#with just a hint of dark souls

[miraclemaya]

dark souls is about revolution vs reform

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: a 2k word kofi reward featuring megalodon shark!hybrid smut.

You hadn’t been planning on going on a cruise, but when you won a ticket through a raffle, you didn’t want to give up your chance for some real rest and relaxation.

Work had been beyond stressful lately, and you were ready to sit by the pool and sip cocktails until you were plastered.

Unfortunately, things don’t always seem to go the way you envision them to.

The first two days were amazing, filled with great food and some fun under the sun. You felt rejuvenated, and for a while you really thought that you’d be able to go back to work as a whole new person.

But on the third night you were walking back from the bar and decided to lean over the railing, the salty wind blowing through your hair. It was nice, you were happy.

That was until you saw it.

Something shifted under the dark, choppy waves, the hint of something dark and gray beginning to emerge. At first you just assumed it was just your imagination. After all, you have been told that people start to hallucinate when they stare into the dark for too long.

But when the thing rose higher, causing the ship to rock slightly… that’s when you realized whatever it was, it was completely real.

Everything happened so fast. A voice came onto the intercom, saying something you couldn’t comprehend. You were too focused on the giant creature appearing before you, dark eyes landing on your form.

It was looking at you.

Terror shook your very being, causing you to nearly vomit in fear. Your hands gripped the railing tightly, your eyes wide and tears forming in the corners.

It was too dark to make out its form exactly, but you could see the glint of large, sharp teeth and that was enough to have your soul attempting to leave your body.

With a loud creak, it leaned against the ship, sending you flying off the side and into the dark depths below.

You woke up feeling rather… warm. Sunlight beamed down onto your skin, something cold lapping at your feet waking you.

Certainly that had been a bad dream and you were at home with your pet licking your feet to get you up and ready to make their breakfast…

But when you opened your eyes, you were reminded of reality.

The dark figure from the night before was hovering over you, the waves it created from rising out of the water lapping at your feet. The night before you hadn’t been able to make out its appearance, but now everything was horribly clear.

Before you was some sort of human and shark hybrid. Its eyes were beady, staring down at you like a predator glares at its prey. Scars covered its soft looking torso and muscular arms, his lower body resembling a shark’s tail.

But the feature that scared you the most, the one that had you crying in fear the night before was his set of razor sharp teeth, nearly the size of your arm.

You flinched when he lowered his head to sniff you, unable to even move. Was this it? You were going to be eaten by some strange, undiscovered beast before you had ever gotten the chance to truly live your life the way you wanted…

Years of working for a company you hated flashed through your mind, tears forming in your eyes. Only this time it was tears of fear, but of frustration. All that time wasted on making money to get by, but never truly making enough to live.

Preparing for the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head. Your only hope was that it would be kind enough to kill you before tearing into your flesh…

Though, after waiting several moments, the only thing you felt was the creature’s soft breaths fanning over your body as it continued to sniff you. Its arms laid on either side of you… and it made some strange growling sound.

Soon, you opened your eyes when a wet sensation on your lower belly caused you to yelp. Oh god, it was eating you!

“N-no, don’t-“

But your cries of fear changed into a moan when he began licking further down.

No, he didn’t want to eat you… he wanted to eat you out.

His massive tongue made easy work of your clit, the very top of it pushing into your cunt and making you cum quickly.

After a while of this, he stared down at you, tilting his head before sinking back into the water. You were left feeling… confused.

While he was gone, you explored your surroundings. You were stuck on a small island, with only a few fruit trees and some birds as company.

You knew that some fruit wouldn’t keep you fed for long, but at least the shade provided some reprieve from the burning sun. If it hadn’t been for that, you would have shriveled up in the heat like a raisin.

The creature/shark guy returned as the moon began to rise over the sky. In his jaws he carried a wooden chest. He dropped it at your feet, nudging it closer to you through the sand.

“What’s this?” you asked, kneeling down to open it up. The chest held various meats and fish, enough to feed you for a while. “Oh… thank you.”

Your gratitude made him perk up, his tail wagging furiously and flinging sand everywhere. He lowered his head, nudging you gently before settling down in the water to watch you cook. It seemed he took great pride in the fact he provided a good meal for you.

As you ate your cooked meat, he slowly reached out his webbed hand, lightly rubbing at your chubby belly. You were too cute, all soft and fat, he wanted to keep you that way. It would ensure you’d produce healthy shark pups, and the very thought of your belly swollen and round during your pregnancy had his hard cock slipping out of his slit.

It was pure instinct. You were plump and well fed, meaning breeding you was the best course of action. He hadn’t found a female megalodon hybrid all mating season, and part of him wondered if he was the last of his kind.

“Soft…”

You were surprised when he spoke, his voice gravely and deep. It could almost shake the ground, and as he pulled you onto his own soft belly, you realized he was… aroused.

His cock was as thick as your arm, and nearly double the size. It would fit with some work… but just barely.

You didn’t know this though, your eyes wide with shock as he pushed the head against your cunt. “H-hey, that’s way too big! It’s not gonna-“

He paused, his black eyes glimmered. “Forgot. Need to get wet.”

He spread your legs apart, keeping them open as his thumb nudged at your clit. His hands were so big, his pinky was enough to stretch you out.

As he pumped his pinky in and out of you, slick started to pool between your legs. It felt so embarrassingly good, you struggled to keep yourself from cumming immediately.

When he considered you stretched out enough, he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, nudging the hole before pushing in.

Nothing, not anything could have prepared you for the painful stretch as he bottomed out inside of you. Your legs were pushed as far as they could go, and you cried out in pain.

“G-gonna break me,” you babbled, watching your tummy bulge. “It’s t-too big..!”

But he seemed to lost in his own pleasure to hear you, fucking into your tight hole as you whined and squirmed. After a moment though, the pain shifted into a blinding pleasure.

Being stretched out so perfectly felt too good. He groaned into your ear, bouncing you up and down on his cock, using you like a fleshlight.

When his cum spurted into you, the thick, white ropes felt so warm it almost burned. You were filled up completely, gushing his cum even as he pulled out.

He was obsessed with how soft and squishy you were, especially after you had been filled with cum. The megalodon hybrid curled up in the shallows with you, letting you rest on his belly as he kissed your chubby cheeks.

Days turned into weeks, and after two months went by, your belly started to swell. Oh how he doted over you once it was clear you were pregnant.

“Eat, eat,” he’d coo, offering you yet another fish. “Baby needs it.”

Your tits swelled with milk after a bit, and he was fascinated by how sensitive they became. When he buried his cock inside of you at night, he’d take one of your nipples into his mouth and suckle a bit, teasing you… but not maliciously. No, he wanted to spoil and pamper his precious mate.

When you grew closer to your due date, your lover became clingy, never leaving your side for long.

You gave birth to a single, adorable shark pup… and he was excited to put another one in you as soon as possible.

About two years passed, and you had grown used to living on that little island. In the morning you collected fruit, watered your various plants that had been collected by the megalodon hybrid, then you would walk to the shoreline and wait.

“Mama!”

One of your little ones toddled out of the waves, his little legs struggling through the sand before he reached you. He hugged your legs, letting out a little purr as you ruffled his hair.

“H-hey, no fair! Mama, me too!”

Your oldest called for you from the water. He had a tail like his father, and couldn’t leave the ocean. “Shh, shh, I’m coming, baby. You know I wouldn’t leave you out.”

You waddled into the waves, being careful due to your pregnancy. Your other son joined you in the water, both cooing over your belly.

“Mama, when will the baby come?”

“Mmm… it’ll be at least a month or so.”

The younger one splashed his brother, causing them to dip under the waves and play. You laughed, spotting a dark shape coming from the deep.

Your lover emerged from the ocean, your two sons giggling and climbing up his back then jumping back into the water. He was a very patient father, letting them use him as a jungle gym as much as they wanted.

“Eat.”

He dropped another catch onto the shore, his eyes soft as he admired the extra weight you had put on over the last few years. His fingers traced your stretch marks, a smile on his lips.

“Again? I’m still full from lunch.”

But he was persistent, nudging you towards your fire pit so you’d cook. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

Your youngest toddled around the beach, playing with shells and blowing raspberries at his older brother as he sat in your lap by the fire. The two were always bickering, but you made sure to spend equal time with them.

As the sun set, the kiddos drifted off to sleep on a nearby reef as you and your lover kissed. “Mmm… getting big.”

You yawned, cockwarming him as he toyed with your sensitive nipples. He quite enjoyed how much softer you were now, even more so than when he first met you.

It felt nice, having him guide your hips over him, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. Being stuffed full of his cum had become addicting, and you needed to be bred almost every night to be satisfied.

You were sure that you’d continue having his shark pups well into the future. After all, he took very good care of you, always bringing gifts and yummy foods to keep you from losing that softness he loved so much.

In the morning, you’d start the day over. Although sometimes you missed the life you lived before all of this, you were content being bred and kept as his sweet little mate on that peaceful island.

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[speed-world]

Hello, im a fan of the self aware scenario you did with the coward y/n cookie, and I was wondering what their reactions would be of meeting the beast cookies

To be honest, you had no interest in going to Beast-Yeast, at all. After all, why would you? Whatever conflict the Ancients and other cookies had with each other didn’t concern you, not to mention that just the name - “Beast-Yeast” - already freaked you out.

If it weren’t for Pure Vanilla Cookie promising that your safety, due to the agreement between the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, you would’ve stayed comfortably in the Cookie Kingdom far away from the other continent.

You wish you never listened to Pure Vanilla now, because this beast - Shadow Milk Cookie - immediately wanted to make you run far, far away.

The jester scared you with his sinister and maniacal behavior. If you had a fear of clowns before entering the cookie world, then you’d pass out the more his actions continued.

After seeing the mental turmoil Pure Vanilla was experiencing, the loss of Elder Faerie Cookie, Shadow Milk’s terrifying powers and his “plays” that were mockeries of all the adversaries of the Beasts—the color blue might be your most hated now.

Yeah, you’d be completely fine and dandy if you never saw a hint of Shadow Milk’s Cookie ever again

However, he couldn’t stand to think of this meeting being your last…

How were you convinced to go back to Beast-Yeast a second time?? Suppose you can be grateful for that promise with the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie.

You actually really liked the Ivory Pagoda. The atmosphere was so serene and otherworldly, and warmly inviting…or dangerously alluring.

The company of Dark Cacao Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie, and the Cacao warriors made this trip a whole lot more comfortable and relaxing. However, their presence couldn’t make things better when you finally came face to face with the other Beast - Mystic Flour Cookie.

You thought the slow creepiness of Cloud Haetae Cookie would be the worst of your problems, but at least the story they told was directed to the Ancient instead of you.

The second you saw that spider pop out of that cocoon, your soul ascended to the crossroads. Your body went so pale that Dark Cacao thought you succumbed to the pale ailment.

You really couldn’t articulate how much Mystic Flour scared you. Shadow Milk was insane, but this?! She’s so uncaring, so unrelenting in her belief of apathy, is it too late to stay with Peach Blossom Cookie for the rest of this journey?

Let’s not even get started on that face. You hated any related horror stuff in the real world, and now you’re seeing that in front of your face!!

Yeah no, forget this. Awesome job on Dark Cacao awakening, time to get on the first airship outta this place.

As much as you wanted to be as far away from Mystic Flour Cookie as possible, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Stared at by a force that you couldn’t look back at, no matter how hard you tried….

Hell. To the freaking. NO

Naaaaaah Golden Cheese Cookie, she’s crazy if she thinks you’re going to accompany her to Beast-Yeast. Promise be damned, they clearly didn’t account for the mental pain that you’ve suffered through.

Smoked Cheese Cookie seemed dead serious on agreeing with you, but Golden Cheese wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to stick close to Smoked Cheese, because the Beast is only focused on Golden Cheese after all, right?

Had it not been for the presence of Golden Cheese and Smoked Cheese, you wouldn’t have even thought of coming to this place. It’s hotter than a truck engine in the summer, a lot of these Spice cookies are pretty hostile, and—Oh God the sandstorms are the crumbs of dead cookies?!?????!

And then, you met him-Burning Spice Cookie. He’s already scary to look at, so you just hid your face whenever you saw or heard him.

His power is also way too scary-he doesn’t care about any collateral damage caused, heck he probably loves if there’s more of it! Smoked Cheese spent his time making sure that not even a crumb of you were harmed during the fight of Golden Cheese and Burning Spice.

You weren’t sure what freaked you out more: Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s unwavering devotion to such a being like Burning Spice, or the fact that Burning Spice Cookie does all that he does…for entertainment.

All the death, destruction, suffering he causes, everything, all for a cheap laugh?! Why-why again did you ever come here?!?

To make matters worse? Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese were locked away in a cage. But you? No, Burning Spice didn’t want you in confinement.

He found it much more amusing to have you by his side, attached to his hip and sitting on his lap.

Your soul departs each time he speaks, your breath is taken away when he breaks something, because you’re scared that it might be you he breaks next. Seeing him be so casual and collected after crushing Cilantro Cobra Cookie in front of your face was what set you over the edge.

You were panicking, screaming, tossing around. You wanted to leave now, no ifs, ands, or buts. You can’t take this anymore and-…

He-he’s staring at you….he’s in the middle of his second round fight with Golden Cheese Cookie, and he’s staring. Right. At. You.

You were eternally grateful for Smoked Cheese Cookie being so understanding, and being so quick in trying to get you out of this God forsaken continent.

But even as you were getting away, you heard his laugh. You know Golden Cheese struck him down, but you heard his faint sinister laugh; virtually paralyzing you in place.

Please, for your sake, can you never come back to Beast-Yeast ever again?!?

…

…

Where did this ticket come from?

[nightingale-prompts]

Just your average coffee shop AU-DCxDP prompt

What do you do when you've been blacklisted from every coffee chain in Gotham?

You have to find other sources.

That is Tim's current predicament but he put out a few messages out and an informant got back to him about a new café that opened on the outskirts of the city.

There wasn't much else on it other than the fact that it was located in an old cemetery. No details or anything.

Desperate for the black icker that made up his blood by this point Tim went.

Walking down the cobblestone path Tim began to doubt if the shop was real. The decrepit tombstones seemed to be the only people here but as he passed the mausoleums he saw a single stone crypt that had a sign.

Hours:

Tues-Saturday 12pm-3:00 am

Sunday: All day

Mon: Closed

(Vlad Masters is banned)

Tim opened the stone door and heard the faint sound of violins and saxophones. A staircase led deeper to an aged wooden door.

The rusty door henge screeched as he opened the door like a doorbell. The room was a lounge with plush seats and smooth wood tables. A dance floor was in the center currently occupied by well dressed patrons. The scent of fresh dark roast coffee filled the air. A band played live music, it was a blend of gothic folk and Jazz. The booths were filled with a few patrons cheering for the performers as they drank coffee and played cards.

The counter where he could order his drink was a bar. Despite what you'd assume they weren't selling alcohol at least not yet. The man behind the counter beckoned him over.

The barista dressed in a white dress shirt and a black buttoned vest embroidered with a ribcage design. He had fingerless gloves with matching skeletal hand design. The man's face was a pale bit warm tone with a blueish green hue on his cheekbones. His lips were a dark ashen black with a subtle shine. It was probably just the aesthetic.

"Evening, traveler." His voice practically purred as he greeted the weary young man"The rhythm's alive, and the spirits are waiting—how can I make your afterlife?"

"Coffee. Black." Tim said gruffly despite to get it in his system.

"Oh, you got it bad, don't you? Let me get you something that will actually help." The bartender said turning to brew a cup.

Tim's eyes scanned the chalkboard menu that hung above the bar.

Hot Coffee Drinks:

Graveyard Brew – A rich dark roast with a hint of smoked caramel. (Tucker's pick)

Phantom Flat White – A smooth flat white with ghostly foam art. (Danny's pick)

Latté of the Damned– A spiced pumpkin latte with black cinnamon dust. (Jazz's pick)

Eternal Espresso– A bold, double-shot espresso.

The Velvet Casket – Mocha with dark chocolate and a touch of vanilla.

Sepulcher Spice – Chai-spiced coffee with a hint of nutmeg. (Val's pick)

Necromancer’s Nitro – Nitro cold brew with a dash of maple syrup. (Dan's pick)

Iced Coffee Drinks:

Cold-Brew Crypt– Smooth cold brew with a splash of sweet cream.

Chilled Cadaver– Iced coffee with coconut milk and a shot of hazelnut. (Dani's pick)

The Frosted Requiem – Blended mocha with chocolate drizzle.

Soulful Swirl– Iced latte with caramel and a swirl of blackcurrant syrup.

Moonlit Macchiato– Vanilla macchiato with activated charcoal. (Sam's pick)

Tim definitely sensed a theme here.

"I added a few shots of expresso and some dark chocolate liquor. It should get you right and some minor heart palpitations. I think I'll call it 'The Black Veil'." The barista smiled very cat-like.

"Am I getting my name on the board?" Tim quipped without thinking as he sipped the hot coffee. Actually, it was cooler than he thought it would be. It was the perfect temperature. And the taste was amazing.

"Only if you're a regular and I think your drink might be too much for anyone else." The barista laughed softly.

"So...this place is pretty um...gothic?"

"This place used to be just for the dead but we've recently over up to the living."

"Heh, I get it."

"Get what?"

Tim coughed awkwardly. He didn't want to stop talking to the goth barista yet and the quality coffee was convincing. Maybe it was the environment. It was like walking into a different world.

"So what's this place called? So I know what Im coming back to." Tim tried to sound cool but let's face it, he's been beat.

"This is the Catacomb Club. Where the spirits swing and the night never sleeps. You should come again soon, cutie. I think I got a good surge of inspiration just looking at you." He purred in delight as he leaned over the bar tapped Tim's cheek.

Tim felt his face burn, the touch felt like electricity tickling his skin. A string of babbling seemed to come out of this mouth as he tried to respond.

"Heh heh, don't keep me waiting dear," he laughed "Oh, and by the way. My name is Danny. Catch me in the early shift. My brother works the late shift mixing the alcohol. But if you want you can catch me on the stage or on the dance floor. I might even make you an extra cup or two." Danny said.

Tim found his footsteps on the way up lighter and only when he made it back the cematary gate did he notice.

He never paid.

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Headless Biker x Reader content: gender neutral reader, violence, gore, dubious consent, inspired by Gakkou no Kaidan

"So you won't do anything about it?"

The officer looked up, unimpressed by your tone, then flipped another page from the book he was reading.

"There's nothing to be done, kid. It's always been a quiet neighborhood. No one else has ever complained, let alone brought up some 'biker gang' noise in the middle of the night. You're either having strange dreams, or you're off your meds."

You let the door slam on your way out. Bastard cops, you thought, stomping back to your apartment. For weeks now you'd been tormented by some asshole revving up his engine, driving up and down the road, right underneath your window. Were your dark circles not enough evidence to this perpetual misfortune?

Very well, then. If the authorities refused to help, you were going to take matters into your own hands. You glanced at the clock and focused your ears. It was around the time your troublemaker showed up. After a moment or two came a faint buzz in the distance, the mechanical rumble of a motorcycle approaching. You got up and rushed downstairs with a bat tucked under your jacket.

You quickly determined, however, that a bat might not have been the best defense against...whatever was standing before you. There was indeed a motorcycle, so you felt vindicated: your ears weren't deceiving you. On the downside, whoever sat upon the retro Kawasaki Vulcan wasn't entirely human.

The neck ended abruptly, violently, with a clean cut. There was dried blood on the old-fashioned uniform, yet the discoloration of the skin hinted at a very old wound; or, better said, cause of death.

"What the hell," you mumbled to yourself. "Bosozoku hasn't been a thing in decades."

More importantly, were you going to be killed? Historical technicalities aside, you were facing a tenebrously tall, muscular zombie of a gang member. His long coat folded with the wind, but you could read out the 'extreme violence' embroidered along it. You wondered if the sinewy arm extending towards you was about to bash your skull in. Instead, it pulled you closer. The mysterious ghoul patted the empty seat behind him.

Yandere!Headless Biker is not a man of many words. Not like he can speak to begin with, but you get the feeling he would've been just as silent and stoic with a working mouth. You guessed his intentions from the way he touched you: with a peculiar familiarity and affection, as if he was dealing with his most prized possession. His arm never leaves your side once you're off his bike. If he's not riding with you in the back, he'll hold you in his lap and trace every curve and every corner, committing them to memory.

Yandere!Headless Biker is just as stubborn as he is violent. Once he decides something, it becomes the law. "I'm sorry, do you think we're dating," you had asked once after a particularly intense fondling session. You found your answer soon enough when one of your coworkers offered to walk you home. It was late and he wanted you to be safe, most likely not anticipating that he would be the one struck down by your haunting suitor. Despite your pleas and terrified shouts, he didn't stop swinging the metal pipe until your poor colleague was an unrecognizable mess of broken bone and exposed flesh. His fingers then clawed around your throat, pressing you against the wall of your building. He couldn't talk, of course, but you felt it deeply within your soul. The words formed in your mind, mixing with the sounds of your desperate gasps for air: you belong to me. You nodded in agony until he finally released you from the unforgiving grip.

Yandere!Headless Biker has never treated you harshly ever since that incident. It was a lamentable lesson that needed to be taught - as much as it pained him to see you in those circumstances. It's other people that have to suffer, not you. You've no fault in it, especially now that you understand your place.

Yandere!Headless Biker doesn't really bring up his ghostly predicament. You have occasionally questioned him about his decapitated state, though he's indifferent to your curiosity. You suspect he lost a fight and has been holding a grudge ever since, and whenever you bring up your theory, he angrily ruffles your hair. Perhaps you're on the right track. While it may have been originally true, he has other reasons to stick around today. You. He'd crawl his way out of the depths of Hell just to be with you. You're all his, now and in whatever afterlife might follow.

Yandere!Headless Biker is one angry man. His jealousy knows no bounds, and you've learned to avert your gaze from anyone who could fall victim to his wrath. Except those who could use a little disciplinary ruffle, of course, such as the officer who so enthusiastically declined to deal with your complaints. You almost felt bad when you saw him pathetically begging on the ground, but you had warned him about a gang member on the loose.

"Someone needs head," you remarked humorously as you gawked at the bloodied knuckles of your undead boyfriend.

Why, yes, that is certainly one way to release frustrations. The tall delinquent turns to you expectantly.

[beloveds-embrace]

╰┈➤ A Harbinger’s Claim

Spoilers for 5.1 Archon Quest, yandere capitano x reader

yan!capi x soldier!reader who used to idolize/adore him? 👀

Specifically, you used to be a black serpent knight who worked under him. From the very first day you met him, you could not help but admire him; such a strong, powerful man- worthy of being a commander, worthy of being loved and respected. Your crush on him, your own commander, had been visible to any and all that cared to look. And that included even him, as well. 

Though he never quite returned your feelings. all of your attempts at catching his attention fell flat. Your commander did not care for romance, and did not care for you beyond you being a knight under his command. Still, you persisted and tried your best again and again to earn his praise and affection- through always training, keeping spare food from your own rations for him, willing to do any and all tasks. 

And then, Khaenri'ah falls, and you get injured and cursed to a painful immortality. It's devastating, it's cruel and painful and you end up separating from your group, including your commander- never knowing what happens to him.  

Five hundred years pass in resentment and bitterness, then a bone-deep exhaustion and now... 

The wind howls over the desolate, forgotten battlefield, carrying with it memories of long-lost battles and fallen comrades. You stand among the remnants, staring at the tattered banner of a past era. The centuries have been cruel, not just to the land, but to you. You don't know why you came back here, yet you can't bring yourself to leave just yet. 

Your legs ache- a dull, persistent pain that has been your constant companion for centuries. The curse has worn you down, body and soul, until all that remains is a tired will to survive. You sigh and shift your weight, leaning heavily on the stone slab you were using to remain upright. There’s little left to fight for now. Just a hollow existence.

Then, you feel it- the heavy presence of someone behind you. It’s not the first time you’ve felt a presence like this, and for a brief moment, a flicker of recognition stirs in your chest. You turn slowly, your body heavy with exhaustion, and there he is. Once, he'd been your commander. Now, he is a Fatui Harbinger.

Capitano.

The man you once idolized, the commander you adored. But that was so long ago, so distant it feels like another lifetime. Now, the sight of him- tall, imposing, clad in the black armor- stirs nothing inside you but weariness. His mask is as dark and unreadable as the void, hiding every part of his face, giving no hint of the man beneath. The commander you knew is long gone, replaced by this Harbinger, cold and unrelenting. Even if certain traits still exist within him.

“You’ve come back,” you murmur, your voice barely louder than the wind.

His head tilts ever so slightly, the black mask making it impossible to see his eyes. Yet you can feel his gaze locked on you, weighing you down even more. Once, you would have given everything for such attention.

“I’ve come to claim you.” he replies, his voice deep and resonating from behind the mask. The sound of it is steady, almost indifferent, yet it carries an unsettling weight of finality. 

You don’t move, don’t resist. The fatigue that has plagued you for centuries sinks deeper into your bones. “Claim me?” you echo softly,  chuckling. “What’s left to claim, Capitano? There’s nothing here anymore. I hold no adoration for you anymore."

The mask remains still, impenetrable, yet his presence grows more suffocating as he steps closer. “You were always mine,” he says quiet yet resolute. “And you still are.”

You sigh, not out of fear, but of sheer exhaustion. The energy to fight him, to resist, just isn’t there anymore. “I’m not the same soldier I used to be, commander. That person’s long gone. You should leave me here, where I belong.”

But Capitano doesn’t leave. Instead, his gloved hand reaches out and grips your wrist, firm but not painful. You don’t pull away. You simply look at him, weary and resigned, watching as he brings out a ring, dark as his armor. You don’t ask why—your mind too clouded with fatigue to even care.

He slides the ring onto your finger, his voice low and steady. “This is your place, with me. You’ve wandered for too long.”

You look down at the ring. It's cold. “It’s been centuries, Capitano,” you say, your voice a whisper. “Do you really still think I belong to you?”

He pulls you closer, until you’re pressed against his chestplate, the harsh cold of his armor making you shiver. His masked face hovers above yours, unreadable, but his grip is firm, unyielding. “I never stopped thinking it,” he murmurs, voice deep and possessive. “You admired me once- more than anyone. That devotion is mine to keep.”

You don’t fight him. You can’t. The years have taken too much out of you. “That was a lifetime ago,” you sigh, resting your head lightly against his armor. “I’m not sure I even know who you are anymore.”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark certainty. “You will stay with me. We will be wed, and you will never be alone again. Your suffering ends with me.”

For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the heavy weariness wash over you. Part of you wants to resist, to push him away. But the truth is, you’re tired- so tired. The centuries of pain and solitude have worn you down to the point where even the idea of fighting feels like too much. Capitano’s grip is cold, but it’s steady, and in that moment, you almost feel… relieved. You don’t want to admit it, but the thought of someone else taking control, of someone else carrying the weight you’ve been shouldering alone, is tempting. Especially if it's him.

“Is this really what you want?” you ask, though you already know his answer.

His arms tighten around you, drawing you in even closer. “It’s not just what I want,” he says, voice low. Unbending. “It’s what will be.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease, your body too tired to struggle, too worn to protest. You glance up at the dark mask once more, seeing nothing but the void where his face should be. And yet, for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t feel completely alone.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“Snezhnaya,” he answers, his tone firm and absolute. “My home. Where you belong.”

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into his chest, your body going limp in his hold. “I’m too tired to fight you, Capitano. I don’t think I care anymore.”

His response is unwavering. “You won’t need to fight. You’ll be with me now. I’ll take care of you.”

As he begins to walk, each step echoing the finality of your fate, you close your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion. The world around you fades, and all you can feel is his steady, unrelenting presence. The future, dark and uncertain, is no longer your burden to bear. So what if your freedom is to be taken away?

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” you murmur faintly.

“I do,” Capitano replies, his masked face tilting down toward you, his voice calm yet possessive. If he holds you any tighter, the claws of his armor would dig into your skin. “You’re mine. That is all you need.”

And as the cold winds of the battlefield sweep behind you, you let go of whatever fight you had left.

Part 2

[fanaroff]

Dp x DC Prompt: Space Like An Ocean

An alien had taken up residence outside of the Watchtower. Its first appearance immediately started a panic with most of the heroes that could survive in space converging on the station to see whether it was friend or foe. In the end, it did not seem either.

In fact, it seemed fine with just basking and napping wrapped around parts of the Watchtower that made up the outside. It wasn’t the size of the Watchtower, but off and on it was a very near thing.

Humanoid, yet distinctly inhuman. White whispy hair sat atop its head, pointed ears, and the only feature that could be made out of its face were two bright green glowing eyes. A color that sent Batman into a research frenzy. Its skin was void-dark. Almost looking as if a piece of space itself had separated from the cosmos and took and almost snake-like form. Or maybe an eel?

The most notable thing about the creature were its injuries. Multiple lacerations covered it, leaking a green that never touched the Watchtower and seemed to evaporate not long after leaving its body. Any silent attempts to collect it for study and to figure out what it was were met with emotionless green eyes and a bare hint of fang. They backed off quickly.

Flash liked to call it a mer-eel. “Cause it’s got an almost human torso, two arms, and the rest just kind of curls up!”

Wonder Woman was unimpressed with this. “That would suggest it is more like a naga.”

To which Green Lantern replied, “No, no, he’s right. There’s an almost white fin-like bit that goes down the tail like an eel’s does.”

Any more attempts to identify the creature led to nothing and soon the “eel” became a silent fixture of the Watchtower.

It was ages later when Zatanna entered the Watchtower to discuss a completely non-connected case when she stumbled immediately upon leaving the Zeta Tube and had to lean against a wall, breathing heavily.

“Something feels like Death.” Was all she could get out before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. She wouldn’t wake up, dead asleep. Immediate worry all around lead to Justice League Dark being contacted in full.

Constantine with Deadman in tow were ultimately the ones to solve the mystery. It took but a moment for Deadman to be seen thanks to Constantine’s “magic” and awe was the first thing apparent on his face. Deadman didn’t even need to leave the Watchtower to know what it was.

“Oh,” he whispered like a prayer. “So that’s where he goes when he takes a break.”

Queue questioning.

“He” turned out to be Phantom, the Ghost King who had apparently decided the Watchtower was a perfect basking spot. Confusion was abound at this.

“No, see,” Deadman tried to explain. “He has two Obsessions and the Watchtower feeds into both. Heroes who protect, as he is a protector spirit himself and probably feels a kinship, and space.”

Constantine and Deadman explained as best as they could, but when the questions finally settled, the last was “Why isn’t Constantine affected like Zatanna? Why aren’t the rest of them affected like Zatanna?”

“That’s easy!” Deadman piped. “None of you are attuned to death magic! I’m a ghost, he’s my King. Zatanna is a magician with experience in most magics. And Constantine doesn’t own enough of his soul to feel the death!”

In the end, a request from Deadman was all it took for things to change. With barely a rumble, Phantom pulled himself from the Watchtower and drifted far enough away for his aura to no longer affect Zatanna. The heroes could only watch in awe as the eel-like god returned to the open ocean of space.

Addition:

There were a giant green eyes observing the conference room. Every hero inside was frozen in place, staring back at the eyes and trying their best not to move a muscle. Phantom had moved from atop the station. Phantom had acknowledged them. Phantom was staring at them from a window of the Watchtower.

No one knew why he was there. Just that suddenly he was. The bright green lighting the entire room with its shine was the only warning they got. They stared. He stared.

Slowly, he moved. A hand-shape pointed with a claw. They were confused. The hand made a pointing motion again.

The table?

Ah. Several shards of kryptonite sat on the table. The topic of the discussion as someone had somehow gotten ahold of the shards and used them against Superman. They needed to know who supplied them.

The hand pointed again.

Why did Phantom want the shards?

Apparently, it wasn’t up to them to question as the pointing hand phased into the room, palm up. Waiting. No one moved for a moment until a white narrowed slit formed in Phantom’s eyes.

Green Lantern was quick to grab the shards (Batman made a token protest, those were his damn it) and placed them in the palm. He shivered as his finger brushed the skin, ice cold washing up and down his spine.

The hand closed, retracted and approached the face. The eyes stared as a large mouth opened (fangs, sharp sharp fangs laid in green) and a tongue popped out. The shards were placed on the tongue and the mouth closed with a sharp crunch.

Phantom grinned almost smugly before he drifted away from the window and back to the top of the Watchtower.

“Did- Did Phantom just ask for a snack?”

[candy69gurl]

can you do hybrid! Wolf toji claiming you during his rut?

THE HOWL OF DESIRE

Hybrid! Wolf toji x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, slight non/con (Toji does not intend to harm you), size kink (both are adults), cave sex, multiple orgasms, nipple biting & play, fingering (Toji has black big nails), raw sex (cumming inside many times), breeding, pussy eating

wc - 2.6k

ART NOT MINE !

As you traverse through the dense woods, you find yourself getting increasingly disoriented, unsure of which way leads back to civilization. The sun's rays barely penetrating the thick canopy above, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. You begin to worry, knowing that spending the night here could lead to dangerous consequences.

Suddenly, your senses pick up on the sound of rustling leaves nearby. You freeze, trying to discern whether it is an animal or something more sinister.

A figure emerges from behind a tree, and you gasp involuntarily. It is a creature of height 6'1ft, he appears as a magnificent wolf-human hybrid. He is slender but muscular and athletic, and his wolfish aura makes him look intimidating. As he closes on your position you notice his ears flattened on his head and his tail is pointed upright, his body has chiseled muscles and trademark scars, his green sword-like eyes looking through your soul. His mouth bore fang-like teeth that you swear are more vicious than natural canine teeth of humans.

His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of hunger and desire burning within their depths.

"Hello, human," he growls softly, his voice tinged with an animalistic quality. "Lost, are we? Well, I don't normally go for humans, but you seem intriguing enough."

As you stand frozen in fear and confusion, Toji takes a step closer, his form shifting slightly, the wolf aspects becoming more pronounced. His eyes gleam with lust, and you can faintly smell his pheromones in the air – a testament to his overwhelming need to mate. "Ah finally," he says, taking another step toward you. "It's just my rut, and I need a mate to breed with. Normally, I wouldn't ask a human, but I cannot wait anymore."

His voice is calm, almost soothing despite the terrifying situation. Your heart races as you contemplate your options, but you realize that running might only agitate him further. Nonetheless your legs unconsciously start to move. There is only one way to get out of this- by running.

"So," he continues, his back facing you but when he turns to you, he sees you running, " What's a prey if they don't try running".

With a grin spreading across his face, Toji starts running after you, muscles rippling as he leaps after you. His movements are fluid and quick, darting through the trees with ease. You feel your adrenaline surge, pushing your speed to its limit as you navigate the unfamiliar terrain. However, he seems to know these woods intimately, and your panic increases as you realize you're unable to shake him off.

"Caught you little bunny" he exclaims, grabbing your neck. Despite his triumphant words, there's a hint of concern in his eyes. He pauses, contemplating his next move. "Running isn't going to solve anything, and believe me, you don't want to get hurt.. Or do you?"

"P-please let me go.. I have to get back home."

Toji weighs your plea, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. His need for release is urgent, but he doesn't wish to harm you unnecessarily. "I can let you go, but I'm afraid you won't find your way back alone." His voice holds a note of genuine concern, his eyes softening momentarily.

Then, his expression shifts, the wolfish hunger returning. "But," he adds, "If you agree to stay and help alleviate my… condition, I promise to guide you safely back to where you belong. You won't regret it, trust me." He leans close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "I'll make sure you enjoy it too."

You stand there, contemplating your options. The thought of being alone in these woods, possibly lost for another night, is daunting. On the other hand, submitting to Toji's demands is equally terrifying, but there's a strange allure to it as well. His promise of safety and pleasure seems almost too good to be true.

As you weigh the pros and cons, Toji watches you intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He can sense your hesitation, and it fuels his desire even more. "I understand if you're scared," he says softly, reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "But I promise, I won't hurt you. I just need someone to share this with, and you seem like the perfect one."

