#and resolves to never ever examine it.

[teapartyprincess4two]

Weakness- M. Sturniolo

pairing: fem!reader x FWB!Matt

classification: slight angst, smut

inspiration: submission for @annamcdonalds67 ‘s writer’s challenge, American Jesus by Nessa Barrett

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, slight cursing, no use of Y/n, mention of smoking

summary: You fight your inner desires, but ultimately let your weakness consume you.

—

You pull your skirt up quickly, jumping to get the fabric past your thighs. Matt watches from his bed, his body slumped against the headboard as he lazily pulls a cigarette to his lips. His lips form a smirk as you fumble to get yourself together, his eyes trained on the way your ass jiggles against the fabric of your pleated uniform. Even though you two clearly just finished, an erection grows in his boxers at the mere sight in front of him. His hands flick a lighter over the cigarette, inhaling once it’s lit.

Everything about what you just did —what you've been doing— with Matt is wrong. He’s your best friend's brother; the second you admitted that you had a crush on him you should’ve distanced yourself. Instead, you let yourself cross an unforgivable boundary with him time and time again.

There are so many reasons why this relationship is wrong. First, you’re the cheer captain who’s never been caught with so much as a wrinkle on your uniform. Second, you’re at the top of your class and have never brought home a grade lower than an A. Third, you’re popular and if anyone were to find you with a bad boy like Matt, even if it was just your best friend Nick, your perfect reputation would surely be tainted forever.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” he murmurs, each word being followed by a puff of smoke. He catches your attention through the mirror, throwing a playful wink your way that has you rolling your eyes.

“No, you will not see me next week. This was the last time, Matt,” you retorted, trying to sound confident, but even you struggle to believe your own words. You tug your shirt over your head, fluffing your hair over your shoulders as you examine yourself in the mirror. The school’s logo stairs back at you, reminding you of the reality of your situation, of everything that was at stake.

He’s got lips like cherry wine and cigarette smoke on his breath. He’s got pretty long brown hair, blue eyes that look like sex.

You’re a mess.

Your lipstick is painted across your cheek, your hair remains tangled no matter how many times you run your fingers through it, mascara forms dark circles under your eyes, and hickeys litter every inch of your neck.

Not that he looks any better. His lips are equally as stained as yours and his long, brown hair falls past his eyes.

“You said that last week,” he smirks, the sultry undertone in his voice causing your knees to buckle. He knows that he has you, but he wants you to pledge your allegiance to him one last time before you go.

“I mean it this time,” you say, but your voice trembles; a clear sign of your resolve breaking, and this was no time to give in. There was still time for you to walk out with even a little bit of your dignity. All you had to do was walk out, get in your car, and leave. But some things are easier said than done.

Instead, you go on a nervous ramble. “You probably don’t care, but if anyone were to find out about this– If Nick were to find out about this, I’d be the worst friend ever. And I have so many cheer scholarships lined up too, Matt. I can’t let my grades slip, if I get anything below an A they could take those away. Do you know what my parents would do to me if I lost those scholarships? What they’d do to me if it was all over a boy?” your words are coming out a mile a minute, each insecurity and doubt going in one of Matt’s ears and coming out the other.

“Do you even care?”

It’s not that he didn’t care, he just preferred it when your mouth was occupied with other things instead. Matt takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in your direction. It curls around your figure, lassoing you towards him slowly. He wasn’t good with words, so he’s glad that your body gravitates towards him like second nature.

“This is the last time….” your voice trails off as you fall into Matt’s trance.

Before you know it, you’re crawling over to him and your body has managed to fit perfectly against his. Eager hands fall onto his chest, earning a satisfied hum from him because he knows he won.

Matt takes one last drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as he dabs the bud onto the ashtray that sits on his nightstand. His hands instinctively pull your face in by the back of your neck, latching his lips onto yours and allowing the smoke to dissolve into the kiss. You used to hate the smell of cigarettes, but now even the taste is addicting.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” Matt instructs, his piercing blue eyes clouded with lust as he watches you intently. Your mind is telling you to stop, to grab your things and leave before anyone can notice you, but the aching feeling that grows under your skirt keeps you planted.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, watching you internally battle with yourself. The comment makes you feel weak and small, but you’re chasing a euphoric feeling that helps you see past that.

Matt’s lips trail down your jawline, finding the sensitive spots on your neck that are already lined with bruises and bite marks. He sucks on a spot that always makes you whimper, simultaneously bunching your skirt up against your waist.

He delivers a swift slap to your ass cheek, painting your skin a bright shade of red. “Matt,” your voice is strained against the kiss, but he knows exactly what you want. Your hands travel from his chest down to his boxers, teasing fingers tracing the outline of his erection. He kisses his teeth at the sensation, pulling away from your neck briefly to watch your perfectly manicured hand cup his clothed penis.

It would be easy for Matt to submit to you, but where was the fun in that?

Knees down at your altar. Please don’t fail me now.

“On your knees, Princess.”

It’s a command that you’re used to, one that you follow without complaint. You wiggle into the carpet, your knees accustomed to the rough feeling that meets them. “Beautiful,” he hums. His body towers over yours, ready to watch you worship and praise the entirety of his shaft.

You look up at him through hooded eyes, asking for permission to proceed. He grants it to you with a lick of his lips, his fingers caressing your face as you pull his boxers down.

Matt’s penis springs out of its constraints. “You know how I like it,” he comments, watching you take his shaft into your hands. You pump it slowly, taking your time with it and making sure to properly service him.

You place a neat kiss on the tip, letting your lips travel down towards the base. From there you lick a stripe back towards the top that has Matt hissing because you wrap your lips around it, almost like you were drawing an exclamation mark on it.

Your tongue swirls around the tip teasingly, lips still hugging around him. Matt’s eyes stare down at you, eager for your every move.

A careful hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pushing your head down slowly on the rest of his length. You gag when the tip hits the back of your throat, your hands moving from his member to his waist. That doesn’t stop him though, instead he bucks into you one more time just to hear you choke around his cock.

You got me red, white, and blue. Pledging my allegiance to you.

“You like that, don’t you?” His question is met with your bloodshot, tear brimmed eyes and a chin dribbling with saliva. Your blue hickeys and red eyes were about to pair perfectly with the white strings of cum he was going to paint your face with.

Ooh, seeing stars in your eyes. No, I’ve never felt so alive.

Matt’s fucking your face at a feverish pace, grunting every time your cheeks hollow around him or his dick presses against the back of your throat. He’s so unbelievably close that he has to shut his eyes because the way your saliva coats his penis and bubbles at your mouth has him seeing stars.

Momentarily, he pulls out of your mouth, giving you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tapping the tip on your lips. “Open,” he grits, shoving himself back into your dazed face. Three more pumps and the submissive sight in front of him is all it takes to push him over the edge.

Spurts of cum land on your tongue, some of it managing to hit your cheek. He collects it on the thumb that brushes your cheek, popping it in your mouth and groaning at how eagerly you lick it clean.

Won’t you take me to heaven tonight?

“Now let me make you feel good, yeah? To remind you how much you mean to me,” Matt whispers, pulling you up and guiding you to the edge of the bed. Now it’s his turn to kneel in front of you, his lips latching onto the skin of your ankles and slowly kissing their way up to your inner thighs.

He nips and sucks on your skin until he’s face to face with your crotch, your arousal evident through your soaked panties. Matt places a gentle kiss on your clothed bundle of nerves, relishing in the satisfied shudder than runs through your spine.

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and forcing you to lay back against the mattress. “Ready?” he asks, but he knows the answer, it’s literally glistening in front of him.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you respond. Weren’t you just claiming to be done with him? And now he has you exasperated at his touch.

Matt uses his teeth to pull your panties down, letting them fall onto the floor before returning his attention to your throbbing core.

He starts off slow, licking your clit just to get a taste of you. Your squirming informs him that this isn’t enough, so he uses his fingers to part your folds. His tongue is flat against you, applying pressure where you need it most.

His right hand presses one leg against the bed while the left clasps under your knees to push your leg in the air, providing him with the perfect position to ravish you. He begins sucking on your nub, burying his face in your juices.

You know all my secrets.

Your hands find his hair, whimpering as you tug at the strands. You’re squirming under him, attempting to pull away at the overstimulation, but his grip on you is so firm that you can’t move.

His left arm slithers from under your knee to over your thigh, wrapping around you tightly enough to tug you even further past the edge of the bed. At this point, your ass is in the air as you chase his face, grinding against him for even more friction.

“Matt�� fuck! I’m so close,” you exclaim, propping yourself up on one of your elbows to watch him work. His hair fell past his eyes and his arms were securely wrapped around you; he looked so beautiful.

Your pussy flutters around him, signifying your pending release. So, as to push you closer towards your climax, his right hand leaves your thigh to plunge two long fingers inside of you. The euphoric sensation causes you to throw your head back in pleasure, your elbows giving out until your entire body falls back onto the mattress.

“C’mon baby,” he murmurs, “cum for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to come undone, your body trembling as your orgasm completely washes over you. Matt watches in awe as your jaw falls slack, small moans rolling off your tongue and floating towards him like a melodic tune.

You’re still catching your breath when Matt places one last kiss on your pussy, crawling over you to capture your lips in a kiss.

“How about we make the last time count?” he taunts, dragging the tip of his cock against your still sensitive folds.

You know you’re my weakness.

You nod your head feverishly, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. You’re desperate for his touch, your walls crashing down like an addict overcome with their weakness.

That doesn’t seem to satisfy him. “Words. I need to hear you say it,” he grunts, becoming desperate himself.

Tell me you believe in me too. I do.

“I need you, Matt. I’ll always need you,” there’s a pathetic desperation in your voice that makes his dick twitch, and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s plunging deep inside of you.

He sets a steady pace, rocking his body back and forth against yours like it’s the first and last time. His pelvis brushes against your clit with each stroke, causing your hips to lift off the mattress and meet him midway.

Matt pushes your hips back down, knowing that if you keep that up he won’t last. “Patience, baby. Patience.”

He’s got a cross around his neck.

You can’t be patient though, he’s already so deep inside of you and he still doesn’t feel close enough. Your fingers loop around the cross necklace that dangles from his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Your lips find his in a hungry frenzy, both your mouths moulding into a needy kiss.

Moans and whimpers are exchanged, along with the breathy sound that follows when you look down to see where you two are joined. His cock is covered in your slick, your walls hugging him perfectly with each stroke.

Your hand moves from the necklace to the nape of his neck, caressing and massaging the skin there as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. His necklace sways back and forth, serving as a reminder of how sinful this is. Yet, you never want it to stop.

Matt can tell you’re becoming pensive, so he pushes your hips into the mattress, providing him with a new angle that allows his tip to kiss your cervix. “Matt!” you gasp, the new, delicious angle setting you closer towards the edge.

His animalistic grunts fill the room, he loves when you say his name. “Say it again,” he commands, pulling out of you completely only to snap his hips back in at an ungodly rate.

“Matt!” you exclaim, chanting his name like a prayer.

You’re the greatest love of my life.

“That’s it baby, let go for me,” his words help you reach your climax, your pussy fluttering around him as you come undone. He follows suit shortly after, his head falling into the space where your neck meets your shoulder.

He groans as he releases inside of you, hot breath fanning against your neck. His hips rolls lazily against you, and for a second he lets himself be taken by the immense pleasure that washes over him.

“Fuck, I love you,” he moans, placing sloppy kisses all over your body. He doesn’t realize that he said until he feels your body stiffen beneath him, and honestly he’s not sure what possessed him to admit it out loud.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he stutters, pulling out of you completely. He’s quick to find his boxers and throw them on, leaving you dazed on the bed.

“See you next week?” you ask, a hopeful tone in your voice. Quickly you find your panties on the floor and adjust your skirt. He coughs awkwardly, mostly because he doesn’t know where to go from here.

“This was the last time,” he replies, quoting your words from earlier, but there’s something almost venomous in the way he says it. The sentence breaks your heart and you’re almost tempted to get down on your knees again so he’ll take it back. But you don’t, instead you gather your things and take a fleeting look at yourself in the mirror.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Wouldn’t want your best friend to find out about us anyways.”

You nod your head slowly, a tight lipped smile forming on your face. “Right.”

You were red, white and blue and he never gave you the chance to admit that you loved him too.

—

a/n: 🇺🇸😵 so excited to read everyone’s stories for this challenge!! - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

MASTERLIST

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#sturniolo triplets #matt x y/n #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo oneshot #matt #matthew sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfiction #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo headcannons #matthew sturniolo x y/n #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets angst #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine

[nexusnyx]

oh, to be alone with you

Joel Miller x OC!Reader [8.9k] SUMMARY: Never in his wildest thoughts did Joel think he'd end up having a life, after all. His mind had sort of stopped at thirty-six, then geared back into reality, twenty years later when he gained a second chance. Now... this seemed like a third. Joel saw the feelings in your eyes, and he took a chance, hoping to be choosing right for everybody this time.

— A/n 📝This was a commission made by the lovely and (very patient) Grace, and I hope they enjoy the most out of everyone ;) Reblogs and comments make all the difference. — Warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors DNI. | 🏷️ age gap, slow burn, mentions of suicidal thoughts, angst, mutual pining, resolved sexual tension, insecure!Joel, protective!Reader, unprotected sex, dirty talking, soft!Dom!Joel, praising, edging, cum play, uhm. filth? lol. you're welcome.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

In the three years he knew you, Joel never heard you sound like this.

"Don't you ever say that again. Don't you ever talk that kind of bullshit in my presence, Joel."

There was bass to your voice when you threatened him. Fire in your cheeks. A glint so bright and wide washing in the shore of your eyes that it clicked for him. Joel realized what he'd been ignoring for the past three years — a time he spent dancing around the dark hunger he carved in his bones for you — he saw, for the first time as clear as water, that you meant those smiles. The sweetness. The honey stick way your hand touched his skin, sometimes, and the traces it left behind.

As you defended him from his own words, Joel saw he was not only old, but also goddamn stupid.

The first thing was set in stone. The second, on the other hand, he could try to change.

He meets her in Jacksonville, after fucking everything up with Ellie.

They had just arrived, both of them. Drenched in regret, numerous traumatizing events all muddled together, as that thick air of uncertainty surrounded their relationship. Joel thanked his brother and Maria for welcoming them back. Ellie spoke so little the first day that even Maria, someone who barely knew her, tried prying information out of her.

But it'd been quickly forgotten. One moment, Ellie and Joel were in a nameless hospital surrounded by fireflies, and a month later, they were settled into a nice house in the commune.

As if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

And there, in Jacksonville, there's you.

One of the only two doctors in town, the other being your very own old man.

All he remembered from the day he met you was your smile. Those beautiful cheeks painted cherry red, the wrinkles in the corner of your eyes, and how round and big they seemed to him as you said, "Hi. It's nice to meet you, Joel. 'm Grace."

You were. Joel had said something back. Ran away from there as soon as he could, but he played that smile every hour for the next three days before he caved in and came back to see you again.

Little did Joel know how much of a grace you'd become.

You were the only person who knew about Ellie.

Being the one who tattooed her on the second week after she arrived, Joel and Ellie decided together that at least one of the only two doctors should know about her condition, and so she told you.

Whatever Joel had expected from you, your reaction was as further from it as it could be. Nonchalance, and a sad grin. A placating nod as you told him, "you can wait here, I'll examine Ellie thoroughly and then we'll get started on the tattoo; I'll call you inside then, 'kay?"

All the compliments you offered towards the design — something Ellie drew herself — made you rise in her list of favorite people, speedily.

There was also openness. Ellie looked at you as you poked the needles in her skin with calculating eyes and Joel saw in them — if eyes could touch, she'd be reaching out for you. Hands spread open and fingers clutching around nothing. Ellie wanted to trust.

It was only a few more weeks before she confided in you and then walked up to her and Joel's place to confront him.

Demanding the truth.

The truth she knew he'd kept from her since she woke up in the car, probably.

"There was no cure."

Ellie stopped trusting him.

Joel died a little bit on the inside, but... she's alive.

He'd do it all over again.

You found him sitting on the edge of the lake with a guitar on his feet and his body frozen with dread, thinking about how hard Ellie had cried.

When you asked him, "Can I sit?", Joel thought it'd be another one of those times when you two sat close to one another in perfect silence. It happened a few times during movie nights or shared dinners in the commune's barn. Joel soaked up your presence, but that time, you had more. "You know... if one day you ever wanna hear my thoughts, professional thoughts on this whole 'cure' matter, I'd be happy to share them."

Joel had looked up at you, even though that hurt. So beautiful. "'m not sure I ever wanna think about it too hard."

You nodded. Scooted a little closer to him. "That's alright too. I just wanted to — put it out there. So you know I have thoughts about it. I told her that, too, but she gave me kinda the same reply."

"Did she?"

"Yeah, Joel. She did." No one did a sad grin quite like you. The way it reached through your eyes and touched him. "You two are so... similar."

"But we ain't." Joel knew they were different. He knew what Ellie would've chosen. "I think... I wished too hard we were."

The laughter was unexpected. "Joel."

"Yeah?"

"You do realize I know what you did, right?"

If a pin dropped a thousand miles away, at that moment, Joel would hear. With a deaf right ear or not, he would. I know what you did. Was that possible? How would you know and still have been this kind to him these weeks? Still have chosen to sit by his side, to make Tommy bug him about getting his check-ups, to be sitting next to him?

You nodded at his gawking eyes and jaw-slacked mouth. "Yeah. I'm quite good at putting two and two together."

"I... Grace — what I did—" he saw flashes of it. The white noise still echoed in him. "There's no way to know that and still be able to look me in the eye. It's why she hates me now. I — I was selfish. I took away her purpose just because I'm an old fucker who didn't wanna—"

"I would've done the same." It stopped him. The words clamped his mouth shut. "I don't have any children, but I love the only parent I have, and I would've done the same for him. He would do the exact same thing for me. Don't think he wouldn't. I know he looks like the sweetest old man ever, but he'd rip apart an entire hospital to get to me too. Go ask him if you don't believe me — but believe this: If I had a child, I wouldn't let them make this 'grand sacrifice', not even if I thought it'd work. Which is not the case here."

