cup Joel’s throat.

Your hand tightens around it before yanking him so that his lips crash on yours desperately, all clacking teeth and wet mouths moving together quickly, tongues entering not long after.

But your impending orgasm was building rapidly in the pit of your stomach, the coil flaming hot and ready to explode any moment. And again, it’s because of Joel and his knowledge on how to make you feel good.

Joel pulls away from you, sitting back a bit on his knees, your legs hooked around his torso, his eyes roaming down your flushed and sweaty body, his hands still using you to fuck his cock while he keeps slamming into you.

Your back arches off the bed, left hand gripping the pillow. His dick moves impossibly faster, the tip assaulting your cervix each stroke. You’re uncontrollably moaning at this point, the pleasure in every inch of your euphoric body.

He can feel your walls pulsing and clenching around his dick, a tell tale sign that you’re close. Joel moans at the feeling, jaw clenching as he thrusts quicker.

Joel leans down to your level, a smirk pulling on his kiss bruised lips. “You gonna cum on my dick, baby?” He tuts, biting his bottom lip.

You nod frantically, eyes screwed shut, preparing yourself for an orgasm—- until Joel stops all together. Annoyance floods your system, lifting your head up to glare impatiently at your boyfriend.

He chuckles gruffly, lowering himself next to your ear, “I didn’t hear a yes.”

You groan, “Yes, Joel.”

Joel nods with satisfaction. “Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

“Fuck you,” you muse, wrapping your arms around his broad neck, pulling him flush to your body.

“I am, baby.” Joel playfully retorts, caressing your face with his fingers, until they reached your neck, giving it a tight squeeze.

You whine, “Please, move.”

He wastes no time obliging, as he is close too, and his patience is thinner than a thread. He’s fervent, groaning lowly, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts again.

Joel’s hips thrust over and over into your throbbing pussy, both of you drunk off endorphins and unmatched bliss, releasing groans and moans together as you get closer to bursting.

“F- fuck.” Joel stutters while he slams into you.

“Can’t hold out much longer, darling.” He warns, but you’re too fucked out to reply, your orgasm about to wash over you next time he hits your G spot.

You arch your back, toes curling into the mattress, hands holding onto Joel’s back while he pounds you into the bed.

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You moan, “Can I cum?”

Joel answers you, both by saying, “Yeah, sweetheart, Let go for me.” And following that up by bringing his fingers to your puffy clit, rubbing it speedily back and forth or in circles, his pace in your walls aggressive and loving.

The moment he added to your exponential pleasure, the boiling hot coil in your tummy exploded like a firework show, your vision turning white and your body convulsing with euphoria, Joel’s name repeatedly pouring out of your mouth like a mantra, your cum leaking out of your gummy pussy, right on Joel’s dick.

Joel fucks you through your orgasm, now chasing his own, but it didn’t take long after he felt the way your pussy clenched harshly around him, your juices soaking his cock. The way your soft voice belted his name sent him over the edge, though, stilling inside of you as thick white ropes shot out of his slit, animalistic growls coming from his throat.

You both take a moment to recollect yourselves, catching your breaths as they were very much temporarily taken away. The room was blistering hot and your bodies were sweaty, but nonetheless Joel kissed your forehead and gave you a smile.

“You okay?” He questions as he peels his frame off of yours, laying down next to you instead.

You giggle, shifting your body to the side so you could look at him. “Well, I am now.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Shush.”

His arms reach out to you, pulling you against him. You rest your head on his chest, snaking one arm over his torso, holding him tightly.

“Are you okay?” You follow up, tiredness creeping up on you, eyes drifting slowly, but you feel him nod.

“Im Perfect. Go to sleep, baby. You gotta long day tomorrow.” He reminds, and you heavily sigh thinking about having to wake up early even though you didn’t have patrol.

You won’t disagree with that.

After using the bathroom quick, you head back to bed with Joel, curling up comfortably next to him, arms lacing together like puzzle pieces. Your head returns to his chest, but this time you close your eyes and breathe out with contentment, sleep finding you instantly.

It doesn’t find Joel as easily, though.