His touch is warm and comforting, despite the situation. You can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if he truly means what he says. "So, what do you say?" he asks, his voice low and seductive. "Will you help me, and let me help you in return?"

"O-only if you promise to be gentle..", you reply, your voice shaking from his intimidating aura.

Toji's eyes crinkle at the corners, a rare smile gracing his features. "Gentle it is," he assures you, his grip on your cheek gentle but firm. "I can't promise but I will try since you are my first human mate.. Come, let's find a suitable spot. We don't want to draw attention, do we?" His voice is smooth, radiating confidence and control. You hesitate, but there's a sense of safety in his presence that you can't deny.

With a deep breath, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you deeper into the woods. The fear is still there, but it's tempered by a growing curiosity. You're stepping into unknown territory, but for some reason, you don't feel threatened. Instead, there's a strange excitement coursing through you, making your heart beat faster.

As you follow Toji deeper into the woods, you begin to notice subtle changes in the landscape. Brambles part before you, revealing a hidden trail leading to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing lies a cave, half-hidden by the surrounding foliage. This is where Toji leads you, guiding you inside with a gentle push.

The cave is surprisingly cozy, lit by the dim light seeping through the entrance. There's a palpable sense of warmth and security, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Toji observes your reaction, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This is my den," he explains, gesturing around. "Now, shall we proceed?" He tilts his head, his eyes holding a mix of anticipation and expectation. You can tell that his rut is still strong, but he's patiently waiting for your lead.

Your nod sends a wave of excitement through Toji, his eyes glinting with eagerness.. He quickly steps closer, nearly ripping your pants and panties off. He hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself between your thighs.

Surprised by his sudden movement, you struggle in his grip, "W-wait you need to loosen me up"

Toji pauses, confusion clouding his features for a brief moment. "Loosen you up?" he repeats, his voice heavy with confusion. Then, understanding dawns on his face, and he chuckles softly. "Tsk, I can wait no more but fine since you beg me so obediently", moving between your legs. He gently parts you with his fingers, feeling your dampness.

"You're already prepared," he murmurs, a note of approval in his voice.

"Ah~", your back arches at his finger movements, your back hitting the ground of the cave.

At your response, Toji's eyes darken with lust. He thrusts his fingers into you roughly. "Are ya loose yet?" His eyes remain locked on yours, his expression a mix of impatience and excitement.

"n-no not yet.. a-ah", your voice cracks up in pleasure.

Toji's eyes narrow, his brows furrowing in concentration. He inserts a third finger, thrusting harder this time, stretching you wider. You cry out, a mixture of pleasure and pain washing over you as you near your edge.

"Humans are so responsive..." he mutters, his voice thick with desire as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity between you and him building, is only heightened by the dim light of the cave.

Finally, after several more thrusts, you reach your orgasm and he withdraws his fingers, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips. "Ready?" He asks, his gaze locked on your face, waiting for your answer.

"mghh.. n-not now.. I need sometime.. I am sensitive right now", you protest.

Toji's eyes squint in annoyance "Shut up, I have been patient enough. I can't wait any longer."

With that, he positions himself between your legs again .With a sudden powerful surge, Toji thrusts into you, his giant cock stretching your poor hole wide. You gasp, your nails digging into the cave floor as you struggle to adjust to the intense sensation.

"Please.. A-ah .. be gentle"

"Shush..I am trying .. You humans are so fragile.. But", he grunts in pleasure, "ya feel so good. I never thought humans feel this good"

Though he is trying to be gentle, but your insides feel so good that he can't help but move relentlessly, his hips pumping in a primal rhythm. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain through you, your body responding to his dominance.

Despite your initial protest, you can't help but moan loudly, writhing beneath him. His roughness sets you ablaze, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts eagerly. His scent, his strength - everything about this experience overwhelms you. Your body cries out for release, and you know you won't last long.

"That's it, take it!" Toji growls, his eyes locked on yours. His primal nature is on full display, and it's intoxicating.

Your toes curl up as Toji's thrusts intensify, his eyes widening at your reaction. "Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You feel incredible." His pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with brutal efficiency. You cry out, the cave echoing with your sounds of pleasure and pain.

His rut is nearing its peak, his body trembling with suppressed energy. With one last powerful lunge, he buries himself deep within you, filling you with his seed. "Take it all," he rasps, his breath hot against your neck.

In that moment, you surrender to the sensations, your own climax washing over you. Together, you collapse onto the cave floor, feeling spent but incredibly fulfilled. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, holding him close.

As he recovers, Toji nuzzles your neck, his breathing ragged. "I hope I was gentle enough," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"No .. you are so mean..", you reply panting.

Toji laughs, his chest rumbling against your throat. "Mean? Maybe, but effective, wouldn't you agree?" He teases, his grip on you tightening. "Besides, don't lie, you enjoyed it too."

He's right, you did enjoy it - despite the roughness. The intensity of the encounter left you shaken yet exhilarated. He turns you on your stomach "don't think it's over yet.. It's just a starting"

"w-what?", your pupil dilates at the though.

Toji pushes you on your stomach and he enters from behind. You moan, feeling him stretch you once again. With a smirk, he begins to thrust relentlessly, his body slamming against yours. His large hands grip your sides, holding you steady as he takes you from behind.

"We are going to do it whole night" he growls, each word punctuated by his thrusts.

You cry out, your body responding eagerly to his advances. You can't deny the pleasure surging through you. His dominance excites you, the raw intensity of his actions sending you spiraling towards another climax.

"God, you're so good," he praises, his voice thick with lust. "I could spend hours with you, sweet human."

"P-please can't no more", you plead.

Toji stills, pulling his cock out, your body shaking from oversensitiveness. "Already?" then he thrusts into you again. "I know you can handle this."

You cry out, feeling him entering you again.

Time skips, and you and he are still at it, you don't know what time it is, you don't know how many orgasms coursed through you.. The only thing you know is the pleasure you are getting from this.

Toji's eyes shine with lust, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he bounces you on his lap. Your hair falls in disarray around your face, your skin flushed from exertion. Each thrust elicits a soft moan from you, your body responding to his every command.

"Feel good?" he asks, his voice low and sultry. His eyes hold a mixture of satisfaction and hunger, his gaze never leaving your face. You nod, breathless, your nails scratching lightly at his shoulders.

"Good," he growls, increasing his pace. "I knew you'd love this." His hips buck, driving into you harder, faster. You cry out, your body reacting to his every touch.

"p-please play with my nipples too.. mhmm", your face flush with shame as you beg him to pleasure you. Unknowingly removing your hands remove your top and push up your bra, revealing your breasts with stiffening nipples.

Toji's eyes light up at your request, his hands immediately moving to your breasts. He pinches your nipples gently, then harder, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain from you. You cry out, your body arching in response.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "Is this what you wanted?"

You nod, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leans to catch one of your bouncing tits in his mouth, licking and sucking. His fangs brush your nipples, nibbling on them gently

"f-fuck .. dont bite them.. ahhh."

Toji pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He looks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "My apologies," he says, feigning innocence. "It seemed to please you though."

He resumes his thrusts, his movements fierce and unrestrained. His hands pinch and twist your nipples, his tongue lashing over them in turn. Each touch sends waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your body responding eagerly.

"I'm close," you whisper, your voice hoarse.

"Not yet," he growls, his eyes darkening. "I'm not done with you."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cry out, your body writhing beneath him as he plays with your nipples, fucking you relentlessly.

"R-really can't anymore.. please let me .. let me cum", you beg him, tears falling from your cheeks.

Toji's eyes meet your teary eyes, his breath ragged.

"Don't cry little human", he licks your cheek wiping off your tears. "Then cum," he growls, his voice rough with pleasure. "Let go."

With a final, hard thrust, he drives into you, the motion perfectly synchronized with your climax. You cry out, your body shaking as you crest over the edge. He follows suit, his cock pulsing within you as he finds his own release. He growls which sounds more like a howl, as he fills your womb with his thick seed.

Exhausted, you slump against him, your breathing ragged. He holds you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

Soon you pass out. Toji catches you easily, his grip firm yet tender. "Awww. I wanted more though," he whispers, his voice softening, "but fine.. I have had enough fun.. I will help ya return tomorrow"

He gazes at your sleeping form, a hint of tenderness in his eyes. Despite his rough exterior, he cares for you. He wraps his big arms around you covering your fragile body, ensuring you stay warm throughout the night.

You awaken slowly, feeling warm, wet warmth between your legs. Your eyes flutter open, landing on Toji's face, his eyes gleaming with desire as he licks your cunt. The sight is both erotic and overwhelming.

"Morning," he greets, his voice thick with lust. "How are you feeling?"

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "W-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he responds, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Cleaning you up after last night's fun."

You blush, your body reacting to his touch whether you want it to or not. Your eyes squeeze shut as he licks and kisses your most intimate places.

"Mmm, you taste delicious," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Like sweet honey."

"H-hey you said.. you will help me return back home.."

Toji raises his head, his eyes locked on yours. "Go home?" he repeats, surprise clear in his voice. "Oh yes.. But I want to fuck you before I leave you alone for good"

Your skin is already sensitive from his licks and touches, your body ready for more. You bite your lower lip before nodding.

He grins, his eyes filled with lust. "What we waiting for then?" He quickly moves, positioning himself between your legs.

He chuckles as your walls devour his huge girth. "I love how good your taking me.. Fuck.. I'll always find you during my rut, my little bunny."

[cece693]

May I pretty please request Hannigram with an SO that really likes biting things? Like they’ll just nibble on anything available, including themself or Hanni/Will

male reader if possible :)

Bite Me, Darling

pairing: hannibal lecter and will graham x male reader tags: self soothing mechanism, male reader bites things, Alana bashing, jack Crawford bashing, just everyone in general is against this relationship, innocent male reader, hannibal and will want to keep him this way

It was strange, how everything about him was normal on the surface but wildly unique beneath. The way he moved through life, unaware of the way people stared, was something that only a few people truly understood. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, for all their intelligence and their capacity for manipulation, had each found something in him—something pure and raw—that spoke to them in ways they couldn’t articulate.

You were innocent in the most innocent way. You didn’t know how to read people’s intentions, how to navigate the murky waters of deceit and pain that others swam in. You were a creature of quiet habits: chewing on pens, biting the corner of your sleeves, even nibbling your fingers. It wasn’t that you was anxious, but rather that this was your way of processing the world. You didn’t speak much, but when you did, it was with a tenderness that could disarm even the most hardened individuals.

For some, this made you seem almost too innocent for the likes of Will and Hannibal. They were two men who dealt with darkness constantly, who played in shadows. Hannibal, the brilliant psychiatrist with an appetite for blood, had found himself intrigued long before anything happened between them. How did such a pure soul even come to be? How was it that someone as complex as Hannibal could be pulled into a world where biting things wasn’t just a habit—it was part of who you were?

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Hannibal was nothing if not a man who craved complexity, and you, with your simple yet peculiar habit of biting, had an allure that he could never fully comprehend. He wasn’t sure when the lines had blurred, when you had shifted from being someone he wanted to understand to someone he wanted to possess.

Will, on the other hand, was less of a mystery. He found your unspoken understanding of him soothing. Will was not a man who found comfort easily. He’d had too many years of running from his own mind, of balancing between the need for human connection and the heavy weight of his empathic gifts. But you were different. You never demanded anything from him. There was no need to over explain; no fear of rejection. You were there, and that was enough.

The three of them had fallen into a relationship that no one, especially not Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford, could understand. Jack, upset that you had a greater control over his 'asset' perceived you as a problem that needed to be extinguished immediately. While he couldn't force Will to break up with you, he began to use manipulative language more frequently, hinting that his absence was endangering the lives of people. But after a while, his words began to lose power.

"Will, you can’t just leave because he told you to," Jack would say, his voice thick with frustration. "We need you to solve this case. You're part of this team." But Will, unmoved, always told him he was tired and needed a break—as if killers would respect that and stop murdering until he felt better. Jack would then begin to retort how soft Will was becoming, as if that ever mattered when others perceived him as a madman.

Alana, on the other hand, was driven by something more personal. Jealousy. She had been drawn to both Hannibal and Will. Her feelings for them had never been simple or easy, but she had always harbored a belief that somehow, one day, they would choose her. Instead, they had chosen you. The idea of you, with your gentle biting habit, managing to capture the attention of both men—of all people—was enough to make her skin crawl with resentment. How could someone so abnormal and clearly dealing with childhood trauma have the audacity to step into their world and steal both her love interests?

She couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t deserve them. You weren't like her—you didn’t understand the complexities of their lives nor seemed to be able to handle the hurdles that came with it. And so, she set to work.

It started subtly. A conversation here, a comment there.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re a little strange?” she would ask, voice light, as if it were a passing thought. “I mean, the biting…it's something you can't help, but don't you ever want to stop it? Be seen as normal for once in your life?"

At first, you had laughed it off, thinking nothing of it. But over time, the seeds of doubt were planted. You began to wonder. Was your habit of biting things wrong? Your lovers had never raised concerns, but it would be something they'll definitely keep private, perhaps a secret only shared between Hannibal and Will. You never thought that Alana's words were connived to break your relationship apart, your naivety something the woman had taken into account and used to her advantage.

So, you tried to stop.

You started small: you tucked your hands into your sleeves when your instincts told you to gnaw at the fabric, and you opted for straws instead of biting the rim of a glass cup. You made an effort—any effort—to keep your teeth away from Will and Hannibal’s skin, no matter how comforting that gentle pressure felt against them. At first, neither man noticed; after all, it was easy to dismiss as a passing mood or an unremarkable change in routine.

But after a couple of days, small signs alerted both of them to the shift. Will began to see you catch yourself mid-motion, your hand halfway to your mouth before you stopped and pressed it flat against your chest instead. Hannibal noticed the anxious flicker in your eyes whenever you realized you were about to bite down on your sleeve—or worse, on him—and yanked yourself away.

It was Will who first chose to address it. One evening, you were curled up in his living room, dogs scattered around you like living blankets. The space was quiet, the only sound the gentle snoring of a dog and the low hum of the overhead light. You were running your thumb over your bottom lip—an almost-bite—when Will finally spoke.

“Hey,” he said softly, “what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

He studied you with those empathetic eyes of his. You knew he was reading more into your silence, but Will was nothing if not patient. “You’ve been distant,” he finally ventured, words slow and careful. “I don’t mind if you need space, but if something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

The sincerity in his voice tore at your heart. You wanted to confide in him, to say Alana made me feel wrong, and I don’t want to be wrong for you, but the fear of seeming weak or needy held you back. You simply shook your head and offered a reassuring pat to one of the dogs resting on your lap. “I’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t push. “Just tired.”

Hannibal discovered your change in behavior under more intimate circumstances. The two of you were alone in his kitchen, the scent of simmering stock filling the air. He had taken your hand to guide you closer to the cutting board, demonstrating a particular technique for slicing vegetables. Normally, a casual closeness like this was an invitation for you to lean in, maybe press your teeth gently against the back of his hand or the curve of his arm—just enough to ground yourself in his presence. This time, you didn't lean in nor brought his hand to your lips.

Hannibal stilled, eyebrows lifting in polite surprise. “Darling,” he asked softly, “what’s wrong?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to hurt you,” you offered lamely, though you both knew you had never caused him pain before. His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he released your hand without comment. You wondered if your face betrayed the unease you felt, because Hannibal’s expression shifted into something gentler, concerned. But he chose not to press you then and there. Instead, he simply carried on, instructing you gently with the knife work and occasionally brushing a reassuring hand across your back.

Though both men tried to give you space, their combined worry spilled over as time went on. Neither was used to seeing you so guarded, especially around them. On a chilly afternoon, the three of you gathered in Hannibal’s study—a routine that had become something of a tradition. Will sipped his whiskey quietly while Hannibal and you browsed through his impressive collection of classical music. There was a soothing air of comfort, and for a brief moment, your doubts dimmed.

But of course, it was Will who noticed your jaw moving—saw the slight shift as your teeth worked the soft flesh inside your cheek. He placed his whiskey glass down on the table with a muted clink before pushing himself out of the chair.

“Stop,” he murmured, crossing the room with purpose. His voice was gentle but firm as he stepped close to you. Without hesitating, he brought his hand to your chin, his touch warm yet insistent. “Open your mouth.”

You stiffened, instinctively pulling away. You shook your head, trying to avert your gaze from Will’s intense blue eyes. You didn’t want to show him. You didn’t want him to see the damage you’d done to keep from biting them instead.

But then, Hannibal appeared at Will’s side, his presence commanding. He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave you—equal parts concern and disappointment—made your shoulders slump in silent surrender. Unable to deny the weight of their worry, you parted your lips, letting Will tilt your chin just enough so both he and Hannibal could peer inside.

A faint gasp escaped Will as he saw the small puncture in your cheek, the fresh bead of crimson welling against your lower molars. Hannibal’s lips flattened into a thin line, and a flicker of displeasure darkened his gaze. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small wound, but it spoke volumes to them—volumes about how you had been coping alone.

Hannibal’s voice was low, edged with concern. “You’ve been hurting yourself to avoid biting us.” It wasn’t a question; it was a quiet statement of fact.

Will let go of your chin carefully. “Why?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

You swallowed thickly, your hand hovering near your mouth in a subconscious attempt to hide the injury you’d just revealed. “Alana said it’s weird. The biting,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

A stretch of silence followed your confession, Hannibal and Will exchanged a look—a silent conversation filled with understanding and mild anger toward Alana’s interference. Will’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. “We told you before,” he reminded you gently, “you don’t have to hide this from us. You’re not hurting us—”

“—nor inconveniencing us,” Hannibal interrupted, stepping closer again. The resolute calm in his eyes steadied you. “In fact, we’ve grown quite accustomed to it, and dare I say, fond of it. Your habit is part of who you are.”

You glanced down, feeling the sting of tears threatening in your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want you to get sick of me, or to think I was some sort of burden.”

Will’s hand found yours, his fingers threading through with a gentle squeeze. “That’s not possible,” he murmured. “We miss it…miss you being comfortable around us.”

Hannibal placed a hand against your cheek, being mindful of your tender injury. “You never need to hurt yourself on our behalf,” he said, voice quiet but unyielding. “Any pain you feel—physical or otherwise—we’d much rather help you carry it, not watch you bury it inside.”

At those words, a sharp wave of relief pulsed through you, along with an ache of regret for having doubted them. You inhaled shakily, letting yourself lean just a fraction closer to Hannibal’s touch, feeling the stability it offered. Will eased his other hand around your waist, tugging you gently in his direction. Sandwiched between them, you could almost believe nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I…I’ll try not to hide it anymore.”

Will’s lips quirked into a small, comforting smile. “No more chewing on your cheek,” he said, voice warm with affection. “You’ll let us help, right?”

With a hesitant nod, you felt Hannibal’s hand slide from your cheek to the back of your head, urging you closer until your forehead rested against his shoulder. He cast a glance at Will, who leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Despite the swirl of emotions, you felt a gentle calm in their presence—a sense of being anchored.

[szarina]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward, chubby gal who somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

❝ TASTE THE SUGAR ON MY LIPS. ❞

𔓘 FEATURING. BOYFRIEND! GETO SUGURU

CONTENT WARNINGS. college au + hints of toxic boyfie geto + exhibitionism + established relationship + kissing + smut + insecurities + awkward reader + dubious consent .

SYNOPSIS. campus crush geto is utterly enamored with you. a socially awkward chubby girl that holds the title of being suguru's girlfriend and everyone wonder why? you ask the same question too and suguru is the only one who have the answer.

tall? yes.

dark? not really. he's leaning on warmer tones that one could say he spends his vacations on the beach.

handsome? a big fat yes.

there is too many adjectives to describe geto suguru. the fine arts student is currently holding your hand in a tight grip (you brush his hands off too many times when you two go out so he keeps a firm hold on your hands). a literature student who didn't have a social life and only a friend — can it still be considered a friend that you only talk to class?

and everyone asks why geto suguru would go for someone like you. a nobody that isn't even textbook attractive. they didn't even know that you exists until geto is parading you throughout campus like you were a trophy he won when it was the opposite from everyone's eye.

drop dead gorgeous that every man and women swoons over him. of course — who would not swoon for him? he's everything. well, except you. you particularly paid no interest in attractive guys cause they wouldn't be into you and even if they did, they won't fall for someone like you. stumbling over your words that people mistakes it for you mumbling instead of talking and thus, they find you boring with no prospect of a conversation.

the man besides you? he said you were interesting. no compliments on your beauty if you have any. you say to yourself. your size was the number one reason for it and if you get to know geto's ex-flings? a shuddering no. you don't look like close to them. not even a resemblance that geto suguru has a type.

he's mr. popular and you're ms. nobody. it sounds like cliché plot for a romance novel but this is your reality. a year had gone by and geto suguru is still all over you.

“do i need to explain myself?” he raises a brow at your question. more than once that's been asked and you got the same response from him all over again. he only hums and kisses your knuckles. the affection hasn't been done with the others and geto knows you're a bit of an old soul. hence, he made sure that he was sincere in taking you out and promises has made to himself that he would never hurt you.

if something that will happen that may end up in a break-up, geto had a term that it would be mutual for the both of you. there isn't going to be a harsh nor emotional way to broke up that would end up the two parties to be emotionally conflicted. it was better that way and fortunately, there hasn't been talks or signs that there is a turmoil in the relationship.

truth is, geto never gave you the reason to feel dissociated with him. assurances was the tip of his tongue when it was needed. his shoulder was there when you wanted to cry and his arms were there when you just feel like it and his lips that kisses you gently. it was beneficial for him cause before he knew it, he was so far gone enthralled on you.

the way you made him feel good like he was always in control and all the other quirks that is pleasant to him even the ups and downs. however some days when you're not in the picture, geto thought of you a lot and he says to himself he's not obsessed — fixated is much suitable in subtlety like any other person but he gets a little unstable when he don't see you and when he does the word seems to put it more in obvious.

“sugu—mmph!” merely seconds after he sees you, his lips was on yours. briefly knocking the air out of you before melting in the kiss. slowly moving your lips to return the action. “hey there, sugu.” you murmured against his lips and trying to ignore the stares that was being shoot at to you. it's a compromising position being kabedonned by a guy that everyone have the hots for and wished to experience what it was like to date geto suguru.

you momentarily stare at him. geto suguru is a mystery. does madness lurks behind those purples of his eyes and was his smile real? you bet it wasn't. it was honed from what he lives up as the expectations of others. he's charming. they would say behind your back while girls flirts with him. their smaller hands brushing over the expanse of his arms and they will only get a smile and that is only the thing the thing they'll have from him.

everyone likes geto suguru or maybe he's adored by the many that's why hatred are born to the likes of you cause if you were like them you would hate yourself too. the long jet black hair of his that drapes around his back. the sharp like eyes of his similar to a fox and that smile. that damned smile. his very features were the epitome of beauty with a body like a god.

“you're really handsome.” is what you say without thinking. your gaze still fixated on his godly features and that earns a laugh from him. so rich that you think you were hallucinating and were seeing things. must be in love. you say to yourself and you braced for yourself the heartbreak that will come when you already had fallen for him..

all is forgotten when suguru wondered why he was with you in the first place when all he could think is about you when the merely attraction had turned into something he never can get out with. he was in too deep with you.

he holds your chin. trapping it with his forefinger and thumb. “hmm? i am?” he hums unsure like he hasn't heard it for the first time when it was a million times he had heard it. a small smirk gracing in his lips when he sees you gazing at him. “and you're beautiful.” he whispers and then he was dragging you to a vacant room.

sunlight flows through the windows. giving the room a lightning that wasn't hard for the eyes and only giving it a glow. your back hits the professor's table. geto grasps your hips to place you into and it made you gasp a little that he have this strength to carry you.

“should we be doing this here, suguru?” looking at the door that he locked and you can pick up the faint footsteps roaming behind the door. students passing by and your heart skips a beat that you two may be caught.

“don't let that get into your pretty head.” holding your jaw to face him and you see your worried expression in the reflection of his eyes. “okay.” you whisper, your heart beating in worry of being caught but it wasn't when suguru's lips on yours. moving in such passion that leaves you breathless. wanting for more as you tug the sleeves of his shirt.

his hands slithering between your legs and parting them slowly. drawing smooth circles in your inner thighs while he kisses you. settling between your parted legs. his fingers gently pulls your panties aside. gathering the slick that was forming and rubbing slow circles in your clit. “sugu-hmm....” you moan against the kiss. your hips slowly grinding to get more of his touch. “yes, baby....” humming as his tongue entered your mouth. swirling and claiming every inch of your mouth and draw the sweetest moans and whimpers he can while he rubs your clit.

melting from his ministrations, he let out a groan. his cock throbbing from the confines of his pants and in desperate need of relief. he easily unbuttons his pants. pulling his boxers down and his cock sprang free. the tip glistening with pre-cum. he wraps his hand around his cock. giving it a few quick pumps before sliding between your folds. coating it with your juices before slowly plunging deep inside to your wet heat.

geto stills for a moment. savoring the way your tight cunt deliciously engulfing his length. time is the essence at the situation but geto couldn't care not when you're so snug around him. he cups your soft jaw in his hand. tilting it to the side before kissing you again.

a low breathy moan escaping his lip as he began to move his hips. pulling his cock, he slams it back again to your tight heat. moving in pace that's good for the both of you.

“sugu....” you drawl out. your body moving in sync to his thrusts while you hold the edge of the desk behind you. “i know, baby.” he grunts. hooking your leg around his waist to get deeper and with your dazed state. you look up at him. there's a faint hue of blush in his cheek. his eyes narrowing while he looks at you. meeting his gaze and his lips parted slightly.

in his intoxicated state of being balls deep to your tight cunt, geto remains aware of the surroundings. he glances at where the door was. noticing a shadow behind the door and the door knob suddenly rattling and his desire heightened at the thought of being caught with you.

he returns his attention to you. a smirk curling in his lips. drinking at the sight of his girlfriend who's too dazed to care and focusing on the pleasure that runs deep inside you. “sugu.....” he hears you moan out his name and he knows you're close from the way your breath hitches and the quiver of your thick thighs.

geto changes the angle of his hips. making sure he's hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and with a cry of his name, you came around him. your whole body trembling as your orgasm washes over you and with that, geto focuses on his release. moving in a relentless phase. his hips stuttering, a low growl tore from his throat and with a sharp thrust, he buried his cock to the hilt deep inside your fluttering walls. thick ropes of his cum is released to your insides. he rolls his hips a few times and takes his cock with a wet pop.

both of you stayed still for a moment. catching each other's breath and as both of your temporary highs dissipated. geto grabs your chin and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before helping you to fix yourself and pulls you off to the desk. gathering you in his arms as you put your feet back in the ground. holding your hand firmly in his grasp, he pulls you with him and went to go outside and unlocking the door.

a dumbfounded student stands outside the doorway at the appearance of geto and you leaving the room. they stay there for awhile, processing at just what occurred inside.

after that, geto took you at one of the quaint coffee shops inside the campus. a cup of black coffee steaming in front of him and your favorite drink and a slice of cheesecake. “are you sure you don't want a bite, sugu?” pushing your plate towards him for both of you to share. he only smiles. wiping the cream in your lips that your tongue didn't caught earlier with his thumb and bringing it to his lips.

the action caught you off guard and warmth spread throughout your cheeks. your gaze lowering in embarrassment. geto casually sips his drink and waited for you until you finished and he grabs your bag. slinging it to his shoulder and intertwining your soft hands in his calloused ones.

“say suguru, do you really like me?” you stare at him. finding any kind of hesitation and hints of deceit on his eyes which isn't the right thing to do cause his eyes doesn't lie and he got what people call the angel eyes. the question's been bugging you for a long time cause it was unreal and beyond your wildest dream that geto suguru is dating you. a nobody who doesn't get the second glances until you dated him.

he raises a brow at your question. an amused chuckle slipping past his lips. “it won't last a year if i don't like you, princess.” leaning down to meet your level. “maybe you lost a bet.” his gaze darkened at the reproachful words. “a bet? certainly not. if i want to hurt you. i won't waste my time being with you.” the tone of his voice is cool but there's an underlying threat. it's a warning that you should choose your words carefully.

you simply nodded at his words. satisfied for the mean time and that's all it took for geto to change back to his calm demeanor. his thumb brushing your round cheeks. his large hands dwarfing your own face despite the roundness of it. “good girl.” his hand slowly descends to your neck. caressing your flabby arms and slowly pinching your belly and creeping underneath your shirt.

“not here, suguru.” a look of worry painted in your face as you look at the students scattered in the library. “they won't know, princess and there are things that are needed to be clarified.” the look in your face is priceless. he loves the way how easily bothered you can be at his ministrations but besides it, he really needs you and geto is starting to question that you're the one who's in too deep with your affection towards him, not him.

maybe, all along. he's the one who have fallen too deep for you and he's dancing on the palm of your hand.

[suzdin]

Home Is Wherever I’m With You

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After the tragic loss of your father and home, you find yourself at the mercy of a cold, detached stranger who holds your fate in his hands during a violent snowstorm.

Notes: okay fair warning, I started writing this when I was feeling extremely low, and finished it several weeks later when I was doing better, so if it seems disjointed and sloppily thrown together, that’s why! But I swear there’s a happy ending!

Warnings: ANGST!!! I cannot stress the amount of angst. Suicidal thoughts and ideation, especially at the beginning. Alcohol consumption. Main character deaths; all of them. Lots of depression and poor mental health, mostly with Joel. Angsty!Joel, asshole!Joel, soft!Joel, semi-dom!Joel, protective!Joel, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), face riding, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting/marking, pregnancy heavily hinted at, more angst

Word Count: 7,100+

dividers provided by: @saradika-graphics ❣️

Tags: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @berryispunk @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @natdeandar @guelyury @daddy-dins-girl

Joel crouches in front of the old cast iron stove, his knees groaning in protest as he stokes the embers within using an extra scrap of wood.

He doesn’t know why he’s going through the trouble. It isn’t like he’ll be around much longer. Maybe he just wants to feel warmth one last time before he does it. And this time, he won’t miss.

He’ll be cold soon enough anyway.

He gets the fire breathing again, closing the hatch and settling back into the old leather recliner in the corner, worn and cracking with age, much like himself.

He palms the neck on a bottle of bourbon, taking a hefty swig and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his face crinkling in rumination as he watches the flames dance behind slats of iron.

Sarah. Tess. Tommy. And then Ellie. He had failed each and every one of them; those he claimed to love, who he vowed to keep safe. He had let them down. He had let himself down.

He takes another pull on the bottle and sets it down heavily on the table next to him, replacing it with his Smith & Wesson, heavy digits curling around the grip.

He traces the scar on his temple with the point of his index finger, feeling the faint indentation in the flesh; a constant reminder of yet another failure.

He lowers his hand back to the revolver, finger circling the trigger guard, dark eyes downcast as he attempts to summon the strength to do what he needs to do. Again.

His hand tremors as he lifts the gun and presses the cold barrel to his temple, thumb cocking the hammer back with a hollow metallic clunk that resonates through his skull and soul.

“C’mon, Joel. Get yourself fucking together for once.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched in a deep scowl.

Just do it, Joel. Pull the fucking trigger.

The ball of his index finger curves around the bend of the trigger, twitching with indecision when the back door to the cabin abruptly flies open, temporarily snapping him out of his psychosis.

It’s just the wind. That’s all it is. A gust of wind from the incoming snowstorm.

He doesn’t move from his space on the recliner. The cold won’t matter in a few seconds anyway. He lifts the barrel to his temple again, aligning it just right…

The back door clicks shut. It wasn’t slammed, like the wind would have done had it been the culprit. It very audibly clicked. Like someone or something shut it themselves.

Immediately following the click, he hears the unmistakable scrape of boots on wood, the revolver lowering from offensive to defensive position.

No sooner do you get the door closed that you notice a faint flicker of light from the adjoining room, your heart beginning to thrum like a jackhammer in your chest. From the outside, in your weary state, the dilapidated old cabin looked abandoned as far as you could tell, realizing too late that it isn’t.

But now you’ve stumbled into someone’s den, and they could very well be armed and aiming to shoot. They could even be cannibals for all you know.

You could leave. You could just leave and pretend this never happened. But you haven’t seen any other shelters for miles… and the storm was only going to get worse.

“Who’s there?” a gruff male voice calls out from the other room, breaking through the stifling silence. You go stock still on instinct, your hackles bristled along your spine.

When you’re able to gather your bearings, you respond with your name, your vocal cords numb and strained from the cold.

“I mean no harm. I just need a place to sleep out of the storm. I promise to leave at first light,” you quickly add.

Joel stiffens when he hears a woman’s voice, his finger still circling the trigger guard as it had only moments before when the gun was trained on himself.

“Are you armed?”

“Just a small pistol and a jack knife. And I’m out of ammo,” you call back truthfully.

Everything is quiet for a moment aside from the crackle of flame and the howl of wind that rattles the windows and bends the outer wood. The silence between you and the unseen man feels like it stretches on for ages.

“Approach the door with your hands raised. An’ when I say, slide the gun and knife over to me.”

“Alright,” you reply quietly, approaching the ajar door in front of you, hands already skyward, kicking the door the rest of the way open with the toe of your boot.

You step forward two paces into the room, the scent of alcohol stinging your nostrils, your gaze settling on a haggard looking man in the furthest corner from you. His hair is wild and askew, eyes sunken in like a corpse, recognizing the hopeless glint behind them; no doubt a reflection of your own. A large pistol is clutched in his meaty fist, cocked and aimed.

“Gun first. Then the knife,” Joel says, his brow angled downward in a dark line, shading the even darker set of eyes.

You keep one hand in the air as the other reaches into the band of your jeans, removing the pistol and sliding it to him, stilling as it hits his boot.

He picks it up, discharging the clip to find that it is indeed empty, as you had claimed. He sets it next to the bourbon.

You slide the knife next, an average, run of the mill jack knife with a four inch blade. He inspects it, noticing a few remnants of blood still tarnishing the steel.

“Who’d you kill with this?”

“I used it to skin hares and squirrels.”

His face pinches with confusion, tilting his head at you like a dog hearing an unknown sound for the first time.

“Y’skinned hares and squirrels with a jack knife?” he questions doubtfully.

“It’s all I had,” you explain.

Joel eyes you warily. You’re definitely not dressed or equipped for this kind of weather. The only thing that seems to be keeping you warm is a thin hoodie, a regular set of jeans, and a pair of boots soaked through with snow.

He sighs. He isn’t going to kill himself with you here. He may not be the nicest or most caring man in the world, but he isn’t about to traumatize you. He’ll wait until you leave. You said you’d leave at first light.

In the meantime, he has to deal with someone being in his space, which he doesn’t exactly want to do, especially in his last hours. But he isn’t about sending you to your death, either. You probably have more to live for than he does.

“Here,” he says, kicking an old wicker chair toward you. “Your feet’re soaked. Take off your boots and warm your feet ‘fore you get frostbite.”

You lower your arms and take a cautious step forward, and then another, slowly sinking into the flimsy and rotten chair, bending to unlace and remove your boots.

You try to wiggle your toes but they won’t move, at least not yet. Joel watches with a scrutinizing glare, his hand still on the Smith & Wesson in his lap.

“What’s your name?” you ask him, pushing your boots aside.

“Ain’t important.”

You cast him a look but don’t press, scooting your sore and frozen feet closer to the stove, feeling yourself starting to slowly defrost.

You thank him for letting you stay.

He ignores your gratitude, dark browns drifting over your frame.

“Where’d you come from?” he asks.

“Ain’t important,” you counter, casting him another glance.

He leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees, pinning you with a deep scowl.

“I’m the one with the gun,” he chides in a deep timbre, his tone brooking no room for protest. “Guns,” he quickly amends.

Your eyes lock with his momentarily, assessing his conviction before deciding not to test it.