Joel had nothing to say to all of that.

He swallowed the knot tying his vocal cords together and looked ahead, trying to process the perspective from which you saw the situation.

Sitting in silence with you brought him peace, and that day, it deterred him from the plan that was coming together — the seed of maybe if you poisoned yourself slowly over the years you could finish the job this time.

Joel asked for your father's location in the commune, then walked with you when the sun set to eat dinner.

Ellie still hated him, and she probably would continue to for a long time, but Joel no longer felt like an anchor sinking to the bottom of the ocean with no end in sight for his fall.

I would've done the same. The words pulled him back. Made him see blue once more.

Validation saved his life. Your approval became a pillar.

He'd continue to seek it for the next years to come.

The Earth finished a whole new cycle around the Sun, and Joel started to build a life again in the meantime.

He worked patrols and went back to carpentry.

He befriended your father, who loved calling him to have dinner or smoke a pipe with him on his porch. Your father was a sweet-looking man who hid very crazy, funny, and dark bits inside of him.

"I see where she gets it from," Joel commented.

It pulled boisterous laughter from him. "Yeah, she's a feisty one."

Joel snorted. It came out in smokes. "Feisty? Ellie's feisty. I was on patrol last month when the raiders tried transpassing. I've seen your daughter use a scalpel in ways I still have fuckin' nightmares about."

More laughter was followed by, "I taught her well."

"You sure fuckin' did." Joel laughed too. Not because it was funny, but because the memory kind of terrified him. Thrilled him. He shook his head and gave the pipe back. "Was she always like that?"

"Was Ellie always like this?"

Joel chuckled. "Fair enough." Even though Ellie was now a teenager, and Joel had only known her for two years, he answered. "I think she has, yeah. A lil' badass. A lil' feisty and weird. And funny."

"God — she is funny."

"I didn't think so at first."

"She needed to work on her delivery," your father laughed like there was no tomorrow. No apocalypse. "I like seeing her and Grace together. I think she's waking up that motherly desire in her, ya know? I always wanted to see her be a mom before I give my big adios."

"If she hears ya she's gonna smack you again."

"Eh! She's always hitting folks. Her violent little heart can't stop anyone from reaching the pearly gates."

"Morice, I've heard enough stories to know you ain't seeing any pearls."

There had been silence, and then unstoppable, loud laughter from both of them.

It was the memory Joel thought about the most after he passed away.

When you came to his house with a whiskey bottle in hand and the angriest look Joel had ever seen on your stunning features, he knew without a word being said.

He sat with you in silence as you had done for him so many other times. You cried, chopped wood until your clothes were soaked in sweat, and drank with Joel until the bottle was empty.

It had been the first time you asked for something more.

When you caved into the tears late at night, Joel saw you pacing from left to right and had no clue what to do, what to offer, but you spared him of choosing. "Can I — can you hug me?"

He complied in the same second.

The request was quieter than the wind, but he could pick out your voice from a crowd.

Joel wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

That opened up new doors — pearly gates. A year of small touches on the forearm and close proximity at every given opportunity made Joel aware of how much he craved your presence. Those little flames were nothing compared to this—a hug, and Joel's mind and body were a forest on fire.

You clung to him, rubbed your face on his chest, and refused to let go. You accepted every caress in your hair, and almost fell asleep on his shoulder.

After the hug, any excuse was a good one.

You touched him every time you saw him — even if just a little nudge on the shoulder or a finger brushing the back of his hand.

Joel started leaving tobacco and herbs on top of Morice's resting place, and continued their conversations even if he never heard the replies.

"I'll take care of 'er. Be by her side, y'know? I know she doesn't need it, but... You and her were the reason I found some happiness in here, so... It's only fair."

Somewhere along the way, you'd convinced Joel to play on Tommy's barbecues which happened every month for some of his friends.

Music connected weird parts of him together.

The strings of his guitar were one of the only guarantees he had of making Ellie smile, for starters. When she asked for the lessons a while after stopping all communication with Joel, he had simply nodded a meek, "Yeah," too stunned to add anything else; too grateful to even dare think about it.

Your request came the very first time Joel attended one of the famous Millers Sunday, and it was the reason why Joel went from feeling like a stranger in a strange town to himself again.

Tommy clapped him on the back. You, and your smile from across the yard with the fireplace burning in between, and Joel felt almost like a person.

So he sang. Played the strings even if his joints ached around the edges, played until they no longer did and his body grew used to the motions again, played every month to come just to see the smile creep on your face and you mouthing along the lines of the songs you knew.

One day, he asked why didn't you join Ellie's lessons.

"She's gettin' real good at it." He was proud of it. Joel almost preened talking of it, matter-of-factly, missing the way your eyes softened. "You like music. You like it and miss it, which not many people do. I don't even know why I ain't never thought of it — 'm sorry about that, darlin'. Were you ever interested? In learning?"

With his eyes back on you, Joel swallowed a little thickly at how gentle your smile looked. "Joel — have you ever seen me on The Porch's dance floor? Do I look like I have any rhythm?"

"Sure you do."

Your laughter. "No, I don't!" You slapped his arm, hiding your laughter in your arms afterward, and Joel was used to it. Being hit, being poked, being used as a pillow. "Stop lying to me."

"I ain't lyin'." He was. It made him smile to see you laugh that hard.

"You're full of shit, that's what you are."

"Is that your medical diagnosis?"

The giggles that were subduing came back, and Joel knew the second glass of wine had caught up to your head. "You've been spending too much time with Miss Williams."

That made him laugh. Joel did so with his head thrown back because not even three days ago he had a screaming 16-year-old screaming at him about 'manipulation of the goddamn perspective' and if that wasn't your lingo through and through. "That's rich! Oh, that's rich as fuck comin' from you."

"How so?!"

"I reckon Ellie Missy Williams's been doin' just fine with your tutoring. Don't think I've missed you and her gigglin' in the room every now and then."

You roll your eyes, smiling so wide that your tinted cheeks look carved into stone. "Fine. I'm a terrible influence. Her attitude got nothing to do with her grumpy ass 'father-figure' who taught her how to be a goddamn menace to society."

"I can hear the air quotes even when you don't them with your finger, darlin'," Joel accused, trying to suppress his smile and school his face into a threatening, menacing look.

He's hit with the memory of when you first mocked him for it.

"Don't call me her father. I ain't her father."

"Good fucking gods, you two are so difficult! Fine. As her "father figure", you need to say something. Is that better, Joel? Did the semantics change help you?"

Now, you have the same side smirk.

"You didn't say I was wrong." Your voice dropped to a whisper.

It pulled his body closer. Like gravity was in your sound waves. "I didn't."

You rested your chin on your hand. "So... we're both a bad influence."

"Seems that way," he found himself whispering too. Joel kept his eyes on your cheeks. On your lashes and your eyes, even if they pierced through him.

"Considering she's in perfect health, handles herself just fine, and is trying her best to keep the good people of this town safe... I think that's not a bad job. The whole picture, y'know?"

Joel nods and his lips tug in a smile — not because of your sweet spoken words, but because it's funny to see it. Your mind switching to seriousness so fast.

"I do love music, though," you pout, looking up at him. He recalls how the bickering started this time around, and chuckles at your late confession. "I like watching you guys better than any idea of me playing. Or singing." With a full-body shudder, you add. "That is not where my talents lie."

"Could be," he insisted, just for the sake of that—

—your smile. "Not even you have that patience, Miller."

Miller. He had to look away every time you spoke it that way. "You're right. The brat burned away the last savings I had of that."

He heard you chuckling, and then he felt it. The nuzzling of your nose on his shoulder. "Nah. You were trying to sweet talk her just last week."

"She needs a new horse," he argued with thin air over the memory you bring up. He also scoots closer to the couch so you can rest your head on him when you're done with your cat-like behavior and end up with your whole face pressed on his shoulders, your breath tingling his neck. "And you could help me with convincing her, couldn't ya?"

"I'm not gonna meddle in your Miller-Williams business," you scoffed as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

As if these two years and a half hadn't been about you and him and her and everything orbiting around that.

Joel scoffed back. "Darlin', if you think you ain't mingled in our business, I'm gonna have to be the bearer of bad news here..."

"More tangled."

"It's just a horse, Grace."

"She lost her first pet, a horse, in a traumatic even, Joel."

Fuck him, he loved doing this with you. He sipped the last remnants of alcohol from his glass hoping it'd dull the smell of your hair invading his senses. Or maybe he liked when it amplified it. Who knew. Who gave a fuck. "Fine."

"Fine."

"She can keep usin' the stables' horses every time we gotta go out." Joel was never above playing dirty. Certainly not with you. "The ones Rick tames. The ones that sense how volatile, strong, angry she can be..."

The way you tensed was twice more obvious with your whole body pressed on his side. "God, I fucking hate you sometimes."

Joel laughed at the empty curse. "'m just sayin'."

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"Do I?"

"You do and it's annoying and fine." You sighed deeply. "I'll get into yet another awkward, intense conversation with the volatile teenager about the importance of facing traumas. It'll go great."

"Better you who knows what the fuck you're talkin' about than me."

"She just stopped giving me the cold shoulder." It's a whine. You're whining at Joel about his daughter who still lives in a constant fluctuation between loveshatesloveshates with him was giving you the cold shoulder.

"It takes her two weeks to get over her lil' fights with you."

"Hmm." It was nice when you gave in. There were few times Joel could get through your stubbornness — something you and Ellie had engraved in your souls — and it felt like a win every time. "I'll talk to her."

Joel's hand moved on its own accord. From his lap to your hair, resting slowly on your head.

He squeezed a few times, and felt you nudging towards the touch. Leaning into it.

"Thanks, darlin'."

There was a heartbeat before you answered.

"'Course, Joel."

While the looks were easy to ignore, the whispers were not.

Words carried by the wind clung to his skin like the very smell of sweat after some years of running non-stop.

They spoke about him.

About Ellie.

You.

All three, mushed together, sometimes all in one go, sometimes two by two, but always you three.

Joel knew what they thought of him and you — of your time spent together.

They thought of him as inappropriate. You had always been the 'dark sheep' of the commune. The reason why people sometimes still remembered how grim and ugly it was out there. They spoke of you as ruthless, frowned upon your methods, but Joel smell their bullshit and saw beyond their condescension.

It was easy to speak with their bellies full.

With their houses safe. God, it boiled his blood to even think about it — these people sometimes slept with their doors opened because the security around the wooden gates was so great and efficient, but failed to remember or willingly forgot that all triage was created by your now deceased father and you.

It was your 'ruthless methods' that kept the creeps away.

Who screened people who seemed otherwise harmless but sought to do sordid, unspeakable things inside safe havens they'd have no problem burning to the ground.

Sure, he'd cleaned his way through a hospital to stop the murder of one single child, but at least Joel had a head on his shoulders.

Some people out there lacked even that.

As much as he wished for judgment to come only from the strangers he grew to know as neighbors and comrades — something you, personally, loved teasing him and Tommy of being — but of close people.

Maria, he could handle it. It was when Tommy spoke up that it stung.

"Don't you think it's... weird? Hangin' out with her so much? I mean—I heard from Dieter that he wanted to ask her out, but somehow when he goes to ask she's always talkin' to you." Tommy looked like he meant well with it. Those eyes never lied to him, and Joel saw the concern there. "I just don't want you to feel left out or abandoned in case she does start seein' someone, that's all."

That's all.

As if he hadn't opened a dent in Joel's mind.

A 'in case she does start seein' someone' sized dent.

It was the only time Joel gave a damn about words being spoken of him—or to him, he should say, considering it was meant as advice.

It was the first and last time.

In three years Joel never thought of you or anything he felt as inappropriate. Maybe he even should.

There were certainly dreams.

Desire was there, too. Alive and burning. Tall and solid, with the fires high enough for it to be a volcano.

But he swallowed it down.

He knew you were not for him.

He knew you were too bright. Knew he had nothing to offer but his company, some music every now and then, and everything inside of him, if you asked.

Still—he never did anything.

Even in the times when it felt like the bickering and teasing might be called flirting. In the times when you bit your lip after staring at him a heartbeat or two too long, or when you made his chest, shoulders, his neck your personal comforter, making yourself at home.

He bit his tongue during those times.

Told himself there was such a thing as projecting, and that just because you knew him, knew all of him, it didn't mean your kindness and acceptance equaled all that he felt for you.

All of the fuckin' ocean of things he so painfully, obviously felt for you.

Listening to Tommy worked until it didn't.

Until you showed up at his doorstep late at night, pissed off and fuming.

"Where the fuck were you?" Without even waiting for a reply, you stepped inside the house, pushing past him. "And speaking of being places, where have you been? 'Cause blowing me off only works the first four or five times. I know where you live, and in case it wasn't crystal clear to you, I know when you're lying to me."

So you pretended to believe his shitty lies. Joel closed the door with a sigh and wondered if Ellie was already listening from upstairs.

He imagined telling you to lower your voice was a certain ticket to meeting your father earlier than his due time.

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't answer where you've been." Your arms crossed over your chest. "Y'know, it's called Miller Sunday and ever since you moved here, that means two for one. Tell me why I endured Maria's friends the whole fucking night, hm?"

"Uh — 'cause they like you?"

"Joel."

"I know, I know." He chuckled under his breath, raising both hands up in surrender. "My bad." He nodded towards the kitchen trying to work out how to knit an excuse on the spot, and then remembered—I know when you're lying to me. "I've been... stuck in my head."

There was a pause. "Oh. Ew." That made him laugh again. "Well, alright. That happens sometimes. Care to share why you're acting as if isolation's gonna help with that?"

"Damn, I don't know, woman. 'Cause I'm old and stupid? 'Cause I listen to Tommy every now and then even though that's a shitty idea sometimes?"

"Don't call yourself stupid in my presence, it's fucking offensive." The damn heat behind your words almost made him work up a sweat. "What does Tommy have to do with this?"

"Nothin'." Joel hid his face while opening the fridge, but he knew your silence well. He picked up the water jug, and placed it on the counter behind him.

"Miller, look at me."

Goddamn it.

He turned around slowly.

You were looking right through him. Searching all over his face for something you found within two seconds.

Then, you stepped closer until you were only a few inches away, looking up at him with enough certainty in your gaze to make him feel smaller despite the inches he had on you.

"I know damn well who I wanna spend my fucking time with." It was like a caress to the face. Joel felt it like your fingertips, which had traced the lines in his eyes and face until he fell asleep a few times by now. "Never insult me again by thinking you, or Tommy, or anyone for that matter can know that better than me."

An adult. Who knows who she is. Who's walked her path.

It went unsaid.

Joel nodded along since there was nothing to do but agree.

"If you don't wanna spend time with me for you own reasons, then... so be it. Tell me about them, or don't, but—never do this again. Your brother's known me for a little longer than you, but he doesn't know me as well as you do. I expected this from Tommy."

But not from him.

"It ain't gonna happen again." Joel said it and you both could hear how he meant it.

Slowly, a smile crept on your face. "Good."

"You're smiling?" he asked, dumbfounded.

The smile widened. "I'm... a little happy right now."

"Because... I ain't gonna be a stu—sorry, a silly little old man any more?"

There was a giggle you tried suppressing and failed at. "No."

"'Cause you're gonna use this against me for the next fortnight to get me to do whatever you want even though I'm nearly a sixty-year-old man?"

A roll of your eyes put a smile on his face as well. "You're more in shape at sixty than a lot of our twenty-year-olds here and that act doesn't work with me, darling. No—I'm happy 'cause I'm surprised. It works on you too."

"What works on me?"

"My mean glance." The answer took him by surprise, and yet, all you seemed was even more gleeful at his wide-eyed expression. "Didn't know I could scare Joel Miller."

"You're gigglin' 'cause you just found out I'm scared of ya?"

"Exactly."

"Darlin' I thought you saw me as a smart one. Who in their right mind ain't scared of you?"

"Damn right." You slapped his shoulder, and it seemed to ease some of the tension he carried these days he tried creating distance between you both. "Now — since we established the rights and wrongs. You wanna hear all the gossip about today?"

Joel had picked up the jug of water, but he could switch to the cans of beer.

"Lay it on me."

The thing is — never in his wildest thoughts did Joel think he'd end up having a life, after all.

Who was he to be one of the few lucky bastards who got one at the end of everything? What had he done to ever dare dream he deserved it?

Peace, a good life, building things again... that was reserved for the good ones.

Joel was not one of the good ones.

His mind had sort of stopped at thirty-six, then geared back into reality, twenty years later when he gained a second chance.

All the things he did in between those instances counted for a whole lot.

It's why he ignored it until he couldn't anymore.

That was why Joel saw only his own feelings screaming and reaching so loud, grasping like grabby fingers towards you, and blinded himself to the way all those gazes you sent back were you giving him a white flag.

Joel saw what he had the heart and mind to handle at the moment, he liked to think.

Now... this seemed like a third.

This seemed like a confession.

And it all had happened so fast.

One minute, Joel was saying goodnight to Ellie. She was leaving to go to her friend Dina's house, and you were there with your glass of wine in hand while your other browsed through the new books he picked up at the library lying on his shelves.

He had been talking about Martha — to him, it was a funny story he wanted to get out of his system since it happened, and the one and only person he wanted to tell it to was you.

He was even laughing as he started it, but his rhythm faltered when he first caught the look on your face. It made him lose his train of thought. It fucking blindsided him.

Was it jealousy?

He stuttered. It was ridiculous to him — talking about the nice woman who worked at the restaurant who flustered herself trying to talk to Joel. Flirt with him.

He'd never seen that look on your face.

Could it be—no. It had to be something else. "...told her that she isn't actually, uhm... biological. What's wrong? Did I say something wrong? Was I shit-talking myself again and didn't notice?"

If there was a thing that put a frown on your face, it was when he did that.