His fingers lace through your hair, gently playing with it while he admires your sleeping frame, and the soft breaths that release from your nose ensuring him that you’re alive and that you’re actually here, lying in his arms.

And Joel smiles.

“I love you.” he mutters under his breath, so quietly that even he had a hard time hearing it.

He’s positive that you didn’t, but selfishly, a part of him truly hopes that you did.

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, you hadn’t.

[v8mpstamp]

I just wanna give steve a slow handy and watch and (play) with the cum that dribbles onto his belly is that too much to ask for

that’s never too much to ask for anon, enjoyyyy!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 1,170

Warnings: 18+ Cum. lots of cum, cum play, dirty talk,cursing, hand job, male orgasm, edging, begging if you squint, uses of babe,baby and honey

Master list:

_____________________<3_____________________

When you entered Steve's room, the door creaked softly as you closed it, your hair damp from the shower. You make your way to Steve who's silently propped up against his head board with the book "High Fidelity" by Nick Hornsby cradled in his hands.

The only source of light comes from the lamp that sits on his desk. Without a word you plop down next to Steve, your body settling comfortably into him, your head resting softly on his broad shoulder, in response he removes one hand from his book and encircled you with his arm pulling you closer to him. Steve places a quick kiss to the top of your head before flipping the page and continuing back to his reading.

You couldn't help but stroke your hand up and down, softly soothing Steve's chest. His attention still to his book, flipping the page every once and a while.

You let out a soft hum as your fingers continue to dance along his chest, moving playfully up to graze his shoulder and his collar bones, and back down, tracing the rise and fall of his muscles.

You find yourself inching your hand lower and lower, till your knuckles reach the book that rests slightly above his belly. You bump it softly as a way to ask for access, in response he lifts up his book, allowing your hand to pass, your finger tips meeting his happy trail, fingers twirling playful spirals, taking your time as you inch down.

You scoop up the string connected to the waistband of his shorts and fiddle with them in your hand, "accidentally" dropping them, only to grab them again, your hand grazing his member in the process. You can tell the effects this has on him by the deep breath he sucks in and the shift of his hips, his cock twitching in his shorts as he tries to keep his attention to his book.

Your fingers meet his skin again and you trace his v-line- suddenly, he drops his book one hand moving to rub your arm sweetly. “Honey why are you being so distracting huh?" he asks teasingly, tapping his chin atop your head.

"Don't worry about me baby…just wanna play, go back to your book" you dismiss, your fingers barley touching his waistband. "Whatever you say" he responds, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he picks his book back up, continuing where he left off.

You lean up a bit to snake off his shorts for him, freeing his hard length, then leaning back again to rest your head on him, places kisses to his shoulder. His body relaxes into your touch his head leaning back slightly as you softly take his length into your hands, his fingers gripping his book tighter as he tries to concentrate on it. You start at the base, softly taking him in your hand, making sure you move slow enough to feel every ridge and vein, purposely ignoring his sensitive tip, you'll get to that later, for now, you continue your soft teasing strokes, causing Steve's stomach to clench, his breath getting heavier as you stroke him, pre cum begging to dribble out of his tip that begs to be touched, drops dribbling onto his soft tummy.

You pump slightly faster this time, tightening your grip just a little. Your hand nears dangerously close to his leaking tip, causing even more pre cum to leak out, coating his belly once more, the cloudy liquid sitting perfectly on his soft tummy.

"Fuck honey, making a mess” he hissed, his book slightly lifted so he can see your hand working him, his neglected tip beginning to throb, begging for your touch. You remove your hand, placing his book back down, "told you not to worry about me Stevie" you repeat softly in a hum, his eyes fixate back onto his book as he tries to ignore how good you're making him feel, fighting the urge to thrust his hips into your hand, instead, he allows you to work your magic.

You finally graze over his tip catching him off guard, but only to collect the warm precum dribbling out of him, a soft groan is released from him. You bring your coated finger to his belly and right into the rest of the cum that sits there, your finger tracing random patters into it, playing with it, fingers pinching together and pulling apart as you watch how it sticks to you.