“A settlement near Billings.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

He leans back, his gaze unmoving, letting out a breath through his nose.

“An’ exactly what prompted you to run out into a snowstorm with just a hoodie and no supplies?” he asks.

You flinch as if he’d just backhanded you, averting your gaze. If you were looking, you might notice his face softening, if only just a hair.

“Raiders came into our settlement. My father… he gave me the pistol and distracted them while I snuck under a gap in the fence. I didn’t have time to grab anything else,” you tell him.

“And your dad?” Joel asks delicately.

“Didn’t make it out,” you reply grimly, your body beginning to tremor, a combination of repressed emotion and your muscles beginning to thaw.

Joel falls silent, absorbing your words as truth. He can’t find a reason that you would lie about something like that.

“I’m sorry,” he sympathizes, his voice gentling.

You bring your knees to your chest, your chin resting between them, arms wrapped around your shins.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice hardly above a whisper.

——

Your eyes snap open, realizing you must have drifted off at some point, finding yourself curled into a fetal position directly in front of the dying fire.

A blanket you’re sure wasn’t there before is wrapped around your frame. You’ve no idea where it came from, it’s a bit scratchy and smells funky, but what matters is it’s warm, subconsciously pulling it tighter around your shoulders when you feel a chilled breeze brush over you through the cracks in the wall.

“Mornin’,” Joel hums softly above you.

“Morning,” you echo, shifting as your eyes scan the room, the cabin just as dark and cloaked in shadow as when you arrived. You’re unsure how he knows what time of day it is, but you decide not to question it.

He’s in almost the exact position in the old recliner as the previous evening, his hand unmoving from the revolver still in his lap. You can’t help but wonder if he had any rest at all, not sure if him watching you sleep should be comforting or disconcerting.

You sit up with a stretch, your joints crackling like twigs as you work out the aches of not only having traveled this far on foot, but also sleeping on a hard wooden floor all night.

Better than freezing to death, you decide.

You scoot until your back is flush with the wall, leaning against it as you silently study Joel.

“Thank you for the blanket—“ you begin, but he quickly cuts you off with a hard glare, nudging your dried out boots to you with his foot.

“Boots’re dry. It’s morning. ‘bout time for you to leave,” he says, his voice low and rough.

It dawns on you that it’s still dark because the storm hasn’t lessened at all, banks of snow clogging the windows and doors, blocking out what little available sunlight there is.

Your brow knits together and you cast him a wary glance, bottom lip trembling.

“But it… it’s…”

“The deal was first light, darlin’, and I’ve given you plenty more than that.”

“Please… just… a few more hours? Until the storm dies down some?” you plead, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes, preemptively threatening to freeze your eyelids together.

He’s silent and contemplative for what you feel is longer than necessary, a muscle fluttering in his jaw.

He knows he should send you away, even if it means a certain death. He can’t have you here, swimming in his grief, prolonging the inevitable.

The other option, of course, is to shoot you and then himself, a swift and merciful death that you deserve far more than he does. His fist tightens around the butt of the revolver, an action that does not go unnoticed by you.

“No,” he says plainly.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you say, your voice cracking with emotion and desperation, shifting to your knees as you shuffle a few inches closer to his chair. He did give you a blanket, so there is a human being in there somewhere. “I can’t—“

“I can barely take care of myself, much less another person. Ain’t nothing you can offer me, nothing to barter with—“

“I’ll let you keep my gun and knife. Please. Just a few more hours…”

His jaw ticks again. Your odds are already low as is, but liberating you of your only means of defense, your only means of perhaps obtaining a meal, if only a meager squirrel or hare, would completely diminish any shred of a chance you have left.

He could give you his one and only jacket. Not that he’s going to need it after you leave, anyway.

“No,” he says again, more sternly than before.

His gaze is unmoving from yours, the slow, steady circling of his pointer finger on the edge of the trigger guard doing little to settle your nerves, the conflict apparent behind his dark eyes.

You know you don’t have much to offer. You’re not great at hunting. You’d exhausted your entire clip on what barely qualifies as a meal, leaving you with very little sustenance once the bullet had almost completely obliterated any viable meat.

You can’t fight or shoot worth a damn, either. Your father had tried to teach you in vain, his frustration with you growing to a fever pitch over the years, but it had never been your forte.

Because you never thought you’d have to live without him.

You can scout. Gather. Keep the cabin up, replace rotting boards and rusting nails, keep it clean and tidy. But not in this weather, and not for a few months yet.

So you default to the last thing you know how to do well. The only thing you know without a shadow of a doubt you’re good at, if any of the men at your settlement had anything to say about it before they perished.

You inch closer, your tired knees scraping against the dirty, splintered wood, hands trembling as you hesitantly reach toward his parted knees.

He anticipates more begging and pleading. Maybe a sob story or two.

What he doesn’t expect is for your hands to grab his belt, the meat of your palm ghosting over his crotch as you fumble to undo the worn rungs of leather.

His cock twitches instinctively and he can’t recall the last time a woman touched him like this. Made him feel anything but dead inside.

He moves with a sudden swiftness that surprises and startles both of you, the hand not currently on the revolver grabbing hold of your wrist like a striking serpent, his grip biting into your delicate bones so roughly you realize how effortless it would be for him to snap your wrist, should he feel so inclined.

He rises to his feet, dragging you with him and giving you a hard, reprimanding shake, teeth bared inches from your face.

It occurs to you seeing him fully upright like this just how tall, how imposing he is; worn, threadbare flannel stretched to its limits across broad shoulders and thick biceps.

“Christ, woman, the hell is wrong with you? What kind of man do you take me for?” he growls, a subtle twang piping up in his voice, his clenched fist releasing your wrist with a minor shove. You stumble backwards, catching yourself on the wall.

His nostrils flare, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, his eyes slipping shut as he tempers his simmering anger… and something else he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“Fuck,” he grunts, eyes slowly opening again, rough digits carding through his graying curls. “If it means that much to you… you stay until the snow stops, an’ not a second later,” he nearly spits in your face. “Got it?”

When you easily nod in agreement, he stalks out of the room with a huff, every heavy footfall vibrating beneath your feet, slamming the door shut between you, leaving you standing there in the middle of the room, alone and unsure what to feel.

—

Joel goes into the now defunct bathroom, the traditional porcelain toilet that was maybe brand new decades ago currently unusable, the water in the tank and plumbing frozen solid, the pipes under the earth most likely cracked and warped.

He drops trow and leans forward with the flat of one palm against the wall, the other hand gripping himself.

He lets out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in, pissing into the cistern he had dug under the cabin two summers ago, a task only made more difficult by the partial erection he now has thanks to your — albeit brief — touch a few moments ago.

“Fuck, Joel,” he sighs as he empties his bladder, his cock only growing stiffer in his hand as he imagines how good your lips would have felt wrapped around him, what kind of pretty sounds you would have made for him.

“Fuck,” he grits again, cramming his painfully hard erection into his jeans when he’s done.

—

Hours turn to days, days to weeks, weeks to months — “until the snow melts an’ not a day later” — spring not far around the corner, the sun growing brighter and hotter in the sky with each passing day.

Joel’s suicidal ideations were still an ever present plague on his brain, though he kept that part of himself tucked neatly away, as he did most things that were personal and private. He never spoke of Sarah, Ellie, anyone. Never talked about his life before Outbreak.

In turn, you never talked about yours either, aside from what you’d told him the first night, too frightened that you might scare him away simply by opening up, by trying to stitch together what little relationship you had with one another.

The more time you spent with him, the more of a burden you began to feel. It didn’t matter how much you helped out, even if you kept a respectful distance between you, especially when he seemed extra bristly or in his head that day. He was always skulking about, his face pinched in indignation in what you were certain was unspoken hatred for you and your existence.

It was early morning and you were at the edge of the valley, the spot near the treeline that was choked with underbrush, gathering pathetically small handfuls of wild strawberries and huckleberries that were just beginning to fruit. Definitely not enough to have much impact on your aching bellies, but it could be supplemental to whatever protein Joel could scrounge up, which hadn’t been much as of late.

You wipe a fresh layer of sweat from your brow despite the air still being bitterly cold, collecting what meager pittance of berries you can, sucking in a breath of air as you steeled your nerves to head back to the cabin.

—

Joel’s door is still closed when you return. Not surprising, considering how early you’d gotten up that morning, Joel likely still exhausted and aching from the ineffectual hunting trip the previous day.

You place the berries into a bowl on the counter, your fingers curling into the peeling linoleum as you stare out the window that overlooks the southern end of the valley, sun cresting through the twisted and gnarled branches of still-bare trees.

You’ve been milling around the idea of leaving for weeks now. You’ve come close to doing so several times, knowing it would make Joel happy to not have you on his mind or in his space anymore.

Your hand hovers near the hunting rifle slanted against the wall, ultimately deciding against it as you tuck your pistol and knife into your pants, tossing half of the berries into a bag and shrugging on the jacket Joel had found for you on a hunting trip.

You take a final glance at his door before sucking in another sharp breath, opening and closing the back door for what you assume to be the last time.

—

Joel hears you return only to leave again a few minutes later. He thinks little of it, something you do frequently throughout the day when foraging or inspecting snares.

He wishes he could express his gratitude to you, thank you for how much you help out. How much you’ve improved his life just by being here. It kills him to see how you shrink away every time he enters the room, but he understands why. He hasn’t given you a reason not to.

Once he’s sure you’re out of earshot, he resumes pumping himself, hips bucking into his fist seconds before spurting hot ribbons of come onto his lower abdomen, eyes rolling back in his skull, your name a curse on his tongue as he imagines your mouth working him over in place of his fist.

As much as he’s wanted to touch you, sink himself into you every night, he’s been too afraid. Afraid to even speak to you, afraid of becoming attached only to lose you, like he’s lost all the others.

—

When you don’t return by mid day, he begins to worry.

He tries not to. He tries to tell himself maybe you decided to forage a little longer than usual, or maybe you’re at the river searching for freshwater clams since the weather is slowly beginning to warm.

Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That something is wrong.

He finds the bowl of fresh berries on the counter, evident that you had been foraging at least part of the day. But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t good enough for him.

When you don’t return by nightfall, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that something is wrong.

This isn’t you.

—

Two days pass and you realize just how badly you fucked up.

The berries barely made a dent in your hunger and the only other food you managed to find were a few wild mushrooms that you’re pretty sure weren’t the edible kind, if the half gallon of resulting vomit an hour later was any sort of indication.

You fucked up. You fucked up royally and you miss the cabin. You miss the warm stove and the bed Joel made for you close to the fire. You miss how he always kept you fed and protected, even if you’re certain he hates you.

You miss Joel. You miss his grunts, you miss the way his face pinches when he glowers. You miss what he looks like when he chews, almost like he’s angry at his food somehow. You miss his smell when he comes home covered in grime and sweat from a full day of hunting.

Dusk has fallen on your second day without food or water, your bones feeling like powder and your muscles like jelly. You’re exhausted, head pounding with a combination of fatigue and hunger as you take shelter from the wind in a small outcropping of rocks, wishing he was here with you.

You’ll go back tomorrow, you decide.

—

Joel watches the sun sink behind the horizon of trees, cloaking the surrounding forest in near darkness.

He knows he should stop to rest for the night. Like you, he left in a rush without grabbing much in way of supplies or sustenance, but had been lucky to graze a buck that he was passively tracking while searching for you. He’ll likely find it soon.

He periodically came across fresh deer imprints in the earth, clean tracks slowly changing to drag marks, indicating the buck was either dead or close to death.

But you were constantly at the forefront of his mind. You were his focus. His reason to keep going. His reason for continuing to live.

And when he finds a perfect indentation of your left boot moments before the sun lowers completely from the sky, he knows he can’t afford to stop now.

—

It’s still dark when you wake up, your eyes coming into focus along the faint edges of what you can see, which isn’t much. Some rocks. Some trees.

You shift, rolling to your opposite side to go back to sleep, tucking your hands under your cheek as a makeshift pillow. A breeze blows over you, made stronger by the funnel of rocks, and you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter.

Snap.

Your eyes fly open again, immediately jumping to your haunches as you palm the pistol next to you.

You train your ears toward the source of the sound, somewhere in the trees, listening intently, your mind on shuffle with all the possibilities of what it could be.

It didn’t sound large enough to be a bear. A puma, perhaps, one who didn’t seem to be hunting you, hopefully, due to how loud the sound was.

Infected? A slim possibility. Rare up here, but not unheard of, which left you with the most likely option: it was human.

You attempt to still your breath, your fist white knuckled around the butt of the gun. It’s too dark to see anything, and all you hear is the soft whistle of the wind.

—

Joel registers the sound of you shifting from somewhere up the incline above him, limbs turning to stone as his mind cycles through all the same scenarios as you.

He lost your tracks halfway through the night, finding himself going in circles, so it’s quite possible it’s not you he’s just stumbled upon.

He slowly removes the rifle from his shoulder, lifting it to half mast in case whomever he’s stumbled across is hostile… or infected.

“I’m armed!” he calls out, lifting the rifle to a defensive position with the butt pressed to his shoulder. “I have no beef with you if you have none with me,” he adds.

You swear your heart stops, tears suddenly stinging your eyes with salt.

“J-Joel?” you whimper, almost imperceptible, but it’s just loud enough.

Joel can only react, unthinking, responding on muscle memory alone as he somehow manages to traverse the steep, rocky incline in seconds without eating it.

You jump upright to your feet, despite how weak you are, and before your brain even has a chance to tell your legs to move, you’re struck by a wall of muscle, thick arms coiling around you and pulling you against his chest.

“Thank god, thank god,” Joel sobs into your hair as he drags you down to the ground with him, his voice softer than you can ever remember, the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt. “I thought I’d lost you…” he whispers, his voice wavering.

He inhales your scent deeply, his hold on you nearly painful, but you don’t mind, your face against his chest as your own tears start to fall.

—

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmurs softly as you’re walking back the following day, glancing over at you, dark brown eyes gently regarding your side profile in the early morning light. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t care. I just…”

“I know,” you respond, pausing to collect your breath and your thoughts. “I know why you did it. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I scared you…”

“Hey,” he says, gently cupping your jaw as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, calloused thumb tracing your jawbone, pausing at your bottom lip. “S’okay.”

Your lips pucker, impervious to stop yourself from planting a small kiss to the pad of his thumb as it brushes your lip.

He lets out a low breath, his hand snaking around to the nape of your neck, fingers lacing through your hair as he tugs you closer, lips crashing against yours in a passionate, heated kiss that flows trembling from him with every fiber of withheld emotion and desire.

—

You arrive at the cabin half a day later, impressed but not surprised by how swiftly Joel was able to navigate both of you back safely.

He even successfully locates the downed buck, stiff with rigor mortis and cold, half chewed by a pack of wolves that scatter with a single rifle shot fired over their heads, the large animal now dragging listlessly behind Joel as you finally break through the barrier of trees encasing the valley where the cabin resides.

Smoke still curls from the chimney, fire long gone but embers undoubtedly still hot, and you find yourself smiling. With relief, with anticipation.

You’re exhausted, famished and dirty. Yet you still assist Joel in stringing up what’s left of the buck to the outside of the cabin until he can properly butcher it, feeling obligated to do so after everything that’s happened, despite his protests.

Once the task is complete, you retire to the warmth and comfort of the cabin, curled against his chest, feeling at home for the first time in months.

His fingers idly trace the bow of your spine, both of you falling into a fast sleep for what feels like days on end.

—

“I was so goddamn stupid,” Joel growls softly as his lips chart a path down your soft inner thighs, finding himself grinding his hips into the mattress for relief. “So goddamn stupid an’ bullheaded, an’ I almost lost you for it.”

Your spine arcs instinctually when his breath ghosts tauntingly close to your soaked folds, your fists finding his graying locks with a tug.

“Joel, stop talking and make it up to me,” you whine, earning a disapproving glance from between your legs, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness behind his eyes.

“Make it up to you, huh?” he purrs, separating your folds and inhaling your natural scent. “By tastin’ this perfect little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whine again, writhing like a worm cooking under the sun in his grasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Uh uh,” he scolds, moving further away from where you’re desperate for him. “Ask nicely.”

His lip curves almost imperceptibly into a sly smirk, his gaze growing a shade darker.

“Please, Joel,” you amend, still wiggling, almost involuntary at this point, his fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the bed.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need to feel your mouth on my pussy,” you whimper.

His nostrils flare, smirk growing just enough for you to realize you weren’t just seeing things.

He doesn’t waste another second as he dives in with a low, reverberative growl and begins feasting on you like a man starved, his meaty forearm barred across your hip to hold you in place so he can eat you out properly.

His tongue parts your folds, licking a broad stripe up your seam with a groan as he tastes your essence for the first time, moving back down to your opening to tongue fuck you, the ridge of his nose grinding deliciously against your throbbing clit.

You tug harder against his strands with a moan, helping to guide him where you need him most.

Joel grunts your name into your core, eyes locking with yours over your mound, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart right then and there.

He abruptly pulls his mouth from you, making you whine in protest, another smirk notching the corner of his lips as he rolls onto his back, rigid cock swaying slightly with the motion of his hips.

“Get on my face, baby, I need to get deeper,” he says, grabbing your wrist and gesturing you closer.

You don’t even have to give it another thought, scrambling over him, folded knees planted on either side of his head.

He yanks you down abruptly to his waiting and eager mouth before you’re halfway settled, tongue curling into your wet heat with a deep groan that vibrates straight through you.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, directing your movements, grinding you against his face as he continues to feast on you like you’re nothing less of a five star meal.

Your hands furl the edge of the headboard, spine arching, and it doesn’t take much longer in this position to be sent over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like a bolt of lightning, Joel’s name a sacred prayer on your tongue as everything inside of you completely uncoils.

He keeps you there long enough to let you ride out your high, tongue still laving at your spasming walls until it’s too much for you to handle.

You shift off of him, his facial hair glistening with evidence of your release as he pulls you down into a rough, needy kiss, letting you taste yourself, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him, arms caged around your head as he grinds his hardness against you.

“You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking about you like this,” Joel confesses, nipping at your jaw, then your bottom lip. “How you would feel. How you would taste.” He kisses down to your collarbone, his teeth gently grazing.

“And you have no idea how many times I touched myself thinking about you,” you confess in reply, Joel’s head lifting to meet your eyes at your admission. “I had to bite my lip every night to keep from moaning your name...”

“Fuck…” he growls, settling his pelvis between your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, lifting one to prop against his shoulder.

“You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years,” he rumbles, giving himself a few firm pumps before notching himself at your entrance. “Y’want me to go fast or slow, darlin’?”

A warmth spreads through your chest at the simple act of him asking, knowing it isn’t just mindless sex to him, that he actually cares, if that wasn’t already obvious from how enthusiastically he just ate you out.

“Slow, then hard and fast,” you tell him, earning another deep rumble as he starts to push himself inside of you, fat head stretching your walls.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he says softly as he steadily gains ground, his hips shuddering with restraint once he bottoms out, sheathing himself fully. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re strangling me,” he grunts. “I don’t know how long I can last...”

The pain of withholding in his voice is palpable.

“Joel, you just made me come super hard,” you tell him. “Don’t hold yourself back just for me.”

His bottom lip juts out and quivers with the thin veil of control he still has, fingertips digging into your hips, crescent moon shapes left behind in your skin.

“Y’sure?” he asks, internal conflict evident in his voice as he rolls his hips half a thrust forward. “‘cause soon as I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back…”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him, letting him hear the conviction in your voice.

He takes in a steadying breath and gently gyrates his hips forward once, twice, his head tilting down to watch the way he disappears inside of you.

It must be the way you’re taking him so well — or maybe it’s the months of not allowing himself to touch you — the thin thread of restraint suddenly fraying after the initial soft, testing thrusts, a barely audible ‘fuck’ escaping his lips seconds before he begins railing into you with everything a man of his age has to give… which is a lot.

Joel’s hand is on your calf, holding your leg flush to his chest, the other on your hip in a bruising hold, watching the way your body sways in rhythm with his motions, teeth bared in concentration.

“Darlin’… I’m… I… where do you want it?” he pants, the question almost sounding pained.

You know you should make him pull out and finish on your stomach. Contraceptives are a rare luxury these days and you’d always made your previous boyfriends pull out. But you can’t stop yourself, the permission spilling from your lips thoughtlessly.

“In… inside…” you whimper in desperation and Joel doesn’t even think to question it.

He collapses on top of you, his hips sputtering and shaking, a deep, guttural snarl sounding from his chest as he spills into you, filling you to the brim with hot jets of spend.

Despite not coming a second time, the sensation of him shooting inside of you still feels good, his warmth filling every crevice it can reach inside of you.

He buries his face against your neck, gingerly taking some of your flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to leave a faint impression.

His hips gradually slow and still, your name a reverent curse on his tongue.

“Christ,” he pants, wrapping you snugly in his burly arms. “Christ, darlin’.”

—

Spring finally reaches the valley, replenishing the land with color and sunlight, allowing you and Joel to wander out further and further every day.

He tells you he wants to find something nicer than the cabin. Somewhere larger, more permanent, even though you’ve told him time and again that you’d prefer to stay.

And you do, for a spell.

That is until you find your body growing more sensitive than usual. Until you find it increasingly difficult to keep some of your meals down, trying to convince Joel it’s nothing, that it’s just a summer cold, when you both know it’s not.

Joel dotes on you, burdens himself over you, knowing exactly what it is without wanting to say it. All the signs are there, almost textbook, unable to keep his memories from drifting back to the days before Sarah was born, how her mother’s symptoms were damn near identical.

He doesn’t dare tell you how scared he is, how much this terrifies him all the the way to his bone marrow, but you know. You see it in his gaze when he looks at you, feel it in his touch when he pulls you against him at night.

—

You’re on a scouting run one warm summer day, Joel hardly more than two feet from you at any given moment, so many unspoken words and feelings still hanging in the air between you.

He reaches for your arm to steady you when your feet slide on a patch of loose rocks, his palm instinctively moving to protect your stomach. You’re almost sure he wasn’t even aware he did it.

“Joel,” you say, placing your hand over his. “I’m alright.”

His brow furrows, silence speaking louder than any words he could say.

He’s reverted into his headspace again, more quiet these last few days than he has been. And it worries you. You hate that he bottles everything up, but you know that confrontation could make him shut down even more.

You begin walking again, his hand absently resting on the small of your back, and you continue down the path in stagnant silence.

Suddenly, Joel stops, eyes squinting to confirm what he’s seeing is real.

A neighborhood.

—

The neighborhood would have been considered a new development before the world went to shit, most of the lots bare and choked with two decades worth of weeds, some houses half built and some finished but likely vacant at the time.

There are only a few that look to have been potentially occupied before everything, three larger homes next to one another in a cul-de-sac at the end of unmanaged, cracked pavement.

There’s not much of interest in the first few homes you inspect, watching the way Joel silently scrutinizes everything as a potential future dwelling, not a single corner left unchecked, his latent instincts as a contractor still well ingrained in him despite the expanse of time.

By mid day, you’re both sweating profusely, Joel moreso than you since he isn’t letting you do much, forcing you to put food and water in your body, brooking no argument when he gives you his ration as well.

He knows you should head back soon before you’re out too late, but there’s still one house left to search and he doesn’t want to make the trip a second time if it isn’t worth the trouble.

The largest house, a two story spruce green craftsman with gray trim, his heart aching with nostalgia at how much it reminds him of his former home in Austin.

You start the same route as with the other houses; from the top, room by room, working your way down, your anxiety growing the lower the sun dips in the sky, knowing you only have a couple hours at best before it’s too late to leave.

The main floors scoured, you follow Joel to the basement, your hands on his shoulders for stability as you slowly work your way down the creaking stairs, your eyes adjusting to the shadows the deeper you travel.

When you’ve reached the bottom, Joel pulls out his flashlight, hitting it against his palm a few times before it flickers to life, the thin beam of light reflecting off the freshly disturbed dust.

You cover your nose and mouth with your shirt to keep out some of the flying particles, watching as Joel stumbles upon a stack of neatly piled and labeled storage totes in the furthest corner from the stairs, adrenaline beginning to course through him like a drug as he reads the faded sharpie scrawled on the sides.

“‘Canned goods and preserves’,” Joel says quietly, his voice higher in pitch than usual, more hopeful. There’s at least four totes labeled canned goods that you can see, possibly more, dates ranging from anywhere from late 2000 to summer of 2003.

He moves slightly to the right, his body tremoring as he examines the next set of totes.

Multiple totes labeled MREs, dated around the same range as the canned goods. He rips the top off of a few of them open to confirm that his eyes aren’t deceiving him, that this isn’t a cruel dream, nearly doubling over when he sees just how real it is.

“Joel?” you ask, concerned, stepping nearer to him when you see him trembling and clutching his chest. “Baby ..?”

He suddenly turns and throws his arms around you, and it dawns on you that he’s crying, he’s crying and trembling, eyes full of happy tears.

“A fucking prepper. A fucking prepper just saved our lives,” he whimpers into your hair, squeezing you against him, and all he can think in that moment is thank fuck for those crazy assholes. Thank fuck for people like Bill.

—

In the weeks that follow, you and Joel clean and repair the house — Joel doing most of the work, per his insistence — but it’s in surprisingly good shape despite its age and lack of upkeep, and even with just the two of you, it doesn’t take as long as you’d expected.

You can’t help but miss the cabin, the natural beauty of the valley. But Joel was right to move you. It’s safer here, more insulated from weather, more space to grow. And perhaps, one day, the cabin can be someone else’s salvation, as it had been for you.

Another night falls on one of the final lingering days of summer, barely able to see the shine of Joel’s eyes in the dim light as he climbs over you, parting your legs with his knee, rumbling low in his chest as he peppers kisses and bites down the column of your neck.

[anistarrose]

I'd like to propose a dark horse candidate for the most interesting line in The Book of Bill. And it's this near-unreadable, seemingly one-off joke from the "Skin" page:

[ID: tiny text reading: "Help! This is not Bill Cipher. My name is Grebley Hemberdreck of Zimtrex 5. I'm one of thousands of beings Bill has devoured over trillions of years whose souls are now trapped inside him. You have to free me! It's horrible in here. He just keeps playing the song "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark on an endless loop. Please, please, this is not a joke! The Zimtrexians were once a proud and mighty people, but now our spirits long for release from this..." End ID.]

Okay, so Bill devours souls who then live out a horrible existence inside him. That's just some typical and expected Bill behavior, right? Nothing to be shocked by? Maybe not, but one thing jumps out at me... and of all things, it's the way that Bill keeps playing that Beach Boys parody (correction provided by @fexalted: no, not in fact a Smiley Smile parody, but a real song!) on loop.

Because in The Book of Bill, there's a recurring motif of characters playing music for a very specific reason: to repel an unwanted presence inside their head. This is what Elias Inkwell, and later Ford, did with the "It's A Small World" parody — they tried to keep Bill out of their brains. Or, metaphorically... to drown out his voice.

[ID: a Journal 3 page with a cassette taped inside. It's titled: "The World Is Small Ever After for Always." Ford writes: "If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! If you want to torture me? I'll torture you back!" End ID.]

That doesn't necessarily mean that Bill finds the voices of devoured souls to be troubling, let alone downright haunting, does it? Well... not quite on its own. But there's a "color" code on the page about TV static that says a lot:

[ID: a code consisting of colorful squares, translated to letters that spell out: "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." End ID] (screenshot courtesy of @fexiled)

The context of the page implies these "screams" come to Bill especially when he listens to TV static, and the broader context of the book implies that these are the screams of his destroyed home dimension, Euclydia. Therefore, not necessarily those of the souls he devoured, from Zimtrex 5 and possibly other dimensions.

Except... do those two things really have to be mutually exclusive?

The beings that Bill devoured were accumulated over "trillions" of years, plural, according to Grebley. In Weirdmageddon 1, Bill claims to have resided in the Nightmare Realm for precisely "one trillion" years. So the "devouring" habit probably extends back even further than his time in the Nightmare Realm...

Enter @acetyzias, pointing out a very conspicuous word — and one of the only uncensored words — from Bill's description of destroying his home dimension:

[ID: the word "mandibles". End ID.]

Oh, and how does Bill describe the "monster" that destroyed his home to Ford, when Ford asks about revenge?

[ID: Journal excerpt reading: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." End ID.]

For a long time, Bill's destruction of his home has been associated with fire, even when the story's told by Bill himself. But through the way the book characterizes Bill's guilt — and characterizes how the consequences of what he's done remain lurking deep inside him — I think The Book of Bill lays out the hints for another motif: devouring.

And, well, when it comes to how Bill destroys things... it wouldn't be without precedent.

[ID: screenshot of Bill in Weirdmageddon 3, taking a bite out of the Earth. End ID.]

[writerpeach]

Obsession

LE SSERAFIM Miyawaki Sakura x m!reader

22k words

"More wine, sir?"

The waitress stands beside your table, patient as can be when you hand her your empty glass, and it’s full again before you blink. 

You’ll need every drop tonight.

Seated at some exclusive restaurant overlooking the city skyline, you’re surrounded by others—colleagues, business partners, mostly unfamiliar faces. Sakura sits beside you, elegant and adorned in black. One leg crossed neatly over the other, her wine glass untouched. She hasn't said much to you in the last fifteen minutes, but her hand rests possessively on your thigh beneath the table, reminding you she's here. Despite it being an almost weekly occurrence, you've never been able to get used to these sorts of situations.

And when the waitress leaves the table, that hand squeezes a little firmer, demanding your attention. Sakura turns, and you glance her way.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asks, but it's not really a question. The grip on your thigh is all too telling, and it doesn't waver when you try to shift the slightest bit under the table.

"No, not really."

It's the truth, and Sakura would know better if you tried to play this off. Her lips curl into the smallest of smiles, eyes narrowing as her thumb rubs idly along your inner thigh. She's dressed to kill tonight. A tight, figure-flattering dress, clingy in all the best ways, but showing just a hint of cleavage. Narrow straps resting over her bare shoulders, long, silky, dark hair drapes loose behind her neck, with that sheen on her lips that makes them look even fuller than normal.

Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe it. 

"I know these events aren't particularly enjoyable for you," Sakura replies, sighing with something akin to annoyance. Her wine glass lifts to her painted lips, just the smallest sip, crimson as the lipstick smeared onto the rim. "But I appreciate you coming with me anyways. It's only another hour."

Only an hour. The wine glass still feels pretty heavy in your hand, and the thought of spending another minute like this sounds like torture. You give a resigned nod regardless. Sakura turns her gaze elsewhere—someone trying to catch her attention across the table.

Sipping your wine is about the only thing you have any interest in. 

You rest a hand atop Sakura's, as if it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. A small glance to smile again, like she's silently rewarding your bravery, then back to those conversations that you can't begin to contribute to. 

Somehow, you manage to get through it all—if only for dessert you hear being ordered for the entire table. By the time it arrives, you've finished a second glass of wine, and Sakura's is still almost full, lingering idly between those delicate fingers, like it's all for show. Nothing else to do but indulge, at least. Especially when she feeds you the first bite.

It's the sweetest of bliss when she excuses the two of you an hour and ten minutes later, ignoring the comments of surprise and pleas for her to stick around. She doesn't have time for that, and neither do you. 

"Benefits of being the boss. People don't ask too many questions."

There's not much you can do but agree. When those glossy lips crash against your own, it has you a bit lost, distracted in the moment. But before you can really fall deeper into the heat of her kiss, she's pulling away—the slightest hint of that lip gloss transferred onto you.

"You're quiet tonight."

"Am I?"

There's a pause. Sakura looks into your eyes, like she's trying to stare inside your soul. But she can't seem to find anything, turning on her heels to lead the way once the elevator opens.

"You were. Come."

Sakura's heels clack at a quick, almost impatient pace across the smooth, marble floor. You follow close behind, gaze inevitably drifting along those tantalizing hips and that dangerously short dress. You're not quite sure you'll ever get over her legs—silk stockings barely hiding that flawless skin, enough of a distraction that it takes you a moment to notice that she's waiting by the valet booth.

It doesn't take long for a sleek, black convertible to pull up, and you wait with her at the curb until the keys are handed over. She stops you at the door, holding her hand out expectantly with a silent stare. 

"I'm driving. You've had too much to drink," Sakura chides, the slightest touch of disapproval in her eyes. Yet, she’s not wrong, given she barely finished half a glass while you can feel the lingering effects much more. Still, the way she says it still feels a bit condescending, like you've failed some test you didn't even know existed.

So you keep quiet and simply obey, passing her the keys as you saunter over to the passenger side, easing yourself into the plush leather of the seat. She waits until the two of you are both settled in, car purring to life and seatbelts secured.

"Good boy."

The apartment door barely shuts behind you, and then her mouth's on your neck again. Sakura can't seem to keep her hands off you once you're alone, but her kisses are possessive, teeth scraping, nails digging into your scalp as she drags her fingers through your hair. You can't deny the enjoyment of her pinning your body against the closed door, trapped by the weight of her lithe figure against the wooden surface. 

Just like that, she pulls away as fast as she started. Sakura stares hard at you, lip gloss smudged across her lips while you wait in the deafening quiet.

“So—" Sakura starts as she holds on to the kitchen counter and steps out of her heels. “You were enjoying yourself tonight, weren't you?"The question lingers more than it should, and the answer is anything but yes—but the hesitation sparks suspicion in her eyes. 

"No, not—" 

Sakura doesn’t give you a chance to finish. What’s next is a rough slap across your face that snaps you out of any protest that might be forming—a complete 180 from a second ago. The sting doesn't even register as much as her words do.

“You let her touch you.”

Her? You freeze. With how many people had been around tonight, that could’ve been anyone. Not to mention you’re not exactly in the business of letting anyone other than Sakura lay a finger on you. 

"Who are you even talking about?” 

There's another sharp slap that shuts you right up. Once again, you can’t even begin to process her words, because there’s only one person you’re interested in, and that’s Sakura. But you scatter to form a checklist in your mind: the waitress, one of Sakura’s colleagues, maybe someone in passing—you don't have a clue. The last hour of that whole event was such a blur that you’ve pushed out any thoughts that don’t involve that delicious slice of cake or Sakura. 

"Don't act clueless. The blonde across the table? With her fake fucking tits falling out of her dress who kept trying to undress you with her eyes? Ring a bell, yet?" Sakura's words are cold and accusatory, and it's like she's telling an entirely different story than what happened tonight.

"That blonde? She was drunk," you insist, wondering why Sakura is so concerned with something so preposterous . "I didn't—"

A third slap. This one connects hard enough to make you stumble back. You've gotten your fair share of jealousy in the past from Sakura. Hell, you've even seen her practically ready to pounce at another girl just for breathing the same air as you do. And now? The venomous way she looks at you, and talks to you. It's unnerving.

“What, are her tits better than mine?” 

“No, of course not. Your tits are fine—“

If you could choose the moment your world stopped, it would have been half a second after those words fell out. Unfortunately, that’s all Sakura needs to really lose it.

"Fine? Fine!?" The sound of her voice cracking breaks the deafening silence, and if you hadn't done anything before—well, you certainly have now. There's no return from this. "No, my tits are fucking perfect. If they were just fine, she wouldn't have had you so worked up in front of a table full of my subordinates. She's married, you know. But I guess you were too busy staring at her plastic fucking tits to even notice the ring that whore pretends to care about. "

"Sakura, I—"

"Don't fucking lie to me," Sakura hisses through clenched teeth. "That's my secretary. She's the type that can't take no for an answer, and I won't have her thinking you're fair game. You let her touch you. And worse, you smiled.”

Each word that comes out her mouth just gets more heated, like the accusation is more and more real each time one gets added. Her hands ball into fists, trying to stop herself from giving you another hard slap. “I don’t care what excuse you think you have. You belong to me.”

You can't even get another word out before Sakura pulls you away from the front door and drags you down the hall toward the bedroom. She practically throws you inside. Her manicured fingernails slide up under your chin, scratching along the edge of your cheek as she tilts your face upwards, until you're staring at her dead in the eye.