"No." Joel became alert out of nowhere because this tone was absent from his mental register of all your different voice tones.

"Oh. I thought I did." He laughed, albeit awkwardly. "I just—I thought it was funny, that's all. Didn't even think it was possible for someone to blush still 'cause of old me. It was funny, couldn't believe why she was so flustered.

"Why not? That wasn't the reason for my face but now it fucking is." How could Joel ever demand that Ellie cursed less when this was his household? He pinned that one for later. "You're a handsome guy. Intimidating. Don't laugh at her because you give off those... vibes."

Handsome? Intimidating? Joel's mind started reeling, and so he laughed. "Vibes? What fuckin' vibes? I'm old, Grace. What does she got to be intimidated about other than the side of me she doesn't even fuckin' know?"

"I don't know!" your voice rose to match his own, and that's when Joel noticed how his pitch rose as he argued with you. Bickering or fighting, you two could end up at each other's throats within a second, and then be hugging in the next. "Maybe because she sees you from an outsider's lens? Maybe she sees what you can't since you're so busy always thinking about everything you do wrong and lose the ability to look past that?"

"All I do is get shit wrong! You better than anyone knows that." God, was he happy Ellie had left. Joel sighed, rubbed his palms all over his face and tried breathing deep to steady his voice. "I've got nothin' to offer anyone and I don't even know how we got here from a funny lil' story I was—"

That's when it happens.

You interrupt him.

Deadly, direct, and loud, you cut over his words.

"Don't you ever say that again. Don't you ever talk that kind of bullshit in my presence, Joel."

"Why not?! It's the truth."

"No, it fucking isn't! It's the cruel part of you that judges you based only on the wrongdoing and paints it as your whole personality and I'm not gonna fucking have it! It's not the truth. It's not! Not to me." When you stopped, the whole house seemed to follow suit and quiet down with you. Then—"You don't accept me seeing only the worst in me. Why would I let you do the same? I won't."

There was bass to your voice when you threatened him.

Fire in your cheeks. A glint so bright and wide washing in the shore of your eyes that it clicked for him.

Joel realized what he'd been ignoring for the past three years — a time he spent dancing around the dark hunger he carved in his bones for you — he saw, for the first time as clear as water, that you meant those smiles. The sweetness. The honey stick way your hand touched his skin, sometimes, and the traces it left behind.

It silenced him immediately.

As you defended him from his own words, Joel saw he was not only old, but also goddamn stupid.

The silence must have stretched for too long because as it becomes a physical blanket draping over both of your shoulders, your posture changes.

Becomes erratic.

Looking from side to side, you sigh. "Y'know what? I should go. We're both hot-headed idiots and I don't wanna—"

"Sit down."

For the first time ever, you obeyed him.

It took you a second—you froze at the command but stopped your movements to remove your jacket from the chair's back and sat back down in slow movements, your eyes lingering on his all the time.

Was it real?

"Gimme a second here." Joel needed more than that. Goddamn it—Joel would need the rest of his life to accommodate to this feeling. Thing bubble of pure, raw energy swirling inside of him and growing each second, all because— "You were."

You were jealous. Of him.

Your eyes never looked so vulnerable. So earnest, and terrified. "Of course I was." It comes out like you silly old man.

Joel tries to work his vocal cords. They might've been knitted together. "Why?"

Instead of raging over him again, this time, your gaze sees the real question he's asking.

Joel never believed in an air you could touch until he stood in this very room.

He can taste the back of his tongue. He sees your frown softening, disappearing.

"Because you care, Joel." The simpler answer. He waits, because he sees in your steady, careful breathing that there's more you want to say. This tone he recognizes. This is 'I'm collecting myself bit by bit' Grace, and he waits, as always. "Because... you either lost your eyesight or just blinded yourself to... you." It's nighttime and the only light in the kitchen comes from his yellowish bulb, but it's enough to see the tint on your cheeks. "Because you're—this package. Of everything real. Everything resilient, and clever, and... Miller. Fuckin' — southern charm. Stupid fuckin' smile."

It amps. It darkens. Your cheeks, your eyes. And once you seem, it seems a crack is opened in your dam, and the inevitable water comes to fall.

"I dreamt about it before." Joel is stuck in place, listening to you. "Your smile. The way you laugh, too. And — you do this thing, where you're a complete delight to people you care about. That's what Ellie means when she says you make it so hard to stay away from you, just so you know."

"You two talk about me?" it comes out choked.

You nod. "'Course we fuckin' do."

"Goddamn it."

"Yeah." Your laughter sounds as breathless as he feels. "Because of that. And more."

He nods back, thinking — okay.

Okay.

Joel might take a lifetime to feel worthy of your feelings, but if he has them — "I didn't think I stood any chance."

The confession lays on the table for a moment and when you pick it up, Joel can see it — your eyes widen, surprise evident on your face.

"You really didn't know," you whisper.

He blinks away the sudden sting and glint in his eyes, laughing at himself. "I really didn't know." He registers you knew about your own feelings, but you have no idea of his. It registers that you both have been suffering in silence, overshadowed by the brightness of your own feelings to see beyond them. "I don't think I could've handled it if I knew it before," he confesses.

"Wow." You sigh deeply, sucking all the air you can into your lungs. "I can't believe I owe that little shit fifty bucks. I don't even have money."

"You bet on this?"

The look you throw him is enough of an answer.

Then, another question pops up — and yeah. That's why the air is palpable. It's like walking through a spider's nest.

The threads might be thinner than hair, but the feeling sticks out. It sticks with you. If Joel's had a chance all this time, if all your feelings were kept safely tucked i

He only has one question to make. "Is it too late?"

Your eyes snap back to him. "Too late for what?"

"To make a move." Joel might've been an idiot, but he's keen on fixing it. "Because — in case it wasn't clear, my thoughts are all yours." From the look on your face, it was not something you knew. The glint in your eyes tells him it might be something you hoped for or dreamed about, but it's his words that set it into stone. "My time's yours. I ain't as good as you with words, but... all I ever wanna be is alone with you. You said it yourself last month. 'm the happiest when I'm with you and El. Now... you know why."

For someone who knew him so little, you always seemed to know what kept Joel tethered to the moment.

As you listened to his words, your eyes shined, reflecting the light. Joel wanted to say more things, but he decided to keep them for later. A moment when there was less of his soul seeming to pour out through his pores.

You get up from your chair, and in two steps, you're standing in front of him.

Turning sideways, you sit on his lap.

Joel feels his hands shake as they come to rest on your hips, and yours come up to his face.

There's nothing left for you to say, or ask. Joel closes his eyes in surrender. Opening his mouth was a leap — perhaps the height was what created that bubble; that huge thing inside of him that only expanded the closer you got.

Joel never felt this before.

He knew those were your lips pressing against his. Knew it was your hair tickling his face and your fingers threading through his thick hair, but he felt submerged.

Not drowning — just deep, way deep in water.

You pulled back after a second. The kiss was so soft, and yet, Joel felt you like an ocean wave.

He opened his eyes to the sight of you licking your lips, and that snapped him; something in your tongue reached deep within him, going further than he thought possible, and ignited another something in him.

Desire.

Not the need for release, or momentary rushes, but—

the real deal.

One of Joel's hands came up abruptly, taking hold of your neck, and he breathed in a slow breath before closing the gap between your lips again.

This time, he invited himself in.

Joel licked your lips open. He pulled you closer until you were pressed against his chest, and kissed you for all the years he lacked the will to kiss someone.

It was a feast.

The more he gave, the more you took. The sounds that started to come out of you only made Joel hungrier, and the more he heard it, the more he craved it.

He could already see the cycle of addiction forming in his brain.

Your tongue swirled with his slowly, in a lazy, filthy kiss. With his hands making a mess of your hair or grabbing you by the neck and chin, he guided your face to where he wanted.

When a particular breathy whine was pulled out of you, Joel's fingers tightened around you. The kiss became desperate, needy, a pouring of bottled emotions.

A joined deep dive, where no oxygen was needed.

Fuck—Joel needed to breathe. He pulled back because his lungs screamed that at him, and he laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that. His heart was beating as fast as it could, and his ears were ringing, he thought, and you were resting your forehead on his with your puffs of breath tickling his face.

He could feel you smiling with how close you stayed to his lips.

Joel really was alive, no matter how hard he fought it.

And now, somehow, he was here.

"What?" you whispered. Breathless.

That, he wanted to answer. Joel panted, and noticed you were breathing heavily too.

"'m never been in such a hurry my whole damn life." Joel pulled you back by the nape for one more kiss just to show you he meant it, and you moaned on his lips.

It occurred to him that might die by your hands, metaphorical or not.

You were in him.

"You." His time was yours, and so were his thoughts, and now, Joel thought he was, too. In a way. "Sittin' here on my lap, like it's nothin'."

"It's everything."

"Goddamn it, woman—"are you trying to kill me, he wants to say.

It gets buried in your lips.

Joel wants to devour you right there on the table. It's a place for eating, and he'd butter you up only to eat you piece by piece until half of his face was drenched.

At the same time, Joel's hands were shaking.

He kissed you so deep, and yet so slow because he wants this forever.

He couldn't keep everything inside him. Joel knew all he could do for now was kiss you because anything more might pull him apart by the seams.

When you start kissing his neck, his eyes snap open, and he forces himself to capture your attention. "Darlin'." It comes out raspy and low, pulling another precious sound from you. Joel exhales shakily. "Grace, hey."

That gets you. Your face comes back in his field of vision, and he's distracted by the reality facing him.

Red cheeks and lips, which are also puffy. Swollen.

He did that.

The glazy glint in your eyes and the wildness of your hair.

He did that, too.

"What?" you ask. Breathless voice — all him.

It hits him right there—the new stream making connections in the depths of his mind. Mine. A river of mineminemine.

"I hate to break this short, but — El's comin' back soon, I think."

"Oh!" You nod to yourself. "Right. And — you wanna wait? To tell her, and stuff?"

Joel laughs. He leans his head to kiss those pretty, puffy lips. He murmurs the answer right against them. "Nah. 'm gossiping to her as soon as she's through that door and 'm gettin' my money share of that bet you mentioned." Your gasp makes the smile stay on his face. "Yeahhh. But — I'm takin' you on a date tomorrow. Old school style. I'll plan it and everythin'. I know you well enough to not mess this up, I think."

He's messed up enough in his life. Maybe the universe could grant him after trying so damn hard to repair all the things he'd broken; a chance.

"I'll be ready, Miller."

He kisses you again. "Good. I'll pick you up at sundow."

"Is this you kicking me out of your house?"

He rolls his eyes at the sarcastic question and kisses the cocky grin off your face because he now can. He kisses it away real good, until his own toes are squirming in his boots and Joel can categorize the strength you like to have your hair being pulled by, how much you enjoy the nibbles he's unable to keep from stealing of your lips, and he's mapped the outlines of your upper body.

When he needs the stupid oxygen again, Joel pulls back but stays close.

"You're gonna help me make dinner?" he asks, low and sweet.

You hum. "Yeah."

"Thank you." Thank you, he kisses the thought on your lips. Thank you so much. "'m gonna be doin' this a lot now that I know I can."

"Oh, you're gonna kill me."

Joel's smirk comes back. "Y'know what? I was thinkin' the same thing."

Dinner is made with music playing on the radio for the first time in a while. Joel almost pinches himself when Ellie gets home with a, "Woah, what the fuck?! It smells amazing in here."

It hurts, how good it feels.

Joel never thought that feeling would come back.

According to Ellie Williams, Joel becomes "unbearable, really," and he would take offense to it had she not followed it with, "but... it's nice to see this side of you. And — I like her. I love Grace, actually. You know that. She's given me a lot to think about. Plus—she makes you reeeeal talkative, and we had a nice talk last night. Good on you."

Good on you.

Joel smiles for the rest of the day.

Tommy takes a total of one day and one scolding from you — which Joel fucking misses because of a shift of all things, and honestly, he'll never stop asking for your story of that day — and there's that.

Millers Sunday has a couple of tense first tries, but after a couple of months, people get used to the shift.

It's not that different from before.

You two were already seen side by side more often than not. Now, the difference was that Joel's arm could be found around your chair sometimes, or your hand rested on his neck, or you two shared a little wink.

A little flirtatious remark.

Ellie 'hated' it. "It's gross. You two are gross."

She said it laughing, though. Joel smiled every time he heard it.

They grew used to it, and Joel thanked the power of the peace you brought him, because anything they disliked about it became white noise to him.

All his insecurities were abandoned on the first date night he has with you.

Joel gets the house all for himself.

He plans the hours carefully because he meant what he said. He picks you up at sunset and takes you for a walk on the lake to enjoy the night sight and weather while it lasts. After, he takes you home to eat dinner, then pulls out one of your favorite board games to entertain the night and give both the time to work through the wine.

He liked to see your glee winning.

Joel was shitty at most of these, but it was worth the frustration of being a sore loser in your hands.

You soothed his bickering protests by crawling to him.

Not sliding, or scooting over — you crawled like a cat, and stole all his focus in one movement.

Joel did to you what he meant to do on that table.

First, right there on the floor.

Even though he wished you two went to the bedroom, it was impossible to untangle from under you when you kissed him until you two were panting for each other again. All that energy sizzling in your veins, pumping with dreams and wine, and Joel just thought fuck it.

There was a fluffy carpet and the duvet he'd spread so you two could sit with the game and play comfortably, and that's all he needed.

He had you on your back with your legs wrapped around his neck, lying with his stomach on the floor. Kneading the pad of his thumbs on the inside of your legs. Kissing all the parts of you he imagined. Joel stripped you from your clothes, and kept his eyes fixed on you as he searched for the right ways to unwind you.

He opened you up with his tongue, slowly, and deliberately.

Nothing was enough when it came to you.

Joel accepted right there — legs locked on his shoulders and your feet digging heels in his back —, right then — his tongue thrusting in and out of you until his jaw ached —, that he was fine knowing it'd be an endless search.

Seeking his fill of you.

He eats up the way your lips loosen when his hands are on you. "Joel, why d'you have clothes on? Take 'em off, take it off." He appreciated how you lost your eloquence. How eager you were for him.

"It's ok, 'm here, darlin."

"I know, want it closer." He loved how you took it. What you wanted from him, you just took it, and he prayed it would always be that way. "Want you in me," you whisper on his lips.

That's when he finds the strength to get up. He picks you up and resists the urge to throw you over his shoulder, taking you to the bedroom with all of his clothes still on and yours abandoned in various places of the living room.

Time sort of... folds, with you and a bedroom.

Joel finds that out on night one, and it keeps on being true.

The way all your walls are down there drives him towards insanity, and later, you peppering kisses all over the skin closest to you, the skin your mouth can find, it brings him back.

Joel gets undressed slowly. "Get on the bed." He falters a little when you obey him again, and it clicks for him. Joel exhales, throwing his shirt off somewhere. "Touch yourself while I do this."

Your eyes widen for a second, but again...

You smile first. Then, slowly, your knees pull apart and your hand reaches between your legs, where your pussy opens up in a glistening sight, and Joel has only the mind to finish his task.

It's hard not to worship something that makes his mouth water.

He does that until you're shaking, legs trembling on his shoulders and begging for him to come up—"get here, please."

It's the 'please' that gets him.

Joel goes in seek of more of them. Always more of them.

He discovers you like it when he alternates between extremes. Really slow, or a hard, or a fast, or a deep pace. Joel spends as long as he can take testing all the ways you wrapped around him can feel like and all the angles that make your jaw fall slack open.

Something about fucking you face to face, though — Joel gets to see the scrunch of your nose and your eyes rolling back when he praises you for doing so, so well. "Taking me so well. Look at that — look at it, baby, c'mon." The loud and unabashed moan you let out makes him roll his eyes, thrusting deep into you. "Keep on looking."

"Joel."

"Hmhm. What — is it — hm, baby?"

"'m gonna cum again," you whine, getting louder, and he gets more desperate. "Oh, god," you cry out.

"'s fine. That's what — I want. Give it to me"

"It's so good. Please—harder, Joel. Like you want to fuck me."

You enjoy doing it to him, Joel thinks. Breaking him so you can put it back together, or maybe it's just how you make him whine that gets to your head.

It gets louder — everything gets louder. The sounds, the bubble of feelings reading to burst and be reborn again, only bigger, how fucking wet you get for me.

"C'mon, darlin'. Wanna feel you soakin' me with your cum."

Joel sees why you enjoy it, too.

He smiles, and ascends at seeing the sweet feelings of release washing you from head to toe, and the transcendent look in your eyes when you open them and pull him down for a kiss. You came so hard he lost himself in your orgasm, mixing with his own and he cums a little more at the realization, burying himself deeper in the mess you two have made.

Your whining and panting in can only be felt, so he switches your face to his left side. "Deaf, baby."

You giggle at him. "I didn't say anything."

"I know. Just wanna hear your lil' noises." Joel kisses your neck, and pulls out slowly despite your whiny protests. His fingers come down to between your legs and he should feel self-conscious about the filthy mess he makes there, but when he looks up at your face you're watching him with a look he knows.

I'm starving for you.

Joel seals his lips on yours.

He's never leaving this place. This home he's built where he gets you, and a second chance, and the monthly Sundays with music and you by his side whispering indecent jokes in his ears, and the protective circle you create around him and Ellie ate any minor possibility of outsiders.

Joel's not missing this chance for anything.

🏷 @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @levylovegood — @simply-sams-things — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 — @averysblog — @pedrostories — @fleursirvart — @sirtommyholland — @capbrie — @hawsx3 — @superflymaterial — @ashleyforeverareject — @girlofchaos — @queerponcho — @am-3-thyst — @nyotamalfoy — @my-tearsricochet — @ponyboys-sunsets — @peqchsoup hope you all enjoy it!