You bring your hand back to his member and repeat the process, hands moving slowly to build up precum, making just enough to play with. This time, you focus more on his tip, you glide your thumb over his slit repeatedly just the way he likes, "fuck baby, mm gonna cum if you keep doing that" he says, his words tense as he tries to keep his patience, already fighting back his orgasm. "Mmm not yet baby, just need some more" you hum, placing kisses to his skin, your hands squeezing around his tip to push out more cum, angling his cock forward enough so it can land on his belly.

You keep working him slowly, "just like that baby" you praise softly, removing your hand and bringing it to his belly again to play with his cum, tracing hearts into it, twirling it into the light hair that sits there; your touch sending shivers all over his body. "Babe you gotta let me finish, don't know if I can go any longer" he admits in a huff, finding it even harder to focus on his book, his cock hurting, waiting for your touch as you play with the liquid, smearing it across his skin.

You let out a soft giggle at his frustration, the vibration echoing through his chest, but understandingly, you bring your hand back around his cock. You start off slow, collecting more precum and smearing it down his shaft before picking up your pace and beginning to pump faster so you can help him reach the edge that he's already close too. You graze over his tip occasionally earning curses and desperate whines from him, his mind completely forgetting about the book in his hand, fingers pushing into the paper, his head rolling back as he gets closer and closer. Slick wet sounds fill the room as you pump faster on him "you gonna come for me Steve? Give me more to play with please?" you pout, placing another kiss to his warm skin as you continue pumping, "shit fuck fuck fuck yes fuck" he spits out one after another weakly, his orgasm taking over strongly, it's evident when his cum shoots out of him, some landing onto your hand that fists him and down to his balls. His chest and belly move up and down as he takes in quick breaths, cum still leaking out of him, his length falling limp and resting against his cum covered belly, your fingers immediately dipping into it and twirling familiar patterns, satisfied with your result.

Master list:

[priafey]

sooo i'm supposed to finishing up some office work right now. however :3 i saw a post with a few 'get to know your character' questions and i couldn't help answering them for gwilin!!

tagging @ladytanithia

questions by @wisteria-lodge

_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–

Your character's go-to drink order?

Gwilin will drink almost anything, even liquors manufactured under questionable standards of cleanliness, but he'll usually opt for some plain old mead. The spicier/fruitier, the better. When he's alone, he likes to sip on Bosmeri brandy and fill up his sketchbook.

Their grooming routine?

Gwilin never learned how to shave properly. He always gets at least one nick or cut, when he does, so he'll only do it once Wilhelm, Lynly or Temba start bugging him by saying he's giving the greybeards a run for their money.

His hair is very precious to him. He never cuts it because he likes to think about who he was when his body was growing each part of its length, like it's a diary of who he is. He only washes it with water, and likes to take his sweet time in the river to really soften up and soothe his scalp with his fingers. Conversely, he's always been insecure about how stinky his sweat is, so he sometimes goes a little overboard with the scrubbing and ends up drying out his skin. But the upside is he always reeks of lavender, which is his favorite smell :)

What is their most expensive purchase? Where does their disposable income go?

One time, when he was eighteen, he bought a new millstone for the family farm when an earthquake cracked the old one in half. He had to use the money that he'd been saving up to buy his brother a nice robe for his wedding.

It's very likely Gwilin has never had income that can be categorized as 'disposable'. He makes enough to cover his basic needs and a fresh set of clothes every now and again, but that's pretty much it. The few items he has treated himself with in the past are books and drawing materials. Most of these he gets as gifts from Wilhelm, though.

Any scars? Tattoos?

Tons. Farm work is dangerous as hell. His hands, as well as a decent chunk of the rest of his body, have been cut, bruised, crushed, singed, or stung. His least favorite chore on the farm was harvesting the barley (because of the bugs), and roasting it once it was malted (because of the heat coming off the stoves).

When was the last time they cried? What was the context?

Gwilin will see a bug he really likes and cry over it. He had a very loving childhood and his parents always encouraged him to express his feelings, and warned him that repressing them is a recipe for disaster. The last time he cried was because he felt ashamed for having taken so long to write to his siblings.