“Strip.”

You freeze, just for a second—long enough for her to slap you again.

“I said strip. Now." 

There's no room for argument. Not that you'd dare say another word. Your clothes hit the floor one piece at a time, and Sakura watches each layer that leaves you more exposed. Once you're left in nothing but your underwear, she grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks, snapping your head back without warning.

“I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Another icy glare, and then you're shoved down onto your knees on the carpeted floor. Sakura towers over you, immediately lifting a foot and resting it square on your chest until she presses hard enough for you to collapse back onto the floor. And then the weight of her stocking-clad foot rests right on your face, until there's nothing you can really do—except breathe her in.

Not even a second to react as Sakura glares daggers at you from above and grinds her foot roughly across your lips. Her painted toes, all wrapped in silk, press harder, prying into your mouth to silence any potential response. You try to gasp for a breath, barely managing to once the scent of her foot starts filling your senses.

Shoving her foot deeper against your face, she’s waiting for an answer you can't give. Your vision soon gets consumed by dark fabric, and even though it's suffocating, the warm weight of her silky sole still has the capacity to arouse you. A moment later, she yanks her foot back from your mouth, finally granting you a brief chance to catch a few desperate gasps of air. 

"Open your mouth. Wide," Sakura orders. You do as instructed, and as soon as your lips part, she leans in close. She spits right into your mouth—once, then again, the third landing on your cheek. “Swallow." 

Without even thinking, you do as she asks. Because you always do. 

“Good boy. Now tell me—who do you belong to?"

“Y-you, fuck, I belong to you." 

"Wrong fucking answer," Sakura spits out, and her foot shoves right back onto your face, toes digging in harder. "Try again. Who. Do. You. Belong. To?"

Your lips fumble against the ball of her foot, desperate to spit out the right words when the weight leaves for another fleeting moment. “M-mommy owns me,” you stumble out, louder this time. “I belong to mommy. Only mommy, no one else."

There it is. The one word that makes Sakura's glare lighten up the tiniest bit. Her lips curl up into something resembling a small smirk, only for the pressure to come back tenfold, leaving you in this twisted combination of arousal and fear. The weight of her foot lingers with your nose practically buried into her arch. "Not a very good boy today if I have to fucking remind you, are you?"

But instead of easing her foot away to allow a response, Sakura only brings her toes back into your lips, hoping you'll get the message. Which you do—of course, because anything else would be a foolish mistake. So instead, you part your lips for the thin nylon covering the pretty pink polish, sucking as best you can in your position. 

It's sloppy and desperate, and only lasts a moment longer before the taste disappears from your mouth as she yanks her foot away. "That's all you get. My little foot worshiping slut can suck my pretty toes later. I know how much this turns you on, so that's why we're stopping here.” 

Sakura ignores your disappointed groan, sliding her foot down to your chest and shifting her weight to press harder. "Stay right there. Don't move. If you even think about touching yourself, you'll have a lot more problems than you started with."

All you can do is watch as she slides one strap of her dress off her bare shoulder, then the other, the entire thing crumpling to the floor in a matter of seconds. Underneath the fallen fabric, you get a view of a nearly naked Sakura, pink satin holding her shapely breasts up, a flimsy matching thong clinging to the curve of her hips, with pretty pink flowers along the lace. 

It's pretty—as expected, because anything Sakura wears is. It’s hard to resist staring, but you know that’s the whole point. She wants you to fall for the sight and beg. 

"You're not allowed to leave this spot without my permission. Are we clear?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?" Sakura demands, kicking the dress to the side so she can straddle your waist, just a little tease to let you feel the wetness between her legs. 

"Yes, mommy. Crystal clear."

"Was that so hard? So you can be a good boy when you want.” 

Easing up her weight, she lifts off to slide her panties down her creamy legs, all while watching your flustered features. 

Sakura positions into a squat—right above your face. Her immaculate thighs straddle your head as she inches her ass down inch by slow inch, and soon you're met with the delicious sight of her wet cunt barely grazing your lips. "Keep your tongue out. Maybe if you do a good job making me cum—you'll get to do the same."

No time for an answer when the rest of her weight follows, filling the room with the sinfully sweet sounds of her moans. 

Your mouth has never gotten such a workout as Sakura grinds her slick cunt along the surface of your tongue, wrapping her hands around the sides of your head to lock you in place. She tastes like heaven, and god, your cock is aching and begging to slide into that wet heat, for more than just this lingering taste on your lips.

But she's careful to not let you get more than you deserve. Even as you're suffocated with this intoxicating scent and her nails dig deep into your scalp, you don't try to get selfish. Just small laps along the soft, dripping flesh of her cunt, listening to her every instruction, to every pleasure-filled sigh. 

"Fuck, such a good boy,” Sakura moans, squeezing your head tight between her warm thighs. "Need to make it up to mommy after what you did, hm? Hope you haven't forgotten I get to use you however I want. Whenever I want. No matter where we are, or whatever you're doing. You’re my obedient little toy to have my way with.” 

How could you ever forget your place, your purpose? 

Always in the back of your mind—a reminder in the form of a collar or rope burning into your skin, or when she slips a hand in your pants without warning, sliding them off so she can ride you. Even if that's during a bus ride or when a taxi is dropping her home. A little extra tip to keep the cabbie quiet, or even at a bookstore—where she demands your fingers in the manga section until she cums hard.

That applies more now than it ever has, using your face to get herself off. 

Words hardly matter once her pleasure really starts building. All that matters is her wetness smearing along every bit of your features, lips open and tongue lapping anything and everything it can, the scent enough to drive you mad. Sakura just uses you like her own personal toy, grinding and rolling her hips onto the length of your tongue with no rhythm in the slightest. And the harder you're pinned against the carpet, the harder your cock throbs without any touch.

"Ah, fuck—that's it. Good boy. Making mommy feel so good, aren't you? Keep sucking my clit just like that, god," she sighs, riding your face faster until her moans get just a little more out of control, nearly drowning you with the warm, dripping arousal spilling from her cunt.

Nothing you can do but listen and keep your tongue out. That’s your purpose, what a toy exists for, to be used at Sakura’s whims, to keep her thighs locked around your head to ride your face with no relent.

"Can't even breathe right now, can you? Maybe that's how you should stay. Mommy's dumb little fucktoy, on your back where you belong, worshiping me like the goddess I deserve to be treated like. And If you're really lucky, might bend you over and get my strap in that tight ass."

That all sounds perfect. But you know she'll make you work for that. That's no issue—because the longer she's satisfied, the bigger your reward will be. Even if she doesn't grant that, you don't care. Her pleasure is the only thing you can think about, and all you can do is lick and slurp, fueled by this delectable taste that makes you insatiable for more.

And when Sakura's hips roll with that same ferocious pace, you know she's starting to give you her all. "Right there, fuck. Gonna cum, you're gonna make mommy cum on your pathetic fucking face. Don't you dare stop. Don't stop, don't stop, yes, fuck—"

A last loud, pleased sigh is all that it takes for her thighs to clamp tight enough to steal your breath away. Sakura lets out a moan that fills the entire room—toes curling against the carpet as she rocks herself through the shudders and moans. Nothing quite like the feeling of her convulsing on your tongue, that beautiful face contorting in bliss, nails digging into your skull when you're locked between her thighs with the drenching spill of her slick across your tongue.

You've never been more happy to be covered in her, in the sweet essence that doesn't seem to have any end in sight. If anything, her thighs grip tighter as you drink down each and every drop with long, devoted laps like you'll simply die without it. Sakura lingers in that moment, letting the high take over as her eyes drift over your messy face.

"Good boy," she mutters under her ragged breaths, tangling her fingers through your hair. A moment to gather herself, and then she's lifting herself away with an unsteady movement in her legs. "Got a little messy for me, didn't you?" 

You nod, almost disappointed that you can’t breathe her in again. "F-fuck, you taste so good, mommy, W-want more—"

Sakura ignores such a request. Her thumb slips between your lips, forcing you to be quiet as she gazes at the mess all along your lips and chin. "That's too bad. I'm already done, and we can't have you being greedy now. Mommy is tired and needs to shower after a long night out, so you'll just have to take care of yourself. Feel free to jerk off on my panties or whatever you need to do. That's all the reward you get."

It takes everything not to whine in protest, trying to hold in the frustration as Sakura gets back on her feet. She picks up her discarded dress, turning to the door. "Well? What do you say to that? Aren't I being more than generous here to let you use my panties as a cumrag?"

"Yes, thank you." A sigh escapes under your breath as you pick the small, lacy fabric up off the floor, not even hiding the pitiable expression on your face. "Th-thank you, mommy, thank you. Please have a good shower."

Sakura doesn't leave until she sees you slowly tug down your underwear, giving her a view of that poor, hard cock of yours straining and begging for a bit of attention. You can't even help yourself, desperately starting to stroke when she makes her exit, with her panties bunched up in one hand while the other wraps tightly around the head of your cock. It doesn't take you too long—to reach the edge as your thoughts linger back to the image of Sakura with your cock slamming inside her tight, wet little cunt that feels way better than your own pathetic hand.

The fabric is soon stained with your thick, sticky release, letting out a disappointed sigh as you spill more than the silk can soak up. It doesn't satisfy one bit, cock still needy and throbbing. But you'll take what you can get, you suppose, gazing at the bathroom door, hoping she'll come back any moment and let you bury that neglected cock deep inside of her.

Another minute of stroking yourself idly, long after the arousal has faded—and no Sakura in sight. So you slip your boxers back up, lying there defeated on the floor without even trying to clean yourself or her soaked panties, and crawl into her bed to wait for her there.

"Won't be home until late. Don't worry about me if you want to order in," Sakura says in the bathroom mirror as you finish up brushing your teeth.

More disappointment washes over you. You can't help but wonder how late Sakura really means. Usually her definition of late isn't until midnight or maybe later, sometimes even showing up when you've already fallen asleep. 

"That's three days this week," you complain, not caring about how whiny and petulant you sound. But she doesn't seem too affected as she leans down towards the mirror, finishing up her makeup. 

"I know, I'm sorry. Just how it has to be when we have big project deadlines," Sakura sighs. "This one's important, so we have to go all in. The client's an ass, and—"

"I get it, it's okay. I'll miss you."

Silence lingers, as does her hesitation, wondering how she wants to respond. Sakura sets her mascara down on the counter before offering a quick kiss on your cheek. "That's sweet of you to say."

That's all that’s uttered, leaving the sink to finish getting ready. Almost on autopilot, you spit the remnants of your toothpaste out, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it back in the holder while your thoughts wander away. The water runs for a short bit while the sound of a door shutting echoes in the apartment, and you're not sure whether you want to endure an empty shower for another time this week.

"I'll have the iced peach tea. What do you want, babe? My treat," Sakura asks you, fingers gliding across the touch screen. 

"Uh—same thing is fine. Thanks," you answer, smiling back at her.

"Sweet or buttered popcorn?"

"Whatever you want. I'm okay with anything."

Sakura ponders on the answer a little too long as the two of you stand there, in the crowded line of people waiting at the concession stand. You look at all the options—way too many options (who the hell eats dry popcorn at the movies?) before settling on one large drink with two straws, a bucket of buttered popcorn, and two boxes of gummy bears, the sour kind. She taps her credit card on the screen, and seconds later, you've got your hands full. 

"Middle seat or end seat?" 

"Whatever is—"

"No, you choose. You let me pick everything else."

There's a bitterness to her tone, like your refusal to give a simple answer is somehow offending her. It doesn't stop you from hesitating for just another second.

"Middle. Wanna sit in the middle, please." 

"Good choice," Sakura says, pleased with a little smile when you decide for once. She leads the way up the stairs, purse on her shoulder while she searches for the perfect spot, all the way to the top row of seats with not a single person in sight. "Here. We're sitting here."

Letting her pass in front, you wait for her to sit in the middle, and she tosses her purse into the empty seat next to her and claims the cupholder on the right. You slide into the seat beside her, settling in with the popcorn bucket in your lap, as Sakura kicks off her heels to prop her bare feet on the chair in front of her, crossing one ankle over the other. Not exactly the most proper etiquette, but there's not a single soul to complain. 

The lights go dim. She digs the box of gummies out from her purse, grabbing a handful to shovel into her mouth at once while the trailers start. 

You recline back into the comfortable seat, sipping your peach tea as the lights dim further, and Sakura's manicured nails graze over the armrest, over to your thigh. She doesn't do anything more than give a gentle squeeze—but the familiar touch hasn't felt all too familiar as of late, enough to tense your muscles the slightest bit in response.

"Pass me the popcorn." 

Snatching up a handful before handing the bucket over, your attention turns back to the screen—only to lose interest moments later. Sakura doesn't even bother to grab any before she's setting it on the floor below and standing up out of her chair. You glance at her, more than a little confused, but it all gets cleared up once she tugs her sundress up her waist—and slowly, begins to tug her panties down her legs.

"What are you…" you start to ask, not able to finish once the tiny pair is draped around her ankles. Sakura kicks the blue lace away and sits back on the seat behind her, legs spread open enough that you're given an enticing view of that pretty little cunt. 

Your jaw drops. 

"Take your pants off. Now. Get that cock out and start stroking."

"W-what—"

"Your pants. Off. I'm fucking you, in case you were wondering. Or do you plan to keep me waiting?" 

"Wait, s-someone will—"

Sakura turns her head, looking behind before returning her gaze with a glare, daring you to keep arguing. "Who? Not a single fucking person in here. Why do you think I picked the worst movie possible to go and see? At this hour? Because I planned on doing exactly this." 

You're not exactly in a position to argue—especially with the way she's teasing a hand between her legs. So you unfasten the button on your pants and tug the zipper down as fast as possible, immediately feeling a rush of relief the second the fabric isn't constricting you anymore. 

Haste in every action as you reach to stroke yourself—but not sure you have the guts to do it yet. She gives you that one look—that threatening, commanding glare that tells you she's not fucking around, and you don't want to risk being disobedient.

So your hand closes around your cock, letting out a small groan when Sakura rewards you with that sweet smile of hers. 

"Doesn't that feel good? Trust me, we're not going to get caught. It's completely empty, no one can see us up here, and I know you want that big thing inside me. I've been neglecting you lately—this is my way of making up for it."

Even as you stare right in between her legs, at how wet she looks in the dim lighting, you still can't believe you're doing this.

"Just keep jerking off for me. Touch yourself for mommy. That's what a good boy would do."

Your grip tightens, stroking yourself while Sakura stares with that devilish gleam in her eye. She knows how weak this leaves you, how quickly your control will be given up while you take your time soaking up the view. 

And if that’s not enough to deal with, Sakura bites her lip, closing her eyes briefly as she focuses on her pussy, two fingers spreading those soaked folds to show off where exactly she wants you. 

"There you go. Keep pumping that hard cock for me. Nice and slow," she tells you, one finger starting to swirl in slow circles around her clit, sending a jolt through her whole body. "You can see how wet mommy is. I know you can’t wait for how good it'll feel to have that thick, throbbing cock buried inside my tight cunt. Tell me."

"Fucking—n-need it. Your pussy looks so soaked, god, I just wanna—"

"Tell mommy where you want it."

"Inside, I—wanna shove my cock right into that tight pussy—can I?"

Sakura chuckles softly, brushing damp hair away from her forehead as she teases her fingers at that dripping entrance of hers, dipping into it so you can see just how ready for it she is. "No. Because good boys don't ask—they beg."

"God, please. I wanna fuck you so bad. Need your tight, perfect cunt wrapped around my cock, need to see those tits bounce in my face—need to make you moan." 

"Getting there, but I need more convincing. Not sure you really want this pussy…” 

You can barely handle the anticipation as you fist that sensitive cock and pump furiously while Sakura slides those same digits deeper, in and out without care. Her wetness is audible, every messy, breathless whimper more broken than the last. "Want mommy to ride you like a toy? Use you and fuck myself however I want, since that's the only way you can please me right?"

"Fuck yes—please, fuck, anything, god—please, please let me inside you—"

"Anything?" Sakura repeats under her breath, moaning softly to herself before glancing down at how pathetic you've gotten. And you don't even hide it—you look as desperate as you can with this painfully hard cock straining in your grasp, needing it anywhere but your palm. 

"Anything, f-fuck—"

"Well then... we'll worry about that later. For now, shut up, sit still, and keep doing exactly what you're told until I say otherwise."

"Y-yes, mommy."

Nothing quite like the rush that shoots up your spine as Sakura hops off her seat, not even a second wasted as she climbs into your lap to straddle you while you look up with nothing but desire—and a mix of disbelief. "Bonus points if you can make me cum before the movie starts." 

You’ve got her cold hand palming over your length, getting as tight of a grip as she can—but instead of sinking down, Sakura inches her soaked cunt along the length, drenching you in the slippery evidence of her arousal as you take in the feeling. God, even this painful tease feels incredible against you, dripping straight onto your lap. And then she lifts up enough for the head of your cock to push between those drenched folds, sinking down on the first half—and pausing just for a few seconds as she lets out this satisfied sigh.

"Fuck," is all you manage before you realize your mistake.

Sakura scowls immediately, and she leans in close to cup your cheeks, ignoring the whimper that you let out. "None of that. What did I say about staying quiet? I'll give you one more chance—no more warnings." 

An obedient nod is all that you give. Sakura continues her descent down the rest of your length, nothing short of orgasmic the warmth you've been yearning for—slick walls clenching around while she shudders atop you. "Good boy. Didn't mean to make you feel ignored this week. But you get it, don't you? Mommy has a lot of important things to deal with..."

Words aren't really an option as Sakura gazes into your eyes and you can barely return the look. All you can do is focus on the vice grip squeezing your cock, and the slick mess spilling from her cunt as she rides without the slightest effort—all to the backdrop of the loud music playing on the movie screen.

"Mm, that's it. Splitting me open," she breathes out, digging her nails into the side of your skull as she finds a rhythm she likes. Every stroke, your sensitive cockhead kisses her deepest parts, stretching out her cunt in all the right ways. The lack of attention has turned you into the mess she loves seeing you in, and you grit your teeth in a poor attempt to muffle any noises while her hips move faster than you can handle. 

But god, does her cunt feel fucking good. Better than heaven. Nothing could ruin the way she sinks down on you, only to slowly slide back up, and then drop all her weight onto your lap. Not even the lingering worries that someone might still catch you.

Sakura works her hips a little faster, lips finding yours in an attempt to silence any noises. She bites that bottom lip of yours—tugs harshly for a few moments until she breaks away to lick at your earlobe, breath heavy on your skin as her strokes get harder to deal with, the wetness between her legs coating every inch. 

"You wanna make a noise, don't you? But you're being so good instead—you'll hold it all back until I'm done with you. Just in case though, I've got an idea on how to keep you quiet—"

A few more rough bounces and she's slipping the straps of her dress down her arms, enough to let her delicious breasts spring free. With no further instructions, you're on them in a flash, sucking a pretty pink nipple between your lips without a second thought.

"Ah, that's my good boy. Keeping that needy mouth busy for mommy." 

Sakura tugs at your hair as she sighs deeper, picking up the pace while the hunger inside you consumes. Messy saliva drips from your mouth while you alternate attention between nipples, licking and sucking whichever one you can reach at the moment, not getting distracted while her ass crashes down hard onto your lap.

"Listen to you, struggling to keep quiet—hard to do when you love mommy's tits so much, isn't it?" Sakura knows she's not getting a coherent answer. You just suckle at those delicious, hardened buds like you’re starved, nibbling enough to add a little extra to her pleasure that gets her to clench down a little harder. Even at this stage, you can hardly concentrate—lost in lust, and the last thing you’re worrying about is getting caught. Let someone. 

You're way past being giving a damn.

“My poor, greedy boy is so hungry for these… not that I blame you.” Her fingers tug through your hair, and the only response she gets is your groan, muffled around her nipple—but there's no punishment for it. Not when she's matching every sound, using them to fuel her hips.  

Just knowing your cock is exactly where it should be, that’s everything you need, having Sakura using your body is almost too much to handle. Even more now when she grabs the back of your head to shove your face deep into her cleavage, gasping as she bounces faster.

"Don't stop sucking them, god, that feels so fucking good. You know they get so fucking sensitive—“ And the moans can’t hide the harsh slapping sounds with how hard she’s riding. Harder and harder, impaling herself on your poor neglected cock. You just have to hold on and follow directions, looking so depraved as you suck and slurp these tits to your heart's desire.

"Shit, mommy is gonna cum, make a mess all over that fucking cock—just keep being a good boy. Keep making mommy feel so good,“ she demands with these loud cries, that it seems impossible no one can hear her. But the theater is nothing but dark and empty, with not a single thing to get in her way. 

One deep slurp and she’s taking what she wants. Her eyes flutter while those messy bounces lose rhythm, cunt squeezing tighter, using you to get off. 

All that demand fades into breathless moans as she slams down your entire length, buried deep and stays there, convulsing on your cock, thighs trembling with her arms wrapped around your neck— every single moment she continues to roll her hips until it's finally too much. 

But that doesn't mean those hips are going to stop working just yet. Because as much as she’s in desperate need of a breather after her own mess dripping down your shaft, she knows that you're hanging on by a thread—and she’s not in the habit of being selfish. 

"What do you say, my pretty little toy? About ready to blow that load inside mommy?" Your answer is muffled around the wet nipple you're sucking, only parting for a brief moment to nod. 

"Use your words now, baby boy. Tell mommy how badly you need to cum, need to empty those heavy balls. How you'd do anything to be good for me and spray all your hot, sticky seed inside."

She's got it mostly covered, but you groan out those same pleas between frantic little breaths, desperate to spill in that tight constricting heat. "You feel so good mommy, fuck—I need to cum, I-I wanna be a good boy and cum inside… can't hold it anymore—fuck. Please, mommy, please, let me—'

“You have my permission. Be my good boy and give mommy a nice, big load. Empty it all until that perfect cock has nothing left. Shoot it all, fill up mommy good.” 

Just a few more frenzied bounces, and you can't hold off. It's inevitable as she fucks the last bit of energy out of you until that point of no return is met, while she guides your hands back to those delicious tits of hers. And in a matter of moments, the explosion hits, releasing in several, aching spurts that have you pumping out. Even in the darkness, the bliss across your face is obvious as you unload that white mess deep inside her hot cunt.

"M-mommy—" you groan while those bounces refuse to relent. Not even for a moment, milking everything you have left, until your shaft can’t stop twitching with every inviting clench.

Sakura just laughs quietly at the exhaustion on your face, brushing fingers along your cheek before giving a loving kiss on the lips. "My pretty toy is so good—mommy is so proud of you. Filled me up so much.“

“Th-thank you, mommy. Needed to cum s-so bad…” 

“ I know you did, baby boy. Love when you unload that hot, thick load for me. Feels so good inside,” Sakura praises, letting your lips latch onto her swollen, sensitive nipples for one last fleeting moment. She pulls the straps of her dress back into place, lifting herself off your still throbbing, soaked shaft. And even in the faint light, the sight is beautiful—a thick, heavy mess that leaks from her slick folds and drips down her thighs, trailing its way down to the theatre floor. 

“Good boy…” Sakura says again before closing her eyes as she begins to slide a finger through the heavy load coating her slit, up and down until it's a sticky, shimmering mess. Then she brings that coated finger back up to your mouth, swirling it over the edge of your lip, dragging the pad over your tongue until you clean everything off with an eager little suck. "So hungry for mommy's taste, aren't you?"

You're not answering anytime soon, too busy with a finger between your lips. Another one enters, those same fingers that push further into your mouth, until you're forced to gag around them. 

"What do you say when mommy gives you a treat?” 

"Thank you, mommy."

Leaving her panties behind like a trophy for whoever stumbles across them, Sakura withdraws her slick finger and smears your own drool across your cheek. And you barely have enough energy to finish zipping up your pants, still spent and dazed, struggling to get yourself back together. You can barely stand. 

"Shame about the popcorn. Still hungry.” Sakura giggles, the bucket toppled over, kernels spilled along the floor. Maybe they were fine before she was bouncing up and down on you—but that doesn't matter much as you leave the empty theater row, anxious to make your escape. She finishes up the last drink from your shared cup, straw slurping dramatically before shoving her feet back in her heels, offering up her hand.

"Who needs popcorn when I had mommy's tits in my face?" 

Sakura can't even stop herself from giggling. "Keep being sweet and see where that gets you later, baby boy.” 

Now you can feel the urge to leave, because as lucky as you’ve been, you were both pretty loud, and you can bet anything, someone is going to find out what happened if you don't get out of here.

So she leads, a purpose in those quick steps as the two of you make your way through the row of seats and down the long staircase leading to the exit. Even on the other side of the theater, you can swear you hear something; maybe someone is about to start looking for the cause of your transgressions. 

But that's not a problem for you to worry about anymore. 

"Can't believe we got away with that.” 

“Have some faith in me. Told you that movie was awful," she says, almost irritated you didn’t believe her. 

"There was a movie?"

Sakura doesn't make a sound that isn't a giggle. Once you follow through the apartment door, she’s already stepping out of her heels. All you see after is that pretty dress falling from her shoulders, crumpled on the floor, bra still on but undone. That’s gone a moment later, her bare ass rippling with every step, hips swaying in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. When she’s fully naked, she glances over her shoulder, beckoning with just the flick of a finger. 

And you follow her to the couch like an obedient puppy, unable to look away at the flawless skin she's so proudly displaying. 

She looks like an absolute feast, spreading her legs wide to entice you even further. Practically drooling at the sight, all it takes is her piercing gaze for you to kneel between her thighs, her pussy presented right in your face, still slick as could be. 

"That's my good boy—didn't have to waste my time telling you what to do." 

Sakura’s hand slides to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as she guides your eager tongue exactly where she wants it. Her creamy thighs keep you pinned in place, wrapping around your head as you eat her out without any reservations. 

"Poor thing must be so hungry still," Sakura purrs, fingers tightening in your hair as your tongue works her over. "The more you eat me, the messier I get—but that’s what good toys do, use their tongue just the way mommy likes. Feels so fucking good...” 

The praise goes straight to your head. You’re eating her pussy with such fervor, desperate to lap up all this taste forever, tongue through her dripping slit while her thighs get tighter around your head. She looks gorgeous like this, moments away from another trembling orgasm with fingers digging into your skull, and there’s no other place you’d rather be. 

With how starved you are, it takes little time before she’s gushing in your mouth, tugging hard at your hair, and almost suffocating you with her thighs as she hits that sweet release. It’s beautiful. It all flows from her dripping pussy without restraint, toes curling, body squirming underneath as that satisfaction hits deep. In the comfort of the couch, there’s no need to control what sounds spill free, loud moans and breathy gasps flow out like the juices spilling between your lips, every last drop of yours to devour. 

Long past the point when Sakura has had enough, she eases off and collapses back, savoring the delicious high while you try and chase her cunt, until she pushes you away with a foot. "N-no more, shit. Not now. Mommy’s too fucking sensitive."

You’ll have to resist the chance to greed for more, but that doesn't mean you’re going to keep your mouth empty—focusing on a part of Sakura that isn’t as sensitive. Which doesn’t take long to find, kissing down her legs until you reach her petite little feet. Not a moment to think this over, sucking on her white painted toes, saliva coating them within seconds. 

"What do you think you're doing now?" Sakura asks, but not even close to a stern objection in her tone. So you're not going to stop as long as she lets you, sucking hard on each toe that slips between your lips.

"Mommy tastes so good. Can't help it."

"Well, keep sucking then," she says, lying back down to relax on the sofa, leg lifted enough with her toes flexing in your mouth. Nothing but satisfaction on her pretty face, a signal of how good it all feels. "Anything that gets you this desperate… I'll never get tired of seeing."

As if you needed more convincing, your tongue drags slowly up the sole of her foot before returning to those irresistible toes. Sakura just watches, eyes fluttering shut on occasion with a moan slipping out. One by one, you kiss each toe before it enters your mouth, giving everyone the affection it deserves. Each leaves with a wet, glistening sheen—and a satisfying, messy pop.

It doesn't end once you've taken care of both feet. Kisses get planted everywhere and anywhere, nothing to stop you as your mouth explores her soles, licking the sensitive area in between with slow drags, and every bit of her heels. The ball of each foot gets showered in love too, worshiping every inch and soaking them both up with adoration.

"Look at you—such a needy thing. Mommy's pretty feet are driving you this crazy," Sakura taunts, and each brush of her feet across your chin has you begging for more. 

More than happy to oblige, she forces her toes deep inside, where you're eager to accept them with another satisfied slurp. Sucking them straight back into your mouth and licking up all over, she’s giggling all over at your efforts, at every sloppy noise and greedy slurp that comes from you. "You'd never stop sucking my toes if I asked, would you?"

You give a loud suckle in response on her big toe, holding it between your lips. “Never. Hours. Days, however long mommy wants. Need your pretty toes in my mouth forever."

"You greedy little slut,” Sakura chuckles, and presses that silky soft sole against your face, dragging back and forth, and god you can hardly stand it. Sliding her other foot right towards your crotch to find the growing bulge, you grunt at the feeling of pressure against your covered cock.

"Maybe I really have been neglecting you lately. Always busy—don't even know how many loads you'd have blasting all over these by now,” Sakura muses, flexing her toes in your mouth, always knowing just how to rile you up. "But mommy thinks you deserve a nice reward. Wouldn’t you like that, my good boy?"

That's the question Sakura poses—while her toes begin pressing down in both locations, letting you enjoy the intense pressure from either side. You don’t even know which is more difficult to stand anymore, one foot rubbing along your shaft through those pants, or those cute toes stuffing your mouth. 

"Y-yes, mommy. Please," is all you can manage, and this might just be your most desperate, pitiful state yet.

"Good. Then get yourself out of those clothes by the time I come back."

When she vanishes down the hall, you scramble to strip down completely and wait, hands resting in your lap with all the anticipation in the world. 

Only a few moments later Sakura returns, but she's not empty-handed—nor is she wearing that dress any more. Because now she's all clad in black—long gloves, a leather top that barely contains the swell of her breasts, and a matching thong that hugs her hips and accentuates that tight ass just perfectly. But that's not what catches your attention the most—

That being the harness around her waist and two different dildo options held in her hand. Your eyes can't help but glance between them; a thick one and, well, a considerably thicker one, both in different shades of purple. 

"Which do you want?" Sakura asks, just the hint of a smirk on her face, watching every expression flash on your face as you contemplate a choice. 

Both of them are considerably intimidating—even the smallest, the first one that catches your eye is impressive in its own right. The other makes you pause; bigger and thicker than anything you've seen between Sakura's legs before. Which is why it's calling you—this craving to have it ruin you beyond what you think you can take. It's pretty and textured with bumps and ridges along every curve and slope, a little something extra for whoever takes that thing inside. Which is going to be you.

"That one. The big one, please," you answer without hesitation, watching Sakura discard the smaller dildo onto a nearby table. Her heels click across the wood floors as she steps closer, running a single finger down the shaft.

"That's my good boy. Always wanting a real challenge. You must feel a little deprived with mommy's busy schedule. But it's my job to make it up to you, isn't it? To make you feel so good, stretched nice and wide like only I can?"

You nod, watching closely as Sakura fastens the harness tighter around her waist, sliding the silicone shaft into place in one smooth motion. An easy routine for her as she makes it feel as part of her, hands on her hips so you can get a perfect view of what's about to split you in half.

And before she even gives the slightest prompt, you're bending over the edge of the armrest. Both hands planted firmly down, exposing your naked self from behind. Nothing Sakura hasn't seen hundreds of times already—but every part of it just reinforces how badly you want this.

"So that's how you want mommy to ruin you, is it? So cute how eager you are. Keep that tight ass of yours high for me."

The next step is her gloved hands spreading your cheeks, and you know all too well what comes next. But before the cap can even flick open, you feel something else—the tease of something wet pressing right against your asshole, Sakura's tongue working in slow, gentle circles. 

You can't help the gasps that follow from your parted lips, especially when the tip of her tongue slides just a bit deeper. Back and forth, prodding at your entrance, to give a little sample of what you're really getting ready for. Just the way Sakura knows you crave it, her tongue plunging in deeper and fucking your ass for a few brief moments before drawing it out again.

"Just getting you nice and warmed up," she assures, but her wet, sloppy efforts seem to be over way too soon. You know exactly what comes next: a slicked-up fingertip, pressing against the tight ring of muscle and pushing its way inside. "Relax for me."

You give an obedient nod, sucking in a deep breath as you work to ease the tightness that tries to keep her out. The very finger you know how to take, starting with one before sinking in the second one beside it a few moments later. Both massage inside, slowly opening you up in a process she knows all too well, two fingers slowly pumping in and out until there's no more resistance.

"Ready to take mommy's cock? Get all nice and stuffed full?" she asks, but even as the question leaves her lips, those two fingers are pulling out, replaced by the sound of lube being squeezed all over the length of that silicone nudging at your entrance. 

"So fucking ready. Want mommy inside me, please—need it."

"You're too cute. Hold tight, baby. Relax. Breathe, and tell me if it's too much." 

"Y-yes, mommy.” 

Her hips rock forward, slow, but not hesitant. The lubed head of the dildo slides with ease, pushing far enough to sink inside you just a fraction—already leaving you groaning. It's not exactly an unfamiliar feeling, but so much different from the toys that Sakura's fucked you with before, each ridge and bump bringing along its own sensations all along your ass as the thick shaft inches deeper inside.

But still, your body gives little resistance, the slightest progress is enough of a rush of bliss to make you crave more, trying hard to welcome that delicious intrusion.

"Look at that, it's going in so nice and easy. Taking everything like a good boy for mommy," Sakura coos, grabbing your hips to support herself, sliding the shaft even deeper, slow and steady. "Need more, baby? How does it feel?" 

"It feels good, mommy feels so fucking good inside me. I-I need it. I want it all in me. Mommy—please."

There's a slight laugh from her pretty lips, easing that purple dildo in deeper, every bump and ridge hitting just right and stretching you wider the more she sinks in. Sakura caresses your lower back, until almost every inch can comfortably slip inside to the hilt. "Good boy. You're doing so good—making mommy proud. Does my baby boy like it this deep?"

A weak nod and nothing more than a pathetic groan is all you can manage while that thick length remains motionless inside you, letting you adjust to every overwhelming sensation. 

"Gonna move now, okay?" Sakura warns, stroking a gloved hand down your spine and giving your ass a playful slap. "Make my pretty boy feel real good."

When her strap withdraws to leave just the tip inside—that's the exact moment all the sensations hit at once. When Sakura drives back in, burying in all at once and starts to really fuck you. She eases into a rhythm, her grip tightening as she plunges it in over and over, giving your prostate just what it needs. "Look at you take this, bent over for mommy like a desperate little slut. It's all in now, how does that feel, baby boy?"

And while it's difficult to answer, you know better than to ignore her, even as Sakura sinks inch after inch of her thick, purple cock deeper into your needy asshole. "Feels fucking good, mommy, p-please. Want more. Love how mommy fills me."

There's nothing that would deny Sakura from doing just that—hearing every needy plea and whine coming from your mouth. Each word encourages her as the strap drills harder, forcing you to hold onto the armrest for dear life, unable to hold back from how good that silicone cock makes you feel. "God—you love mommy fucking your ass, don't you? Took that whole thing like it was nothing. Think I can go even harder?"

Sakura doesn't give you time for an answer, ramming in every inch at once while your ass squeezes around the thickness inside you. Harder thrusts fill you deeper with each rougher slam of her hips, giving a slap across your ass with every few strokes.

"I asked you a fucking question. Does my sweet boy want me to be rough? Use your words."

"Y-yes. Mommy can be as rough as she wants. Please. It—it feels so good, please, mommy—need it harder—r-ruin me."