#usernexusnyx #writing commissions #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller x oc #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x original character #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff

[tiyoin]

part 2 | 📍part 3

floyd is staring at you.

he hasn’t stopped since last night.

all through out class his gaze never leaves you- not even when trein gives out an assignment, off handedly commenting about floyd’s ogling, but even then, trein seems to not his strange quietness.

the professor gives you a strange look, silently saying ‘what ever happened between you two should be resolved and fast. because a dead silent floyd is an eerie, unpredictable floyd.’

the only time floyd’s gaze seemed to falter was when trein snipped at him to ‘keep his eyes on his own paper.’ the moment that statement left trein’s mouth your eyes flicked up to floyd’s. there was a brief moment of eye contact, a brief moment where your breath caught.

floyd’s mismatched eyes slimmed down to his paper, magical pen hovering over the top left as it was your turn to observe the eel. he looked up again, mouth agape like he wanted to say something.

but like leaves twinkling through a spring breeze, you changed your course of attention as you were now focused on putting your name on your paper.

to you change it, or divert it? unable to listen to him after… that.

you could almost hear his frustration, since the distance across the room wasn’t enough to conceal his emotions nor was he too worried about the others catching on.

floyd leech was… tricky, like that.

he let people see what he wanted them to see but also had a loose grip on his emotions. he could bottle things up with a toothy smile when he wanted to, other times his body movements would leave him open him like a display book in the library. there for anybody to pick up, skim through, and decide if they liked it’s contents. deciding in that moment if they’ll check it out to read, or put it back in search of something… less floyd-like.

resting your heavy head in your palm, you sighed, trying to focus on the paper but you mind had other thoughts. like spell drive players on the pitch, your mind was racing, swerving, tumbling and zipping around as your thoughts seemed to allude you.

your brain was in so much distress everything canceled out, you felt so overwhelmed that there were no thoughts to overwhelm you.

it was a paradox that frustrated you greatly. made a dullness in place of that… anxiety take root in your chest. man, you just wanted to curl up and… simply? stop existing.

“that will be all for today- make sure” without waiting to hear his thoughts, you bolted up out of your seat like it had burnt you and hurriedly collected your belongings.

‘get. out.’ was the only thing you thought as your rapid thoughts turned into one unified message. a single voice that made the hair on your nape stand.

“y/n-“ you heard ace next to you speak, but the moment your head lifted to across the room, a flash of wolf grey and electric yellow flashed in your vision. blinking, the image of his haunting eyes weren’t right in front of you, staring through you as it picked apart your entirety…

no, they were across the classroom. and while they weren’t as close they were still watching your every move. his movement seemed to mirror your own as you raced to beat the eel out the door and into the safety of the crowd.

you gasped, floyd visibly flinching from your reaction. swinging your head to your right, you examined your shoulder, a pale hand resting comfortably, ebony sleeves covering everything past their wrist- even the brown freckles on the person’s arm were covered in the fabric.

your eyes traced the seams of the jacket, your eyes quickly going back down to the cuff as you noted the white undershirt- a minor over sight you let yourself have as you were too focused on trying to figure out the stitch style.

something you have no prior knowledge of, yet an eye for nonetheless.

you stayed on the cufflinks. a proud, royal gold that had tiny raven’s encrusted in them.

“y/n” the voice commanded. but you couldn’t look at him. at ace. looking everywhere on his face but his eyes. it felt too much for you. too.. intimate of an action at the moment.

“let’s go” a voice on your left whispered- ‘must be deuce,’ you wondered. because where ace is, deuce is not far behind and vice versa.

nodding automatically, your fought the temptation of sneaking a glance at floyd. stopped yourself from focusing on the sound of footsteps and rustling papers, forced yourself to not try and figure out where he was or what he was doing.

into the tunnel you go.

having your friends guide you down the row and down the steps, through the door and into the bustling hallway. the hand on your shoulder never leaving, only changing as three footsteps turned into two.

…you should be thinking about your friends, about… the leeches. but all you could think about in the moment was how this is what it felt like to be in shock. you think.

not hearing anything yet hearing everything, not feeling anything yet having an uncomfortable prickly feeling where the heavy hand laid. how you could sense things you previously made yourself blind, deaf, and mute to.

your body felt heavy, like an anchor dragging through the sea floor.

you felt every emotion, and yet you felt deader than a freshly buried corpse.

so like leaves in a spring breeze, you let the arm now hung across your shoulders and the hand that gripped your tricep guide you through the weaving hallways and sea of students. letting the figure take reign over your autonomy as you blocked the world out for a second longer.

everything seemed to blend together. notable black outs as you went from the indoor hallways, to the outside corridors, from the court yard to main street.

-

rapid knocking awoke your from your dream- nightmare? or just another unwanted memory? you’d judge that later as you focused on trying to life your limbs. you arms seemed like lead weights everything you tried lifting yourself upright. your eyes, just as exhausted couldn’t open more than just a squint.

swift knocking on the dark oak door seemed to spur you from slipping back into unconsciousness.

stretching with a groan, you felt your hair. you don’t remember taking a shower last night, and even if you had your hair would’ve been dried by now.

you sighed, choosing to ignore the knocking as you shifted to the other side of the king bed. burying your face into a crack between the pillows, you forced yourself to listen.

your heart, once a raging beat in your chest slowed down with each measured breathe, up until you escaped back into unconsciousness. hoping that this time, you’ll have a dreamless slumber and not revisit the days of youth.

i’m attempting to think of a name for this mini series cause i don’t think ‘you’re such a dick floyd leech’ is a good one el oh el

i also think i made this chapter too short, sigh

unedited and not proofread cause we die like men!! 🏇🏇

taglist:

@hopefully-not @dmiqueles @ryuuisthecutest @kiwibirdmother @nico707 @iwillrisefromthefire @itslucieen @tyellowcardinal @snowgirlhd @chlousp @chikitasmol @faethornss @dotster001 @anxious-chick

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎 #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 2

Part one

Steve doesn’t sleep that night. It’s a bad idea to put them both on the bench, and Munson was spiraling. He’d let him sleep until morning, and then they’d have the worst team huddle Steve’s ever been a part of and get the fuck out of here.

When Munson’s breathing finally evens out, Steve rolls onto his back, batting the dangling sleeve of his letterman jacket out of his face. Munson rolls, throwing his arm atop Steve’s calves and cuddling them to his chest. Steve lets him be.

The feel of his breath shifting the fabric of his jeans is almost comforting. Even if it’s just Munson, he’s not alone here.

He’s less alone than he ever has been, here of all places.

It’d been instinct, when the fear hit, to drag Munson into the closet and hunker down. That’s what he’s always done–hide away. It’s not usually this quiet when he’s in here.

Without thought, Steve reaches out to clasp Muson’s spindly ankle in his hand. Munson snuffles in his sleep, but doesn’t wake. Steve resolves to wait out the night.

Except it never gets lighter. Time’s passed, he’s pretty sure, but the light stays that same muted red that gives him the creeps. Maybe the quiet is making him crack up just like Munson? Maybe the stress of the night has thrown off his internal clock? Maybe it’s been ten minutes, and he’s getting short of breath and panicky for no reason at all.

It takes lifetimes for Munson to wake up. 

He snuffles again before shoving Steve’s calves away from himself and launching into an upright position, whacking his face into Steve’s hanging clothes. Munson makes an undignified squawking noise. Steve’s still just trying to breathe.

“Steve?” Munson whispers. “Are you having a nightmare?”

Steve continues to not breathe as Munson bends over him to shake his shoulders, eyes wide. He doesn’t know how to tell him that this just happens sometimes, where the air goes all wrong but only for him.

“It’s still dark out,” he says. It almost comes out normal, like he’s commenting on the weather and not the horrible lighting of the hellscape they’ve landed in amidst an acute episode of not breathing.

“Are you still tired?” Musons asks. “Hungry? Thirsty? What’s happening here, are you dying?” His words trip over themselves in his haste to spit them in Steve’s face.

“Munson, we didn’t wake up.” He laughs, feels half cracked. “The sky’s still fucking red.”

Munson stares at him, mouth hanging open, eyebrows scrunched. He reaches out his hand, and pinches the loose skin of Steve’s wrist hard between his fingers.

“Ow!” It’s not Steve that says it. 

Munson pulls his hand back, shaking it. Steve can barely make out the way the pinky finger on his hand is at an unnatural angle, bulbous in the diluted light.

Something snaps back into place at the sight. His lungs fill and empty like they’re supposed to. He pushes Munson out of the way, ignoring the way he curses as he forces his way out of safety.

It’s a little lighter in his bedroom, but it’s all still red. 

Munson stumbles out after him. Steve grabs his shoulder and shoves him to his bed, pushing him to a seated position. 

“At least buy me dinner first,” Munson says, voice breathy and shaking.

Steve ignores him, kneeling down at his feet to examine his finger in better light. 

It’s dislocated, pulled cleanly from the socket and given time to swell around the injury. It’s going to be a bitch to pop back in. Steve walks back to his closet, grabs a shirt, and throws it into Munson’s face.

“Put this in your mouth.”

“Excuse m–”

Steve kneels back in front of him, grabbing his injured hand and pulling it up to the other boy’s face. “This is going to hurt like a bitch to fix. We can’t afford to have you screaming, Munson.” He picks the shirt up from where it fell in Munson’s lap and holds it up tauntingly. “Bite down.”

Munson does. Steve brings his attention back to his hand, wincing in sympathy. He grabs the injured finger just above the knuckle, grimacing at the whine Munson lets out. He wrenches it back in place, hears it pop almost wetly back in its socket. Munson doesn’t scream–he gasps.

“Sorry, no ice,” Steve says. He’s in triage mode, half-remembered modules from high school health class and first aid training for lifeguarding duty running though his mind. “I think we should wrap it and maybe, like, hold your hand above your head? I think it helps with blood flow.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harrington.” It’s clearly supposed to be sarcastic, but Munson’s teeth are clenched, uninjured hand gripping tightly at Steve’s shirt.

Steve doesn’t comment. He moves into his en suite bathroom, shuffling through drawers until he finds one of the cloth headbands he stole from his Mother. It’s a dark maroon–a perfect fit for Munson’s whole goth vibe.

“Pressure should keep the swelling down,” he says as he carefully wraps the finger as tight as he dares. 

“Fuck fine,” Musons says. He pushes Steve back, less with a shove and more with the sheer force of his gesturing hands. “What now?”

Well, then. Time for the worst Team huddle in existence.

Part 3

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #my fic #im just posting every pov shift for right now so varried part lentghs!!!

[emotionallyunstableduck]

Safe space

Pairings: gojo x reader

Warnings: smidge of crying, gojo's a silly little attention seeker

a/n: I miss him so muchhhh. every week is torturous. My baby needs some comforting ASAP.

the last thing you were expecting to see was your ex-boyfriend Gojo Satoru standing in your doorway with a bruised eye and a busted lip.

"I almost died today" he said, almost not believing his own words, all the while you watched him in horror. "Satoru" he looks like a wet puppy you can't even bring yourself to be harsh "what the fuck happened to you". "I got beat up" he chuckled lowly "part of the job description i suppose". You pull him in seating him on your couch as your hands instinctively went to his face examining it as you gently touched the bruised areas "how did it get this bad" you said sort of wondering out loud "the simplest way to put it is that I got jumped" he tries to lighten the mood "jumped? how do you expect me to believe that satoru? how am i to believe that you of all people could take this much damage just by being jumped?". Why were you angry?

"i did not see them coming, I swear" he says, all giddy at your outburst. As usual, he loves to get a reaction out of you. "Can i stay the night?" his question popped out of nowhere "I- sure. Sure, stay the night. I'll get the guest room ready. " You give in, knowing full well you could never say no to him, not when he's like this. As you try to make past him, he pulls you back onto the couch, clutching onto your tee desperately. "Please stay." Those goddamn eyes. Everytime. It's almost like he knows the kind of effect they have on you.

"I'm only going to get your bed ready satoru" you try to free yourself but to no avail "I just want you right now. just wanna be close" i pulls you closer. All you could do was freeze up in his arms. The familiarity was piercing your heart.

Moments later you felt hot wet tears on you arm which instantly alarmed you. "Satoru" "I'm sorry I'm so sorry" he sobbed into you holding you close by your torso "I thought I was better off alone. I was wrong. So wrong. So so wrong. i'm sorry". His sobs were erratic and you ran your fingers through his hair in order to comfort him. "You were and will be the only best thing in my life. I want you to constitute my every waking second. It's the only way i can breath" his hands made their way up your tee grabbing and squeezing your waist. "Satoru you can't just show up and proclaim shit out of the blue" his only response was the chaste kiss he placed on your tummy before looking up at you with flushed face and those wet lashes and glossy lips. God why does he have to be this enamouring? Your face instantly heated up (the way I'll die from from a nosebleed if I ever see him like so).

"Y/N. Sweets. Please" that's all it took to break your resolve as you hug him back. He took it as a sing to pull you onto his lap. One of his large hands caressing your lower waist while the other cups your cheek as he look at you like you were something so divine for that is how he felt.

He slowly brought your face closer as he connected your lips encompassing your senses and numbing the surroundings. A little while later he pulled back leaving you dazed "god you make me crazy" he went right back in rougher, needier, sloppier. The raw emotion was spinning your head as you melted and gave up trying to decipher what's goin on. His hands all over your bare skin inching towards your chest as you struggled to catch up. Your little moans fuelled him as he pulled you even closer if that was even possible, sliding his tongue into your mouth sucking on yours. The only breaks were to take a sharp breath and to chant out little 'i love yous'.

You struggled to pull yourself together "Satoru your wounds" you say worried "oh these silly things" he snickered healing them with his reverse cursed energy. You just sat there in his lap dumbfounded as to who how you ever even trusted HIM.

"GOJO SATORU" you grabbed his collar "owwww so rough sweets. could have just asked me to remove my shirt" he said with his infamous shiteating grin "get outttt" "no wayyyy" he pulled you into his chest pepperring your neck with little kisses "I just got you back".

masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[headspace-hotel]

the foundation of a lot of conservative thought is that there is some kind of magical force keeping the amount of suffering in the world constant, and that any effort that would broadly reduce suffering a great deal can be safely dismissed as being useless or untenable without examining it very closely.

This goes along with a very deep fear or intuition that something very very bad will happen if people do not suffer enough. It is a belief that the innately corrupt aspects of human nature will run rampant without "punishment" both in the strict sense and in a bigger, more general sense of "being taught a lesson" about how the world is harsh and cruel.

Conservatives who aren't, like, openly sadistic monsters can only resolve the cognitive dissonance by placing a very sharp dividing line between "kind/good/compassionate behavior as an individual" and "things that would improve society."

You, as a conservative individual, can donate to a charity or do something nice for someone, but this cannot be part of any responsibility you have as a member of your society. An individual can be kind, but it is either necessary to make sure the society individuals belong to is cruel, or at least necessary not to try to make it less cruel.

Conservative folks that don't consciously embrace cruelty must rely on historical illiteracy to call upon a monolithic " The Good Old Days" where the cruel and coercive aspects of society were stable and accepted enough that they were tempered by the benefits of true absolute conformity to traditional morality and gender roles+ the pleasures of a Simple Homesteading Life.

They rationalize coercive social standards through the argument that it only FEELS like coercion if you are introduced to another possibility, and if you immediately go limp in the jaws of the role predetermined for you, you will never want anything else. Women for instance were all perfectly happy being submissive housewives, back when there was no choice socially or legally. Everyone would be straight if no one was ever exposed to a happy openly gay person.

There is also a deep conviction that the human brain can only handle a small amount of pleasure or happiness above a neutral baseline, and "too much" sexual pleasure or mercy or relief from pain always either comes from or causes something grotesquely evil.

Their view of pleasure and happiness is very cynical and economic Law of Equivalent Exchange type stuff. Often, lots of sexual things are evil in the eyes of these people basically because they offer a suspicious amount of pleasure with no obvious "cost." They will SAY that sexual deviance is all these terrible things, but they believe that "deviant" sex feels good—too good, in fact, that's why it's that much more evil.

A lot of "trad" losers believe masturbation is from Satan because their schema for understanding the world can't accommodate the idea of something that gives you pleasure for "free," without hurting someone else or hurting you. For that pleasure to be "given" to you, it has to be "taken" from somewhere else (your soul or whatever)

It also works in reverse: the more you suffer in the present, through Hard Work or whatever, the more Good you will reap. It's a big reason why war and dying in combat are so romanticized by these people: that kind of Extreme Bad unlocks a level of Good not accessible otherwise (Freedom🎆🇺🇸)

real turd of an ideology all things considered

#politics

[wolkoshka]

Paranormal II

summary: after your injury in the birthday party, Ghost takes you home, takes care of your wound - and finally gives you a night you’ll never forget… Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 2/3

an: here is part ii, and yes, yes, I know! It’s long overdue. You’re gonna have to forgive a girlie and her lack of awareness to the passage of time.

"I said go get him, not split yer head open. Ooch, lassie, look at ye bruising up. That's an ugly one."

Johnny hassled over you, thumbing your temples as he examined your wound.

Ghost had temporarily dropped you at the bar to go hunting for a med kit. When your gaze had arrayed the room, your best friend had caught your eye, smirking - only to then gasp and push his way to you.

"So what happened?"

"Mating dance," you retorted dryly.

You pressed the glove back to the wound when Johnny released you, leaning against the counter in a snort.

"Did he fall for it?"

"Hardly." Your shoulders slumped defeatedly. "I don't think he likes me very much, Johnny."

"That's Lt for ye, lass. Guy wears a skull for a face. Says he sleeps soundly in it. Shudders, I tell ye. You'd think that'd make ye think twice before approaching him, eh?"

"I think my brain short-circuited precisely for those reasons. I think maybe this hit to the head will remedy that. God knows I need to get him out of my system. A full-on purge. Like those, uh, uh, really intense only-water-for-dinner kind of diets."

"It's hard to get someone ye don't know out of yer mind."

"Exactly! Jokes aside, this is insane even by drunk me standards. Never thought I'd have a crush at this age, but, whelp, here goes nothing! Will get him out of my mind as soon as I stop gawking at those muscles, okay?"