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest, or only child?

He is the second youngest of twelve siblings. He feels closest with those who were born around the same time he was; his older brothers and sisters are kind of like distant cousins he doesn't know all that well. His younger sister, Winthir, was a real pain in his ass when he was growing up, and his next oldest sister, Suri, and next oldest brother, Greviil, are his best friends in all of Nirn.

Describe the shoes they're wearing.

His shoes are form-fitting, calf-height, brown leather boots made of goatskin. They are extremely comfortable, which is important for him because he works on his feet most of the day. He'd rather wear a cheap, roughspun tunic and itchy drawers if it means his feet are comfy.

Where do they sleep? What is it like?

Anywhere; Gwilin could fall asleep on a septim. But his usual sleeping arrangements are very modest: a little tufted flax in a rough linen pillowcase, a simple woolen blanket, and a glass of water on his nightstand for when he gets those sleepy midnight bouts of thirst.

Their favorite holiday/celebration/tradition?

Gwilin's parents worried a lot about their kids standing out for the wrong reasons in Cyrodiil, so they always tried to celebrate those holidays most recognized throughout the Empire at home, and purposefully avoided teaching their kids specifics about Bosmeri holidays. But Gwilin was never big on any of them. He especially disliked Saturalia.

When he was fourteen, he read about the Bosmeri Hog-Heart Festival in a book, and was immediately enamored by the idea. Ever since, he likes to imagine what patterns of ocher he would streak his body with and what ornaments his crush would wear while he went out on the hunt, or vice versa. The thought of being tenderly gifted the corpses of feral hogs makes him melt. He is a romantic, after all :D

What objects to they always carry around with them?

Definitely the band he uses to tie his hair up. His work gloves. A snack, preferably cheese. A hunting knife. Some spare pieces of linen or gauze if he gets a splinter or cuts himself at the mill. And a cool piece of polished malachite his brother gave him for his thirtieth birthday.

[shelling4869ford]

DCMK Secret Santa 2022: Good luck in love

Dear @gingerwitchhh​ ,

it’s me, your secret Santa, again! Finally revealing your present! I hope you’ll like it, even through I’m no master at romance, I do love writing Heiji and Kazuha, since they are not always super sweet but also behaving like they are already a married couple. Thank you for the nice prompt! I wish you a happy and merry Christmas, with lots of presents, cookies and Christmas spirit, as well as a happy and healthy new Year with lots of good luck!

Last but not least, a huge thank you to @dcmksecretsanta for hosting this event again, caring so much about everyone getting their present in Time <3 I wish you merry Christmas as well! I’m already looking forward to nest year!

But now, have fun!

-------

Good luck in love

  She figured it out.

 Damn she wasn´t supposed to figure it out!

Heiji swallowed, observing how his girlfriend comb through their shared flat, for what must be the tenth time now, growing more and more desperate.

 They moved in together about a year ago, two years after she confessed her love to him (yeah that’s right, after all his attempts of telling her went downhill it took her one silly dinner to confess), that’s why he wanted everything to be perfect this time, but it seemed that he was doomed to fail again.

 His eyes moved back to Kazuha who was about to move their wardrobe, leaning against it with all her weight in order to make it move, while her head started to glow bright red from the effort.

“Geez, that’s silly, why should it be underneath it?!” He scolded with a roll of his eyes, before a sharp gaze cut through his skin like ice.

‘Wrong move Hattori!’

 “Well it`s not like ya’re a big help figuring out where else it might be!” She hissed, still trying to move the damn wardrobe, ignoring the shaking head of her determined to be useless childhood friend.

“How should anyone find anything in tha mess ya’ve been making these past days!” Heiji growled pointing to his surroundings, the floor was littered with open boxes and even whole drawers moved  from the dresser, while everything seemed to be covered in pieces of clothes.  

Kazuha grumbled finally admitting that she’d lost her fight with her too heavy opponent, sliding down the wardrobe, before her eyes wandered to the pile of stuff she’d already been searching through before her eyes moved back to Heiji.

“I’ve a system!” The young woman announced, arm’s crossed in front of her chest.