That's all the answer she needs, forcing the rest of her strap inside, making you feel it so deep that there's never been this kind of relief. Making you take every slam of that thick cock all the way to the hilt while she fucks into you over and over. Not an ounce of mercy left—fucking your ass like she thinks you deserve, like she loves to see. It doesn't even matter how desperate you sound, each slap on your ass so perfectly timed, making your cock leak and twitch between your legs.

"You fucking love this, don't you? My little slut is so good—taking me so well. Tell mommy how much you need this cock inside you, pretty boy. Say it."

She thrusts, so relentless in each one, and a smack on your ass comes with the next one, all on relentless repeat. And yet you still need more. "Love the way you fuck me, mommy. Feel so full, so good, p-please, need my asshole pounded, g-god, please."

There's the softest giggle from her lips, Sakura finding new found joy in seeing how well you beg—just letting all those filthy, desperate thoughts flow right out. 

That's when her fingers close in on your neglected cock, gripping just tight enough and slowly stroking down the entire length. As if you needed anything else making you more of a pathetic mess, throbbing and shaking from each slam deep into your prostate. 

"Your poor cock feels so swollen and ready to erupt. Bet a few little strokes could get you there while mommy is so deep in your ass." 

You'd be lucky if you even last that long, struggling to stay coherent as that dildo picks up an even rougher pace as Sakura keeps slamming away, fingers steadily jerking you off. Every time the silicone brushes up against a particular sensitive spot and pushes all the way inside, that's what almost tips you over. The delicate strokes on your cock don't make things any easier, or the filthy things that get whispered right in your ear.

"Can't wait until you cum. Wanna hear all those noises you'll make with mommy's strap deep in your asshole—exploding all over this fucking couch." 

Sakura is ruthless, both in the way she fucks you and the words she whispers, keeping that strap driving in so deep until you can barely speak a coherent sentence. It's getting closer and closer to that edge, her hand pumping your shaft while she slams her hips with the same intensity, each one that threatens to have you spurting everywhere.

"M-mommy—"

"Yeah? Say it, tell me you're about to cum, tell mommy all about how her strap is getting you ready to make a mess."

"I-I'm close, so fucking close, gonna—mommy's gonna make me—"

A light squeeze, one that comes at the right time, and that's all you need to lose yourself completely. Your legs shake with the pleasure hitting an instant peak, one more slam, one more stroke has you groaning like never before as your climax hits hard. Thick streaks of cum burst all over her fingers, shooting onto the sofa and cushions below. The friction doesn’t cease with Sakura’s strap pounding away, squeezing tight around your swollen head to milk out every violent spurt, until you’re trembling, reduced to a helpless mess. 

"There we go. Good boy, let it all out. Give me every drop you've got, come on, baby boy."

The thick, warm streaks continue without relent. Until Sakura has her gloved fingers coated and grip tight as you ride out the high, continuing to fuck you while you spill a load bigger than any she's taken from you before. When the spasms die down—when you're a sensitive, twitching mess on the couch, only then does she finally slow to a stop, keeping herself buried deep while you recover. 

There's a weakness you've not felt before, your cock so sensitive, your ass so empty once she pulls back—until those hips withdraw the strap inch by inch, your entire body shuddering when she does.

"Good boy. That's my good boy. Just relax for a moment, mommy's got you."

As you fall limp, you let out a tired, breathless sigh with Sakura leaning over your back and placing little kisses down your body until you finally find some stability again. Only after you collapse to the side to rest, watching as she leans back with a satisfied grin, bringing her fingers coated in your cum right up to her lips. She doesn't hesitate even once, sucking every drop off them. 

"You did such a good job, took me so well. Let's get you all cleaned up."

Your body feels wrecked, aching in ways you'd never been able to imagine. Fatigue hits like a truck as soon as everything is said and done. Only while the water runs hot can you regain the use of your legs, recovering little by little, especially while a naked Sakura opens the glass shower door to get inside.

Leather scatters all over the bathroom floor, and you can see the harness sitting at the side of the sink, the purple dildo hanging off to the side, washed and sanitized, ready for its next use.

"Doing a lot better, baby boy?" Sakura asks the moment she steps under the hot running water, helping soap up your body. "Mommy really did a number on you—thought I might have broken you a few times."

You almost zone out in the bliss of the steamy shower, enjoying the serenity and relaxing against her. "Better now that mommy is here."

"What are you so sweet for?" Sakura just smiles, pressing her body right up against yours. And for everything you just went through—that's all it takes to know it's all worth it. Just for that. That beautiful smile with Sakura's wet hair stuck to her face.

Even as sore as you are, those loving hands feel like they're magic, helping you through the ache, washing and cleaning every inch, never breaking away even for a second. For as rough as Sakura can get—and god knows you've never had it quite that rough—she takes the utmost care of you after. Never going too far unless she knows you're ready to handle it. "My baby boy takes a pounding so well though. Even with that brand new strap mommy bought for you, it was a lot, and yet you wanted more."

She smiles again, reaching up to cup your cheek, content to soak in the silence of the shower as if nothing else exists but the steam and hot water pouring down over both of you."

"Always want more of you, mommy. Always." 

"I know, baby. Always so needy for me, my pretty boy. Always does what mommy wants." 

The shower is nothing more than a quick respite. 

Once the water gets turned off and the towels hit the floor, the only thing on your mind is those silk sheets—and forgetting what day it is when you wake up. But you know that's not in the cards, at least not anytime soon. Sakura, of course, doesn’t bother covering up. She walks through the apartment naked, completely unbothered, heading to the kitchen. 

Swinging the fridge door open, she grabs a bowl of strawberries and hops up onto the counter with the same ease she handled you just minutes ago. 

You stand there for a moment, just taking her in.

"Enjoying the view?” Sakura asks as she pops a strawberry between her lips, swinging her legs back and forth over the side of the counter. And you have to laugh. Because it’s comical, the image of Sakura—how small she actually is compared to the space she occupies, this petite thing that manhandles you so easily, even though the difference in size is so obvious when she's not towering over you. Even in heels.

"Can’t help it. Can’t help staring, when mommy looks so good naked.” 

Sakura sucks on the strawberry, not the least bit subtle about it. She returns the favor and keeps staring at your body in return, slurping all the juices that drip over her tongue.

"Well, I do love when you stare. So keep staring and come here." And when you find yourself inching closer to her, those legs of hers wrap right around your waist, trapping you in the warmth of her body. "Open."

A simple request that has your lips parting with ease, as you bite on the strawberry she offers, taking it back and forth until it's gone. She holds her fingers stained with sweet berry juice out, and you don’t even think twice about closing your lips around them. One at a time you suck them clean, savoring every drop. 

“Tastes good. But mommy tastes sweeter.” 

That only has Sakura blushing. 

"You're so—oh my god, baby, look who's the sweet one."

And once every digit is all clean, you still keep sucking, taking two at a time and coating them with spit until she pulls away.

"My good boy is extra needy today, hm? Can't go a second without something between those lips. Sucking my toes, my fingers, my strap. That cute little mouth is insatiable, isn't it? The things it does to me..." 

Another strawberry fed into your waiting lips, this time letting you savor the sweet flavors for yourself. Sakura watches in delight the entire time as she finishes off the last bit, fingers slipping back between your eager mouth, which you suck on greedily the second her taste hits your tongue again.

"You want something else between these lips, don't you?" She reads your thoughts with ease, her gaze drifting down between your legs to find you hard all over again—like she isn't the exact reason you’re in that state to begin with. The culprit to all your fantasies, as you stare at her perfect tits, wanting to latch your lips on them for hours while she slowly strokes your cock, edging you close to the breaking point, so you’ll suck them even more. 

"Didn't hear an answer. Is there something else you want between these lips? Something that you need to stuff between them?"

"Want m-my cock in your mouth, please. So bad, want mommy's lips wrapped around me, want them swollen and dripping with cum."

"Then what do good boys do to get what they want?" Sakura asks as she jumps off the counter and strokes you at a languid pace, thumb rubbing gentle circles over your swollen, wet tip. 

You feel like you’re the one one about to be on your knees instead of her. It's more complicated than it should be, getting a simple word out. One word that'll have her on her knees, watching you and keeping those lips wrapped tight and wet. But god, do you ever fucking try your best—

"Say please, say you've been a good boy who deserves mommy's mouth."

"P-please, please, mommy," you manage, having so much difficulty getting a damn word out with Sakura squeezing the head of your throbbing shaft. "Please—" 

"Okay, okay, that's enough. Less begging, more moaning, my needy boy."

Sakura doesn't linger, not when she’s about to give you the best reward you’ve ever had. In a heartbeat, she's right where she’s needed—knees on the kitchen tile with those full lips hovering over your swollen cockhead, planting a single kiss against your slit that draws the deepest moan you can muster. And god—those pretty, sparkling eyes stay on yours the entire time. 

The way Sakura knows damn well how bad you want to fuck her throat, how much you need to use those gorgeous lips to cum—she senses everything when she stares up. When she waits for your reaction when her tongue makes contact, dragging from base to tip in the slowest way.

"No touching until mommy says you can," Sakura instructs, and that's not an order that's easy to comply with—not when she's this voracious, not when her mouth is hot and wet, running the flat of her tongue up and down over every sensitive inch. So all you can do is grip at the kitchen counter, giving a few futile squeezes before you can hardly stand upright at all, as you watch those pretty lips wrap tight around the tip of your cock.

"I—god, fuck, please," you groan out after one slow, satisfying suck, her mouth easing further down, only to pull back and stroke your spit-drenched shaft at a feverish pace. Every inch that sinks deeper into her mouth, the sweeter the bliss of all that suction that gets drawn out is.

"My needy baby. Needed mommy on this beautiful cock, didn't you?" Sakura teases, planting a few kisses down your shaft and diving back to take half your length down her throat, not a trace of struggle on her end.

"F-fuck, always—always fucking need you."

"Mwah," she parts her lips with a pop, and that tongue is just as dangerous, licking slow, leaving every inch nice and slick with drool. "I know. But you're gonna keep being a good boy and watch me while I suck this delicious cock. Get it all nice and sloppy like you love." 

With a rough slap against her tongue she takes another hard suck, pushing forward to swallow more of you until you're feeling her breath against your balls. One quick suck after another, head bobbing down your wet cock, and every lewd, noisy slurp she makes only heightens your arousal. The sounds of all that suction only has you fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth, to fist her hair and drive those lips down the rest of your throbbing length.

"Mmph, your cock tastes so damn good. You're doing so good staying still for mommy while I give your dick what it deserves. So big, and all mine," Sakura gasps out as she sucks away, lips down until they hit the base, getting a good, firm grip on your balls to fondle while you try not to explode down her throat too fast.

She's driving you fucking insane with that warm mouth of hers, especially when she pushes all the way down and just holds—keeps every inch locked away inside, nose buried into your crotch as her throat massages the length of your cock. All she has to do is stare with those eyes that drive you crazy, cupping your balls while she hums, and you swear the vibrations are enough to put you right over the edge—

"F-fuck, that feels so, your mouth feels so good, god, m-mommy—"

When it's almost too much to take, her lips release their hold and all you feel is empty again, until Sakura dives back down. She's sucking so hard on the tip you nearly burst, having to push that urge away again and again. 

It's that light, teasing stroke along the underside that sends you spiraling the most—her soft pink tongue flicking all those sensitive spots in rapid succession, her hand squeezing right where her lips aren't. "Could make you cum just like this. My tongue here, nothing else.” 

She doesn't waste time when your moans reach that breaking point, sliding right back down, lips working along until her tongue meets the base with these anything but gentle flicks.

You’re not a bit ashamed about the desperate moans that spill out either. 

The next few seconds are a blur, as Sakura guides your hands to either side of her head—letting you grab her hair, just where you want, all the power handed right over. And the only thing she does is rest her hands on your thighs, nails digging in. This silent permission to push her right down and use her throat.

She parts her lips without hesitation, letting you dictate her movements and control the pace of her bobbing head. You force her head halfway down, thrusting your hips to slam the last half in one satisfying movement. 

Then you're picking up that frantic pace, repeating it again and again as the neediness starts getting the best of you. Until her lips are a mess of drool, which only has you bucking your hips into her face, causing Sakura to let out a gargled moan with your cock plunging in deep with no reprieve. 

"F-fuck," you grunt, driving your hips as you fuck her pretty mouth, a loop of endless lust that fuels it all. The noises she makes around your throbbing shaft fuel you as you keep stuffing her throat full, none of it a challenge for her at all. But still, she does her part—staring with those big, beautiful eyes of hers while you take exactly what you need from her. "Feels so good, god, mommy. So damn—" 

Once more she grips at your thighs and closes those lips even tighter around you. Another rough thrust and your cock plunges deep, holding her there for a few seconds so she can gurgle out a deep, stifled moan, one that almost has your balls emptying down her throat. 

And then you do it again, each time forcing Sakura down all the way, as her eyes begin to water, but never breaking eye contact the entire time. Not when it feels too perfect to pull back, her fingers grasping so hard onto your thighs, never wanting you to stop until you're completely drained. 

Which won't be long, not when Sakura takes every inch like a fucking champ—doing nothing but keeping her mouth open to let you slide back and forth between those perfect lips. You don't dare think about slowing the insatiable pace, not for a second, even with the drool dribbling over her chin and down to her tits, dripping everywhere. Not when you can't hold out a moment longer, close to giving her throat the load she desires. 

"Gonna cum," you gasp out, all your senses overwhelmed, fucking into her mouth so fast, so desperate to tip right over that edge. “Oh god, mommy, gonna cum. So close, fuck—I'm s-so fucking close." 

Another tight squeeze on your thighs is the approval you need to finish the job, gripping her head tight and pistoning your hips with everything you have left. Her nails dig even harder into the flesh, a moan to encourage your imminent release. Then with one final grunt, you bury deep into her warm mouth and hold her right there, unable to withstand a moment longer—

Sakura's eyes widen, lips down to the very last inch of your throbbing shaft, right against your balls when your cock unloads. 

Every violent spurt empties inside, a thick torrent straight into her stomach, no easing up on the grip in her hair while it all flows into her throat. You've got her gaze locked, her throat contracting, guzzling down each thick spurt of cum that spills out.

Nothing feels as good as Sakura's throat milking you dry, the perfect place to dump your load. You can't remember how to even breathe, just keeping your spent cock nestled within her warm little mouth for as long as you can stand it, and even a little longer after that. 

“Jesus," you gasp, releasing that tight grip. But her lips don't stop, not for a second, holding your hips as she keeps right on sucking—harder and faster. The overstimulation never stops, not until she wants it to, drawing out moan after helpless moan as you can only try to hang on. Staying right where she is and not letting go an inch, Sakura won't dare let a single drop spill. Her mouth only moves off once she's sure nothing is left in your balls, taking her sweet time kissing the tip of your cock.

"Mommy made her toy cum really hard, didn't she? Shot your heavy load in my mouth like a good boy."

“Y-yeah—“ 

"But is that all I get?" Sakura asks and rises to her feet, seizing your cock and pumping a few times, though your sensitive state shows and you nearly recoil. "Not fair mommy swallowed all of your delicious cum and didn't have a chance to get off, is it?" 

Exhaustion on your face, you can’t even answer, slowly being backed against the door of the refrigerator with your cock still in her grasp. She’s not giving a second to recover with this predatory gleam in her eyes as her grip on you tightens.

"Mommy isn't done with you just yet. Not when this cock is still so hard and needs somewhere warm to go, doesn't it?"

You simply nod—how can you possibly do anything but nod? You're nowhere near ready to go again, but the way she looks at you slaps you full force in agreement. 

"You're gonna hold me up and fuck me. While I wrap my legs around and you bounce me on this cock like a good boy. Got it? Don’t drop me."

Whatever reluctance you think you might have as you hoist her up, isn't going to stand a chance, not when Sakura is quick to take her rightful place—legs coiled and locked around your waist. Not even a second to breathe, before she drops down and impales herself on you, every inch disappearing into that perfect heat you've barely had a chance to miss. 

This time, when the tightness hits and your cock is swallowed up by her delicious warmth, it takes everything you have not to drop her. 

You're spent—completely fucked out, and the worst part is she knows it. Knows how you can hardly take being buried inside her again. All of your sensitive cock is in the heat of her cunt, so slick and squeezing tighter than ever. And still—you move for her. Every thrust is a fight against your own overstimulation, but you can’t keep your hips from moving.

You couldn’t stop if you tried. 

"God, f-fuck—" Back pinned up against the fridge with the entirety of Sakura's petite frame in your arms, your dick throbs and twitches in ways you didn't know possible. The softness of her breasts press up against your chest as they bounce, and it's up to you to do the rest. To give everything that's demanded. 

Your overworked muscles and weakened legs barely manage, but the cries coming from Sakura are well worth it as you lift her up and slam her back down, giving all you have to fuck her. She's in no way making things easy for you, clenching so hard around your oversensitive cock, nails digging into your back and holding on just to ride out the pleasure you're giving her. 

"You can do better than that. I know you’re a good fucking toy. Fuck me, fuck me harder," she demands—and it only serves to encourage you to push past the exhaustion. When your movements slow even for a second, you don't even need to meet the glare that reminds you to think otherwise. And without saying a word, she's demanding you thrust up into her with all you've got left, regardless how much the ache in your cock wants to do the opposite. 

"Harder. Come on," Sakura orders—the one and only warning you'll get. "Fuck me harder like a good little fucktoy does." 

So you have no choice but to surrender to her words, to pump your sore shaft into that slippery heat with such rapid fire thrusts that no matter how much you need a break, you can't. Not now—not as long as you have the resolve to stay buried in her wet cunt.

Her pussy takes every inch and clenches impossibly tight, greedy to swallow you whole inside, even when your body is hanging on by a thread. Almost on auto-pilot, you keep driving into her, back pressed hard against the fridge as you desperately bounce her on your length. She squeezes like never before, knowing what it'll do to your poor, exhausted cock, with her legs clamping around your torso until you can't pull free if you try. 

"So good. Making mommy's pussy feel so fucking good," Sakura moans against your neck, nipping her teeth across the sweaty skin. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—“ 

You don't, because you can’t—fucking her so rough and hard, almost forgetting the ache as your body keeps doing its part without any say in the matter. Sakura clings onto your body, this small frame so easy to hold tight with your fingers digging into her ass, refusing to relent until she lets you. And she clenches so desperately when that sweet release gets near, until her entire body turns into a shuddering wreck. 

All it takes is her biting into your shoulder—hard, her cunt gripping down like a vice around your aching cock, and there's only the briefest warning until you feel the flood of her climax soak every inch as you keep ramming on through.

The moment Sakura's tightening walls suffocate around you, you're helpless, her legs so constricting you can't do anything but keep every inch deep inside. You're gripping her ass so tight as those legs stay wrapped tight around your waist, and you thrust into her hard—giving her everything her soaked pussy is begging for. Every moan echoes, and she’s dripping all over the kitchen tile—soaking you both, with nowhere to go except the floor beneath. 

"Good boy, such a good boy for mommy," Sakura cries out, but doesn't seem to notice how her legs are beginning to loosen their hold. "Let it out, baby. F-fucking let it all out."

Everything else is a blur when you lose control, right as the words sink in, unable to resist her clench for even another second longer. All it takes is a few pumps—

You cum. Right as she wants and you can't help it, burying inside to shoot the most sharp climax of the day. With one final, animalistic grunt, every twitch of your cock spurts sticky, white seed straight up into her walls. Deep inside that intoxicating cunt that grips you tighter by the moment, keeping your throbbing cock lodged inside while your balls empty.

Until you have nothing else. Until it's pouring right out of her wet cunt, all your strength concentrated in your hips, with your legs on the verge of buckling underneath the sheer force it takes to keep Sakura held up. 

That's how this ends. This combination of depraved moans and greedy kisses, violent throbs that don’t cease as you pump everything into Sakura—until you meet your demise, falling onto the kitchen floor in a heap with her lying on top of you. 

Her tiny body feels ten times heavier, or maybe it's the cold kitchen tiles, the exhaustion—you're not really sure. 

She stays above, the mess between her legs threatening to leak right back out as she devours your lips in all these hungry kisses, tangling her fingers in your hair like she’s praising you for a job well done.

"I said don't drop me."

"Didn't. My legs gave out," you clarify between kisses as she moves to the side of your neck, and can't help but break out into giggles. 

"Poor baby, mommy used you so much. Couldn't handle filling my tight pussy again?" 

"Not my fault mommy wore me out. So insatiable and demanding.” 

Sakura laughs, kissing down your face as the aftermath settles in, enjoying the mess between her legs.

“You wouldn't have it any other way. Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy cumming inside me twice."

She's right. Obviously. But you’re far too spent to even think about a comeback. You can't give her the satisfaction she seeks, so you'll just kiss her quietly instead. Before long, Sakura's the one failing to hide that smug little smirk that says she's not even close to being done—not when she grabs your wrists and holds them above your head, this display of dominance reminding you how you're always at her mercy.

"You like when mommy uses you whenever, however I need to—you'll do anything I say, no matter what it is. Isn't that right?"

There is absolutely no use fighting it. All you can do is give out a nod.

"Use your words. Good boys use their words."

"I love when mommy uses me,” you say, louder than before. “What mommy needs, she gets. No matter what. No matter when.” 

“Mhm. There's my good little fucktoy." 

Even in this worn out state, Sakura leans in, lips finding your neck as she sucks hard, determined to leave her mark—teeth sinking in without the slightest hesitation. The pain is so very welcome, proof that she really does own you. Her teeth leave that sweet spot, trailing fleeting kisses down your chest, until she teases a nipple with the lightest graze of her tongue. 

The sensitivity is nowhere gone yet, so you can't help but whine out, even more when her fingers tease the other. Slow twists and rolls, a pinch here and there, it all does the job, adding the most minimal stimulation that feels so overwhelming. "If mommy wanted to ride you again right now, you'd let me, wouldn't you? No matter how sensitive and worn out that cock is?" 

A question of pure torment. A question she already knows the answer to. 

"Always. Wouldn't say no. Mommy can have this cock whenever and however she wants it."

"Good answer. Don't ever forget that. Mine to use and fill me as many times as I need.” 

Sakura is slow when she rolls off you, lifting up just so you can see exactly what you've left between her thighs—a creamy mess that floods out, the results of what she can empty out of you.

"Those poor balls still had all this left to give me, made such a huge, dripping mess, hm?” It just leaks everywhere, with her fingers playing with the mess inside, trying to drag even more out. "Think you've earned a break, baby boy. Let's get you something to eat that isn't my pussy."

With that, Sakura helps you to your feet with the last shreds of energy she has left. The walk to the bathroom is slow, for both of you.

Hot water fills the bath, a healthy dose of bubble bath pouring in while the tub fills. it's exactly what your body needs, along with Sakura sitting behind you. When you relax against her, she tilts your head back, wrapping an arm tight around you, trailing light kisses along your shoulder and neck as your eyes close to relish the affection. 

"You okay, baby boy?" Sakura asks with that sweetness in her voice that always catches you by surprise. You couldn't be better. No matter the exhaustion that makes it hard to move, her hands gently caressing all over is the best reward. 

"More than ever." Your eyes feel heavier than ever, the kind of exhaustion where you could fall asleep in an instant. Though it's tempting, you don't want to miss a moment of her attention.

"Not yet. Stay awake for me, okay? So I can clean you up and make sure you're taken care of. My good boy deserves being spoiled."

That's enough motivation to do exactly that. 

Sunday morning, and it's a rare day off for Sakura—something that comes along only once or twice a month. Weekends are just as busy for any real relaxation, which means this lazy day will be appreciated more than ever. 

And because Sakura is free today, that also means you're by her side like a shadow. 

This time, it’s the couch, legs half-tucked under her with the glow of a screen shining on her face. All Sakura has on is these tiny black gym shorts and a snug white top, thin enough you can practically make out the outline of her breasts. With every shift, the fabric rides up, exposing her flat stomach, that enticing bit of skin that you can't help wanting to drag your tongue against.

You're finding it hard to resist doing just that.

And then there are her tits—they're perfect and delicious, and even hidden behind fabric, you desperately want them in your mouth. Her body is a goddamn work of art, legs all creamy and silky smooth, that ridiculously tiny waist and the curve of her ass peeking out the bottom of her shorts. It's enough to drive you to absolute insanity.

Perfection. You're right here sitting next to her, not a word said with this ache in your pants getting worse by the second.

Her gaming sessions always go like this. Completely and totally distracted, lounging on the couch in whatever is most comfortable. When the mood hits, as it often does, it's not like you can really help yourself. The way she focuses so hard with her eyes glued to the screen, shifting to another position that exposes more skin while you massage her feet. 

It's those shorts that show way too much thigh. That shirt that teases the curve of her breasts. And when those plump lips of hers wrap around a straw to take a drink—all you can imagine is them wrapped around a certain part of you. It’s so pathetic to be this weak, but you can't ignore the heat growing inside, not when her tight little body is on display and every bit of you is silently begging to give it the attention it deserves.

So you dive in—deliberate in every motion, but careful not to distract. Starting just above the waistband of her shorts, you can’t starve off the ache to press hot, lingering kisses right along that creamy skin. 

Sakura catches on pretty fast.

"Baby—" Turning her attention, she glances down, furrowing a brow at the sight. “What do you think you’re trying to do?"

"N-nothing." 

It’s a response that comes out as more than a little pitiful, as if you couldn’t fathom the idea of being caught. 

"Clearly something, if you're distracting me from Splatoon like this," Sakura says, caressing the side of your face for a fleeting moment. 

"Just—just thought mommy deserved a little attention."

"Aren't you the sweetest? But mommy is busy right now. On a three game winning streak that I don't plan to give up. So you'll have to wait."

Just like that, she goes back to her game without a further glance in your direction. You're not a stranger to being lower on her priority list, rejected for something else that has her attention. It’s not like you expect her to drop her progress or halt her fun—but when her shorts keep riding up, exposing more cheek—you can’t stand it. Not when it makes your pants uncomfortably tight. 

Nor can you help but grind against her, slipping a finger into the opening of her shorts and grazing the lace of her panties. Sakura gives zero reaction, holding focus while your digits trace along the elastic. 

"Now, now, baby boy—you better behave. Mommy told you she was busy." 

Being scolded like this before is all too common, but in reality that’s little deterrent, if any. An easily dismissed warning that only encourages you to indulge, kissing at her inner thighs, until you’re close enough to breathe in her scent. You’re wearing the desperation on your face like a flashing sign, but you don’t care. You need relief. Badly. 

"Someone is awfully needy." That’s when this hint of annoyance creeps up in her tone. Which goes ignored. Because when aren't you? Shameless and desperate is your specialty, and being turned down and told to wait isn't going to cut it. When the throb is this urgent, you can't hold back, not when Sakura looks like an absolute feast that you just want to devour. 

It's getting increasingly difficult. You don't even have to do much that will distract her—just pull those skimpy shorts down, slide her panties to the side and bury yourself in her heat. That's the best solution to both of your problems, as simple as that. You’ve come this far, and there’s no turning back. More kisses up her thigh, as each touch gets more daring. It all goes ignored, even while you drag a finger along the small piece of pink cloth separating you from heaven. 

"Baby, I swear if you make me lose right fucking now—" Sakura snaps, and you not sure you're ready to pay for whatever wrath lies in her words. But even that isn’t stopping you from doubling down. 

"Mommy, please—" 

A squeeze on her thigh combines with another kiss as a final push. "Need you. Need you so fucking bad. Wanna taste you, mommy. Wanna slip inside you and make you feel good. Please, I'll be quiet."

A moment passes before she sighs. 

"You seriously think you'll be able to put your cock in me without making a single sound?" Despite the increased annoyance in her voice, the eye roll—you don't relent. 

"I can. Won't make a sound, not even when I cum. You won't even know I'm here. Promise."

There's no way Sakura will believe such a thing, you can see that plain as day. You can see it in the tilt of her head, a glance that shows you she's not convinced in the slightest. It's not surprising either, you'd probably call bullshit yourself.

"No, that's not happening. If you're that fucking hard, you're gonna take care of that yourself. 

"Mommy—" 

"What did I just say? No shoving your dick in me until I lose. And I'm not fucking losing because you're too goddamn horny to wait."

"Mommy, please, I—"

"Do not make me repeat myself. Ugh, I swear," she scoffs, and you're not sure you've heard her this annoyed—nor do you doubt that you're pushing too hard. It’s a glare that comes and goes within moments as she turns her gaze back to the screen, one that almost makes you hesitate about speaking up again. "If you're that fucking desperate, then just fuck my feet or something. But you better stay quiet, and do NOT distract me."

You’ll take that. Hell, you’ll take anything at this point, and the generous use of her gorgeous feet to get yourself off unattended is worthy of a thousand praise-filled thank you's. With her cute, black painted toes curled around your hard dick while you slide between them is a better reward than you deserve. 

Not another word as you take Sakura's perfect, pale, and pretty feet, and admire for a moment—how dainty they are and how many times they've gotten you off like this. Usually before bed, when you're just as desperate to get off as you are now. All you have to do is unzip your pants, free your cock—

And slide right in between those delicate arches. One step toward relief, it's almost impossible not to moan at the softness of her feet, enough pressure to make your head spin. The hardest part is keeping your promise, with your cock sandwiched in these soft, silky smooth arches. 

Thankfully, this isn't going to take long at all. 

The friction is everything you need, and each thrust elicits a moan that you try your damnedest to suppress. You have some actual self-control, you think—maybe you don’t, you’re about to find out. For now, it's going to be a challenge as you squeeze her pretty painted toes around your shaft to tease yourself, before sliding your cock in a delicious little rhythm while you fuck her feet. They're silky soft, and god you don't know how much longer you can be silent.

"These fucking idiot teammates, I swear—" Sakura mutters, letting off some steam now that the game can have her full attention. 

You'll leave her alone, and concentrate on pumping your cock between her heavenly soles. Even a bit slower, given all you need is to stay nestled between and let the friction bring relief, spitting in the space between to give some extra slickness to this whole thing. 

The desperation is real, and your moans aren't too muffled—so you pray that she’ll keep herself occupied and ignore what slips out. Every drag along the softness of Sakura's feet, every graze her toes give you is bliss. Every time you pause to slap your cock against her silky arches before sliding back in, it gets harder to hold back. Moans getting as deep as your breathing the more you continue to use her feet to jerk yourself off like this. 

"They better fucking get it together. S-rank my ass, they're dead weight. Dead fucking weight. How the fuck did these assholes rank up anyway,” Sakura continues mumbling, cursing her squad and ignoring every groan that you let slip in the process, biting back all of your gasps. 

Using her feet to stroke your shaft is a damn good compromise. Your teeth clench while your cock pushes into her soft soles isn't enough to drown out how good Sakura's feet feel. This is perfect as it can get—the intense squeeze against your aching shaft cock that keeps sliding in and out, the precum coating her toes. 

You can barely think straight. Getting so fucking close to blowing right there, each stroke threatening to set you off with the way her toes wrap around each side of your shaft. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake—goddamn spawn campers. Oh no, you don’t, you little bitch!" Sakura slams down her console on the cushions, somehow ignoring the frantic way you’re pumping away between her toes. Her anger almost gives you the fuel to fuck her feet faster—and they clamp down harder as a result. 

Thrusting between them gets even better with each passing second, this tighter squeeze as the friction gets you closer and closer, desperately wanting to pump yourself faster, fuck her gorgeous feet and just cum all over them. And that's exactly what's about to happen. 

"M-mommy, so close," you groan out, forgetting your promise to not make a sound and throw your head back. It's too fucking good, the feeling of them on either side of your dick, this intoxicating grip you don't want to part from anytime soon.

"God, who the hell taught them to play? Fuck this map. Fuck this team," Sakura spits out, slamming a fist down next to her on the couch. You however, are seconds away from blasting a mess all over.

"Mommy, mommy—" You're spilling right then, cursing under your breath as you try to fuck your cock faster between her soles while cum spurts everywhere. Your cock twitches wildly, spurting along the insides of her feet, on her soles, splattering all over her toes and blasting all the way even to her ankles—while Sakura pays absolutely zero attention to your release. It's a filthy mess, a stream of thick white coating the pale skin, running between her toes and even staining the fabric of the sofa cushions beneath.

While Sakura is seething, you're panting heavily, gripping onto her ankles and milking yourself dry with more strokes, eventually just moving her feet so that the tips of her toes are still stroking the sensitive head, your hot, sticky mess being dragged along. You give in and moan the more you thrust, sliding into her silky arches for one last bit of bliss, savoring the sight of your release coating her feet. 

"Okay, fuck this, we are NOT playing this garbage map again. This game is absolute shit, god, they all suck." 

And Sakura nearly tosses her console across the room before even noticing the mess on her feet. She stares, furrowing her brow to her once pristine soles, now coated in white streaks, dripping between her toes, and clinging to wherever else it landed. 

You look so spent, unapologetic and so satisfied—huffing to catch your breath while your cock stays nestled between.

"Well, would you look at that. Just couldn't contain yourself for one fucking game, could you? Had to use my pretty feet to get yourself off?"

All you can do is nod your head. Words aren't coming easy at the moment, especially not while you're lost in how gorgeous her feet look all covered in your creamy load.

"What am I going to do with you? Especially with how loud you were. Don't think because I was too busy dealing with AFK shitbrains that you couldn't follow a simple rule," Sakura continues and flexes her cute, cum-stained toes—letting your sticky mess drip further and coat the pale flesh. "I'm sure you didn't forget your promise, but you couldn't even do that. Fucking yourself like a pathetic slut between my feet. Did you get it all out?"

There's not an ounce of remorse in the nod that comes afterward. With all this pent-up stress and anger Sakura is letting off, you're scared to even utter another word. 

"I didn't hear an answer. Did you—get it all out?"

This time, you don’t dare hesitate. "Y-yes, mommy, I did."

"Good. Then you can clean it all off. Now." Sakura folds her arms across her chest, her full attention on you now. Her foot rises in the air, showing off the slick streaks that still linger. Her toes spread wide and you know all too well what to do—a command you don't dare protest.

A glance to look at your handiwork between her dripping toes. That's when your lips capture a single one to suck clean—starting at the big toe, the one that's your favorite to suck on.

"That's right. Clean up your mess, and then get the others."

The salty taste of you all over hardly even registers when you get another chance to suck on Sakura's perfect, pretty little toes. Slow sucks and licks between, all the taste of skin and stickiness of your orgasm. Her gaze never falters, ensuring you take your time, not missing a spot while cleaning up until you suck the next toe. 

Long drags along her arches, gathering every drop while you kiss and lick on that tender skin. It's heaven between her toes, taking time to let the tip of your tongue trace patterns along the silky smooth soles, while all the rage built up in Sakura seems to slowly fade. 

"My pathetic boy likes licking the mess you made between mommy's toes. Loves cleaning up after himself like a depraved slut, sucking them clean."

You can’t even disagree, a loud slurp while you take two painted toes in at once, sucking until the majority of her toes captured between your wet, slobbering mouth glisten with all your spit. And you don’t stop for a second—you alternate between sucking, running your tongue down her soles, up her arches to capture every drop while Sakura enjoys every second of what you're doing.

No trace left behind of the way you used her feet for your own pleasure, and even when it’s all cleaned up, you don’t dare stop until she allows it. Sucking every toe, licking every creamy inch of her feet like you’ll never get a chance to ever again. Once her big toe pops out of your mouth, both soles raise up, all shiny with your saliva and press directly into your face.

"Naughty thing. All you had to do was sit quietly. Wait for me to finish my game, and you could've cum inside me all you wanted. Maybe even bend me over the counter and eat my ass too,” Sakura says, soles deeper into your face so all you can breathe in is their scent. 

"But you didn't listen—“ 

She presses down more with each second that passes, adding more weight to really give you the satisfaction you've been seeking. "Had to be a greedy whore. If I really wanted to, I'd jerk you off as fast as I can, make you blow more loads again, and again. Not allow any break until you're shooting nothing. But even that, you'd enjoy too much…” 

Again, she’s not wrong. 