Your friend chuckled.

Over Soap's shoulder, you caught sight of Ghost's form paving way to you, broad shoulders squared, back straight and gait commanding. And yet, there was an almost endearing swagger to his stride, subtle as it was, and it only added to the unmistakable confidence simmering underneath that quiet outfit.

Suddenly, you were air-headed. In the manner people jumped out of his path like he was the most lethal being they'd ever beheld had you seeing rainbows and hearing angelic hymns.

A stupid girl with her big, stupid crush. When was the last time you got one, anyway? High school, that's when. And you felt like a silly schoolgirl again, all those eighth grade magazines on how to talk to boys and attract your crush flooding back.

You wondered what three-way advice they would spell out for someone like Ghost.

Bathe in the blood of his enemies. A sexy look can go a long way!

Rip out the heart of his enemy and gift it to him. All men enjoy a sincere show of affection every now and then!

Take a bullet for him. Take several! Nothing says I have the hots for you like bleeding out in the arms of your crush!

When his eyes found yours, uncompromising and intense even from such distance, the choir increased until you felt like your chest might implode.

"Never mind," you dreamily sighed. This particular crush wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Johnny," Ghost voiced, coming around the man. To you, he crooked a finger. "They got band-aids, but I need to stitch you up. We'll resolve the matter in your place."

Your head perked. "We will?"

Was your night actually going to end with Ghost in your apartment? Maybe even bed?

You looked at Johnny, Johnny looked at you - and you both raised your eyebrows in a knowing look.

"What the bloody hell you two peepin' at each other for?" Ghost growled.

"Peepin'? What's peepin'?" Johnny.

"We're not peepin'." You.

Eager, you hopped down - and immediately regretted it when your vision swayed. Whoops... You clutched your head tighter.

"Easy there," Johnny voiced, hands supporting your shoulders.

Once you righted, you looked up at Ghost. Expectant. Would he carry you?

You kind of, sort of, definitely desired his arms around you again.

As if seeing right through your needs, the muscle below his eye twitched. He set a challenge with his gaze, forcing you to admit defeat and walk a soldier's walk.

You faintly winced. Shrugged. "Owh, my poor head. I feel...dizzy. So dizzy. Don't know...might even trip in the rain. Get a concussion..." Another meek yet daring shrug. "So inconvenient, no?"

"Maybe ye need to go the hospital, lass - Umpf!"

You shut Johnny up with a backward punch to the groin, attention never wavering from Ghost.

There was a soft inquisitive sound, an arch of your brow, before he conceded with a weary blink of his eyes. You had to love the way his lashes fanned every time he did that. Long, thick, and softly curled, they might just make a girl jealous.

Internally, you performed a victory dance. Externally, you outstretched an arm.

His killer biceps bulged around your frame, tugging you close, as he lifted you off your feet. When you corded your arm around his neck and nestled your face on his pec, lashes batting up at him, Ghost looked like he was near to dropping you on your arse and dragging you by your heels instead.

"Don't get used to it, poppy," he grated low.

You wore a look of mock-surprise. "Never."

Gaze too slow to leave your face he spoke to Johnny next, "I'll meet you at the base." He strode past, strong legs falling into pace. "Don't be late. And for fuck's sake, Johnny, get some rest."

Johnny grinned, the act slightly laced with pain due to your earlier assault. "Ye got it, Lt." To you, he gave you a proud thumb's up.

Over Ghost's shoulder, you blew him a kiss and mouthed happy birthday, and I love you big time, you sucker.

When the bar door closed behind you, you pointed out to Simon that he'd forgotten your umbrella and proton pack.

For the umbrella, he said the rain might help sober you up. As for your proton pack, he didn't even bother providing an answer as he took down the street, all pleased with himself as rain mercilessly pelted your face.

When lightning crackled and thunder roared overhead, you thought you felt his arms slightly draw you closer, a bit nearer, but dismissed it, blaming it instead on your active imagination and stupor.

.

What the bloody hell was he doing, Ghost questioned, standing in your open kitchen and preparing tea for two.

Steam curdled up, obscuring his masked face as he poured green tea into two cups. Clasping the handles, he turned from the counter to place them on the marbled island.

Your abode was a spacious loft with four large windows peering out into the bustling city, the London Eye and the River Thames a distant view, with a ceiling that rose six meters high.

Before him was a sitting area with a comfortable couch, plush armchairs and a TV stand. Fully-stacked bookshelves flanked either side while pots of myriad flowers and wild ferns decorated the space.

A dining table perched to his left, a family photo and Mesopotamian antiques lining the dark cherry wood surface in display. He spotted Johnny in the frame, younger than he's ever seen him, dimples deep in a cheery smile, and he spotted you, hanging onto his shoulders with an eye-crinkling laugh of your own, also young and exuding innocence.

To his far right was your bed, propped against the wall and neatly made, accompanied by nightstands and a reading lamp. To its left was the entrance, separated by a narrow wall of stained glass depicting two mermaids frolicking about. By that, he clearly meant the large cock sprouting from the merman's groin and gripped by the mermaid's slender fingers, their tails entwining as deeply as their tongues, their bodies writhing in unabashed pleasure. It was beautiful, no doubt, made to come alive in colors coral blue, golden, and violet, but Ghost also knew it was custom made.

Anyone would've missed the unorthodox tableau at first glance, but he wasn't anyone.

You had wild fantasies, it appeared, and he wanted to bash his skull in for taking interest in that.

Just like he wanted to bash the mug of green tea in his hand because he couldn't will his feet to walk away.

Granted, you'd asked he stay, at least for a little while, to thank him for taking care of your wound, and sprinting to your bathroom thereafter for a quick shower.

It's been ten minutes now, and Ghost should've been long gone. He couldn't be here. He didn't do one-night stands. He had a number for that, a special visitor, that took care of his needs without him ever needing to undress. Left just as wordlessly when the deed was done. No unnecessary pillow talks, goodbye notes, or call me laters. No strings attached, just as Ghost preferred it.

But you...

The way you wanted him, the way you watched him, eyes growing dark and heavy with desire, it made him realize he'd never been pursued that ardently. Sure, he had instances where he attracted certain women his direction - any bloke with a look like his warranted that - but a simple glower from him had them scurrying off just as quick.

He should be scaring you off too, not exciting you.

Not making you out to be an intoxication he was uncharacteristically impatient to divulge in.

Hell, with his given background and formidable expertise, no one even dared to hold his gaze for longer than three seconds. When he talked, everyone shut up. His reputation preceded him. Yet you... Bloody hell, you not only held your ground, but also eye-fucked him every chance you got.

Ghost didn't quite compute; you were a perfect stranger to him, someone he met but once, and yet you had a face that could make a man happily dream into an early death.

God, there was something about you that made his palms itch for a touch...itch to wrap that hair of yours around his fist, lift his mask, and descend for a proper feeding. A sick, twisted part of Ghost perhaps wanted to see how good you could get him to pillow talk.

It was a passing thought, but chills abraded his forearms. The challenge in it gave him a heated rush of red.

What the hell was the matter with him? he questioned for the umpteenth time.

He shouldn't be wanting such nonsense.

He shouldn't be caring for it either.

He should walk away now. But...

The moment he chose to act, turning, the exit his target, the shower stopped running. The naked pad of footsteps resounded. A towel flapped open. More footsteps, and then -

You emerged from the bathroom, all robed and clean, leaving steam in your wake. It looked like you'd just walked out of a dream, cherub cheeks flushed pink and skin dewy, almost satiny, and - fuck. He internally groaned. He wanted to bite.

What in nine hells? He popped his jaw in frustration.

Upon spotting him, excitement flashed in your eyes, and you nearly skipped over.

"You stayed," you breathily commented, the towel you were using to dry your hair tossed atop the dining table. Traces of vanilla and coconut saturated the air, infiltrating his mask, and his mouth involuntarily watered.

He needed to call that special number tonight, he decreed, or else he wouldn't survive the coming days. Days? More like hour. Keep it together, soldier.

Such unpalatable delight seeped from you, he slowly shook his head.

If only you knew he sewed another man's skull on his mask, beaten to a pulp before stripped clean of all tissue. A constant reminder of what he’d lost. Who he'd lost. If only you knew he viewed the outside world from the eyes of a dead man. If only you knew poison swam in his veins, immortalizing the infectious ichor that damned any soul to near him. Touch him. You would flee the other direction.

You would curse at him, curse him, see him for what he truly was.

A rotting corpse unleashed to the world to haunt. To terrorize.

Would you crave him then, knowing those very hands you wanted wrapped around you had ended lives, and most not so humanely?

He wasn't capable of holding you without hurting you.

Anything good and decent in him had long ago been buried away, and in their stead festered rancid tendencies that worked his mind and body tireless.

Nothing survived him, and you would be no different.

Even tonight, his somber mood a result of the death toll that ripped through his heart, deadened as it was, when he heard - witnessed - the scream of little children blown to pieces by a human bomber he was meant to stop, was no coincidence.

His main objective was to retrieve classified documents, but it had come at a cost when the enemy understood they were compromised.

He had done a bloody good job clearing the entire building, knives soaked crimson, fists even more so, but he'd forgone the basement, a bunker where bombers kept their own hostage. It was a gruesome tactic the enemy utilized to throw their foes off balance. He had a moment's decision before the bomber pressed the button - shoot him with the off-chance of saving the children, get obliterated to pieces and fail the mission, or succeed.

It was either them or the classified intel. He’d ducked for cover.

Choices have consequences, he remembered telling Johnny once, and, fuck, if he didn't hate himself for his.

He tasted the sulfur, the clogging dust saturated with human remains, in the back of his throat. He couldn't wipe those deaths from his eyes no matter how many times he bathed, scrubbed, scraped.

So, no matter you being a perfect stranger, feeding him look upon look of insatiable hunger any man would gladly sacrifice a limb for, he couldn't go down that road.

Especially when you meant so much to Johnny, his brother-in-arms, a man with a heart of gold that reminded Simon of his own. He couldn't do that to him, to you. Christ, he couldn't walk through fire again.

He wouldn't survive it.

And - bollocks, he nearly chuckled - he never sounded more miserable. It didn't matter. He'd be dodging a bullet with you, all right. All his physical needs, he could deal with them like a grown man in the confines of his own four walls.

Besides, he was a goddamn mess tonight, his feelings and thoughts blown asunder. He hadn't slept for seventy-two hours and was in desperate need of some shut-eye.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," your lilting voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked down at you. You shrugged, a small smile forming. "Funny how that works, don't you think?"

Maybe he should give you a taste of what it meant to know Simon Riley. Maybe then, and only then, would you understand the favor he'd been extending you.

Silently, he pushed the steaming cup of green tea your way.

A soft gasp. "A man after my own heart." Your fingers came around the mug, hugging it close to your chest and taking a cautious sip. "Mmm. Just what I needed."

"You feelin' better?" Christ, he might as well have spat out shards of glass with how rough he'd sounded.

You licked your lips, pink tongue darting out. "Yeah. Much," you whispered. "Thanks."

Your lips enclosed around the rim again, plump, red and eager. Red as poppies. He imagined them closing around something else, something harder, hotter, sweetened by your spit.

His muscles stiffened, the itch flaming his palms. Palms he then curled into tight fists - before releasing.

He unsuccessfully cleared his throat. "Right, then, you get that rest, poppy."

He turned on his heel, the exit never appearing more distant as he marched to it. At the end of the island, he'd left the box of med kit and his glove, and he reached for the latter as he bypassed.

A blur of white and he was staring down at your delicate features again.

"Wait, wait, you can't just leave. And you definitely can't take this." You snatched the glove from his grasp and quickly hid it behind your back. You pursed your lips at his quiet glower. "Because I'll, uh, wash it for you. More polite that way."

Bollocks. You meant to keep what was his, you wily little thing. He could easily wrestle it out of your hands, but he didn't want to give you more incentive to put your hands on him. Or, worse yet, his on you.

"You got somethin' you wanna say?" he roughed out.

"Only that I want to thank you. Properly."

"Properly thanked. Now out of my way."

He meant to sidestep but you halted him with a soft, warm palm on his chest. His heart, for the briefest second, quickened at the gesture. Didn't need incentive at all, it seemed.

You struggled for purchase. "Well - Well, what about your tea?"

"I'll live, poppy."

Another step, another pressing of your hand against his body. More adamantly this time.

Bloody hell, such a tiny thing, you were, but he'd never encountered a bigger hindrance. Especially when he was oh, so close to the exit. He was positive you were going to lock your door and swallow the key if he did not indulge you a moment's courtesy.

His abrasive exhale of defeat finally brought your palm down from his chest, and he - what? Wanted to beat your white-bricked walls in at the loss of contact? Absolutely not - couldn't have felt better.

His lids dropped, and his look of defiance rivaled yours. For a second too intense for his liking, both of you were stuck in a battle of wills.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four se -

Christ. That pulled a reaction from him, primal and almost aggressive. The kind that had the blood in his veins rushing hot and wild.

His low, grumbling voice, a contrast to the sudden, violent need unfurling in his lower abdomen, vibrated the still air between you.

"Properly thank me how?"

Of all the answers he could've expected, with how your teeth worried your lower lip, nibbling at the fleshly petal, or how your lashes fluttered, somehow nervous, or even with how your cheeks dusted pink in evident arousal, that is, a meek, "Biscuits?" was definitely not it.

His head jerked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Biscuits?"

He fuckin' loved biscuits.

"Yes. With tea?"

Hell, he loved that more.

He let your words sit for a while. Then, "You got any ginger nuts there, poppy?"

A bashful smile revealed a row of straight, white teeth. He wanted to scrape his own against them, his tongue coaxing in to steal a little taste of you. At the heady image, he tensed.

Growled.

You swallowed. "You don't have to be so angry about it. I've got them. Come on, then, I'll share my favorites with you."

In under five minutes, you had the Ghost sprawled atop your bed goddamn picnicking with a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea in hand.

Having made away with his leather jacket, he leaned back into a heap of pillows you'd placed for him, and - oh, that felt good - his muscles hissed in pleasure at having finally relaxed.

He grunted, his lids threatening to drift shut. Your bed was warm, soft, and smelled of wild lilacs - all qualities Ghost was estranged to in the field, which happened to dominate the better part of his life.

"You'll love this," you said from your spot next to him. He'd momentarily slacked off, and your voice brought him back from the abating garden of flowers he was surrendering himself to.

He breathed in deep, pulling focus.

Having dimmed the lights to your loft, you wiggled to a comfortable position and succumbed to your own nest of pillows.

You smelled like a peachy sunset over a beach of glistening sands, and if he touched you, you'd feel even better.

And now he was turning into a bloody poet.

If 141 ever saw him like this, Ghost would never live it down.

He balanced his plate of biscuits and mug of tea on his lap, but when you pressed your shoulder to his, he nearly spilled the hot liquid over his pants.

It also chased the sleep from his burning lids, and, quietly, he suffered your presence.

His body seared where you touched him, but he made no show of it.

You outstretched your lithe legs, soft and enticing, over the bed, and crossed them at the ankles. At the movement, your white robe parted in the seams, revealing the supple flesh of your thigh, but you made no move to cover it. You simply lay there, still delectable with a kind of sweetness Ghost wanted to languidly lap at with his tongue.

So much so that the muscle now ached in his mouth.

He swore under his breath, his own legs shifting to distance his body from you. His booted feet, he dangled at the edge of the bed. He wasn't that barbaric.

"I thought you were the patient one," you chided, misreading his mood. In your fingers, you clutched some kind of a remote. It possessed two buttons. "Watch this."

You pressed the green one.

A soft whine reverberated from above, and then a portion of the sloped ceiling slid up to, inch by inch, reveal the thundering clouds in the sky.

Not many things had the power to surprise Ghost, but this... Well, suffice it to say, his jaw slightly slacked open.

Rain dazedly pelted the glassed frame, the droplets snaking down in rivulets, and distant strikes of lightning illuminated the cloudy world above, and in consequence, the dark room.

You dreamily sighed, sinking further into your pillows. You reached for the biscuits on his thighs.

Simon hadn't realized he'd placed them too close to his groin, and thought you went in for a different feeding, body abruptly tensing.

The faintest drop of your hand's weight on him had his throat contracting.

Subtly, he had the plate relocated to his abdomen. Much better.

"I had it installed when I moved in. It helps me sleep better at night. Oh, especially in such nights." You hummed out a chuckle and pointed. "Look at that cloud. Kind of looks like the head of a chihuahua, don't you think?"

Lightning crackled. The sky brightened in hues murky gray and electric blue - before plummeting into darkness.

He followed your finger, and released a contemplative sound. It was all he offered, but it seemed to be enough for you.

There was something about the sound of rain and your soft breathing that had Simon lulled to a cozy quiet. Snugged by the pillows, his weight sank deeper into the mattress, and he thought he was in a haven of your making.

This could put him dead out if it weren't for the tempting graze of your shoulder against his, forcing him awake ever time his lashes sluggishly fluttered shut.

You sipped your tea and reached for another biscuit.

Slowly, he lifted his own mask 'til his nose and watched, warily, if you'd sneak a peek. You did no such thing.

Ignoring the twitch in his brows, he bit into the biscuits. The tea smoothed them down his throat, and the warm nourishment felt good in his stomach.

All the while, you talked about your sweets and pastries, the corner shop you bought them from, and how it was your favorite with it having opened almost eighty years ago. And how he also should visit it once he gets the chance.

You finished your tea and placed the mug on your side of the nightstand. Brushing the crumbs from your fingers, you plopped back down, head on your pillows this time.

You still did not look at him.

Sober you seemed to have a few bit reservations than wasted you, it appeared, faintest traces of amusement pulling at the corners of his revealed lips.

Downing the rest of his tea, he put away the empty plate and mug to his side of the nightstand. With that, he masked his lips anew.

In the silence, the only sound the pouring rain, he dwelled in the dark with you.

Then, so softly, you said his name.

"Simon."