Heiji rose  an eyebrow, lowering himself down to what looked like to be a heap of nearly everything they owned.

“Sure, and why are tha cookie cutters laying next ta my keys? What makes ya even think it could be between them, I don´t remember tha last time ya`ve made cookies.”  

“Because I’ve been searching everywhere else already!” The slight tremble in Kazuha’s voice finally forced him to look up again.

 ‘Oh f***!’

 Her lower lip was shivering already, and he could tell that her breath has become short and unstable. Definitely a read flag! It felt like a siren in his mind started to scream, while red lights where flashing from every section of his brain. Their bickering was  supposed to distract her, not make her cry all over again (he barley stomached the first two times this happened because of his – oh so brilliant – idea, there was no way he would survive a third time).

 “Listen, I’m sure we’ll find it soon!” He tried to sooth her, but she misunderstood his message and instead of  calming down, his disinterest only fuelled Kazuha’s anger! She rose from the floor and only stopped when she was an arm’s length away from him.

“How can ya be so calm about it! Ya’ve seen what happens when it’s missing!” Heiji swallowed, well she wasn´t wrong about that… but this was not the time to admit the death threat hanging over their heads.

“Oh come on, only a fool could belief in something like this!” He pointed out.

 “Are you calling me a fool Heiji Hattori!” The question wasn´t much more than a growl, she was even closer now, their foreheads almost touching each other. Heiji huffed, now quite angry himself.  

“Well maybe if you’re –“

 But he wasn´t able to finish his sentence, since an all too familiar voice stopped him.

 “Uhm- are we interrupting something?”

 Shinichi questioned from the doorframe, while Ran looked towards the couple from behind him, with a shy wave and a smile.

“What?!” Both Osakan asked in surprise by their sudden appearance, but while Kazuha’s lips moved into a smile, Heiji’s left eye started to twitch dangerously.

 ‘Oh damn, speaking of death threats…’

 “We knocked a couple of times, but you two weren´t answering, but we heard voices so-“ Ran tried to defeat their sudden entrance. She was rather uncomfortable, since it felt like they’ve broken into their friends apartment. While Shinichi simply eyed the pile of stuff on the floor with a raised eyebrow, before he started to remove his jacket, taking took her coat as well, as he spoke.  

 “You should really lock your front door, you know?” The detective announced while he moved to hang their jackets on the clothes rack, only to be greeted by Hattori’s wide eyes once he turned back around.

 “What the heck are ya doing here?!” It sounded more like an accusation, than a question so the detective was taken aback, not knowing how to answer his friends question.

“Uh?”

But Kazuha stepped between them, shooting daggers at her boyfriend for being so rude.

“Baro, I invited them, that’s why!” She announced, before she finally turned to their friends, grabbing Shinichi’s arm to lead him further into their home.

“I’m so glad ya’re finally here!”

Shinichi blinked in irritation, his eyes moving to his stunned friend, before he faced Kazuha again.

“Ah, yes. So, what can I do for you? You sounded rather serious on the phone?”

 The detective questioned with concern, unable to see how Heiji’s eyes grew wide, when it suddenly dawned upon him, why Kazuha had invited them.

 ‘Oh no!’

 Kazuha nodded, turning towards Kudo.

“It is! But I’m sure you’ll figure it out!” She chirped with the sweetest smile she possessed. Heiji knew this tactic by now: soft voice, shiny eyes, bright smile – Kazuha language for “I want something!”. He groaned, combing his fingers through his hair, messing it up in the process.

“Kazuha… you didn´t.” But the answer he got, wasn´t more than a hiss, before her voice turned back to the sweet tone, when she looked up to Kudo again, who by now looked rather uncomfortable standing between them.

 “Of course I did! He’s a detective after all!”

“And what am I to ya? A garden fairy, or what!”

“Don´t blame me, ya didn´t find it either till now. And I know you’ve been consulting Kudo-kun when ya don´t know what ta do, even when he was just a little shrimp.”

 ‘Oi, oi!’ Shinichi raised an eyebrow, while he could see Ran snickering behind their backs.