Not even if it left you unbearably sore and sensitive. Not even if the orgasms left you raw and begging to stop, would you even want Sakura to. Because maybe you're just a bit too obsessed with her. 

And maybe that's been her whole plan since the beginning.

"Look at this cute face."

Sakura reaches over and caresses your cheek, giving a small pat before her fingernails trail down your neck. 

Not that you can respond—not with one of her stockings stuffed into your mouth. As she’s told you, you don’t deserve the privilege of her panties. You can’t do much now, with one wrist bound to the bed frame with a necktie, the other secured the same way. And written across your bare chest, is a single word, ‘MINE’, in dark red lipstick. 

Her panties are gone, bra removed, other stocking tossed aside with the rest of her clothes, as naked as she can be. She’s just taking you in, memorizing the desperation etched on your face.

"So pretty and helpless for me," she says with this dulcet tone that makes your breath hitch. "Where is that cocky attitude you showed me earlier?"

No answer even if you had one, her sheer stocking silencing even the weakest syllable. Sakura lets the image linger with a smirk on her face as she yanks the nylon free from your lips. 

"Answer me. Where did all that courage go, baby boy?"

"D-dunno," is what you settle on, looking away from her gaze that's too intimidating to stare straight at. But that earns you nothing but a harsh slap to your face. The sting hits hard—and there's not a thing you can do but take the next that lands on the opposite side.

"Look at mommy when I’m speaking to you."

Another slap comes just as fast, and this time, the arousal is surging. Because god, you can't get enough of those manicured hands dealing out this delicious punishment, the pain only adding to your own desires. 

"What’s the matter? All of a sudden you've gone shy?" There's no kindness in the slap that strikes with the back of her hand, sending another ache across your face. “What can I even do to punish you when you enjoy it this fucking much?"

No amount of scolding changes a thing. There’s no shame or anger—just satisfaction.

"Oh, I know,” Sakura muses, tilting her head with careful consideration. “Maybe I should just fuck myself on the strap that I use to pummel your ass. Use it to stretch my tight cunt instead and make you watch."

You know how this goes—what she's trying to do. While you'd normally object to the threat of being ignored or turned away, this trap isn’t going to spring so easily. Not this time. 

"If that's what mommy wants…” 

Sakura scoffs, in disbelief that you won't take the bait. She knows how easy you are to mold, and the idea that you could be anything else is unfathomable. 

"Don't try to be bold. Mommy already knows what you are," she hisses, showing some hesitation to slap you again—especially with how well you took the last one. "Nothing but a pathetic, obedient little slut. So how about this—"

Again, you respond with little care, keeping up the cavalier attitude. 

“Two toys at the same time, and neither of them will be you. You'll be lucky to be a spectator. Mommy could blindfold you for being so mouthy." 

“Whatever makes mommy happy, that's all I care about. You deserve it."

Once again, Sakura looks disappointed by the lack of weight to her threats. "What's gotten into you? No begging? No pouting? Is my baby sick or something?"

You smile. Maybe you've learned a trick or two over time. When all she gets is a simple shake of your head, the frustration on her face grows. The little change in her demeanor when she's used to this going exactly how she plans—that’s something you'll never forget. 

"If that's how you want things to be..." Her palm caresses the side of your face, nails scratching down from your cheek and past your jawline, while her lips slowly inch toward your ear. She drags her tongue over the outer shell before nibbling, coaxing a moan out of your throat.

Leaving the bed for a moment, Sakura approaches her nightstand and finds exactly what she’s looking for: a thin, black leather collar—one that matches a leash that's kept hidden away for special occasions. She holds it in her fingers for a few moments, just admiring it, stroking the material before grabbing one more thing from her dresser and heading back.

"Act like a brat and I'll treat you like one," Sakura says, wrapping the collar around your neck and fastening it in place. It's not tight enough to hinder breathing, but it certainly isn't as loose as you remember. "Since you're all tied up, I don't need the leash. But my dumb little pet decided to be all tough today, so we'll see how long you can hold out. When your cock is in my ass, and you can't even touch me."

Her fingertips trace the collar's strap along your throat, the delicate pressure making it a little harder to breathe. And this time when Sakura smiles—it’s the sort that lets you know the trouble you've signed yourself up for.

"Whatever makes mommy happy is all you care about? Is that right, baby?" 

Before you can answer, she turns around, grabbing a small bottle that you're more than familiar with. With her back now facing you, the smooth curve of her ass is on perfect display as she pops open the lid to pour some lube into her fingers. "My ass could be on your face, your tongue buried in my asshole with you spreading my cheeks wide open. But now you're not going to be anything but a toy for mommy."

All restrained, you’re forced to watch Sakura sliding a finger right into that tight asshole of hers. Just one, then adding another—stretching out her ass nice and slow as they disappear deep inside.

"When your cock is in my ass, straining to not cum while I squeeze around you, and you’re begging to untie you so that you can pound me, so that you can fuck me into the mattress—" 

With the way you're tugging on your binds, there's little doubt that it's all starting to work, your attempts to gain control over this situation are falling short. It only fuels her resolve to have her fingering her tight hole, letting every filthy sound escape, making sure she gets slick enough to fuck herself on your cock. "Now you've gone quiet. No more attitude? Or are you thinking about my tight little ass? That's all you want now, isn't it?"

There's little else you can do but obsess about it, about how good it's going to feel once you're buried deep, balls deep, the warmth and tightness that you crave, and the insane grip that would milk every drop out of you in a matter of seconds.

"My fingers aren't the same as your cock. We both know that," Sakura taunts. She turns a bit so she can pour lube over your shaft, staring into your eyes, to watch your expression linger on the bliss of her fingers stroking you.

"M-m-mommy—" 

"Oh, so you've found your words now? Too late for that, if you think you're getting out of being a toy. Maybe you'll learn to behave a bit better. Good boys get to ruin my pretty little asshole, but brats have to sit back and watch."

She's trying to crack you, pumping your cock with her body angled so that you can only imagine pushing inside—how goddamn tight her ass will be. The taunting goes both ways here—and Sakura's lust outweighs her urge to break you.

"Not that you can do otherwise, but you're gonna be a good boy while I ride you and let you cum in my ass. Don't make me regret that." 

Sakura leans back, hovering her ass right above your slick, painfully erect cock, showing some restraint just before. The hesitation cuts through you, unsure how much longer you can stand not being inside her, and then—her hips push down and bury every last inch deep inside.

You groan. Not just at the tightness that consumes every inch of your cock, her asshole clenching as her hands grip your thighs—but also that you don't have to hold back anymore. Now it's all pleasure, the way her ass rests on your hips, your balls flush against her soft cheeks.

Sakura barely takes any time adjusting. A shift of her legs, her bare feet flat on either side of your thighs, giving herself all the leverage she needs. Up, and then down, slow as can be. The view is deadly, her plump cheeks rising as she does, and then returning in a quick bounce, squeezing even tighter around you. And that's just the first time.

"So fucking hard, fits so well inside my ass, this is where your cock belongs—buried deep in mommy's asshole," Sakura sighs, hips building speed and taking you all the way in. The friction is perfect, the clench even better from this position as her nails dig deeper into your flesh, the impact of her bouncing ass getting louder and louder.

"So big, such a thick cock stretching out my asshole. Mommy's going to fuck this hard cock until you can't help but explode."

That's a threat you can get behind. You stare with rapt attention, watching her asshole take every thick inch as her pale cheeks bounce and smack against your thighs, swallowing all of you back inside every time her hips return down.

And then, without warning, the sensations stop. Sakura lifts up, enough to slide every last inch out of her ass, your cock slick with lube and twitching for relief. You can’t do anything but whine when she grinds her asscheeks along your length, the cold air a contrast to the warmth of her tight puckered hole. 

"You really thought mommy would let you have my asshole? Just like that?" Sakura laughs, savoring every pathetic noise that you let out. Her hips move so slowly, the soft flesh of her cheeks grazing along your dick. It's torture. Absolute torture. And it's only going to get worse. The way she traps your shaft, with the way her fingertips brush against it to keep you in the warmth of her ass.

"You've gone quiet again, haven't you? Can't even remember how to beg?"

God knows you could never forget. This ache, the tormenting sensation of her gorgeous ass rubbing against you, grinding on your swollen shaft, denying any sense of relief that you yearn for. You don't want to give the satisfaction, to let the real need shine through—but she'll draw it out eventually, coax out every desperate plea in your mind.

Even as you form tight fists that clench hard enough to hurt, that makes her smile. Even as the desire becomes so consuming and you throb against her supple ass cheeks.

"Mommy. Mommy, please—god, I need you. Need to be in your perfect tight ass. Need you so bad, mommy."

All the shame comes in how quickly you cave in, an easy surrender in the blink of an eye just like every single time before. Even with the restraints on your wrists, the collar around your neck, there isn't any fight left. She's gotten everything she wants.

"Yeah, that's what mommy likes to hear. Now remind me—what are you?" 

"Your obedient little slut. Your dumb little toy. Mommy's plaything—that gets used whenever mommy wants. Doesn't matter if I get left here tied up, my pleasure is always secondary to yours." 

"And don't you forget it. You're just a tool to get me off. A pretty toy to shove in my cunt until I cream all over you. But mommy takes care of her toys, of everything in her possession."

With that, Sakura stands up again and shifts her body around, tossing a leg over your hips to straddle your waist and face you. The loss of seeing her ass doesn't compare to the sight of her lovely face, her silky hair that falls over her shoulders, and that perfect little grin. 

Another cold sensation over your throbbing cock, more lube that'll have you buried back inside her ass in no time. Her hand finds it to guide right where she wants. It's almost agonizing, waiting for her to lower down, and the way the rim of her tight puckered asshole spreads around your swollen tip. Yet she doesn't move, just staying in place with every last inch held inside.

Sakura glances down, at your pathetic, helpless state—and leans over so her tits press flush against your chest. Without a word, she practically rips the collar off your neck, but doesn't even dare loosen the ties wrapped around your wrists. Instead, she replaces the leather with her grasp, her hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing enough for you to gasp.

"Mommy likes you better like this. So submissive and helpless, ready to listen to every order, every desire—not forgetting who owns you."

This close, her hot breath tickles the side of your face, so she can see all the desperation as her ass grips down tight around the head of your cock after lifting up the slightest. Just teasing, squeezing the tip and not letting an inch sink further in.

"That's where your thick cock belongs. Inside my tight little asshole, swallowing you deep. My little pet that can't keep quiet, had to be reminded who's in charge."

It's hard to get every word out with Sakura squeezing harder around your throat, but you don't ever need the pressure to let up for any reason. Her hips slam down hard, sinking down on every inch of your cock in her ass—a tightness that you can't even comprehend. A vice grip that almost has you losing the strength to keep holding yourself together. The heat, the squeeze, you swear it feels tighter than the first time. 

"This is what good boys get, isn't it? Getting your cock ridden until you get to fill mommy’s tight ass with cum,” Sakura says, not breaking eye contact for one moment with her delicate hand locked so tight around your neck. You're the definition of overwhelmed, airflow restricted while her ass bounces on top in rapid, harsh movements that only get harder to handle with each rock of her hips. 

You're too gone to answer with anything but a nod, and you can't look anywhere else. Not with her hand clutching around your throat like the collar tossed aside—not when the look in her eyes has you utterly lost in lust. 

At this point, you hardly care about the fabric around your wrists keeping you from touching her. This is more than enough, the rhythm and fervor she fucks herself down on top, not looking away for a second as she chokes you and rams her ass down onto your cock. The tightness, the way her tits bounce so perfectly—god, you're so close already. You're trying so hard to shake it off as long as possible, but there's no use to fight the inevitable. 

"M-mommy, I'm, I'm gonna—"A quick nod and a smile before you can finish the sentence, followed by a tight clench that demands you do exactly that. 

"It's ok, baby—fill my ass up. Fill me right up." 

Not a word said as the force of her hips sends her ass down for those final bounces, until you're shooting your hot cum inside of Sakura, flooding her tight hole. Every spurt throbs violently as she watches you give in, never ceasing that grip on your throat as you erupt. Just throbbing as she milks you dry, every spurt squeezed deep inside her warm, tight asshole until you've given everything you possibly can.

"Good boy, such a good boy. Mommy's sweet boy came so much…” When her hand leaves your throat, you’re too exhausted to even complain, no strength for anything as she’s caressing your face. Kisses come next, all along your cheek, before her soft lips meet yours for an even deeper kiss. 

You want to touch her, to pull her in close, to do something—anything as Sakura plants kiss after kiss. But all she does is lift off your sensitive cock, the emptiness immediate, that thick load dripping down out of her ass and oozing everywhere. And she makes sure to finish the job, fingers grabbing at your spent cock to pump out whatever remains. 

“My good boy made quite a big mess, didn’t he? Such a huge load inside mommy’s ass…"

Even with nothing left in your balls to drain, Sakura keeps pumping, fist a blur around your slick length that rips all these desperate noises from your throat. "Now, now. Mommy knows you're sensitive, but that doesn't mean we should stop. Your cock is still hard, so that means you need to be milked again, doesn't it?"

Nothing comes out from your mouth but another pitiful whimper, because the sensations never stop as Sakura pumps her hand even faster. It's nothing but painful, torturous overstimulation that makes your whole body jerk. And every time you pull on the restraints, that only makes the smirk grow. 

"Fuck, I can’t, please, mommy, p-please—“ 

She refuses to let up at that merciless pace, each stroke getting faster, grip a little tighter, the ache in your balls harder to deal with more by the second. “Mommy doesn’t care if you can’t. You’ll go again if I say you will, because your greedy fucking cock exploded in my ass. Which means I didn't even get to watch all that cum shoot out. Not very fair now, is it?"

The torturous pace of her stroking doesn't let up. Fast, painfully fast strokes and squeezes all the way up your shaft, with her other hand feeling up your aching balls. A rough squeeze to them—one that makes you jerk so hard the bed shakes, making your dick throb even more.

 "See? Still so heavy and full. Not nearly done cumming, now are we?"

"M-mommy, fuck—" you swear under your breath, bucking your cock into her grasp as she pumps without mercy, keeping a hand squeezing your balls like they’ve got an endless amount stored. 

"Don't mommy me. Good boys can cum more than once, can't they? Shoot out another thick massive load that’ll make mommy so damn proud.” 

You’ve never been this helpless. There's no escape from these overstimulating sensations, each squeeze to your aching balls or pump of your length drawing out more of this painful pleasure. All while you can't do anything but clench your fists. Sakura’s got no end to these evil intentions, thumb rubbing against the underside of your cock with her hand speeding along.

"Jesus—god, fuck, please," you curse, wrists straining hard while Sakura ignores every desperate plea. 

"Oh, don't think that begging will do you any good. This isn't for you. This is for mommy." 

As if you already didn’t know that. Through all of this, the ache, the soreness of your poor cock, you still need this—need to reach that edge again, maybe more than she does. You don't even know whether to beg her to keep going, or for the opposite.

At least there's an end to this torment. Not like earlier in the week, where Sakura edged you from behind in front of a mirror in this exact room, so you could see your own pitiful reflection. A hand stroking your dick so fast—to be pulled right to the brink and then stopped completely, right before cum spurted out in thick, hot streams across the glass. 

"M-mommy—" That word leaves your lips so effortlessly, sounding so pitiful as you let the sensations consume your whole body, not even able to tell the difference between pain or pleasure anymore. You're just lost in this blissful torture, in every aching stroke that makes your balls tense up. But all that tension eases off—when your cock throbs one last time before Sakura stops and pulls her hand away, right as you finish emptying what's left in your balls out across your stomach, untouched the whole time.

It's cruel, the look she gives you when your cock twitches even in this weak orgasm that she's refused to help you with. The visual is enough for her, but the whimpers, the frustrated groans, they’re making sure that twisted grin doesn't go anywhere as your  swollen tip keeps shooting out pathetic little spurts that leave her more satisfied than you are. Even more when a single fingertip teases along your sensitive shaft, a simple little graze that comes a little too late. 

"What do you say, baby boy?"

Ridiculous that you should even think about thanking her, for an orgasm you didn't even want, nor did you even get to enjoy—and yet you do, out of pure mindless adoration. "Th-thank you, mommy. Thank you for making me cum again." 

It’s almost laughable—how Sakura shifts, from soft and sweet one moment, to an absolute sadistic demon the next. For now, her sweet side lingers as she laughs, glancing down at the mess you've made and kissing you without a second thought. The same moment, she's untying your wrists, massaging them as she peppers kisses all over the tender skin. Breaking out the lotion is next, from a nearby nightstand drawer, the same one used on your ass when she gets a little too crazy with the riding crop.

"Good boy. Mommy is so proud of you, I knew you'd shoot a big load again." 

The praise barely registers when you're about to collapse, but you'll take it, let the words flood through as those warm kisses get even sweeter, spreading her fingertips along the sticky mess that's coating your abs. The sticky substance she spreads around, lifting up her wet finger and just popping it in her mouth with no hesitation.

"I love tasting what comes out of my toy. It's my favorite part." Sakura takes her time, one sloppy lick at a time. She cleans off the mess with her tongue, dragging a slow path across your body and swiping away each drop until what’s left is the sheen of her spit once the rest is cleaned away. Then those same lips crash against yours and the taste of yourself is practically dripping off her tongue as it shoves into your mouth. No hesitation to deepen the kiss either, guiding your tongue like she owns your mouth with her hands grabbing either side of your face. 

Her lips are warm and the last bits of your release mixed with her spit slide between your lips as you lap away every trace of that bittersweet mixture until there's no more to enjoy. Until she keeps your face cupped in her hand, then with your mouth still open—she spits right in, landing it perfectly and it hits right in the back of your mouth.

"Now swallow that."

Of course you obey, tongue out like you have a craving for more. Sakura is happy to oblige and spits in your mouth a second time, holding your face close as you eagerly accept all she gives.

"Who's my pathetic good boy?"

That question hits differently with Sakura's loving smile directed down at you, hand brushing back a few loose strands of sweaty hair on your forehead. "M-me, mommy. I am. Your pathetic little fucktoy." 

"Never forget that. Mommy's precious toy who loves getting his ass plowed like a slut. Now come on—it's getting late and we should sleep. You'll need rest for tomorrow." 

The next morning rolls by and you're barely cognizant of your surroundings, when you're awakened with fingers threading through your hair and a familiar warmth right beside you. Sakura seems to be awake for some time already, sitting against the headboard, thumb tapping against her phone screen while her other hand is in your hair.

"Good morning, mommy—"

Sakura laughs. "It's already afternoon, silly."

A glance at the bedside table confirms what Sakura's already said, clock staring back with a harsh reminder that noon has long come and passed, the sun much brighter than when it usually wakes you up in the early hours.

"You really needed the sleep, so I tried to not bother you, baby boy. Did you sleep well?" 

How could you not, really? With all the exhaustion hitting all at once—the soreness in your muscles, the bruises on your wrists, the scratches along your back. Not forgetting the paddle marks on your sore ass still yet to fade, just a few examples. Not forgetting the moment of her plump ass smothering you with all that softness and warmth, sinking deep down, until you can barely breathe from how she relentlessly fucks your face.

"Baby boy—"

It takes a little tug from Sakura's fingers, a brief snap out of your thoughts, for you to realize you haven't responded yet. "Yes—of course, mommy. I did, I slept great. Better than I have in a while."

She's unconvinced at first, putting her phone down for the time being and giving you all her attention when she swings her body over yours. Straddling your hips, the hem of the long t-shirt she's wearing rises higher until you catch a peek of what's beneath. 

"You sure about that? Can't have my poor toy be too worn out. Mommy was pretty rough yesterday, can't have you falling apart on me just yet."

The reality is—falling apart is inevitable at this point. You're been far beyond that since the beginning, put through the ringer enough times that you aren't sure if there's a part of you not broken. Every dirty, degrading act you thought she could possibly throw at you. Every toy imaginable stuffed in you to ruin your ass. Every painful edging session—tied to the bed with your wrists held down with handcuffs, rope, zip ties—every inch of your skin kissed, nipped, and bitten. Enough cum blown across every surface imaginable, or just over Sakura's open palm, her face, inside her cunt, all over that pretty ass that you'd lay your life down to worship.

And still, you're more addicted to this girl than ever. To that smile while her fingers rest right on your cheek, to the bruises on your neck from her choking you. "I'm okay, mommy. I'm okay—"

Your words fade once again and you're not even sure if you believe what's being said, but Sakura seems to, which is all that matters. Enough that she'll brush those messy bangs out of the way and bend down, enough that she'll plant soft little kisses along the fading marks across your neck, tracing the purple hue. Kisses just as light along your collarbone, until she inches down little by little, every scratch and bite along your skin being cared for and soothed, her lips pressing all over your body with so much affection you never want it to end.

"Since I was so rough yesterday, and because you've been such a good boy—you get to relax and we don't need to do anything all day," Sakura says, lips not straying too far from your mouth for too long.

"Just wanna stay in bed with you all day, mommy. You can play games and I won't bother you, and I'll just..."

She laughs, pressing a firm kiss at the corner of your mouth. "You can bother me, baby boy. Bother me all you want—all you need."

"Can we order food?"

"Whatever you want. You know I hate leaving the house unless I absolutely need to. Only for work and important things—nothing else."

"Cheesecake?"

"Only after eating other actual food," Sakura scolds, sitting straight back up and reaching for her phone. 

"The extra expensive one with raspberry glaze and ice cream?" 

"Yes, that one. The fanciest cheesecake you can imagine. You can have two, even, just don't make yourself sick." 

"Can't promise that—" That laughter hits louder than before, echoing around the room. Sakura just shakes her head before a finger slides across her phone screen a few times. 

"All the cheesecake you want then, baby boy." 

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad - Lilia Vanrouge x reader

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

Series Masterlist

You love your best friend. You really, really do. But sometimes—sometimes—the things they drag you into make you question your life choices. This time? It’s a novel. A bad one.

The plot is borderline unreadable, but somehow, it’s now your problem. Because of course it is.

“So, listen,” your friend had said, waving the book around like it was some kind of literary masterpiece. “Malleus Draconia, the fae prince, is cursed—chained up in this forest. The curse can only be broken by someone who isn’t attracted to him. But here’s the kicker: he’s so hot that no one can break the curse. For ten years.”

“Uh-huh.” You’d nodded along, already feeling your brain cells start to wave white flags of surrender. But your friend continued.

“The main character stumbles upon him after years of drama and frees him because they’re the only one not drooling over him. Then they fall in love, blah, blah, blah.”

At this point, you were barely listening. But then they dropped the bomb. Your eyes were shutting and you felt the sweet embrace of sleep call to you.

“Also, there’s this subplot where a magical plague of squirrels overruns the kingdom, the Saint betrays everyone by secretly being a double agent for some shadowy organization, and—get this—there’s a surprise paternity reveal where the devil is the father of the Saint who turns out to be the evil villain controlling everything.”

Your face had hit the pillow as your soul left your body.

And somehow, the next thing you remember is waking up dead. Or, more specifically, reincarnated. In the body of the heroine. In that story.

You can't believe the story was so terrible that it killed you.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that the room is way too fancy for your tastes. The bed is massive, the sheets feel like they cost more than your entire existence, and the walls are adorned with tacky portraits of people who are probably supposed to be important.

“Oh, no,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. “This can’t be happening.”

But it is. You’re in the novel. The very one your friend had been yammering about. And not only are you in it, but you’ve woken up a full year before the plot is supposed to kick off. A year of waiting for terrible drama, an ex-fiancé who can’t take a hint, and a poor fae prince you’re supposed to rescue.

But you? Yeah, you’re not that patient.

“No way am I waiting a whole year for some garbage plot to unfold,” you mutter, throwing the covers off. “I’m just going to free Malleus now, take my reward, and live a quiet, drama-free life by the beach.”

With that plan firmly in mind, you march out the door.

It takes a bit of wandering through some overly cursed forest, but you eventually find Malleus’s “prison.” And honestly? It’s not nearly as dramatic as you expected.

There he is, sitting in the middle of a clearing, chained up in some kind of spooky-but-also-weirdly-ornate setup. He looks just as the novel described: tall, dark-haired, horns giving him an air of mystery and power. But what you weren’t prepared for? The way his eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees you.

“I wasn’t expecting… company,” Malleus says, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You pause for a second. He looks intimidating, sure, but there’s something oddly… sweet about him. Like a guy who’d get excited over a party invite and then be too shy to actually show up.

“Yeah, I’m just here to get this whole ‘curse-breaking’ thing out of the way,” you say casually, walking up to the chains. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Malleus blinks, looking a bit confused. “You… are not attracted to me?”

You snort. “Nah, not really. You’re nice to look at, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got my own problems. Let’s just get you free so I can collect my reward and move on.”

He still looks mildly surprised but nods. “Very well.”

With a shrug, you reach out and touch the chains. There’s a brief flicker of light, and they dissolve. Just like that.

Malleus looks down at his freed wrists, clearly shocked. “It… it worked.”

“Yeah, wild, right?” you say, brushing off your hands. “So, about that reward…”

Before you can finish, Malleus stands and, in a tone so polite it makes you feel guilty, says, “You have freed me. Please, allow me to invite you to stay at my castle. As a guest.”

You blink at him. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

Malleus’s expression falters for a moment, and you swear he looks a little sad. “But… I would like to repay you for your kindness.”

He’s giving you this look, all wide-eyed and hopeful, and you realize—he just wants to hang out.

Oh no.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan. “I’ll stick around for a bit.”

The way his face lights up is honestly too pure for someone who was supposed to be all intimidating and all-powerful.

When you arrive at Malleus’s castle, things get interesting real fast. You’re greeted by his entourage—Sebek, who looks like he’s one insult away from going Super Saiyan; Silver, who’s napping on his feet; and Lilia, who seems like the embodiment of chaos.

Sebek is the first to speak, scowling at you with righteous fury. “How DARE you approach Lord Malleus with such insolence!”

You roll your eyes. “I just freed him. You’re welcome.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but Lilia steps forward, his sharp grin making you instantly suspicious. “Oh? You broke the curse? Without being… swayed by our dear Malleus’s charms?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Fascinating. You must have quite the willpower. Or perhaps…” He looks you up and down, clearly intrigued. “You simply have different tastes?”

You blink. Then, without thinking, you point at him. “Actually, yeah. You’re hot.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence, during which Sebek looks like he’s been hit with a brick, and Lilia lets out a delighted laugh.

“Oh, you are a delight,” Lilia says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Perhaps you should stay longer.”

“You think I’m joking, but I’m not,” you deadpan, earning a grin from Lilia.

Silver, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and completely unfazed by your chaos. “Good job on freeing Malleus,” he mutters, yawning.

Malleus, who has been silent this whole time, finally speaks up. “You… do not find me attractive?”

You turn to him and sigh. “Look, it’s not that you’re not attractive. You’re, like… objectively pretty. But I don’t really go for the whole cursed prince thing.”

Malleus seems to process this slowly, his brows furrowing slightly. “I see…”

“But don’t worry,” you add quickly, feeling a bit bad for the guy. “You’re sweet. It’s a compliment, really.”

Malleus looks a little less confused and a bit more happy. “Sweet? No one has ever called me that before.”

You snort. “Well, I’m calling it now. And hey, you’ve got your freedom, right? Now you can get invited to all those parties you wanted.”

At this, Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, and you realize—oh no, he’s the type who really just wants to be invited to stuff.

“Oh,” you mutter under your breath, “you’re like a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused, but before he can ask, Lilia leans in with a knowing grin. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “This is gonna be a long stay, isn’t it?”

Lilia’s smile widens. “Oh, most definitely.”

Later, you’re sitting around the dining hall with the group when Lilia casually brings up the dreaded plot points.

“So, when do you think the magical plague of squirrels will hit?” he asks, almost too casually.

You nearly choke on your drink. “The what now?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Lilia smirks. “There’s a prophecy. The squirrels will overrun the kingdom unless someone stops them.”

You blink. “This is real? I thought that part was a fever dream.”

Malleus nods seriously. “The squirrels are quite the threat.”

You slam your head on the table. “I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

Silver, half-asleep as always, just yawns. “I’ll take care of them. Probably.”

And that’s when you realize: maybe you should have let the curse be.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you and Malleus… well, you’ve become friends. It started small, mostly casual conversations where he’d hover around, awkward but eager, just happy to be included. There was this one time you invited him to tea, and the poor guy looked like he was about to cry from happiness. Now? You’re taking your frienship to the next level.

“Hey,” you say, strolling into the throne room where Malleus is doing the farthest thing from brooding. He’s just kind of standing there, staring out the window like he’s daydreaming about a really nice picnic. “Want to go to the market with me?”

The look on his face is priceless. His eyes widen like you’ve just handed him a golden ticket to the best party of the year. “You… want me to accompany you?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, as if this isn’t the biggest deal of his life. “I need to pick up some stuff, and I figured it’d be more fun with a friend. Plus, y’know, maybe someone will actually give me a discount if you’re there.”

Malleus looks like you just offered him the world “I would be honored.”

And that’s how you, Malleus, and the rest of his chaotic entourage—because of course they followed—ended up at the bustling market.

Sebek? Less than thrilled. In fact, you think he might actually be foaming at the mouth. “I cannot believe you are fraternizing with Lord Malleus so casually! Do you not understand the honor you’ve been given?!”

“Sebek,” you sigh, waving a hand dismissively, “we’ve been over this. I’m his friend. Friends do normal stuff together. You know, like going to the market.”

Sebek glares at you like you’ve just insulted his entire bloodline. “Lord Malleus does not engage in such trivialities!”

“Uh,” you glance over at Malleus, who is currently inspecting a row of intricately carved fruit. “He’s literally doing it right now, Sebek.”

Malleus turns to you, holding up a fruit shaped like a tiny dragon. “Would you like to try one? It is said to bring good fortune.”

You grin at him. “If you’re offering, I’m down.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode from sheer indignation.

“You dare—!”

“Sebek,” Malleus cuts in, his voice as gentle as ever. “I am quite enjoying myself. There’s no need to worry.”

You grin at the sight. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Malleus glances at you, a little bashful but still smiling. “I have never been invited to something like this before. It is… a new experience.”

Oh god, he’s so sweet. You feel like you’re corrupting a baby deer by dragging him into the real world, but it’s so worth it.

Lilia, however, is having the time of his life. He leans over, grinning like the mischievous little gremlin he is, and whispers in your ear, “I must say, you’ve got quite the charm. Lord Malleus rarely accepts invitations. You might be more important to him than you think.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, maybe he just really likes fruit.”

Lilia laughs, a sound that’s equal parts endearing and dangerous. “Or maybe he enjoys your company, hm?”

“Careful,” you say, flashing a grin. “Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I might start flirting back.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Oh? I think I’d enjoy that.”

Oh god, he’s not backing down. Now you’re in the deep end. “Listen, if you keep going, I’m gonna have to ask if you’ve got plans for dinner.”

“I’m free this evening,” Lilia replies smoothly. “Shall I prepare a feast? Or perhaps we could have something more… intimate?”

You blink at him, unable to tell if he’s messing with you or if this is just how he operates. Either way, you’re so down to find out.

Before you can respond, Sebek cuts in, voice raised to what can only be described as ‘angry airhorn.’ “You will not speak so casually to Master Lilia!”

“Oh, Sebek, relax,” you say, patting him on the shoulder, which is a mistake because it feels like patting a brick wall. “He likes it.”

Lilia winks at you, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “Indeed, I do.”

You smirk, shooting Lilia a playful look. “See? The man’s practically begging for attention.”

Malleus, meanwhile, has been watching this entire exchange with mild confusion. “Is this what humans call… flirting?”

You give him an exaggerated nod. “Yup. It’s a sacred tradition. Very serious stuff.”

“I see,” Malleus muses, looking between you and Lilia. “Perhaps I should try it as well?”

“Oh, please don’t,” Sebek groans, looking absolutely horrified at the idea of Malleus flirting. “Lord Malleus, you are above such trivial pursuits!”

Lilia is practically cackling at this point. “Now, now, Sebek. It wouldn’t hurt to let Malleus explore new experiences.”

You grin and elbow Malleus lightly. “Don’t listen to Sebek. You can totally flirt if you want.”

Malleus, sweet as he is, looks completely serious when he asks, “What would I say? I do not wish to offend.”

You pause, trying very hard not to laugh. “Okay, how about this? Try complimenting someone. Like…” You glance around and point at a vendor selling flowers. “Tell them they have lovely flowers.”

Malleus nods, taking this very seriously, and walks over to the vendor. You, Lilia, Sebek, and Silver (who’s been napping the whole time) watch as Malleus, ever the gentleman, says to the vendor, “Your flowers… are as radiant as the moonlight.”

The vendor looks flustered, blushing furiously. “Oh! Thank you, My Lord!”

You can’t help but laugh. “See? You’re a natural.”

Malleus returns to your side, looking pleased with himself. “I believe that went well.”

“Yeah, now you just have to work on *accepting* compliments,” you say with a wink, and Malleus tilts his head slightly in confusion.

“Accepting?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “like, if I were to tell you you’re the sweetest giant fae-dragon puppy I’ve ever met, you’d say…?”

Malleus looks genuinely flustered, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink. “I… would say… thank you?”

“Good enough,” you laugh, nudging him playfully. “We’ll work on it.”

Sebek is muttering to himself about ‘disrespect’ and ‘sacrilege,’ but Malleus looks… happy. Like, really happy. He’s still a little awkward, sure, but you can tell he’s having a good time. Probably more fun than he’s had in years.

Lilia, meanwhile, is back at your side, leaning in close with that smirk of his. “You’re quite the influence, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” you grin, “someone’s gotta drag him into the real world.”

“Perhaps you’ll drag me into something as well?” Lilia purrs, his voice low and teasing.

You blink at him. “Keep talking, and I might actually propose to you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Lilia says, eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps later tonight?”

“Is that an invitation?” you quip, raising an eyebrow.

Sebek practically has steam coming out of his ears. “Master Lilia!”

But Lilia just laughs, utterly unfazed. “Oh, Sebek. You really must learn to loosen up.”

Silver yawns loudly, cutting through Sebek’s rant like a chainsaw through butter. “Can we get food now?”

You snort. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Malleus, ever the polite host, nods eagerly. “Yes, let us dine together. A family outing is not complete without a meal.”

You pause, blinking. Family? Did he just call this a family outing?

Lilia catches your expression and chuckles. “Oh dear, it seems Malleus has grown quite fond of you.”

You shoot him a playful glare. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Lilia says, smiling knowingly. “In fact, I believe it’s quite the opposite.”

Before you can respond, Malleus steps up, still radiating pure joy. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight? I would very much enjoy your company.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to self-destruct from sheer disbelief, but you? You can’t help but grin. “Sure, why not? But if I catch you stealing my dessert, it’s game over.”

Malleus chuckles, his awkwardness fading just a bit. “I shall do my best to restrain myself.”

Lilia leans over, voice low and teasing again. “Perhaps you’ll save dessert for me, hm?”

You snort. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

“Ah, but I’m a fae. Luck is my specialty.”

You shake your head, grinning as you walk alongside Malleus, who’s positively glowing with happiness. Yeah, this is one weird, dysfunctional family, but maybe you like it that way.

It’s quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones, making you feel both peaceful and unbearably restless. You find yourself standing on a balcony, overlooking the courtyard bathed in moonlight. The cool breeze whispers through the trees, the scent of night-blooming flowers drifting lazily through the air.

Lilia stands beside you, leaning against the stone railing, his usual playful demeanor absent. In its place is a rare solemnity, something you’ve only seen glimpses of before. You glance at him, noting the way the moonlight catches in his hair, casting soft shadows across his face. It feels... strange, seeing him like this. So serious, so quiet.

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice soft but weighted with emotion. “I was terrified, you know. Of losing him.”

You don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. Malleus. The curse that had wrapped around him for so long, a dark cloud that threatened to take him away. You had been the unexpected catalyst for breaking it, and while you hadn’t fully understood the gravity of it at the time, you’re beginning to now.