His breath hitched dead center in his chest. His eyes arrowed down at your lying figure.

You continued to look away, spiky lashes fanning delicate cheekbones.

"You can stay the night, if you want," you made out, swallowing tentatively and moistening your lips. With a tiny jump, you turned over - and finally tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. You cupped the underside of your cheek. "We don't have to do anything. Not that you - Not that you said you wanted to. I'm sorry. I only mean, it's late...and you must be tired." Then, oh, so gently, "Heard you had a long night, too."

Ghost remained silent for the duration of your speech, and at the last sentence, quirked a brow up. "Yeah? And who told you that?"

"Johnny," you murmured.

"Johnny," he echoed. A low crackling sound sizzled in his chest, but it dwindled out before ever reaching his throat. "You discuss me with Johnny, do ya now, poppy?"

Your eyes dropped from his masked face, and your fingers drew small circles into the pillow next to his.

"Sometimes, I do, yes." So effortlessly admitted. Fuck. "It was merely an evaluation of your person, is all. I could see it too. Your eyes are red. Bit groggy too."

He rasped out a low chuckle, if it could be called that, seeing as some sounds tended to get lost in the wide expanse of his chest. "That it, eh?"

A small smile crinkled the corner of your eye, and if he had a heart, he might've gone as far as to call you a darling right then and there.

You shrugged. "Yeah."

He ran the tip of his tongue against his teeth. Simon knew it was best he end the conversation now, rise from your bed, and exit your apartment. Your life. He got his proper thanks, after all.

But, like a damned fool he could only blame on his exhausted state, he stayed put - and probed further. "What else you bothered Johnny about me, mm?"

You licked your lips again, the tip of that tempestuous pink muscle wetting the seam, and he bit back a wanting grunt.

He'd never been more arrested by a mundane act.

Focus, soldier.

His eyes trailed the gentle curve of your jawline...and down your slender neck.

No, not there, you daft geezer. Away.

"Your mask," your tentative voice filled the room.

"What's wrong with it?"

Your soft hair rustled against the sheets as you shook your head. "Nothing. It's merely got something honest about it, is all. As paradoxical as that may seem, I realize now. It's pleasant."

Pleasant? That's a new one.

But he couldn't have you building false notions about him like that. Maybe it was time he warned you away for good.

"I have more blood on my hands than the one running in your veins, poppy. There is nothing honest about me," he coldly provided.

"Well, I think you're wrong."

Bloody hell, what would it take to dislodge you?

You moved, body climbing up the pillows until your head rested close to his shoulder. And then a little bit more, until you leveled with his face.

The sheer heat emanating from your skin traveled past his clothes, seeping into his pores.

Yeah, you were a darlin', all right. A damn appetizing one, at that.

You shifted slightly, weight on your left hip and bared legs so dangerously close to his.

Through the thick rim of your lashes, you regarded him. "Ghost," you said, and he nearly corrected you. "Would you like to know what else I discuss with Johnny?"

A burning sensation infiltrated his cheek, and he realized you were tracing your fingertips over his masked features. Carefully, cautiously, so as to not chase him away.

"For one, those pretty eyes of yours," you hummed lowly. On cue, you gently trailed a finger down his brow bone.

Heat speared his cheeks at that, and he was grateful for the coverage. Simon Riley, blushing. His lashes fluttered a bit, but other than that, you remained clueless as to his expression.

"And they change color every time I look upon you. Sometimes blue, sometimes silver, other times brown, like sweet caramel, and my favorite, pitch black. How do you do that?"

You studied him enough to have a favorite? At that revelation, his throat tightened.

Wordless, he performed a small, almost undiscernible, shrug, the pillows underneath shifting.

A slow, deep smile curved your cheeks. "You should let me study them in broad daylight. I'm sure I'll solve the mystery in no time." With a cheeky air, you booped the tip of his nose with your finger.

Quietly, he watched your face, coal-dark eyes intent and focused, the only sounds from him his steady breathing.

"God, they're so black." Tenderly, you ran your knuckles across his jawline, angled your head, and then softly guided his face closer to yours.

Once, someone had told him he had no present, past, or future, and he'd told them that he'd see them in hell. Now, Ghost realized hell was here, in the breath of a space between you, where you sat so close to him, and yet he could not close it.

"None of that, poppy." He nudged your hold off.

Disappointment colored your eyes, drooped your shoulders, and brought those pearl-white teeth to gnaw at your fleshly lower lip. And with so much bite, he spotted teeth marks form.

"Easy there," he murmured, fingers acting without his explicit permission and pinching your chin.

At that, the discouragement washed away and your eyes clouded with something dark and promising, putting the storm outside to shame. There you went again with that look. If his career in the Special Forces hadn't driven him mad, this surely would.

Understanding that he shouldn't have touched you, he made to move away, but your fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him close - and sliding your body closer.

The second your hip meshed against his, his muscles seized up, locking tight upon his bones.

God, you were hot against him. Burning up.

Simon nearly bolted from the bed when he felt your legs entangle with his, the blistering tension having unwittingly made away with much of his resolve and rendering him stimulated in places he'd rather not feel stimulated in.

Your toes teased his legs, rubbing up against the coarse material of his pants. Then, they glided over them, finding purchase in his inner calves - and massaging. Up, up, they traveled, then dooown they dropped, creating a spine-tingling friction.

Ghost grunted, shoulders bunching before undulating. He straightened a bit. Good God. He was suddenly too aware of his own body heating up and all his intimate areas. All too aware of his blood pumping and where it was rushing.

"You better stop that before you get hurt, yeah, darlin'?" he grated past his teeth.

You sighed, no doubt relishing in his deteriorating strength. "A little pain never hurt nobody. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

As you said that, you wedged your leg more firmly between his, parting them, and slid your knee upward to lightly grind it against his sensitive groin.

Christ. He grunted with less control now, the feeling slowly slipping through his fingers.

You shouldn't be using that kind of language with him. Shouldn't be talking in such a tone. Because addiction was another sin he didn't mind adding to the list.

His body sweltered from the inside and his heartbeat increased, beating in his ears. He had to leave.

Jerking slightly at another shiver inducing motion, he pushed at your leg.

A final, "No, poppy," scraped past his throat.

"Simon," you tugged at his wrist, voice hoarsely breaking at the end and so desperately, it nearly unmanned him, "I - I'm on fire. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Need... I need you. I can't stop. I don't know why I can't stop. I just - God, I've been needing you for so long now. Every night, I dream of you, do you know that? Every night. Please, please...I'm going insane. I'm - "

That did it.

With a ferocious snarl that was more animal than man, his arm shot forward, calloused fingers latching onto your cheeks and unchivalrously burying your head in your pillows with the abrupt maneuver of his body over yours.

His weight suffocated you into the mattress.

You gasped, eyes gaping wide in alarm.

His ire flared, his desire, even more so.

"Shut the fuck up," Ghost gritted in your face, now panting hot and fast. "Shut your fuckin' mouth now, poppy. Fuck. You ever heed a warning? You ever heard of using your own goddamn fingers? You ever use that pretty little head of yours? Bloody fucking hell, darlin'. Bloody. Fucking. Hell."

You squirmed under him, releasing small, breathless sounds.

The image of you rendered so helpless roused the most primal parts of him and his cock painfully hardened, straining against the strap of his pants.

It was blooming into an ache his hands alone wouldn't be able to assuage. Goddamit.

Your eyes searched his, arraying back and forth, attempting to grasp what just occurred within the span of a blink.

Then, they narrowed, pretty lashes fusing. "I have," you ground out, baring your teeth at him. "I do. But they're never enough." Fuck, you were talking about your fingers. You almost pouted insufferably. "Never what I want. Need. Crave."

"And I am?" he growled out, baring his own teeth. You seemed to like the intensity he exuded, even heatedly roamed your eyes over his masked lips, expression devoid of all fear.

You nodded eagerly.

Yes.

He cursed under his breath.

Lowly, lethally, "How hard did you hit that head of yours, mm?"

You bit your lips to suppress a moan, "Hard enough to get you in my bed."

"That mouth of yours is goin' to get you in trouble, poppy."

You keened at the warning. "Promise?"

At that, he couldn't will himself away even if he wanted to. Not even all the soldiers in his team combined could drag him away when you stared up at him so wantonly, so desperately, silently begging to make away with the terrible ache that shadowed over your every need.

So be it. You would learn your lesson.

"Open your legs," he growled - and slipped his hand underneath your robe.

an: i made it into 3 parts bcs, well, i just had too much fun writing ghost suffering in his self-imposed ✨ agonies ✨

suffice it to say, the next part will be pure filth. pinkie swear this time. strap your seatbelts, girlies, we’re going to the horniest, dirtiest bangtown.

on another note, if anyone is willing to chat/discuss fics relating to cod or any other fandom of their liking, I’ve created a new discord server and pinned it on my blog; all are more than welcome to join ✨

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john price #task force 141 #Simon riley smut #smut #slow burn #slow romance #mutual pining #paranormal #paranormal part 2 #Wolkoshka writes #when Simon’s so mean and intense i gush #uh i meant blush

[hajoon-iz-won]

Best First Time Ever!

PAIRINGS: non-idol Heeseung x reader

SUMMARY: Y/N, a twenty-year-old girl, was determined to have her best first time ever at a club. She had grown up in a small town with conservative parents who didn't seem to care about her dating life or losing her virginity. Now, she thought it was easier to find someone to feel good with for a night at a club than trying to maintain an actual relationship.

WARNINGS:

smut, fluff, 18+ mdni

Dom!Heeseung, Sub!reader, gentle domHeeseung, fingering, size kink, breeding kink, reader loses her virginity, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, pet names(baby, sweetheart, angel), creampie, aftercare

Word Count: 6.1k

Today would have been the day. Y/N was resolved that today would have been the day. It wasn't like she did this kind of thing frequently — no, she was undeniably more calm concentrating on in her dorm than in clearly clubs and hitting the dance floor with outsiders. In any case, she'd had enough of being prodded by her friends and roommate. "Twenty years of age, you're truly still a virgin? ” She had recently never felt like it made a difference, and zeroing in on her examinations had forever been the need. Among that and working, she hadn't actually had a lot of chance to zero in on dating, considerably less losing her virginity. In any case, presently… ?

Indeed, she guessed it was far more straightforward to simply track down somebody to feel quite a bit better with for a night at a club than need to disrupt her timetable by attempting to keep a genuine relationship. Indeed, even still, she was somewhat anxious. "Goodness, come on, you will be fine. You look perfect; it'll benefit you to get out for an evening!" Her closest friend offered her a smile and an energetic wink, the blonde lady throwing a simple arm around the more youthful young lady's shoulder. "I endeavored to make you look this great; I'll be cursed assuming I let you back down of flaunting my craftsmanship," Gaeun prodded, directing Y/N towards the entry of the club. "Plus, would you say you are truly having the college experience in the event that you don't look at a club no less than once? I'd prefer not to see my dearest friend denied of such a significant encounter! “ A low moan got away from Y/N, a hand moving upwards to card through dull dark red locks, emerald eyes looking at her companions faces. "I'm here, right? I'm not going to chicken out. I just. Do you have a peculiar outlook on being here? I don't actually have the foggiest idea acceptable behavior in places like this," she conceded. Not that that was actually her issue; she'd be quick to concede that she had grown up extraordinarily protected. Regardless, she realized she was the cliché illustration of that modest community young lady, having experienced childhood with a little ranch with her conservative mother and father.

It wasn't so much that they had been purposefully attempting to conceal the world from her possibly; she just questioned they had a lot of interest in cooperating with such things themselves, so how could they teach their sweet young lady on it? Also, sex? God, sex was, obviously, not discussed. Sex was marriage, and marriage alone, they had demanded, and she would have no need to be familiar with it up to that point. No doubt, as though. Culture shock was likely the most ideal way to depict what she had felt after leaving that modest community interestingly. Her college was situated in a major city, all things considered, many miles from the solace of her home and family. Furthermore, things were… So unique here.

Indeed, even now, two years in the wake of disappearing for school, she still now and again winds up attempting to change. This, however, wanted to beat a major wall for her. "I guarantee we'll have a great time," Gaeun guaranteed, snatching her hand and pulling her inside. "This is my #1 club in the city. It generally has the best music, the beverages are modest, and there aren't a lot of wet blankets." The principal thing Y/N saw as they moved toward the entryways and she was accordingly pulled inside was the music. It was difficult to make out what it was precisely at the volume it was at, however there was a profound, beating bass that appeared to vibrate through her, resonating in a consistent heartbeat she'd up until recently never experienced. Emerald eyes went wide in shock at it, however it was nowhere near unsavory. “See? I told you, it's great, right? Come on." Another little pull, and Y/N wound up moving no sweat, energetic expectation and fervor for something new and exciting getting comfortable her bones, far offsetting her anxiety. The lights were darkened, countered by brilliant hued strobes that illuminated the room in dynamic, moving examples, creating weird shaded areas on bodies moving and moving together to the beat on the dance floor. The music droned, stronger now than when they'd originally entered, and she wound up more charmed than she suspected it would be. In the event that she could just allow herself to unwind… All things considered, this really seemed to be loads of tomfoolery.

After an hour, Y/N had concluded she most certainly owed Gaeun for hauling her out. She was having a great time, body influencing against others to the profound, thundering bass of the music generally around her, liquor in her veins, and disposing of any excess uneasiness. Gaeun had vanished into the group some time prior, immovably pulling on the hand of a man she had met at the bar while getting them drinks, leaving Y/N all alone to partake in the music. Her head felt light even as she advanced toward the bar, rapidly requesting another fruity beverage. They were delightful, and she was satisfied that she could scarcely taste the nibble of liquor in them, something she'd been watchful about. The pleasantness of peach moved on her tongue as she roosted at the bar, tasting at her beverage joyfully.

“You might want to slow down there, sweetheart.” The voice was deep and rumbling, amusement coloring its tone as a large man moved to slide onto the stool beside her. “You don’t look like you frequent places like this, not if the way you’re drinking is any indication. That’ll hit you like a truck—it tastes good, but it’s dangerous as hell if you aren’t looking to get completely drunk.” The stranger hummed, chocolate eyes glittering with amusement.

The man was certainly older than her; that was the first thing Y/N noticed as hazy green eyes raked over him. Salt and pepper black and gray hair. At least 6 feet tall to her small-statured five foot five. A firm, chiseled jawline that looked like it could have been sculpted by a damned artist. Actually, the rest of him looked like it might have been too—the tight black t-shirt and denim jeans did nothing to hide broad shoulders and a muscular chest.

For a moment, her mouth damn near watered. God, he was handsome. How it was that the other women here weren’t flocking around him, she would never understand. But she certainly wasn’t going to complain, even if she made a face at him, sticking out her tongue. “Is it really that obvious? “

“Absurdly so. Might as well be written on your face.” He chuckled. “So, I know it’s cliché, but I gotta ask. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone at the bar? It seems you should be with someone, dancing and having a good time.”

A giggle escaped her, covering her pink, freckled cheeks with a hand to hide it. “You’re right, that definitely was cliché. Lucky you, you’re right about me being new to all this, so I haven’t heard it a thousand times. I’m with my friend. She’s…” A vague wave of her hand towards the crowd of bodies. “Somewhere in there? She made a new “friend,” and they’re dancing. I just wanted another one of these,” she explained, holding up her drink. “And what about you? A handsome man like yourself, you didn’t come here with someone? What did little old me do to get attention?”

She immediately wanted to cringe and groan. Way to go, Y/N; that was definitely not smooth. He’s going to think you’re an idiot. And I mean, you came here looking for a good time. Well, here’s a guy way out of your league who might just be interested if you could play it cool for half a second.

The stranger laughed, a deep rumbling sound that reverberated through her almost as easily as the music did, the pink on her cheeks deepening. “Nah, I came alone. Name’s Heeseung. And when you’re done with that drink, I’d love to take you out on the floor for a dance, if you wanted mind.” He rolled his eyes, clearly amused. “Come on now, sweetheart. Surely you know how pretty you are, huh? I got eyes in my head. Was a little amazed you weren’t surrounded by men. Clear down the block.”

“Y/N.” She returned, offering her hand, before raising a brow. “Well, aren’t you a sweet talker? Hmmm. You know what they say, Heeseung, flattery will get you everywhere.” She teased, finishing up her drink before standing, wibbling only slightly. “A dance sounds great.”

He didn't hesitate to reach out and steady her, curling her hand within his much larger one as he led her towards the dance floor. “Well damn, it looks like a lucky night for chivalry.” He teased her back, drawing her against that broad chest as they began to sway. “So, Miss Y/N, what would you normally be doing on a night like tonight, if not being too pretty for words at a dingy bar?”

She couldn’t resist snorting in amusement, rolling her eyes up at him. “Silly. I’d typically be in my dorm studying, I suppose. I’m a student at the university. Biology major, nothing too interesting, I’m afraid.” A rueful smile settled on her lips, even as she melted into him, one arm draping around his neck. God, she felt so damned tiny against him, something deep and primal screaming at her about how safe and strong being in his arms felt. Yes, he was definitely perfect for her intended foray into adventure.

“Nothing too interesting, she says, like understanding science isn’t an incredible feat,” he shot back, a playful smile on his lips. “I ain’t anything so clever or fancy. I’m a firefighter. It is tough, dirty work, but it needs to be done. At the very least, I get to come home each night feeling like I’ve made some kind of difference,” he admitted, even as he drew her closer. “Have to admit, this isn’t my usual kind of scene either; the loud noise bothers me sometimes. But tonight? Well, damn, tonight I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad I did too,” she admitted, her free hand settling on his chest. “Handsome and a firefighter? Gotta say, you’re ticking my boxes left and right here.” Y/N teased, leaning up on her toes to brush her lips along his jaw, the alcohol thrumming in her veins long since waving goodbye to any inhibitions she might have. He was strong, gorgeous, and seemingly kind. She wanted him to take her apart. She wasn’t even fully sure of what that meant, but God, her body knew on instinct alone that it had to be him.