 “Yeah but this is different!” Hattori argued.

“How so!”

“Because- arg, fine, we go search for it.” Heiji grumbled, since he couldn´t come up with an explanation, without ruining his secret. He grabbed their coats and shoved Kudo out of there door, before Kazuha was able to hold them back.

 “Finally!” He took a deep breath, glad that he was able to leave with his plan still intact.

 But the peaceful silence, was soon over when Kudo looked at him, arms crossed in front of him, eyebrow raised demanding answers.

“Hattori… what have you done?”

“Huh? Uh- nothing?” But the detective of the west wasn´t fooled by his friend, only rolling his eyes in a sarcastic manner.

“Sure…”

“….”

“So?” Shinichi asked again, after a moment of silence.

“Well I-“ Heiji stuttered, his voice breaking beneath the hard look of his fried.

“I took our luck charms ta tha goldsmith, in order for him ta melt them into wedding rings.” Hattori’s statement finally left Shinichi speechless, before a wide smile stretched over his lips.  

 “You’re going to propose to Kazuha!”

 “Well, yeah genius- hence tha rings.” Heiji snorted, trying to hide his blush from Shinichi, rather unsuccessfully.

“Aaand you thought arguing would be a good start to ask her to marry you?” His fellow detective teased him, with a sly grin.

“Ha ha! Not funny Kudo.” Heiji growled.

“She wasn´t supposed ta notice that it’s missing in the first place.” He argued.

Shinichi nodded, but looked back at his friend in confusion.

“Ah, and how did she figure it out?” Shinichi watched how the tip of Hattori’s ears turned bright red at the question, before he tried to explain.

“Uhm- we might have had some bad luck these past days. You know, loosing stuff, our toaster lighting up in flames, nearly being hit by a car-”

“What?!”

Heiji rolled his eyes and continued with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah, so she checked on it and noticed it was missing.”

“Oh.” Shinichi blinked, his mind still lingering on the near death situation of his friends, while Heiji continued to talk.

“But that’s going ta stop now, since I got a text this morning, that I can pick up our rings.” He grinned in triumph. Shinichi nodded, turning back before heading for the streets.

“Alright, lets go!”

“What?!” The shout of his fried, forced the detective to turn back around, facing Hattori’s sceptical glance.

“You don´t think I’ll let go out there all by yourself, after all you’re missing your good luck charm as well.” Shinichi questioned.  

“Ha ha, I know ya don´t believe in this kind of stuff Kudo.” He tried to argue, while he caught up to his friend, steering their steps into the right direction.

“Well, better safe than sorry.” Shinichi shrugged, hiding his hand inside his pockets while following along, only to flinch beneath Hattori’s next words.

“If ya say so. Even though, it would be safer if a murder magnet like you wouldn´t be standing right next to me!”

 “Oi!”

 XXX

  Of course with said murder magnet and an unlucky detective on the road, nothing went smooth and easy. After just a couple of minutes, that Shinichi had used to pump his friend for information’s of his planned proposal, everything went downhill when Hattori vanished in the shop to get the rings, only to find himself in the middle of a brutal robbery.

 Shinichi sighed, pressing the cold pack to his bruised cheek, leaning back against the hospital wall. At least they where able to get the rings, he mused, before his ears picked up the winded breaths of Kazuha and Ran, who apparently had run all the way to the hospital.

 The detective shared in apologizing smile, pointing towards the door in his back.  

“Don’t worry, the doctor said he’ll be alright!” He informed them, because even though he’d been rather lucky this time Heiji had been beaten up rather badly, before he was able to help his friend.

“Thank god!” Kazuha took a shivering breath, blinking away the tears glistening in her eyes, before she took Ran by her hand, leading her along.

“Come on Ran-chan, let’s go see him.”

“Ah- um actually, the doctor said it would be better if there  was just one visitor at once.” The detective stuttered with a slight blush on his cheeks. The girls looked at him in confusion, before Ran nodded to her friend.

“It’s alright, say Hi from me as well.”

“I will.” Kazuha nodded, before she vanished behind the hospital door.