Lilia continues, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “I’ve lived a long time. I’ve seen many things, lost many people... but the thought of losing him...” He trails off, his voice catching in a way that makes your heart ache. “It would have broken me.”

You swallow, unsure of what to say. What can you say to something like that? You’re just... you. You never asked to be involved in any of this, never imagined that you’d become such an important part of these people’s lives. But here you are.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you finally manage, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just... there.”

Lilia turns to look at you, and there’s something deep in his eyes—something raw and real that takes your breath away. “Sometimes just being there is enough,” he says quietly. “You saved him. And in doing so, you saved me too.”

You shift uncomfortably, not because of his words, but because of the way they tug at something deep inside of you. A part of you that you’ve been trying to keep buried for as long as you’ve been in this strange, unfamiliar world.

You’re silent for a long time, your gaze fixed on the moonlit sky. The memories of your old life swirl in your mind—your family, your best friend, all the people you’ve left behind. You haven’t spoken about it to anyone here, not in detail. It feels too dangerous, too vulnerable. But standing here, under the moonlight with Lilia, you feel like maybe... just maybe... you can share a piece of it.

“I miss them,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “My family. My best friend. I miss... home.”

Lilia doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his presence beside you, warm and steady. He doesn’t press for details, doesn’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer. He just listens, and somehow, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. “It’s hard,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “Being here. Being away from them. Sometimes it feels like... like I’m losing pieces of myself. Like I’m forgetting what it felt like to be... whole.”

Lilia’s hand gently rests on your shoulder, a comforting weight that grounds you. “You haven’t lost yourself,” he says quietly. “Not even a little.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. You don’t know if he’s right, but in this moment, you want to believe him. You want to believe that despite everything, despite the distance and the pain and the uncertainty, you’re still... you.

For a long time, the two of you stand in silence, the only sounds the soft rustling of the trees and the distant chirping of crickets. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting everything in a silvery glow. There’s a quiet understanding between you and Lilia, a shared pain that neither of you needs to fully explain.

Eventually, Lilia speaks again, his voice so soft it almost blends with the wind. “The world can be a cruel place,” he murmurs. “But it can also be kind. And in moments like this... it feels just a little more bearable, doesn’t it?”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It does.”

The night stretches on, and though neither of you say anything more, there’s a comfort in the silence. A bond formed in the quiet acknowledgment of each other’s pain. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re not quite so alone.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay.

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here, but somehow, you’re on a date with Lilia. Yes, that Lilia—lord of chaos, culinary adventurer, and general source of havoc.

The setting is picturesque enough: a meadow at sunset, complete with wildflowers and a gentle breeze. At least, it would be picturesque if not for the feast Lilia has prepared, which has a worrying amount of color, movement, and mystery.

“Surprise is the key to a romantic evening,” Lilia declares as he gestures proudly over the assortment of dishes.

You take a moment to assess the display. There’s a vibrantly colored stew that seems to be emitting steam with a life of its own. A platter of vegetables is twitching as if they’re reconsidering their life choices. And there’s a pie—definitely a pie—with something that looks suspiciously like an eyeball poking out from under the crust.

Lilia smiles at you, eyes glinting. “Would you like to try the stew first, my dear? It’s my own special concoction.”

You stare at it, then at him. “How many people have survived eating this?”

Lilia leans in, eyes full of mischief. “Define survived.”

You grin. “Only one way to find out, right?” Before he can respond, you reach for the bowl and take a large spoonful of the stew. Lilia’s eyebrows rise, clearly impressed by your boldness.

It tastes... unusual. Like someone mixed spicy peppers, sweet berries, and some kind of very sharp herb. You take another bite, considering.

Lilia watches you, waiting for a reaction. “Well?” he asks, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You swallow, then nod thoughtfully. “It’s... actually good. Really good, in fact.”

Lilia blinks, his expression shifting from mischief to genuine surprise. “Really?”

You nod again, going in for a third bite, savoring the strange combination of flavors. “Yeah! I mean, it’s different, but in a good way. The spice, the sweetness... it kind of works.”

Lilia’s face lights up, his delight palpable. “You truly mean it? My culinary prowess is usually met with... trepidation.”

“Trepidation might be an understatement,” you say with a laugh. “But honestly? I think people don’t give you enough credit.”

From somewhere nearby, a strangled gasp echoes across the meadow.

“Master Lilia!” Sebek’s voice rings out, sounding more horrified than ever. You glance in the direction of the bushes where, sure enough, they’re rustling. Apparently, Sebek has taken it upon himself to supervise this date from afar.

Lilia chuckles, clearly enjoying Sebek's reaction as much as yours. “Oh, my dear Sebek. One day, you shall learn that adventure begins in the kitchen.”

You take a sip of the iridescent liquid before you—a drink that looks more like a potion than anything else. It’s sparkling, and it has the distinct taste of... glittery fruit juice? You’re not sure, but it’s oddly refreshing.

Lilia eyes you, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “I must say, you are full of surprises. Most would have fainted by now.”

“Hey, I can handle a little excitement,” you say, reaching for one of the twitching vegetables.

Lilia watches in awe as you pop it into your mouth and chew. “And?” he asks, almost breathless.

You blink. “Crunchy. Kind of earthy. I like it.”

Lilia’s smile widens, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Oh, how wonderful! My dear, you truly are one of a kind.”

Sebek’s dismayed groan echoes once again, and you laugh, glancing toward the bushes. “I think we’re breaking poor Sebek.”

“Well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Lilia replies, leaning closer to you. “And speaking of fun, I have something special for you.” He produces a bright blue flower, presenting it to you with a flourish.

You take it, giving it a cautious sniff. It smells like fresh-baked cookies, and you look at Lilia, raising an eyebrow. “A flower that smells like dessert? Now you’re really spoiling me.”

Lilia’s eyes soften, his voice lowering. “Only the best for someone who appreciates my unique touch.”

Before you can reply, there’s another voice—this one distinctly sleepy. “Father, what... what’s going on here?” Silver approaches, looking like he just woke up from a nap. He takes one look at the scene—the half-eaten dishes, the flower in your hand, and Lilia’s delighted expression—and sighs. “Are you actually eating this... willingly?”

You nod, grinning. “Turns out Lilia’s cooking isn’t so bad. It’s actually kind of great.”

Silver looks at you, then at Lilia, then back at you. He blinks, his brain clearly trying to process this information. “Father, are you using magic to manipulate their taste buds?”

Lilia puts a hand over his heart, looking offended. “Silver, how could you suggest such a thing? I assure you, our dear friend here is enjoying my cooking purely of their own volition.”

Silver sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I think I need another nap.”

Lilia laughs, turning his attention back to you, his eyes filled with affection. “You truly are something special, my dear. Few have ever dared, let alone enjoyed, my creations.”

You smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Lilia leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Would it be too much to say I find you... irresistible?”

You chuckle, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

Lilia smirks, his gaze full of warmth. “Ah, but pushing my luck is what I do best. Perhaps next time, I’ll cook an even more adventurous meal for us.”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “Define adventurous.”

Lilia’s eyes glint mischievously. “How about roasted phoenix feathers?”

“Phoenix feathers?” you echo, shaking your head with a laugh. “You know what? I think I like you just the way you are—absurd cooking experiments and all.”

Lilia’s expression softens, his smile turning tender. “I’m glad to hear it.”

With that, the two of you rise, arm in arm, leaving behind the bizarre remains of the meal. Somewhere in the bushes, Sebek is probably fuming, and Silver has most likely already fallen asleep again.

But as you glance at Lilia, whose eyes are still filled with excitement and warmth, you think that maybe absurd is just what you need.

You love this little family, but you had to gain equal footing with Sebek before you got attached any further. So you did what you thought would work the best— Challenge him in something he enjoys.

You and Sebek had been circling the field for a while now, your horses galloping side by side as you both tried to outpace each other. The competitive tension was thick in the air, though not hostile—it was more of an unspoken game to see who would crack first.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been riding horses for *years*?” Sebek shouts over the wind, his eyes sharp with determination.

“Yup,” you reply, grinning as your horse picks up speed. “Equestrian club, since I was a kid. Surprised?”

Sebek huffs, his posture straight and rigid as always, but you can tell he’s impressed. “It’s… commendable. For a human, you’ve got some skill.”

“Some skill?” you tease, glancing over at him with a mischievous smile. “Is that all I get? Come on, Sebek, I thought you were competitive.”

He narrows his eyes at you, spurring his horse faster to pull ahead. “I am competitive! You’ll find I do not lose so easily.”

You laugh, nudging your horse to keep up. There’s a thrill in it—pushing each other, but not in a mean way. Sebek’s passion for horse riding matches your own, and it’s fun to finally find common ground with him. Plus, you’re enjoying the challenge.

The field blurs by as you both race toward the far fence, neither of you backing down. As you approach the finish line (or rather, the arbitrary spot you both decided was the end), you both cross it at nearly the same time, pulling your horses to a halt, panting slightly.

Sebek is the first to speak, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Hmph. You’re not bad.”

“Not bad? I’d say I’m pretty good,” you shoot back, grinning ear to ear.

Sebek scoffs, but there’s a lightness in his tone that wasn’t there before. “You’re still a human, but… I’ll admit, you ride with some honor.”

“Wow, high praise,” you tease, but you soften your smile. “Thanks, Sebek. You’re not half-bad yourself.”

For a split second, you think you catch the ghost of a smile on his face, but it quickly disappears as he straightens in his saddle. “Of course. Riding is in my blood.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, obviously. I bet you were born in the saddle.”

“Perhaps I was,” Sebek says, completely serious. You stifle a laugh, realizing he probably believes that.

But before you can retort, Lilia rides up, his usual mischievous grin firmly in place. “Ah, what’s this? A friendly competition between two of my favorite people?”

“Master Lilia,” Sebek says, immediately shifting into soldier mode. “We were just—”

“Competing, yes, I can see that.” Lilia’s grin widens as he glances between the two of you. “I must say, the sight of you both racing like that was… quite exhilarating.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “What, did we impress you?”

Lilia leans closer, voice dropping into a playful tone. “Oh, darling, I’ve been impressed by you for quite some time now.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to faint from sheer mortification. “MASTER LILIA! HUMAN!”

You laugh, waving Lilia off. “Careful, Sebek, you’re gonna scare your horse.”

But surprisingly, Sebek doesn’t snap back. Instead, he looks at you, something softer in his expression. “I admit… you’ve shown me something today. Perhaps you’re not just a reckless human after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow, Sebek. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re starting to like me.”

Sebek grumbles, looking away. “Do not mistake my words. I merely acknowledge your competence. Nothing more.”

“Sure, sure,” you reply, still grinning. “But hey, anytime you wanna ride again, I’m game.”

Sebek glances back at you, his usual harshness softened just a bit. “Perhaps… I will take you up on that.”

Lilia chuckles, clearly pleased with the budding camaraderie. “Ah, it warms my heart to see you two bonding. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become the best of friends.”

You wink at Lilia. “Well, if Sebek keeps up, maybe I’ll make him my official riding partner.”

Sebek, for once, doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives a small, determined nod. “We shall see, human. We shall see.”

As you ride back toward the stables, you can’t help but smile. You’ve earned a bit of respect from Sebek, and who knows? Maybe you’ll turn this into a full-fledged rivalry—one with a bit more fun and a lot less shouting.

Lilia, of course, flirts all the way back, making sure to keep the mood light and teasing, much to Sebek’s increasing exasperation. But even he can't deny that today was fun

The day should've been as normal as you could have these days—your stomach had other plans. There’s this nagging craving in the back of your mind for ramen, but of course, you’re stuck in a medieval isekai world where even the concept of instant noodles would make heads explode.

You groan, pacing back and forth in your room. "Ramen, ramen, ramen..." You’re practically chanting it like a spell. Finally, you snap your fingers. "Alright! Let’s get some ramen going!"

With all the determination of a contestant in a cooking show, you head to the market, a list of makeshift ingredients mentally prepared. You have no clue how you’re going to explain seaweed or soy sauce to the vendors, but hey, you’ve gotten this far in life on sheer audacity.

Except, ten minutes later, you find yourself hopelessly lost. You had been walking with confidence, chest out, head high, until you somehow managed to wander into a part of town that definitely wasn’t on your mental map. Instead of bustling vendors and cheerful shoppers, you’re now looking at a spooky, abandoned-looking area, complete with dense fog and suspiciously creaky trees.

“This... This isn’t the market,” you mutter, pausing in front of a seriously ominous cottage. If there were ever a sign that said "DO NOT ENTER" in flashing neon, this would be it. And yet, for reasons unknown even to yourself, you approach.

Before you can bolt in the opposite direction, the door swings open with the most dramatic creak you’ve ever heard. A woman, dressed in black robes, stands in the doorway with a gaze that could curdle milk. Her aura practically screams witch, and not the cool kind either—the villainous, melodramatic kind.

“Well, well, well,” she sneers, stepping out with all the grace of a Broadway villain, “look who wandered into my lair.”

“Uh, yeah...” You trail off, scratching the back of your head. “So… this isn’t the market?”

The witch gives you a look so condescending it could melt iron. “No,” she hisses, “it most certainly is not. You’ve trespassed on my domain, little fool!”

“Right, so sorry about that,” you say, trying to backpedal. “I’m just trying to make some ramen, and I—wait, hold on, who are you exactly?”

Her eyes flash with annoyance. “You don’t know who I am?”

You blink at her. “Is this the part where you tell me, like in those cartoons? ‘Cause I’m getting major ‘I’m about to monologue’ vibes right now.”

The witch’s face twitches, clearly not used to people interrupting her villain speech. “I,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “am the witch who cursed Malleus Draconia!”

Oh, that witch. You’ve heard some stories about her, mostly from half-paying attention when your friend geeked out over the original plot. But now that you’re face-to-face with her... this is not how you pictured it. You tilt your head.

“So, wait,” you begin, trying to suppress a snicker, “you’re the one who came up with that whole 15-year curse plan? And your big finale was… what? Swooping in at the last second to save him and then expecting him to marry you?”

Her eyes narrow. “That was the plan.”

You stare at her for a moment, the absurdity sinking in. “...That’s ridiculous.”

“How dare you mock me?!” she shrieks, her voice reaching a pitch that probably scared some birds out of nearby trees. She raises her hand, dark magic swirling between her fingers, and you swear you can hear thunder crack in the distance.

“Okay, hang on,” you say, taking a cautious step back. “Let’s not get all zappy here. I’m just saying that’s a lot of effort for a plan that has, like, a one percent success rate.”

“Silence!” She’s fuming now, throwing her hand forward to launch the magic at you—and you brace yourself for the worst. You’ve seen this in movies before. This is the part where you get turned into a frog or something equally terrible.

Except… nothing happens.

The magic fizzles out midair like a dud firecracker, leaving a puff of smoke and an awkward silence in its wake. You blink. She blinks. You both stare at the spot where the magic should have been.

“Uh…” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck. “Was that supposed to do something?”

The witch looks at her hand, then at you, then back at her hand again like she’s having a serious identity crisis. “What...?”

“I mean, points for the drama, but I’m still standing here,” you say, waving your hand in front of your face as if checking for damage. “And I don’t think I’m a toad.”

She tries again, gathering more magic in her hands and launching it at you with renewed fury. But once again, nothing. The magic stops short, fizzling out like it’s hitting an invisible barrier around you. Now she’s just staring at you, dumbfounded.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely flabbergasted. “Okay, this is getting weird.”

That’s when Lilia appears—literally, out of nowhere. He casually steps out from behind a tree like this is all a normal Monday for him. “Ah, I thought I sensed some familiar mischief afoot,” he says, his voice cheerful, though his eyes glint with something far more dangerous as they lock onto the witch.

The witch recoils, visibly shaken. “Lilia Vanrouge,” she hisses, sounding more like a disgruntled cat than a fearsome sorceress.

“In the flesh,” he says with a light bow, his grin all sharp teeth and mischief. “What brings you out of your little hidey-hole?”

She glares at him but doesn’t say anything. She’s outmatched, and she knows it. With one last seething look at you, she vanishes into thin air with a dramatic whoosh of smoke, leaving you and Lilia alone in the now eerily quiet forest.

You turn to him, utterly confused. “What the heck was that about? Why didn’t her magic work on me?”

Lilia’s grin softens, his gaze turning fond. “Ah, I see I’ve forgotten to tell you. I placed a fae’s blessing on you some time ago.”

“Wait, what?” You gape at him. “When did you do that?!”

He chuckles, as if you asking when he bestowed a magical shield on you is the most amusing thing he’s heard all week. “You tend to attract trouble, my dear. I thought it best to give you a little extra protection.”

You blink at him, still processing. “So… you’ve been secretly protecting me this whole time?”

His gaze turns a bit more serious, the usual playful air dropping away. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he says softly, the words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

For a moment, you’re left speechless, flustered even. The teasing and jokes you’re so used to from Lilia are gone, replaced by something… deeper. It throws you off your game.

“Well, uh…” You clear your throat, desperately trying to recover. “I appreciate not getting turned into a frog or whatever she was planning.”

His grin returns, and the moment passes. “You’re welcome. Now, shall we head back to the market? I believe you were on a quest for... ramen, was it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as the absurdity of it all catches up with you. “Yeah, let’s do that. And maybe next time I’ll avoid wandering into spooky villain lairs.”

“An excellent plan,” he says, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

And just like that, you’re back on track—albeit a bit more shaken than before, but at least you’ve got a magical blessing you didn’t know about and one very charming fae escorting you through the mess.

You’re sitting under a large tree in the courtyard, soaking up the rare bit of peace and quiet that’s fallen over your life. It’s a nice day, the kind that makes you feel all warm and content, the sun shining gently through the leaves. Beside you, Silver is leaning against the trunk, dozing off as usual. You’ve become used to his tendency to fall asleep mid-conversation, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

He stirs a little, blinking his sleepy eyes open and looking at you with a soft smile. “It’s nice to have moments like this,” he says, voice a bit groggy. “Especially after everything.”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning back on your hands. “It’s been... a lot.”

Silver glances at you, his gaze thoughtful. “You really helped us. My family,” he says, his tone a bit more serious than usual. “Freeing Lord Malleus from that curse... it was no small feat.”

Your stomach twists a little at the mention of Malleus. It still feels surreal that you had a hand in such a monumental event. You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Eh, you know... just another day of accidentally stumbling into chaos.”

He chuckles lightly, his smile softening even more. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to thank you properly for what you’ve done. You really saved us all.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Stop, you’re going to make me blush. I was just trying to make some money, and suddenly I’m in the middle of an epic quest. You know how it is.”

Silver hums, half-amused, and then casually drops the bomb on you like it’s the most normal thing in the world: “You’d be perfect with Father.”

Your brain short-circuits. “...Sorry, what?”

Silver, utterly oblivious to the internal crisis he’s just unleashed within you, looks at you with that serene, peaceful expression of his. “Father. You’d be perfect with him.”

The world screeches to a halt. *Perfect? With Lilia?* You stare at him, wide-eyed, your mouth hanging open in a most undignified manner. “I’m sorry, did you just—did you just suggest that I—me—should be with your father?!”

Silver nods, looking completely at peace with his assessment, like he’s just commented on the weather. “Yes. You two get along well. You make each other laugh, and he seems fond of you. And Father... well, he deserves someone who can make him smile like that.”

Your mind is racing at 100 miles per hour. “Silver. SILVER.” You clutch your head as if physically holding your brain together will stop it from spiraling into madness. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

Silver, ever the calm and composed knight, merely tilts his head. “Was it something strange?”

“STRANGE?!” You’re flailing now, completely losing your cool. “You just casually suggested I should date your father! Who, may I remind you, is an ancient fae with enough power to casually toss me into another dimension if he wanted!”

Silver blinks, seeming to consider this for a moment. “I don’t think he’d toss you into another dimension. He’d probably just... laugh and then take you out to dinner.”

You’re having a full-blown existential crisis. Your face is bright red, your heart is doing somersaults, and you’re not sure if you want to scream, faint, or throw yourself into the nearest fountain.

Silver, meanwhile, is just sitting there, serene and utterly oblivious to the emotional chaos he’s just unleashed upon you. “Father’s a good person,” He says softly. “I think you two would be happy together.”

“I... I...” You sputter, trying to form words but utterly failing as images of Lilia’s teasing smile and playful banter run through your mind. And then you imagine the alternative: Lilia’s serious side, the one that is somehow even more terrifyingly attractive, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Oh no,” you whisper, clutching your chest. “Oh no, no, no... Silver, what have you done?”

Silver looks at you with concern now, finally noticing that you’re having what can only be described as a breakdown. “Are you alright?"

“NO!” you cry, standing up and pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve broken me! You’ve ruined me! I’m—Silver, your father is... He’s... and I... Oh, gods, this is too much. TOO MUCH!”

Silver watches you pace for a moment before quietly saying, “You’re thinking about it, though.”

You freeze mid-step. “I—NO! Maybe? Yes? I—Why would you say that, Silver?!”

He just smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Because it’s true.”

You slump back down beside him, groaning loudly as you cover your face with your hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Silver chuckles softly, resting his head back against the tree again. “I’ve heard that before.”

And as you sit there, your mind spinning with thoughts of Lilia and all the ridiculous, impossible implications Silver’s comment has brought to life, you can’t help but think that maybe—just *maybe*—he has a point.

But you’re not ready to admit that yet. Not even to yourself.

“I need a drink,” you mumble under your breath, and Silver hums in agreement.

“Father would probably help you make it,” he says, and you let out a loud groan, flopping onto the grass in dramatic defeat.

“Silver, you’re killing me.”

He just smiles that peaceful smile of his.

It’s a quiet afternoon, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. You’re standing with Malleus and Sebek in one of the palace’s gardens, the tranquil hum of life around you contrasting with the more serious conversation that’s about to unfold. You can feel the weight of what Malleus is about to say, and your mind spins as you prepare yourself for another emotionally charged moment.

Malleus takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “For the longest time,” he begins, his voice soft and filled with an unspoken vulnerability, “I thought I would be stuck. Trapped in that cursed state forever. I had resigned myself to it, believing that it was my fate to be alone.”

You shift slightly, unsure how to respond to such raw honesty. Sebek, standing next to Malleus, is silent for once, his usual loud and defensive nature tempered by the gravity of his lord’s words.

“But then you came along,” Malleus continues, turning his glowing eyes toward you. “You broke the curse, something no one had been able to do. You gave me back my freedom, something I had lost hope of ever regaining.”

Sebek clears his throat loudly, his usual dramatic flair coming to the surface despite the tenderness of the moment. “Yes, well,” he says, voice gruff but tinged with the awkwardness of someone who isn’t quite used to expressing gratitude. “I... suppose we should be... grateful. After all, if it weren’t for you, Lord Malleus would still be... cursed, and we wouldn’t be here together as we are now.”

You blink at Sebek’s begrudging admission, feeling a small smile tug at your lips. The fact that he of all people is thanking you, even in such a roundabout way, is oddly touching.

“Wow, Sebek,” you say, voice teasing but soft. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Sebek bristles at your words, his expression a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “D-Don’t misunderstand!” he exclaims, face turning a shade redder than usual. “I’m merely stating the facts! Nothing more!”

Malleus chuckles softly at Sebek’s outburst, his usual gentle smile returning to his face. “Sebek’s gratitude, no matter how begrudging, is indeed a rarity,” he teases lightly before turning his attention back to you. “But truly, I am grateful. You’ve given me back more than just my freedom. You’ve given me back... this.”

He gestures around him, indicating the garden, the palace, the sky above. “This life, this chance to be with those I care about. And for that, I owe you a debt that I may never be able to repay.”

You shift awkwardly, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “I mean, I didn’t really set out to save anyone,” you admit, your voice light but with an edge of honesty. “I just... wanted the reward. And then maybe to go home.”

Sebek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Malleus holds up a hand, stopping him before he can launch into one of his dramatic tirades

You hesitate, glancing between Malleus and Sebek. “I didn’t think I’d get attached,” you admit quietly, your voice softening. “But I have. Somehow, I’ve found myself... caring about all of you. This weird little makeshift family.”

Sebek looks as though he’s about to protest the “weird” part, but a stern glance from Malleus keeps him quiet. You can see the begrudging acknowledgment in his eyes, though—he knows it’s true, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Malleus hums thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he speaks again. “Well,” he says casually, as if discussing something as simple as the weather, “if you’re so attached, perhaps we should make it official. Perhaps you should marry into the family."

You freeze. Did he just—?

You whip your head towards Malleus, completely flustered. “M-Marry?! What?!”

Sebek, on the other hand, looks as if someone just punched him in the face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, his eyes wide with outrage. “L-Lord Malleus, what are you suggesting?!” he sputters.

Malleus blinks, as calm as ever. “I’m suggesting marriage,” he repeats, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “If they are so attached to us, it seems a reasonable next step. Perhaps they should marry Lilia?”

Your face turns a bright shade of red as your heart pounds in your chest. “Wh-What?!” you stammer. “Lilia?!”

Sebek turns even redder, his face contorting in disbelief. “Master Lilia?!”

Malleus nods sagely, completely unfazed by both of your reactions. “Yes, Lilia. He has shown great affection for them, and they would fit well within our family. Would you not agree, Sebek?”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s an uncomfortable silence as he realizes… he can’t argue. He knows Malleus and Lilia both care about you. He knows that you’ve proven yourself to be a good person, despite his initial distrust. His mouth twitches, the words clearly struggling to escape his throat.

“I—well—Lord Malleus,” Sebek starts, looking every bit as if he’s been defeated by sheer logic. “I… I must admit… They are a suitable companion for Master Lilia… even if the idea of them marrying… well, it is quite… outrageous.”

You feel your soul leave your body as the conversation continues. Sebek can’t quite bring himself to fully agree, yet he doesn’t outright refuse the idea either. His loyalty to his lords binds him, and his begrudging acceptance of your presence has left him caught between duty and outrage.

“I—This—” you stammer, completely overwhelmed. “I—This is insane!”

Malleus looks at you with a calm smile. “Think it over,” he says, voice gentle. “You’ve already become part of our lives. Why not make it official?”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat as you see the sincerity in his eyes. This isn’t just a flippant suggestion—it’s Malleus genuinely offering you a place in his family. But the idea of marrying Lilia? That’s… that’s a whole new level of madness.

“I—I think I need to lie down,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your temples. “This is too much.”

Malleus chuckles softly, and even Sebek seems to relax—if only a little. But as you glance between the two of them, you can’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. Even with all the absurdity, you know one thing for sure: you’ve found a place with them, whether you intended to or not.

The cat was just sitting there. Innocently perched on the branch, fluffy and regal like a tiny, judgmental king. You don’t even know what possessed you, really. Maybe it was those huge, adorable eyes or the way its tail flicked back and forth. But somehow, someway, you ended up halfway up a tree. Climbing a tree. For a cat.

“I just wanted to pet you,” you mutter, feeling slightly ridiculous as you hug the branch for dear life. “And now I’m stuck. Great.”

The cat stares at you, completely indifferent to your plight. You sigh, glancing down at the ground, which now seems alarmingly far away. Heights were never your thing, but in the moment, with that cute little furball teasing you, logic flew right out the window. Now, you’re clinging to the tree like a cowardly kitten yourself.

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” you groan. The cat blinks at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This is all your fault!”

And then, because fate has a terrible sense of humor, you hear a voice from below. A familiar, unmistakable voice—playful, with a hint of amusement laced through it.

“Well, well, what do we have here? It appears my dear little beastie has gotten themselves stuck.”

You nearly slip off the branch as you glance down to see Lilia standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and an infuriatingly amused grin on his face. He looks every bit the mischievous fae, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter.

“I—uh—this is—” You stammer, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, but nothing comes. You’re halfway up a tree. Because of a cat. No explanation is going to save your dignity now.

Lilia tilts his head, chuckling. “Were you planning on living up there from now on? Or should I assist you in returning to the ground?”

“Hey, don’t judge me!” you huff, cheeks burning. “The cat—look at the cat! It was really cute, okay?”

Lilia glances up at the feline, which is now licking its paw in complete disinterest. He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, the cat. I see now. How could anyone resist such a noble creature?”

You groan, feeling your face get even hotter. “I—um—I might need help getting down.”

Lilia’s grin widens. “Of course, my dear. I was planning on catching you anyway.”

You freeze. “C-Catching me?”

“Mmhm. Just jump down, and I’ll catch you,” Lilia says, his tone so casual, as if catching people out of trees is just something he does every day. He spreads his arms out, waiting expectantly.

Your heart races as you eye the distance between the branch and the ground again. It’s not terribly high, but… still high enough to make you nervous. But Lilia’s standing there with that easy confidence, and the thought of staying stuck in this tree forever doesn’t exactly appeal to you either.

Taking a deep breath, you inch closer to the edge of the branch. “O-Okay. I’m going to jump.”

“Go ahead,” Lilia says, his voice soft. “I’ll catch you.”

With one last look at the disinterested cat, you finally push yourself off the branch. For a split second, there’s nothing but the rush of air—and then you feel yourself land securely in Lilia’s arms. You’re caught. Easily, gently. Like it was nothing at all.

He looks down at you, his face much closer than you anticipated. “See? I told you I would catch you.”

You’re breathless for a moment, your heart doing flips as you realize just how close you are to him. His arms are around you, holding you steady, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. He’s staring at you with that soft, amused smile, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of just how handsome he is.

“Oh no,” you whisper to yourself, “I’m swooning.”

Lilia raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Y-You’re really smooth,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Like, catching me so easily and looking at me like that. It’s—it’s really unfair.”

He chuckles softly, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Unfair, you say?”

“Yeah, like—like, you’re so effortlessly cool and charming, and I—” You freeze, suddenly realizing what you’re saying. You clamp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and your brain has completely short-circuited.

And then, before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out of you in a panicked rush. “Okay, I like you! No, wait—I think I’m in love with you! I mean, how could I not be? You’re so amazing, and I just—Oh god, I’m confessing! I’m confessing right now, aren’t I? This is a confession. Oh no, this is terrible. I didn’t mean to—”

You feel your entire body heat up as you bury your face in your hands, completely mortified. Of all the ways you could’ve confessed your feelings to Lilia, this had to be the worst possible way. You weren’t ready! You were supposed to be calm and collected, not blurting it out after getting caught in a tree!

For a moment, there’s silence. And then, you hear the softest chuckle from Lilia. His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you just a little closer.

“You’re adorable,” he says, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You peek through your fingers, confused. “Huh?”

“I’ve known for a while that your feelings for me were more than friendly,” Lilia continues, his smile gentle. “But hearing you confess like this… it’s endearing.”

You blink, trying to process his words. “Wait—you’ve known?”

Lilia nods. “You’re not as subtle as you think, my dear.”

You groan again, hiding your face in your hands once more. “This is so embarrassing…”

Lilia laughs softly, and before you know it, he leans in and presses a light, gentle kiss to your forehead. Your heart skips a beat, and you lower your hands, looking up at him in surprise.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Lilia says, his eyes soft. “I’m honored to be the one you’ve chosen.”

Your heart flutters as his words sink in, and you realize that, despite your mortification, he’s… accepting your feelings. He’s not teasing you or brushing it off—he’s genuinely acknowledging your confession. And more than that… he’s reciprocating.

“Lilia…” you whisper, your face still burning with embarrassment, but also with a warmth that you can’t quite describe.

He leans in a little closer, his nose brushing against yours. “You don’t need to say anything more, my dear. Just know that I feel the same.”

And with that, Lilia closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your heart race even faster. All thoughts of your earlier panic melt away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the feeling of being completely safe in his arms.

As he pulls back, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. Lilia smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection.

“So,” he says, his voice teasing, “was that worth climbing a tree for?”

You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “I… I think so.”

Lilia laughs softly, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the ground. “Next time, though, perhaps we’ll find a more dignified setting for your confessions, hmm?”

You groan, covering your face again as you mutter, “Please don’t remind me…”

But despite your embarrassment, you can’t help the small, giddy smile that creeps onto your face as you realize that, somehow, things turned out perfectly anyway.

You sit with Lilia on a bench beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, the same one he caught you from, nerves simmering beneath your calm exterior. He’s as composed as ever, leaning back against the tree with a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

Across from you sit Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, all three watching you with varying degrees of curiosity—Malleus with calm interest, Silver with that sleepy, gentle acceptance, and Sebek with what you’re sure is the beginning of a tirade bubbling just beneath the surface.

“We have some news,” Lilia says, breaking the silence with his usual playful tone. His hand slips into yours, squeezing lightly. “About us.”

Malleus’s eyes light up with interest, his draconic gaze honing in on the subtle intertwining of your hands with Lilia’s. “News?” he repeats, leaning forward slightly. “What sort of news?”

You exchange a glance with Lilia, and he gives you a nod, as if to say go on, it’s safe. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and blurt out, “We’re together. Like, romantically.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Malleus’s eyes widen, his entire face brightening with delight. “Truly?” he asks, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face. “That is wonderful news! You will be joining the family then?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by how happy he is. “Uh, well—eventually, I guess. We haven’t exactly planned a wedding yet…”

“But when we do,” Lilia interjects smoothly, eyes glinting with amusement, “you will be the first to receive an invitation, Malleus.”

Malleus beams, the delight practically radiating off him like sunlight. “I would expect no less. To witness your union—ah, it will be a grand day.”

Meanwhile, Silver gives you both a small, approving nod. His expression is calm, though there’s a softness in his eyes that shows he’s happy for you. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice as gentle as ever. “Father deserves someone who makes him happy. And you… you seem to do that.”

Your heart warms at the approval from Silver. “Thanks, Silver,” you say, offering him a smile in return.

And then there’s Sebek.

For a moment, he just stares at you and Lilia, his mouth working as if he’s trying to form words. You brace yourself for the inevitable protest, expecting him to shout something about how inappropriate it is, or how you could never be good enough for Lilia, or—

“You…” Sebek finally speaks, though his tone is less outraged than you anticipated. He scowls, but there’s an undeniable hint of reluctant acceptance in his eyes. “You’re together, then?”

Lilia nods, his smile never wavering. “Indeed, Sebek.”

Sebek inhales deeply, closing his eyes as if preparing for some kind of inner battle. You can almost hear him wrestling with his instincts, wanting to object but also unable to deny the truth of the situation. After a long pause, he finally exhales and mutters, “Well… I suppose… if it makes Master Lilia happy, then…”

You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when Sebek opens his eyes again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “But that does not mean you should grow complacent! Just because Master Lilia has chosen you does not mean you are exempt from proving yourself worthy!”

Lilia laughs softly at Sebek’s stubbornness, and you can’t help but grin. “Of course, Sebek,” you say, teasing him lightly. “I’ll do my best to live up to your high standards.”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “See that you do.”

Despite his bluster, you can tell he’s not truly upset. There’s a begrudging acceptance in his stance, the same way someone might finally accept that their favorite hero isn’t perfect, but still worthy of respect. Sebek might not be able to fully wrap his head around the idea of you and Lilia being together, but deep down, you can tell he doesn’t disapprove. Not really.

Malleus, meanwhile, is still beaming. “I look forward to your wedding,” he says, sounding genuinely excited. “It will be a grand celebration. And I will be the first to celebrate your union.”

You laugh, finally feeling the tension melt away. “You’ll be the first to get an invitation, don’t worry.”

Lilia squeezes your hand again, his eyes warm as he looks at you. “Indeed,” he says softly, “and I think it will be a lovely celebration.”

As you sit there, surrounded by Lilia’s peculiar little family, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion. For all their eccentricities—Malleus’s dragon-like mannerisms, Silver’s sleepy but sincere approval, and Sebek’s stubborn loyalty—you’ve somehow found yourself among people who care. Who, in their own ways, are happy to see you and Lilia together.

And as you glance at Lilia, who’s still watching you with that fond, amused expression, you realize something important: this makeshift family of fae and knights… they’ve accepted you.

Flaws and all.