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “How many more boxes do you think it would take for me to check off before you let me kiss you?” Heeseung questioned, already cupping her jaw and guiding her gaze upwards to meet his own.

“Not even one.” It was all the warning she gave before she was leaning up on her toes, capturing his lips with her own. At least she knew how to do it—she’d kissed boys in high school and shared fleeting things with guys back home behind her family’s barn. Kissing Heeseung, though… It felt different and sent sparks of electricity rushing through her in a way the guys back home never had.

He didn't even question it. Immediately, he was drawing her closer, one hand sliding under her rear to lift her towards him as he leaned to meet her in kind. His tongue brushed along her lower lip, a silent bid for entry before he was pressing inside to taste her. Fuck, she tasted so sweet, like the peach and mango from the drink she had been sipping only moments before, with the slightest bite of vodka still on her tongue. He guided her slowly into the kiss and showed her how to move against him. He was all too happy to deepen it, to take the time to explore every inch of her, guiding her hips against his own from his hold on her. “Well, thank God, sweetheart.” He groaned against her lips. “Because I thought I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t get to do that soon.”

A soft moan escaped her, her”lips parting without hesitation as he deepened the kiss. It was as though she were running on autopilot, her body knowing exactly what it was that she was aching for, even if she herself didn’t, and it sought it out readily.

Why hadn’t she been allowing herself these delights sooner?

“Heeseung…” she mewled, her fingers tangling in raven locks and tugging as she melted into him, pressing against him more completely. “Please… It feels so good,” she admitted breathlessly, chasing his lips with her own the moment he drew back for breath, greedy for another. “If I asked really nicely, would you take me home and kiss me until I can’t think straight?” She questioned, her voice soft and needy. “Because I’d really like to be able to feel a little more than is appropriate for a dance floor in a dingy club.”

Heeseung raised a brow at her, her lips curving upward in amusement. Forward little thing, wasn’t she? “I think we can certainly arrange that, sweetheart. Why don’t we get your things? You can text your friend; I’ll even give you my address to give her so she knows your safe,” he offered, leaning down to nuzzle into her throat teasingly, suckling at smooth caramel skin until violet began to blossom beneath his touch. “Because frankly, I think I’d like to do a lot more than a dance floor allows for too.”

“Deal.” She agreed, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the coat check. A moment later, she was typing out a text to Gaeun with the details of where she’d be and not to worry, letting Heeseung draw her into his side all too contentedly. He was strong, he was warm, and he was broad. It was as though she fit perfectly against him, as though she had been made to be there.

“I called us a cab while you were texting your friend,” he told her, brushing a kiss on her head and waving down the taxi when it appeared.

Ten minutes later, he was helping her out of the car, leading her to the front step of a cozy-looking white house. She wobbled slightly on her feet, leaning against him for support, even as she clutched at his sleeve. Maybe he was right, and that last drink was a mistake, she mused, all too happy to let him guide her inside.

She wasted no time in pouncing, pressing his larger frame to the door with renewed fervor once it had closed, stealing his lips with her own in a greedy kiss. “Fuck….. can’t tell you how good kissing you feels.” She admitted, her arms winding around his neck, her body pressing against him once more. “Girl could get addicted if she’s not careful.”

Heeseung growled low against her lips, shifting them until her back pressed to the wall, legs under her thighs lifting her, and guiding her legs around his hips as he met each kiss in kind. “You’re one to talk, sweetheart. Such a sweet little thing, you have no idea.” His tongue once more invaded her mouth, taking control with ease, even as she rolled her hips against him feverishly, instinctively telling her to seek out the sweet friction she was missing out on currently. Her head felt hot; it felt like the world was spinning, like she was burning alive in the best way possible, like she couldn’t get a grip on anything.

Y/N woke up in a strange room, nestled down in a bed that was far too comfortable to be her dorm bed. The blankets were soft on her skin, and early morning light cast rays against the bottom of the bed as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. Just what in the hell happened last night? Emerald eyes glanced down, widening in surprise. Okay, so the shirt she was in definitely wasn’t hers. For a moment, panic welled up inside of her, glancing around her surroundings frantically until she noticed what lay on the nightstand—a glass of water, two painkillers, and a note.

Morning Sweetheart;

First off, don’t worry. We didn’t go past kissing last night. That last drink of yours hit you pretty fast, and I wasn’t about to take advantage. Here are some painkillers. I imagine your head is hurting. Your clothes are washed and folded on the dresser. When you’re ready, come on downstairs, darlin’. I should have breakfast ready for you by then.

-Heeseung

All at once, it came rushing back to her. The loud, thudding music. She had strong hands on her and a broad waist beneath her legs. Lips met hers feverishly as she stole kiss after kiss. She had suddenly been dizzy and exhausted, barely even able to keep her eyes open. He’d carried her to his room, given her a shirt to wear, and tucked her in for the night.

Well, fuck, that was embarrassing! What was he going to think of her now that she had gotten too drunk off a few fruity drinks to even stay awake? Goddammit… There went her chance to get rid of that stupid virginity too. Gratefully, she reached for the pills and water, popping them back with ease, even as she made a promise to herself to never drink again. It wasn’t worth it if the way her head was feeling right now was anything to go by.

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face and setting the cup back on the nightstand. Okay, time to evaluate—she had options here. She could get dressed, sneak downstairs, and pretend like nothing had ever happened. Or she could stay burrowed in his shirt, go down to see what the breakfast he’d mentioned was, and see if he’d still let her try again. If she were being honest with herself, she would have preferred the second option. He was handsome, kind, and apparently caring enough to tuck a strange girl in his bed because she’d drank too much. She definitely wanted her first time to be with him.

Well. That settled it, then.

She slid out of bed, moving towards the dresser mirror long enough to run her fingers through her hair, making sure crimson curls at least looked presentable before padding down the hallway and a large staircase. The scent of bacon and eggs hit her immediately, making her mouth water as she followed it to where she presumed the kitchen to be. Silently, she walked up behind him, sliding slender arms around his waist from behind, burying her face in the broad expanse of uncovered, muscled back.

“Well, good morning to you too, baby.” He chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I’m guessing you found the note and painkillers, huh? Poor baby, I bet your head is pounding. Go sit down and get comfy. Breakfast just needs to be plated up. Bacon and eggs will get rid of any hangover you might have, I promise.”

Y/N found herself reluctant to let go, brushing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades before forcing herself to take a step back. “I did. Thank you so much for that, by the way. I’m so sorry I fell asleep; you must think me such an idiot.” She groaned, dragging a tired hand down her face, even as she obediently perched in one of the kitchen chairs. “I promise, I really did want to come home with you. I wanted you. Want you.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that we’re at least still on the same page, princess.” He hummed, plating up her food and setting it in front of her, kissing her head tenderly before taking a seat opposite the girl. “Nah, I don’t think you’re an idiot. You already told me it was your first time out like that. I’m guessing it was your first time drinking too?” A little laugh escaped him at the glum nod of her head, the crimson dancing along freckled caramel cheeks. “It’s alright, baby. You eat up, and if you still want me after you have some food in your stomach, well…The corner of his lips tilted upwards in an amused little smirk. “I’m sure we can figure out what to do about that.”

She paused, her emerald eyes widening and her hand pausing with the fork mid-air as her gaze shot up to meet his. “Really? Even after all that, you still want me?” She questioned, shy hesitation creeping into her voice.

“Mmm. Maybe you just look too good in my shirt, sweetheart. Maybe I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you, feeling you under my hands. Maybe I dreamed about how pretty you’d look coming undone.” Heeseung hummed calmly, as though the admission were nothing at all, though mischief twinkled in his eyes as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips, taking a long sip. “First things first, though. Eat. I promise it’ll make you feel much better.” He cajoled softly.

“Alright, alright.” She agreed, though the crimson on her cheeks remained. Admittedly….. The bacon and eggs looked and smelled utterly delicious. And when she had finished moments later, she had to admit it was already helping her feel a little bit better, her migraine finally beginning to let up.

Y/N paused for a moment before she was sliding out of her seat, padding around the table to slip onto his lap, straddling him carefully, and draping her arms around her neck. Was it far bolder than she normally was? Yes, but God, she ached for this man. Had been aching. “I should probably warn you,” she admitted, even as she instinctively rolled her hips down against him. “I’ve never done this before, so I may not know exactly what I’m doing.”

A low groan escaped him as she rocked against him, the shirt doing little to act as a barrier between them. “Hey, that’s completely okay, sweetheart. I know more than enough for both of us, okay? All I need you to do is tell me if anything is too much.” He dipped his head, lips brushing along her throat, leaving a scatter of dark marks in their wake. God, she looked beautiful with his marks, and he couldn't help but commit each little mewl that fell from her lips to memory.

“Tell you what, baby. Why don’t we start nice and easy, huh? I’ll pick you up, real safe and sound, and carry you upstairs. We can take a nice, hot shower together. I’ll kiss the ever-loving hell out of you and get you feeling nice and relaxed for me, hmm? I promise, I’ll take such good care of you.” He kissed his way back up her jaw, cupping her face as he stole her lips with his own. He could get drunk off kissing her; he knew he could.

“Fuck…” she moaned, tipping her head to grant him access to her throat, her fingers tangling in dark locks and clutching on tightly. “Heeseung, please~! “She mewled, unsure of what exactly it was she was asking for. All she knew was that she needed more, needed everything this man could show her, could give her. It was as though some deep, primal part of her had now awoken and was aching only for him.

She met the kiss in kind, heat pooling once more in her stomach, blinding and hot as it coiled and uncoiled, slick already pooling between her thighs, dampening the soft lace that lay between her legs. Even though this had her delirious from pleasure, how much better would it be when she had him touching her? “Shower sounds good.” She agreed breathlessly. “God, yeah, I want that. I want you to touch me so badly. I want you to teach me. Please, Heeseung? ”

“How on earth can I say no to that?” He picked her up with ease, guiding her legs back around his hips as he made quick work of carrying her up to the bathroom, settling her onto the counter with another feverish kiss. “Good girl. Not much longer now, I promise I’ll give you everything you need. Just be a good girl and wait just a moment longer for me.” He ordered softly, reluctantly drawing back. He set to work, turning on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right before kicking off his own sleep pants and turning back to her.

Her mouth goddamn near watered at the sight of him. Firm, muscled thighs to match the rest of him, and… Oh God, he was already so hard. Surely not all of that would be able to fit inside of her! She took a breath, licking her lips in anticipation, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him just yet.

“Come here, beautiful,” he cajoled, helping her back off the counter before his fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt, tugging soft cotton up and over her head. “So gorgeous. You make me want to absolutely ravish you, baby. Cover you in my marks so no man can touch you but me.” A low, possessive growl escaped him as he drew her close, dipping his head to nip along her collarbone, even as his once large, calloused hand lifted to gently cradle her breast. “So perfect for me, I bet you’ll be an angel coming undone.”

A moan left her as his thumb brushed along her nipple teasingly, pressing her hips against him. The feeling of his cock pressing against her was all at once terrifying and thrilling. Shy fingers moved until they could slide between their bodies, curling around him curiously.

Heeseung couldn’t help but moan, tipping his head against her shoulder and nipping at the soft caramel skin once more. “Fuck….. feels good, baby.” Reluctantly, he drew away from her, kissing her head. “Into the shower, sweetheart. I promise I’ll keep touching you, but at this rate, we’ll never make it in.”

His fingers hooked In the hem of her pants, letting them slide down her thighs, before he caught her hand in his own, guiding her under the hot spray carefully, just to step in behind her. It was no hard task to tug her back to his chest, running his hands smoothly over her skin beneath the hot spray. One hand cupped a supple breast once more, the other sneaking it’s way down over her stomach. “Remember, if anything doesn’t feel good, I need you to tell me, okay? ”

The hand continued Its journey downward, drawing needy whines and mewls from her lips as they slid between her thighs, stroking over slick folds. “You’re already so hot and wet for me, aren’t you, Y/N? ”He groaned, the digits easing inside to stroke over the delicate little nub above her entrance, teasing it with skillful little twists of his fingertips against her.

Oh. Oh, that felt incredible. Her eyes widened, a sharp and needy whine escaping her lips as she leaned back into him, her hips rocking into his touch. “Heeseung, please! “Y/N gasped, reaching out to clutch at the wall for purchase. “Oh God, don’t stop, please.”

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before—hot and sharp, the heat in her stomach coiling even tighter as his fingers slid lower, two easing inside. Her legs trembled, weak in the knees, as he wrapped a strong arm around her waist to steady her.

There’s a good girl… Fuck, you feel so hot and tight around my fingers, sweetheart. I bet you’ll feel even better around my cock.” He crooned, his voice a husky rumble in her ear before his lips were once again finding her throat. It was as though he couldn’t get enough—something deep and possessive urging him to leave more and more marks until it would be impossible to miss them.

God, he ached to bury himself in her right now. But he had to be patient. He wanted her to be nice and relaxed for him, and he wanted her first time to be good to her. It was something special she was offering up to him, and he would be damned if he wasted that. “Come on, sweetheart.” He moaned low against her throat, beginning to thrust the digits into her. It wouldn’t take much, he imagined, if no one had touched her this way, and he wanted to watch her fall apart on his fingers before he took her to his bed.

Heat bubbled within her, blindingly hot and dizzying, as she rocked into his touch, desperate to meet each thrust of his fingers in kind. It felt strange; it felt foreign, but it felt amazing. Even just the two digits stretched her open more than she’d ever had before, and when he curled his fingertips to drag along slick walls, she swore she’d seen stars.

He was definitely the right choice.

A moment later, she found herself tipping over the edge, unable to hold back, as her first orgasm hit her hard and fast. “Heeseung!” The cry was sharp, bouncing off the tiled walls to echo through the room as he continued rocking the digits within her, helping her ride out her high.

“Good girl. That’s my good girl,” he praised, slowly pulling the digits out. He chuckled at her whine, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I know, sweetheart. But I don’t think my fingers are enough, huh? So I’m going to pick you up and carry you to my bed. I’m going to lay you out pretty beneath me, and I’m going to make sure you scream.

He turned her carefully, scooping her up bridal style, stealing kiss after feverish kiss as he stepped out of the shower, careful not to slip. He didn’t care that they were both soaked; the sheets would dry. No, all that mattered right now was burying himself in her, making this pretty little thing his.

Y/N clutched on tightly as she was carried, brushing soft, needy kisses and nips to his neck and shoulders as he held her close. All her inhibitions and nerves melted away into nothing—no, there was only this handsome man and his skillful touch. She had no idea that it could be like this, and it was dizzying how badly she wanted more.

Heeseung laid her out gently, guiding her legs apart before moving between them and stealing her lips in a feverish kiss. He wasted no time—no, he needed her now. His hand gripped himself tight as he guided his aching cock against her folds, sinking home in one firm thrust, burying himself to the hilt within her.

Her moan was lost against his lips, her sharp gasp swallowed down as his tongue once more invaded her mouth, exploring every crevice it could, claiming it as his own as his cock did the same. It was overwhelming, but not bad. She felt so damn full. The stretch burned just a little, but that did nothing to diminish her desire. If anything, it left her feeling even more sensitive, with her arms draping around his neck and her legs hooking around his waist.

“Heeseung… fuck fuck fuck, please!”

It seemed as though he needed to be told twice. His hands cupped her hips and slid under her rear as he began to set a fast, hard pace, using his grip on her to guide her up into each rough, unforgiving thrust. “Fuck baby, you feel so good. All mine now; you know that, don’t you? I’m going to fill you up, sweetheart; I’m going to fill you up with my cum; I’m going to claim you inside and out.” He was unsure where the words came from; he’d never been the possessive type, but something about her drove him wild. She was just so damn perfect for him. “Going to breed you, baby, going to fill you so good your stomach swells, so good everyone knows you’re off limits.”

She didn’t know why the idea of that got to her the way it did. She’d never been interested in even the idea of having kids, and the notion of actually being kept had always been more viewed as a hindrance to her schooling and her future career plans. And yet, the thought of her stomach swelling up with his child and of him actually wanting to keep her was even more intoxicating to her.

“Do it!” She mewled, her fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him back in for another desperate kiss. “Please, fuck, I want that so badly, Heeseung. I want everyone to know I’m yours! God, I need it, I need to be full, please, please, please. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

It was as though he had awakened something deep within her and left her wanting for him alone. Each sharp, hard thrust stole her breath and had her gasping and mewling as she writhed beneath him, unable to do much more than simply hang on for the ride.

“I’m so close, baby girl. Just a little more, and I’ll fill you up.” He promised, kissing her over and over again. If he had his way, he was never letting her go. She was his now, and he’d do everything in his power to convince her to stay. One last sharp, and he was spilling himself inside of her with a sharp growl, stealing her lips in one last domineering kiss as he pressed deep, let his seed fill her completely.

Her body tightened around him, as though trying to milk him for everything he had, the feeling of hot liquid rushing inside of her sending her over the edge once more. Her fingers found his back, her nails clawing and scratching as she scrabbled for purchase to ride out her moans and sobs of delight escaping her lips.

He fucked her through It hard before finally falling beside her, rolling them until he was comfortably on his back, drawing her to lay atop him in a way that let him stay buried in that slick heat, dragging a comforter up over them.

“Feeling good, baby?” he questioned, carding a gentle hand through her hair even as she snuggled all too contentedly into him. God, she was cute…

“So good,” she agreed, her voice breathless and sleepy as she nuzzled into his chest. “Did you really mean it? About keeping me? ”

“I did,” Heeseung promised, surprised to find just how much he meant that. “I know it might be a little bit backwards considering… but I’d really like to try this with you, sweetheart. I hate the idea of you leaving my arms, of you being too far away. Is that alright, baby? I know you have your studies, and I have work, and both those things can be a little crazy. But if you let me, I promise I’ll do such a good job taking care of you.”