 Shinichi took a small breath, but the relief was soon disturbed by his girlfriend, who looked at him in demand.

“So, what’s really going on?”

“Huh? Uh- nothing!” The detective stuttered, but the blush on his face betrayed him.

“Shinichi!”

“Ah, uhm-  you see…”

  XXX

  Kazuha took a deep breath, entering the room with his name on her lips.

“Heiji?!”

“Oh-“ She faltered, finally becoming aware that his eyes where closed, but he wasn´t attached to any beeping machines, which was a good sigh after all.

“He’s sleeping…” She whispered, more to herself than anybody else, before a loud growl made her flinch.

 “No, not anymore, since your loud voice woke me up!” Heiji grumbled, slowly pushing himself up in his pillows.

“It’s not my fault that I have to worry for you again!” She argued.

“How did this happen anyway!” Kazuha demanded to know, while Heiji was more than happy to answer her question.

“Because you called for the unluckiest person in the world to help me get our charms back!”

“Wait, what?!”

“Well you know Kudo’s a death angel or something so-“ But her silent whisper, disturbed him from his speech.

“Our charms?” Kazuha questioned, her wide confused eyes, caused him to blush.

“You lost yours too?”

“I- uhm…”  He stuttered, before she interrupted him again, still confused by what was going on.

“And Kudo helped you find them?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Heiji admitted.

“Then, where are they?”

 “Well….”

 He took a deep breath, that wasn´t what he had in mind for the perfect proposal, but its not like he had any other options right now. Heiji sighed, turning to his jacked that hung over the chair beside him. He blushed when his fingers found the little casket. His own ring was back in its original bag, since  he didn´t need it until the wedding… that is, if she would say yes in the first place.

Heiji swallowed, as he turned back around, he could feel the blood rushing inside his hears, while his own heartbeat was so loud in his ears that it nearly drowned his stuttering words.

 “Here…”

 Carefully he took her hand, before placing the little box in her balm.

 Kazuha looked form Heiji at the little box and back in confusion, her heart started to hammer in her chest when she finally opened it, revealing a delicate silver ring, with a tiny sparkling stone on top.

“Heiji but, what-“

 But she was lost for words, so Heiji took his chance to explain himself.

“I took our luck charms-“ He finally confessed.

“I bought them to the gold smith so he could meld them into wedding rings.” The detective blushed, eyes fixed on the small ring in Kazuha’s hand, because he knew that if he would be looking at her his voice would probably break.

“I thought it would be nice to carry them with us like this…” He swallowed, finally finding the courage to look up at his stunned girlfriend, who just stared at the tiny piece of jewellery in her hands.

 When Kazuha still seemed to be frozen in time, he cleared his throat.

“So?” He questioned, carefully and all to quiet.

 “W-What?” She stammered, her own cheeks burning red, while it felt like butterflies where clouding her mind, when her whole body started to tingle at his next question.

 “Do you- would you, do you want to merry me Kazuha?”

 Warmth swept over her like a wave, before she took one last step towards him, pushing herself onto the small hospital bed in order to hold him close.

“I- Of course I do!” She whispered in his ear, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes.

“I love you Heiji!”

A relief sigh escaped his lips.

He took the ring from her hand, before he carefully placed it on her finger.

A perfect fit.

 “Love you too.” He smiled.

 They sunk back into the hospital pillows together, still holding each other, while both of their eyes still lingered on the delicate silver band that now adorned Kazuha’s finger.

 “So, you like it?”

 Heiji asked after a while, his fingers brushing through her soft air. He couldn´t believe he did it after this disaster of a week. But the sparkle in Kazuha’s eyes and her answer was all that was needed for him to forget all that. It had definitely been worth it.

“I love it, thank you.” She smiled, cuddling closer to him in the small hospital bed.  

“But next time don´t try ta kills us when ya try ta do something special.” She teased, poking him in the side, not knowing that his rips where bruised badly, causing her fresh announced fiancé to curse.

 “OW, damn Kazuha, ya clumsy-”

 But Heiji was cut of with a kiss, and soon the pain melted away, leaving the engaged and now again lucky couple, to their blissful happiness.