The living room felt a little too tense for your taste today. You were sprawled out on a chair, arms crossed, listening to the absurd conversation that seemed to have spiraled out of control.

Malleus, sitting at the head of the table, had the "serious prince" expression that made you roll your eyes every time you saw it. Lilia was perched on the back of his chair, his legs dangling, thoroughly amused by the current predicament. Sebek stood in his usual soldier-like stance, ready to protect everyone from... squirrels, apparently. And Silver was doing his best to stay upright while leaning on a wall. He was losing that battle.

“It’s time to discuss the prophecy” Malleus said, his voice carrying an ominous weight you found ridiculous. “The Squirrel Plague will bring misfortune. Entire kingdoms will fall to their tiny paws.”

You blinked. “We’re seriously talking about squirrels?”

Lilia nodded with an overly grave face. “Indeed, my dear. Squirrels are resourceful creatures. Vicious even, if the stories are true.”

Sebek puffed up his chest, eyes blazing with his trademark fervor. “MY LORD, IF THOSE RODENTS BELIEVE THEY CAN THREATEN YOU—"

You leaned forward, waving your hand dismissively. “Alright, alright, let's not hype up the squirrels too much, okay? This whole situation is ridiculous.”

Silver, who had just about managed to pry his eyes open, muttered, “It’s not just the squirrels. I heard some people talking about... uh, the Saint being accused of spying or something.”

The room fell into silence for a second, everyone digesting that little bombshell.

Lilia’s grin widened as if the idea of spies delighted him. “Spies, you say? This is getting quite intriguing.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, no thanks. Squirrels are bad enough, but spies? I’m not dealing with this.”

Malleus turned towards you, a slight frown on his lips. “I assumed you wished to stay here. You haven’t mentioned wanting to leave before.”

You sighed, shrugging. “I mean, I don't have any attachments to this place. I stayed because you guys were here. But right now, let's bounce. Immediately. The squirrels can have this place.”

Silver, rubbing his eyes, nodded. “They're right. It’s a lot of hassle, and honestly, the squirrels are starting to weird me out. I saw one trying to chew through the wall this morning.”

Sebek turned to Silver with his mouth agape. “A SQUIRREL DARED TO ATTACK OUR DOMAIN?!”

Lilia chuckled, nodding. “They’re getting bolder, indeed. I even had one throw an acorn at me this morning. It was a declaration of war, I tell you.”

You waved your hands at them. “Guys, seriously. I don’t care if we’re at war with the squirrels. I just don’t want to be here. Briar Valley sounds much nicer, doesn’t it? No plagues, no spy accusations, no rabid rodents.”

Malleus blinked at you, then slowly smiled. “If you wish to leave, then there’s no reason for us to stay. I thought perhaps you'd not want to leave the place you grew up in, that you would be attached.”

“Attached?” You gestured dramatically at the window, where you swore you could see a squirrel watching with beady little eyes. “Nope. I’m only attached to you four, and I’m not risking my life for some acorn-flinging rodents.”

Silver yawned, already giving in. “I say we go. Less hassle, more sleep.”

Lilia gave a theatrical sigh leaning on Malleus. “Well, I suppose the adventure ends here. Back to Briar Valley it is! And I’ll be sure to bring along some acorns... perhaps we can keep the spirit of battle alive.”

Sebek, his voice still full of misplaced enthusiasm, nodded fiercely. “IF MY LORD DECIDES TO RETURN, THEN I SHALL ENSURE OUR JOURNEY IS WITHOUT PERIL! THE SQUIRRELS SHALL NOT—”

You interrupted with a grin. “Yes, yes, Sebek. You’ll protect us from the squirrels. Good job.”

Lilia hopped off Malleus’s chair, already halfway to the door. “I’ll go prepare the portal. Who knows, maybe we can get there in time for the fireflies.”

You got up too, stretching and giving one last look at the living room. “I think I’ve had enough of prophecies, plagues, and espionage.”

Lilia grins "Maybe we could have our wedding in Briar Valley". Malleus, now entirely on board, nodded with regal finality. “Then we shall return to Briar Valley. I trust the squirrels will not miss us.”

Lilia snickered, and you felt him squeeze your shoulder. “Perhaps we should bring a souvenir,” he mused. “A squirrel, perhaps, as a reminder of this peculiar little chapter of our lives.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I think I’d rather forget it altogether.”

With that, you and your four favorite Briar Valley residents left—leaving behind the squirrels, the spies, and every bit of drama that had nothing to do with you. Peace, it turned out, was just a portal away.

With that, the group made their decision—no heroic stand against the prophecy, no attempts to sort out spy dramas. Just a swift, sensible retreat to where things were far less complicated. And honestly? That suited you just fine.

Alright! I liked writing this a lot, It's not as chaotic as my other isekai ones but I like how it turned out!

Also if the formatting is off, I'm so sorry but I fell spectacularly on my ass while ice-skating and can't sit long enough to edit on my laptop.

Also quick poll for the next trash novel one, I'll definitely finish all of them, this is just for which one should I post first. They're all almost done.

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[honeybelljar]

GOD SENT THE STORM.

: ̗̀➛ One storm opened the door, and nothing inside her life, or soul, has been quiet since.

A/n: Reader has a son, F!reader, single mother reader, breeding, spit/drool, mating press (rahh), dark imagery, pathetic!remmick, not beta read, I write because it’s fun, not because I’m smart :3

“Fuck! Get in the house now!” A shout erupts from you suddenly, ringing out through the green-tinted sky.

Wind whips against the creaking house, sending your handmade wind chime clattering against the siding. The air is heavy with finality. Trees bend. Birds silent. Your son’s expression slips into childlike terror at the command, and he sprints towards the porch. Red dirt swirls behind him. A storm is coming; it rumbles in the distance, barely contained.

“Go on in, wash up, and close all the windows.” You instruct. Your dress twirls around you as the wind picks up in sharp bursts. Storms out here in the plains were dangerous.

“Okay, mama!” Your son shouts, his tiny fists curled in determination. As if this were a game, a tired smile brushes your lips as he scampers away. The sound of his tiny feet puttering against the wood floor warms you. A small comfort in the midst of chaos.

The house groans beneath the gusts, swaying like an old man in the wind. It was the dead of summer, and storms like this often dragged twisters behind them. That sunk your soul. You’d have to be a fool to think this house could withstand a twister. It could barely stand tall during the worst weather, and you shook your head. Those thoughts served no purpose now; you’d do what you could.

That meant grabbing every old blanket and nailing them over the windows, towels rolled up under doors that sat just a bit too high, and preparing lanterns. Your son tailed behind you, helping when he could. The last thing was to turn on the wooden radio you kept; static pierced the silence, slowly but surely, the weather reports came rolling in.

“Reports of large thunderstorm off the East, locals confirm it could be the storm of the season…”

“What does that mean, Mama?” Your son tilted his head, round eyes peering up at you.

“Means a big storm is on its way, probably in the next few hours…” You murmured, eyes still glued to the radio. The house was washed in flickering orange light with the candle you both had lit. He shifted on his knees, hands clutching his stuffed rabbit.

“Are we gonna die?” His voice so small and soft. You turn to him, hands cupping his chubby cheeks. The last thing you wanted to do, was frighten him.

“No, my love, not at all, we are safe, including Mr. Carrots.” You tease and rub the rabbit's head lovingly. He giggles and playfully ushers your hand away. It was times like these that you needed to realize your son was still so small. He didn’t understand the haste or dangers of the world yet.

Wind licked up against the house again, growing stronger and stronger. One advantage of living so far from town was that you had an open view for miles. If a twister were to come, you’d need to be able to spot it.

“Grab Mr. Carrots, we are gonna keep watch on the porch.” You stood and lifted him up with ease, limited visibility was a death sentence in these situations.

“Just like the fire watch!” He cheers and bolts towards the door, and you nod and unlock it. The screen door flies wildly, and you drag one of the chairs to secure it down.

“Look at the sky, mama!” He points, and your neck cranes up. Ugly clouds twisted like snakes above, and it looked as if it was dusk. No hint of the sun peaking out. Unnerving rumbling shakes the ground ever so slightly. Powerful. Destructive. Terrifying.

“Stay under the porch.” You command. He shuffles back and plops down. His attention was now fixated on discussing the storm with his toy. The sky beckons, and your boots shuffle down the steps. Unable to tear your eyes from the strange cloud formation. It’s hypnotic and ethereal. One would think God himself had come to strike you down.

In that moment, you feel something shift. Quick and subtle. As if the horizon has eyes. Your gaze snaps towards the dirt pasture, searching. Dust hides almost all visibility. Another step forward. There’s no fencing on the border of your land; it’s open and vast. Another step. Something is wrong. The storm brews in the background, but this is different. That’s when your eyes lock onto a stumbling form, the form of a person. Something deep in your gut shifts, like the wind had turned in his direction before you ever saw him.

A step back. Even from here, you can tell he’s injured; his body buckles with each step, knees knocking together as he staggers like something half-dead. You shoot a glance back towards your son on the porch, and he is still engrossed in his rabbit.

“I’ll be right back love, stay there!” You announced. You didn’t want this stranger to get too close to the house, more so your son. Brow furrowed you stride forward,

“Hello? Sorry, Sir, but this is private property!” You shout over the wind, but he doesn’t slow. His movements almost look animalistic as he attempts to shield himself from something.

“Hello?” You try again. He is getting closer, close enough to see the tattered shirt and bloodstained pants. You balk, stunned. His bloodied face now in view, his eye swollen shut. He smells burnt, charred marks blooming on his skin. The scent makes your stomach slosh.

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” You gasp, hands hovering over your mouth. Never had you seen such carnage on a person. The stranger is no more than a few feet away before he collapses. His breathing sounds like it hurts, each rasp puffs the dirt smushed against his face.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You hiss, another glance back, your son stands by the porch stairs, puzzled. You groan and bend down to haul this man against you. The stench on him makes you gag; his deadweight arms rest against your neck. The storm is building in strength, and fat raindrops start their rapid descent. You’re soaked through your dress once you reach the door, your son bouncing on his heels at the stranger. It’s not often you have someone new around after all.

“Go get the first aid kit.” You nod to him and he darts off. Grunting, you push him off you and onto the sofa. He lands with a pained groan, and you wince. Perhaps you could be a bit more gentle.

“I got it, Mama!” You shush him and crack open the metal box. Gauze and aloe would be all you could offer at the moment; pain medicine was expensive.

“You gotta stay quiet, love, the man is hurtin’.” You rip off a chunk of gauze with your teeth, setting to work on his arms and upper body. Your son nods in understanding, carefully watching as you lift the stranger up.

Another groan. He doesn’t seem conscious, which does make this next part easier. You soak a rag in alcohol and press it to the gash on his face. He jerks, fists curling tight, teeth flashing in a silent snarl.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, as painful as this was, infection would be much more brutal. Patching him is methodical, and you fall into the easy hum of moving and shifting him. Before long, he looks alive once more, so you leave him to rest and start dinner. The storm has morphed into a heavy downpour and howling winds, and your son shifts closer to your legs.

“Don’t worry, love.” You pat his head, but even you can’t hide the nervous glances towards the windows. Night twisters were something out of a nightmare; you prayed to whoever would listen to spare your home.

Tonight was stew, comforting and warm. A stark contrast to the flood beginning at your doorstep. About two hours had passed since the man lay on your sofa, and he had yet to move. Paranoia had you checking his pulse every twenty minutes to make sure he was even still breathing. You decided on rousing him up for dinner, who knows how long it had been since he ate?

Your son sits at the table, hands clasped in grace, before he practically attacks the stew. You shook your head and headed into the living room. The stew’s steam curls into your face as you carry a bowl toward the stranger, who still hasn’t stirred. He looked so peaceful, handsome too, without all that gore on him.

“Sir?” You whispered. Shaking him might hurt him further, you frowned. Not even a twitch in his face, you checked his pulse once more. Very much alive.

“Sir, wake up. Please.” You nearly pleaded. At last, he stirred, groaning as he threw a bandaged arm over his face. Relief bled into your limbs, your shoulders sagging with a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His lips moved faintly, but no sound came. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he even knew where he was.

“Oh thank God, thought we might’ve lost ya,” you breathe, stepping back as he adjusts to the stiffness in his limbs.

With a grunt of exertion, the man slowly sits upright. Silence settles between you like a weight. He blinks hard, eyes scanning the room in jerky motions, head on a swivel. You shift on your feet, nerves buzzing. You’d be confused too, waking up bandaged in a stranger’s living room.

“You collapsed on my property. Your skin was… sizzling.”

Why does your voice sound so thin? You feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. Finally, his eyes land on you, really land on you. Like he’s just now realizing you’re there.

“W-why?” He rasps. Voice as rough as dried gravel.

“Why?” you echo, taken aback.

“I couldn’t leave you out there. You’d have died,” you say simply. It comes out matter-of-fact, though your hands are still clenched at your sides. The lack of empathy was rampant in this world, still, his confusion surprised you.

He doesn’t respond, just presses his cracked lips into a hard line, gaze dragging slowly over you. Not like a man taking you in, but like someone still deciding if you’re real.

“That aside,” you say, voice steadier now, “I made you dinner. To get your strength back and all.”

You push the bowl toward him. He doesn’t take it. He just stares.

“You’re not scared of me,” he says, more a statement than a question.

You hesitate.

“Should I be?”

“I don’t know…” he breathes, eyes unfocused, as if the answer could be hiding somewhere inside him.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die on your tongue.

“Mama! Did he wake up yet?”

The elated squeal cuts through the air like a crack of thunder. The man’s eyes go wide; his head snaps toward the kitchen with almost inhuman speed. Your son bursts into the room, eyes alight when he spots the man. He bounds across the floor and wraps himself around your thigh, peeking out with a sudden shyness that warms your chest.

“Yes, love,” you hum, smoothing a hand over his hair, “but he’s still quite tired.”

The man blanches. His already pale skin turns ashen.

“Y-you have a child?” he asks, voice tight.

You frown at the question, but your son answers before you can.

“Yes! And I’m five!” he beams, holding up five fingers and waving them proudly at the man.

The man nods stiffly, his gaze flickering between you and the boy. Instinctively, you curl a protective arm around your son. The man notices. His jaw flexes, and then, slowly, he gives you a subtle nod.

“It’s twister weather out there,” you say evenly, your eyes watching his every twitch. “You can leave once the storm dies down.”

Another nod. Then finally, he looks down at the cooling bowl in his lap.

“Thank you for this, ma’am,” he murmurs.

His voice is gruff, unsteady, like he’s afraid one wrong move might shatter the fragile peace between you. His voice is gruff, unsteady—like one wrong move might shatter the fragile peace between you. You break your trance to usher your son upstairs.

“Go on and wash up. And don’t sit in the bath too long, there’s lightning,” you warn softly.

He giggles and bounds up the stairs, little feet thudding against the wood.

The moment he’s gone, it’s as if the light’s been sucked from the room entirely. Tension stretches thin between you. You shift your weight and finally speak.

“What’s your name?” Arms crossed, you lift a brow. Expecting something.

“Remmick, ma’am,” he drawls.

His voice rasps low, the syllables curling around your ears. You nod to yourself, tasting the name.

“Remmick,” you echo. You swear he stiffens just slightly at the sound of it in your mouth.

“Well, you can just keep callin’ me ma’am, since you’re so polite,” you tease, attempting to lift the heaviness with a touch of humor.

But he gives you nothing. Just stares. Blank, unreadable. You deflate a little. Maybe he’s not the humorous type.

“Is he yours?”

—“Who?” You tilt your head, eyes searching his face.

“The boy.”

As if he can’t quite understand the concept. A short airy laugh escapes you and you nod.

“Yes, he’s mine, through and through.” Amusement obvious in your response. A strange question from a strange man. It was almost as if children were foreign to him.

“And, his father…?” The question is softer now, less sure. Your gaze instantly hardens and your jaw clenches ever so slightly.

“Gone, good riddance.” You mutter quietly. Your son’s father was nothing more than some crime-obsessed lackey. Screwing over anyone and anything to get ahead. He was the reason you had to live so frugally, since it was just you providing now. Remmick watched a thousand emotions dance across your face as memories resurfaced.

“Shame, my apologies for that, honest.” His face is so open all of a sudden, raw sympathy practically painted on it. It’s jarring considering he’d been so unsure of himself moments ago.

“No need for that. We’re fine on our own,” you reply, voice firm. Not unkind, but clipped. You don’t accept pity. Not anymore. He nods briefly before leaning down to lift the shaking spoon to his lips. You take it upon yourself to head towards the kitchen.

“Place your bowl in the sink once you’re done, Remmick.” Your mouth cradles his name once again, and you don’t turn around to see his reaction.

You finish with the last dish as Remmick shuffles into the kitchen. His footfalls sound so strange against your floor. He sheepishly brings it to the counter beside you, unsure of where exactly to set it. Suds cover your arms, and you grab it from his shaking hands.

“You’ll sleep downstairs tonight, alright?” You eye him, and he only nods. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping much anyway, not with an unknown man in the house. Once you finish up, as if on cue, your son sprints downstairs to greet you both.

Remmick practically jumps out of his skin at the sound, and you snort. Quite scared for such a built man, with that notion your eyes slide over to his defined chest. He look sturdy, hands rough with use, he was definitely capable.

“You feelin’ better sir?” The boy drawls, grin as wide as can be. Remmick nods down at him.

“Much, thanks to you mama…” His reply sends a brief liquid heat through your veins. You cough out a hoarse laugh.

“Was nothing…” You wave him off and reach around to undo your apron. The boy jumps forward, ever so eager.

“So, do you like rabbits? This is Mr. Carrots, and he is-“ You raise a hand, halting his excitement.

“Now, love, it’s well past your bedtime, you best be going upstairs now, I’ll come tuck you in.” You hum, voice now like honey. The boy nods and steps towards Remmick, his small arm reaching out to hand him his prized Mr. Carrots.

“Since you’re new in the house, you can sleep with Mr. Carrots tonight.” He smiles up at Remmick as if the man hung the stars. A pang shoots through you; the lack of a father really does leave a wound, perhaps a wound your son didn’t even understand yet. You shift, eyeing Remmick.

“Ah, well then, I’ll be sure to take good care of him.” He nods to the boy, those large hands gently gripping the stuffed rabbit.

“Goodnight, sir!” With that, he’s gone like the wind, off to his bedroom. An awkward laugh leaves you. Remmick still stares down at the soft toy in his hands. He cradles it as if it’s the most precious thing on Earth.

“He’s just very excited to see a new face.” You say softly, heart still aching. He nods in agreement and finally looks up to you. The rabbit stays in his grip like something holy. You wonder if anyone’s ever handed him anything so soft before.

“Well, I’m gonna go tuck him in, I’ll be back down to make the sofa comfortable for you.” It’s slightly awkward, so much unsaid. With that, you rush upstairs desperate for air. Air that is suffocating with unruffled tension.

By the time you enter his room, he’s fast asleep. Soft snores contrast with the rumbling thunder outside, and you smile. With a kiss on his tiny head, you softly shut the door and leave him to dream. Which leaves you with Remmick, and why does that make your chest hurt? Once you descend the stairs, you find him staring at one of the photos framed on the wall. You inhale, it’s a photo of your ex-husband and both of you, a family.

“You looked so happy.” He murmurs. You almost turn away it fight against it, some wounds never heal right.

“Yeah, he likes me to keep that photo up, waiting for the day his daddy shows back up.” The words feel bitter and heavy. Remmick finally turns back to you, the flicker of candle light dancing across his form.

“You’re a good woman.” It’s a statement, firm and unrelenting and it makes your breath hitch. Never had you ever heard that from another mouth.

“I-“ A crack of thunder interrupts you. He shifts closer, and suddenly you take notice that his various burns are nearly gone. You blink.

“Y-your skin-“

“Is the boy asleep?” His voice is tight, almost sharp. You nod dumbly, unable to voice everything flooding through your mind right now.

“When’s the last time you had someone care for you, the way you do for others?” Your mouth is instantly gravel dry. The change in his demeanor gives you yet another case of whiplash. He steps forward. You step back.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” Your resolve is shaky, voice cracking where it shouldn’t.

“Yeah?” He taunts. Another step forward. He moves like a man, but something about it isn’t right. Too smooth. Too quiet. Like something remembering how to be human. An imitation of what once was.

“Remmick…” You don’t know why, but a whimper escapes your lips, a primal instinct overcoming you as he towers above. When did he get so close?

He hums at the sound of his name, eyes fluttering shut, as if savoring it. His breath is ragged. Loud. He leans in, and the wall behind you seals your escape. You’re trapped. Caged by his presence. Then he scents you. It’s vile, how your thighs clench. A betrayal. It’s almost as if he can smell the heat blooming there, knows what your body is doing without permission. A drop hits your cheek.

You freeze.

Slowly, you tilt your face upward. A thick string of drool dangles from the corner of his mouth. It glistens in the flickering light. You choke on a gasp. The whites of his eyes are nearly swallowed completely, and before you can truly peer into them, he’s on you.

His clawed hand twists in your hair, gripping your head back. A pained gasp leaves your lips, stretching your neck and exposing it. It's too much; it has you trembling. It's not human how he dips down, brushing his nose against the soft hollow of your skin. He heaves next to your ear, tingling bursts along your raised flesh.

"Remmick- please..." A plea for what, you aren't sure. Mercy. He chokes out a moan at the sound, completely hollow. Monstrous. You can't deny the fear that trembles from within you. There is so much more to this quiet man, so much bubbling beneath the surface, it's maddening.

"I-" A wet gargle rips from his throat, torn between monster and man. “I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to consume you. Mind, body, soul. I want your moans, your blood, your breath. All of it inside me.”

Heart thundering against your ribs, you say nothing. Rendered speechless. A clawed finger taps against the curve of your cheek, almost the beat of an unheard song. Your mind flashes to your son sleeping peacefully upstairs. You pray to God he doesn't wander downstairs.

“Say you’ll let me in,” he murmurs, voice shredded by desire. “Your cunt already has.”

You attempt to shake your head, anything to deny the burning truth slipping off his forked tongue. But he knew better; he could feel how you clenched around nothing, fluttering open for him.

“Perverse little thing.” He taunts, you flinch and try to twist away, but it only tightens. The tips of his claws make small punctures in your pressed cheeks.

Something must have possessed you, because before you realize you're nodding. Giving in to the sickness invading your mind, and Remmick couldn't be prouder.

❈────────•✦•────────❈

It all happened so fast, one moment you were standing, then suddenly you were locked into the meanest mating press of your life. Legs flailing uselessly over his bent arms, his hand pressed tightly against your mouth. Anything to silence the raw whines humming in your throat.

"Yes-" Remmick repeats it like a mantra, just barely audible over the squelch of your cunt. Calloused hands gripping your thighs like a vice, as if he couldn't get any deeper.

Oh, he was absolutely ruined, his jaw slack as he stared down at you half-lidded. You sweat, slick back sliding on the wood flooring with each powerful thrust.

"F-fuck-" He breathes shakily.

Push after push. You're nearly choking on your release, mouth still clasped behind his palm. But he never slowed, only faltered slightly with each clench. You wanted to scream, wanted to sob, it was too much. Your brain felt melted, as if it was going to leak out of your ears. He kept you quiet, though; only the sound of rolling thunder filled the house. You hadn't even realized he had moved you deeper into the house, further away from the upstairs.

Your walls flutter, the end creeping up through your toes. Something in him twitches, he gasps- he whines. Desperation was hot on his lolling tongue. He drives into you, chasing that release. He's ravenous, starved for the feeling of touch. Without warning, you arch. Lifting off the floor and into his clothed chest. Ecstasy curling through every vein and you cunt floods, his jagged thrusts growing sloppy. His tip is digging at your cervix as you convulse.

"Tell me no." He spits out, his teeth looking sharper than before. Tears stream down your cheeks, covering his hand in salty wetness. You shake your head, still unable to make a sound. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hah—fuck, tell me no, p-please…” he whimpers, stuttering mid-thrust, his control crumbling as he teeters on the edge. You clench your thighs, nodding dumbly. A strike of lightning illuminates the house, and almost as if on cue, he bursts within you. Warmth floods throughout your lower stomach; it's intoxicating. It's rough as he attempts to mindlessly fuck you through it. A thick rope of drool slips past his lips, trailing toward yours. You part them instinctively, letting it coat your tongue, shameful and sacred all at once.

Something outside crashes and you assume the storm has finally come. It takes a miracle for you to keep your eyes open, your head lolling side to side against the floor in exhaustion. Heaviness settles into your bones. You feel him retract himself from you, before leaning down to nudge at your face. Why can’t you stay awake? It’s almost as if he’d sucked the life from you.

“I won’t ruin what you have…” he whispers.

You catch the words, faint and far away, but they slip through your fingers as your mind begins to unravel. A pause settles, and suddenly you feel cold. Empty. The air has snapped back into whatever familiarity you are used to. You succumb to the blackness clouding your mind.

❈────────•✦•────────❈

Dawn is peeking past the nailed up blankets when you wake up, you shoot up like a bullet, still naked as the day you were born. You’re on the sofa, bare, sore, and hollow.

Memories wash over you and you jerk around looking for Remmick.

Remmick.

The house is still, just as it is every morning. Your soul tells you he’s gone. There’s no reason to search. It’s too much to early for your son to be awake, you pull yourself from the sofa to get properly dressed. Your limbs heavy as lead.

Why do you feel so sad?

It wasn’t like you knew that man, he was a stranger. At the same time, he made you feel so wanted it hurt. A small reprieve from the demand of your life, and it was addicting. It had been so long since a man had come and swept you up, bending you to his will.

He fucked like he loved you, and you knew to keep a small part of it tucked in your heart. You soak in the aching echo he left behind, letting it lull you as you slip on a loose nightdress. It flutters at your ankles, ghostly, like the emptiness humming in your chest.

As you step onto the porch, the boards creak beneath your bare feet, damp with the kiss of last night’s storm. The wind has softened, though it still carries the faint scent of scorched wood. Strange. A fire after a storm like this? You shake it off and turn to head back inside, but something catches your eye. Resting on one of the chairs, tucked neatly against the corner, Is Mr. Carrots. The stuffed rabbit your son had given him, the toy he had held like it was something holy. Dry and untouched by rain. You frown and pick it up with apprehension, why did he leave it outside? Your gaze turns towards the empty horizon, something tugging at your gut.

Was this a promise he’d be back? But before you a dwell on the thought, the soft pitter patter of small feet echo through the living room.

“Mama?” A sleepy voice calls out, you turn back and bring the soft toy inside.

“Good morning, my love.” You smile warmly, bringing your lips to the top of his head. The boy rubs his eyes, looking around.

“Where’d he go?” He asks, and you give a tight smile.

“He had to go back home, sweetie.” You say gently, his face falls and he huffs. It hurts you to see him disappointed, so you bend down and lift his chin with your finger.

“Hey, why don’t we go into town tomorrow, I’ll get you any candy you want.” Your words playful in an attempt to lighten his mood. He gasps, attention instantly diverted.

“Yes! Thank you, Mama!” He cheers. Standing back up, you clap your hands, almost as if to dispel the lingering heaviness.

“Now,” you say with a playful firmness, ruffling his hair, “let’s get started on breakfast.”

He squeals in delight, already dashing toward the kitchen, bare feet thumping against the floor. It’s almost as if everything is normal. But deep in your chest, something stirs, like a shadow refusing to be burned away by the sun. Even as you serve pancakes, finish cleaning up the yard, and tackle the laundry, your chest stirs. Unsettled by the longing in your chest, you feel dazed. As if some part of you had been touched from within, claimed and hollow, waiting for someone that may never return.

Night comes upon your house like a damp blanket. It drizzles from the sky wetting the Earth ad you hung laundry. To which you scowl at from the kitchen window. You’d just have to it again tomorrow morning. Dinner had already been served, porridge tonight. You turned on the radio, soft music fills the house, anything to overshadow the ringing silence. Your son had gone up to play in his room, deeming that Mr. Carrots felt lonely without his other toys. So that left you, sitting in a chair, looking lost in your own home.

A sudden knock jolts you upright.

Three slow, deliberate raps against the door.

You freeze. The music continues to hum softly behind you, but it sounds distant now — warped, like it’s underwater. You know, you know it’s him just from the heaviness of his knock. Your hands curl against the fabric of your dress, damp from dishwater and nerves alike. Slowly, you rise from your seat. Another knock — quicker this time, edged with impatience. You step towards the door, each step weighed with dread and yearning. He’s back. Just before your fingers grace the knob, you hear it. That voice. Low. Throaty. Possessive.

“…Open the door angel.”

It sends shock waves through your core, your hand still latched onto the knob, unmoving. The sound tears through you, a shockwave that leaves your breath shallow. Your hand stays frozen on the handle, trembling. He wasn’t entirely human, you knew that much. Yet, his voice calls to you like a siren.

Pressing the knob, you open the door abruptly. There he is. Tall. Brooding. Whole. Not a single mark on him. He looks…untouched by the world, untouched by the night he left you in pieces. You make no move from the door, no space for him to slip in.

He smiles down at you, head tilted, something sly dancing in his eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes, like a joke wrapped in velvet.

And just like that, the heat blooms behind your eyes. Anger flares sharp and electric across your face. You scowl, lips tight, every muscle screaming not to let him see how much you missed him. But you know better, how he can practically taste your emotions.

“Home?” You echo. Voice hollow and tense. “You think you can just run off, tear me open, and then waltz back here like some stray mutt scratchin’ at the door?”

That lands.

He falters.

The confidence in his stance stumbles, like he didn’t anticipate this part. You let out a bitter, humorless laugh. You’re not finished. Not even close.

“I took you in. I stitched you back together. And don’t even get me started on how you look perfectly healed now. Not a damn scar on you.”You’re breathless by the end, rage and heartbreak boiling too close to the surface. It shakes you.

He says nothing at first. Just stands there, the rain beginning to dot his shoulders, soaking into the collar of his shirt. He looks smaller somehow, not physically, but emotionally stripped. His mouth opens once, then closes again, like words have abandoned him.

“I didn’t want to…” He swallows. “Leave.” As if speaking pained him, his voice cracks on the end. Your hands shift to your hips, you watch him struggle for air.

“I didn’t know what I’d do if I stayed.” Low and hoarse. Your anger wobbles, his words striking a chord inside you. He laughs once, a dry, broken sound.

“But somehow I found myself back at your doorstep.” His gaze drags upward, meeting yours, and for a split second, something monstrous flashes behind his eyes, not rage, but desperation.

“And as selfish as it is, I want to come inside.” He breathes.

Everything he has, is laid before you. Your hand slips off the door knob, hands limp by your side. Your resolve had crumbled like paper within his grasp, his words tightening around like a vice. He takes a single step forward. The rain has slicked his hair to his forehead, but he pays it no mind. The tips of his boots toe the threshold of the door.

“I’m not good.” He says, voice wet. “You know that, you’ve seen it.” He leans forward, pressing closer.

“You’ve undone me, wakened something inside me that’s been quiet for life times.” His lip trembles, then stills. “Let me come in. I won’t ask for forgiveness. I just… I want to belong somewhere again. Even if it’s only for tonight.”

What more could you say? His words tasted like honey on your tongue, you were both parched for something. Desperate for partnership, connection, and touch. Opening the door felt right, his heavy boots echoing in the warmth of your home. It all felt right. You didn’t know what he was, you didn’t ask. He was gentle with you, easy in the presence of your son.

Never pushing too much. He would vanish here and there, and the first time had been for three days. Once he dragged himself back home, you sobbed angrily, hitting your fists into his solid chest. Slowly but surely it became a thing of habit, he’d leave, return with gifts, and a few splatters of blood on his clothes.

Tonight was one of those nights, he had left before the sun peeked over the horizon. However, it was late into the darkness now, the bed felt emptier. He should’ve been home by now. Tossing and turning, you couldn’t relax. Outside, the rain tapers to a soft drizzle and you can’t take it anymore. You throw your legs over the side of the bed and quietly creep past your son’s bedroom. Making sure to avoid the stairs that creak the loudest.

Padding through the house, you find him sitting at the kitchen table. Shirtless. Elbows braced against his knees. Blood stains the tips of his fingers, and his eyes are distant, glowing faintly in the dim light. Another thing you don’t ask about. He doesn’t look up as he speaks. Empty and hushed.

“I tried not to be what I am tonight.” A shaky breath. “But something out there was hunting. Something worse than me. And I had to meet it.”He finally glances at you, a smear of red along his jaw.

“It won’t come near this house again.”

You believe him. Silently grabbing a wash rag and cleaning him up, no questions asked.

This, whatever this was, protected you. Cared unconditionally for both you and your son, there’s nothing more you could ask for.

-

Fic playlist:

[yasministration]

We're all adults here - Steve Rogers

Summary: Reader covers up when training outside with the team because someone just happened to cover her in hickies the night before. But what happens when reader is forced to take her cover-up off? 0.6k+ wc

Going outside in the summer heat to practice with the team was not what you had in mind, especially when the modern indoor training facilities were all available, with a track just as big, and more importantly, air conditioning that worked perfectly well. Normally, you wouldn't have a problem with it, putting on shorts and a sports bra before joining Natasha outside, but usually, your boyfriend didn't go so crazy in bed the night before. Steve, ever so worked up after not seeing you for a few days while on a mission, had come home, making a beeline to your room where he finally pushed you up against the wall, pressing kisses on every inch of your skin before taking you on every piece of furniture he could find.

You felt Steve's guilty gaze on you the second you met with the rest of the team outside, clad in a thin sports jacket and shorts. At least you looked cute, despite how quickly you were going to overheat. "Oh you're crazy crazy." Comments Natasha the instance she sees you, beginning her warmup around the track. You quickly join her, rolling your eyes playfully at her, though it's hard to ignore the way you immediately feel the way the long sleeves are clinging onto your skin the second you start to perspire.

By the end of your laps on the track, your face is all red and you need to lean on your knees to catch your breath, panting heavily. You didn't think one little piece of clothing would have such an effect on your performance, but apparently it did, making you fan your hands in front of your face in hopes of helping with the heat. "Y/n just take it off, what's going on?" Remarks Clint bemusedly. "Yeah we all know it's too hot for this kind of clothing. Is there a particular reason you're so dressed up?" You put your hands on your hips, chest heaving up and down as you digest Bucky's question. You shake your head, gratefully accepting the cool bottle of water your boyfriend offers you, a guilty grimace on his face.

Steve's cheeks are flushed pink, and whether that's due to the warmup or how close you guys are to being found out, he doesn't know. The team have known about the two of you before you even knew, clueless about the other's feelings, but Steve, being the old soul that he is, prefers to keep details about your sex life private when possible. "Does Mr. Loverboy have anything to do with this?" Teases Tony, only half-joking, hints of a smile on his face. You scoff, which immediately has your teammates looking at you quizzically. Did Mr. Loverboy have anything to do with it? "Okay Y/N, on a serious note, you're going to overheat training in that." Tony adds, his eyebrows furrowing. "Look, we're all adults here." You defend, spinning away from your team as your hand hesitantly reaches up to drag the zipper of your jacket down your torso. When you turn back around, the rest of your team is still staring expectantly at you, leaving you to watch as their reactions form on their faces.

"Holy shit!" Clint exclaims, words drowned by the loud wolf-whistles Natasha sends you way, eyes glued to your chest. "Okay, stop looking!" You scold her, and Bucky immediately looks away from you even though the words aren't directed at him, slapping a hand on the back of Steve's shoulder in pride. The dark hickies are scattered all around your chest and neck, dipping under your sports bra, leaving the rest for imagination. You chuckle uncomfortably, tightening your ponytail "Wild night, am I right?" You hear Steve choke over his drink before you see it, spinning around to take a look at his red face, water dribbling down his chin and onto his tight shirt as he catches his breath. "Sorry sweetheart." You mutter, taking a step towards him so you can press a kiss on his cheek, his hand instinctively coming up to rest on your waist.

"Why are you apologising to him? Look at yourself!"