“I…” She hesitated for only a moment, biting her lip nervously. It was supposed to only be a one-night stand, just her taking control to lose her virginity and shut up her friends. But if this handsome, strong man who made her feel so fucking good and so incredibly safe actually wanted her… Who was she to say no?

“Alright,” she agreed softly, brushing kisses along his collarbone sleepily. “I can’t promise I’ll be any good at this; I haven’t really dated very much, and school has always been my priority. But if you really want to try this, we can try.” Y/N agreed, her eyes heavy.

Heeseung couldn’t help a fond chuckle, her hand sliding to caress her back sweetly beneath the blanket. She was so damn cute. “There’s my good girl. I’ll help you learn, okay? We’ll figure it out together as we go. Poor little honey, I think that second orgasm really hit you hard. Why don’t you get some sleep, sweetheart? We can figure it all out when…” He paused, glancing down at her. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady, and her fingers curled against his chest. “Huh. Guess I didn’t need to do much coaxing there.” He murmured to himself, rolling his eyes in amusement.

Content that she was safe and happy, he let his own eyes grow heavy, joining her in sleep a moment later.

#lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #18+ mdni

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Tʜᴇ Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ Yᴏᴜʀ Wᴏʀᴅs | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

➜ Pairing: Aonung x fem!sully!reader

➜ Warnings: kissing, fluff, not properly proof read.

➜ Word Count: 0.9k

➜ Notes: Thank you for 300??? Like this is honestly insane, I appreciate all the love I’ve received for this mini series, y’all are amazing! Please tell me if I forgot any warnings, and a reminder that my inbox is always open for asks!

Also I feel like this is kinda bad...anyways enjoy <3

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2 | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Aonung watched from afar as you handed the necklace to Tsireya, a shy smile on your face as she took it from you and examined it happily. She pulled you into a hug with a bright smile, thanking you profusely and complementing your work before tying it around her neck.  

A sense of jealousy bubbled within the boy as he watched the friendly exchange. Since when had you been friends? Let alone friends close enough to gift each other things.  

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you were gifting things to a practical stranger while shoving him - someone who you knew and had showed very obvious romantic interest in you, or at least to his standards - was being shoved aside.  

He turned away, unable to watch as Tsireya ran her fingers across the finely woven thread and handpicked stones that sat on her neck and walked away.  

Aonung made many more little check-ins on you in the next few days, often times his time was cut short by his own jealousy or sorrow. He was following you around like a lost puppy and although he would never admit it, in the short time you had stopped speaking to him, he had actually come to miss you. You’d been on his mind constantly as he tried to figure out how to fix his actions and make up for his harsh words from the other night.  

“Hey are you even listening?” Rotxo asked as he stopped, planting his feet in the sand and looking at Aonung. 

“What- Yeah of course I am!” Aonung responded, lying straight to his teeth to his bestfriend. He'd only been half listening to Rotxo as he talked about his latest village ‘adventures’. Rotxo opened his mouth to argue that he really hadn't been, when they were interrupted by a body colliding with Aonung. Aonung looked down, a glare set on his face as he got ready to spit venom at whoever had just bumped into him, only for the words to hitch in his throat as he saw who it was.  

That was the other thing, ever since your argument with Aonung, he had been on edge, tense and extra mean. He’d begun picking on your brothers even more, waving off his friends and getting angry over the smallest of things. The boy just didn’t know how to handle losing someone over his own stupidity, and it was eating at him.  

“i’m sorr-” you began to apologize, looking up but you cut yourself off as you saw it was him. Your face fell, jerking your hands back from his torso like he’d burned you and glaring at him. He just stared down at you blankly, unsure of what to say or do – he always felt unsure around you. Suddenly the air felt thick as the two of you stared at each other. Rotxo was quick to pick up on the tension that now surrounded the two of you like an aura, mumbling something about needing to go help his father and running off.  

“Y/N...” Aonung started, and immediately you were pushing past him, refusing to waste your time on another of his bullshit apologies. He grabbed your arm, preventing you from running of and forcing you took look at his pleading gaze and your resolve crumbled. No matter how mad you were at him, your heart still seemed to be in the palm of his hands.  

“What?” you seethed, yanking your arm out of his grasp, “Are you here to tell me how ridiculous I’m being again?” he shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground and swallowing his pride as he prepared himself to be transparent with you.  

“I just – I just really miss you.” He looked guilty and regretful as he spoke, he even sounded genuine. For a moment you wanted to put it all behind you and forgive him because you’d missed him too. You blinked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and steeling yourself. He didn’t deserve forgiveness after what he’d done. 

“Aonung I already told yo-” he sighed in frustration, mumbling curses to himself. Reaching out, he grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you into him. You stumbled forward, hands placing themselves on his chest, you opened your mouth to ask what the hell he was doing and looking up only to be cut off as he captured your lips with his. Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, your brain short circuiting as you froze.  

Only when you began to feel him pull away did you come back to your sense, slipping your eyes shut and moving a hand to cup his face and pull him back down to kiss him back. He smiled into the kiss, placing his hands onto your waist as he kissed you. Hips molding against yours in a slow flurry of passion, each kiss hotter than the last until he was biting at your bottom lip gently, and then letting it go with a wet ‘pop’ as you pulled away with a small smile.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Aonung spoke,  

“You still mad at me?” he asked, and you nodded with a hum,  

“Very.”  

“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t know how to show you I liked you so I picked on you and I just took it to far, and I have no idea what you're going through but whatever it is I want to be there for you,” he said with a sigh, sincerity evident in his voice as he poured his heart out to you.  

“You could have just told me like a normal person,” you snipped in amusement.  

“Yeah...” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you though. I swear.” You nodded in agreement, placing a hungry kiss against his lips as you mumbled,  

“Let’s finish this first.”  

@oomietopia@iam-mentally-unstable@yeosxxx@heartueheartue@lola-bunn1@eywas-heir@sseleniaa@shebeast7121scared@a-romantic-twst

#adrunkskeletonsduck #x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #avatar twow #Aonung fic #fluff #avatar fic #avatar

[choochooboss]

Submas sketchdump! Vol. 1

April-June 2022

Literally dumping all the presentable works as promised, whether I'm proud of them or not! This is where I started, even before the first thing I posted online (That subway station one). Many of these are not on Twitter yet so there's lots to see!

The top piece above the header is my very first digital Submas artwork!! I never finished it bc I didn't know how to pull my vision of as I wanted & started modeling the train and didn't finish that either, whoops! I really want to remake this later and make it super cool!

^^^ My reaction to breaking 500 likes & 100 followers in a single day with my first tweet (the battle subway one) all the way back in May!! I was completely floored by all the attention, oh how it skyrocketed my excitement and anxiety! Crazy times, I was so super nervous to be there with so many amazing artists and doubted if I could ever survive there ahahah!! Many had joined the community much much earlier than me, so I had arrived with a late train to PLA/neo Submas hype!

Next up is a bunch of stuff I haven't posted before:

One of my fav sketches! Been saving this for so long bc I really really want to finish this one day!

One of the first submas sketches with an actual story behind it! The subway bosses are running late for their flight because they didn't pass the safety check! The irony!! This would never happen as bosses are always on schedule. But Emmet hadn't noticed a wild Joltik hiding under his coat, so he set up the alarm and they got examined and interrogated of smuggling! How embarrassing for them! The bosses resolved the situation by catching the Joltik, but will they be able to catch their flight anymore?? Maybe if Elesa can distract the stuerts performing the safety protocol for a minute!

More sketchbook stuff...

In case you can't make any sense of it, Emmet's dreaming of different combinations of pokémon. Meanwhile Ingo snores louder than the train! HONK SHOO!

Top 7 every submas fan draws at some point!

Submas trademark posing

submas sleeping in a train

sad Emmet

Emmet with Joltik

Ingo with a cool solo pose

Emmet being chaotic & Ingo reacting to it

a bunch of mirrored submas poses

I sure have a full bingo card lmao, most of them you can see here XD

Next up is a sad man...

Stay strong our friends!

My typical sketchbook pages, crammed and messy as usual. x)

Post-PLA exploration:

A few examples of how my pencil sketches evolve.

I've done so much art experimenting with submas. I really like this black & white painting but I don't think I'll finish it anytime soon.

Where did you go?

The way I draw the twins' faces has changed a lot. They started with softer features and somewhat neutral emotions, because I wasn't as familiar with them or comfortable drawing them yet. Now there's hundreds of submas sketches, and they still keep evolving! My style is also kinda hard to pull off well, so their features differ from picture to picture.

This one was inspired by some submas music videos, can't recall their names anymore. The glowing eerie eyes and yellow&orange + black&white color schemes were neat!

I keep telling myself I need to draw more butlers, these twinks look so lean and neat and have more color and are posh with their monocles and have fun tailcoats!

(...why eyeglasses are not called binocles??)

I was there for the vinegar chaos. Good times!

That's all for now, I hope you got something fun out of this! Still got loads more art to share but I'll save them for another time. Next round I'll bring in my first submas comic!

#submas #sbms #submas ingo #submas emmet #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #ingo and emmet #sketch dump #chandelure #archeops #sinistea #submas butlers #butler ingo #butler emmet #too many ideas #butlermas

[sugarcoatednightshade]

I haven’t thought of Lily Orchard in years, but she just made a video on dungeon meshi and I wanted to hear what she had to say. I couldn’t even finish it.

It’s clear she hates anime as a genre and is pissed about having to review something she didn’t want to watch, and that anger permeates the whole* review. On top of that, it’s so fucking disingenuous to review a show that’s not even halfway over and then claim it’s thematically disjointed - like 1. Of course it’ll seem that way if you’ve only seen the first quarter of a piece of work, we’re still in the setting up stage, these themes haven’t had time to fully commingle and resolve and 2. Even considering that, dungeon meshi does actually know what it is/where it’s going, and at this point it’s fairly obvious how all the themes/mixed genera’s are gonna fit together.**

*to be fair, I haven’t seen the entire review, so maybe she calms down partway through. I don’t make a habit of watching things I know will upset me, and watching someone make bad faith criticism of something I like would literally ruin my week

Post chapter 65 spoilers below:

**Granted, cookings prominence in the show, while cute*** on its own, didn’t really seem plot relevant to me until around chapter 65 when it was revealed that in order to save falin they would have to eat her dragon half. Y’all, I went fucking feral over that reveal.

***cute meaning: it’s used mostly for worldbuilding at first. That’s really cool if you’re into it, and an integral part of the story ryoko kui is telling, but not technically necessary in every story. There are plenty of storys who spend needless time expositing about the world instead of focusing on the interesting bits, and if you’re only a quarter of the way into DM, I can see how you might think that this is one of those cases.

But obviously, as time passes, the worldbuilding aspects become more important, because the entire show is about worldbuilding. Or more accurately, it’s a deconstruction of the fantasy genera. It spends time setting up familiar tropes and then examines how those tropes would actually play out in a realistic world, setting up and then questioning our expectations for the world in a really nuanced way.

My favorite example of this is how dungeon meshi treats dark/ancient magic.

1. The words ‘dark magic’ and ‘dark elf’ have negative but vague connotations in traditional fantasy. “The thing is bad because it is bad.” It’s a fact we’re primed to believe, but shallow and easy to question

2. We learn that marcille uses dark magic, but that she’s using it for good. “Actually dark magic is forbidden because the people in power were afraid of The Plebs and want to restrict the populaces access to knowledge” is also a common fantasy trope.

3. As we learn more about dungeons and how they intertwine with dark magic, we learn that it does truly have the power to end the world. Not by itself, but because the dimension it pulls power from is populated by beings who would use that bridge of power to enter our world and cause havoc. Holy shit, we think, black magic is actually dangerous and was banned for a reason. Naming it ‘black’ was part of a smear campaign intended to save the public by dissuading them from using it

4. And then we learn that the so called catastrophe scenario has never happened, no demon has ever escaped a dungeon and successfully ended the world. Is this because of the work of the Canaries and ppl like them, or are demons perhaps not as much of a threat as they are made out to be?

And it’s great because there is no one correct answer. We learn things through the characters, whose perspectives are limited and realistic and based on their own life experience. Nobody knows the whole story, and neither do we.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #lily orchard #I’m on chapter 70 btw #and I haven’t read the art book #so my perspective here is also limited #dungeon meshi analysis

[foursaints]

do u have any random thoughts about sirius/remus?? literally anything at all- any random blurb or thought just Anything. reading ur james thoughts and i wanted to ask because i feel like any ramblings/character specificities u have about them will scratch my brain rlly good

my thesis for them is that one quote about how soulmates will eventually find each other, because they have the same hiding place

like the longer i spend with them the more i realize that i see them as recluses. perhaps not literally speaking (r & s have their own ways of attracting friends) but they are the two most isolated characters in the story to me. they’re yoked with really specific (yet opposing) burdens that nobody else is ever going to understand. they want to permanently hide their faces from the world & they have both built that kind of barren refuge inside of themselves

many other characters have stories that are built around Love, and the presence (james, lily, andromeda) or absence (regulus, barty, tom) of it, but that isn’t r&s to me. they have the Least to do with love stories because their entire lives are already so wrapped up in resolving super individual questions of freedom & autonomy & the hurt they cause & the hurt they suffered… but that’s why their love story hits the hardest, for me? they’re the least suited for it and it happened anyway.

once again my remus is like…. a city unto himself, but all internal. polite & mild mannered but also impossible to sway. i think he has the biggest imagination of all of them and it’s what lets him remain so Untouched. he’s not a ~creative~ or anything (pretty uncreative, actually) but he’s a poor german werewolf who is living a Little inside his head specifically because his life sucks so bad. he’s a boy sleeping on a shitty mattress but stubbornly imaging himself sleeping on a better one, if that makes sense, and he’ll die before telling anyone that’s what he’s thinking about.

and then sirius is a prodigal girl-son who’s part dog and still operating somewhat like an ex-cult victim after leaving their family. but they’re so beautiful & terrible & spoiled & brave that nobody can See that. sirius doesn’t need a love story because they need their brother back. and remus has so much of his own baggage, and they are both such Monoliths of independence that it’s less like they’re committed to unraveling the threads of each other’s interiority and more like they’re two cars crashing into each other then scrambling to pick apart the wreckage, holding shattered parts up to the light to examine, one crash at a time. it’s crazy.

it’s like… they make the least sense for each other, but not JUST because they’re mismatched (which they are aesthetically, but not personality-wise). it’s because they’re the two people on earth who need romantic love the least and their lives would be MUCH less complicated without it, maybe even better. but they cannot escape each other. they will never escape each other!!! because!!! they have!! the same hiding places!!!!

#a #ITS NEVER OVERRRR A KINGDOM FOR A KISS UPON HER SHOULDERRRRRRR #ITS NEVER OVEEEEEEEERRRRRRE SHES THE TEAR THAT HANGS INSIDE MY SOUL FOREEEEVEEEERRRR #sorry for the mucho texto goddamn. i had so many more opinions than i thought #i think about sirius visiting the shabby apartment that remus PAINSTAKINGLY pulled together in berlin and i need to throw up #i guess my vision for them is like. they���re two stick figures experiencing The Horrors #except remus’s has a thought bubble saying ‘none of this shit means Anything to me’ #and sirius’s has a thought bubble saying ‘ALL OF THIS SHIT MEANS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEE’ #but they’re like reacting to the horrors in the same way despite

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 1

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! familial issues, underage drinking, tension (between literally every LOL), blair/serena hating each other, you/blair and you/serena being besties lol, a lotta winfrey lore

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! ahhhh im super excited, as always please lmk your thoughts !!

previous next

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. series masterlist. taglist. ❫

PRESENT DAY.

Hey, Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, and I have the most surprising news ever. Y/N Winfrey spotted back in town after she disappeared for almost 6 months. But where has she been all this time? Sources tell me she's been living it up in the City of Love, Paris. Oh la la! But what brings our darling Y/N back to the Big Apple after all this time? Could it be a scandalous affair, a family feud, or perhaps a fashionable rendezvous with the elite of Parisian society?

Rumors are swirling as to the reason behind Y/N's sudden return. Some say she's back to reclaim her rightful place among Manhattan's elite, while others speculate that she's returned to stir up trouble in the already turbulent waters of Upper East Side.

But what of Y/N's infamous entourage? Will her loyal subjects, Nate, Isabell, Kati and Blair, welcome her back with open arms, or will there be whispers of betrayal and backstabbing among the ranks of Manhattan's elite?

Will she pick up right where she left off, ruling the social scene with her signature grace? Or has her time away changed her in ways we can't even imagine? So grab your designer handbags and your most scandalous gossip, Upper East Siders, because things are about to heat up in the city that never sleeps. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

As the sleek black limousine rolled to a stop in front of the towering building, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, revealing the figure of Y/N Winfrey stepping out into the cool Manhattan air.

With a flick of your hair, you cast a cool gaze towards your old home, a grand penthouse that stood as a testament to the wealth and power of the Winfrey family. The familiar sight of the elegant facade stirred a flurry of emotions within you, memories both bitter and sweet flooding your mind as you took in your old home.

You were too focused on the old home to hear your mother come up from behind you, putting a hand on her shoulder as she examined the home as well. She hadn't been there since the divorce, which was almost a decade ago.

"I know you're nervous, Y/N. But don't let any of them get to you, okay?" Her voice rang in your ears as you nodded slowly. You weren't sure who she was referring to; your father's new family or your old friends. Or maybe, all of the above.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't."

With a reassuring squeeze of your mother's hand, you gathered your resolve and stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited you within the walls of your old home.

Your new family met you with open arms and it felt strange to be back home, the same home you'd left; except, everything inside had changed. There were no more pictures of you anywhere, they were all replaced with wedding photos or pictures of your new stepsister, Charlene. It made your stomach twist in disgust, you couldn't believe your father had a brand-new, shiny family. The perfect family he'd prayed for, you were almost happy for him. Almost.

"So how was Paris, Y/N? Did you like it?" Josie's voice brought you back to real life. You turned your gaze up to meet hers, a tight smile on your lips. You were sat in the living room of the penthouse, alongside your mother and stepmother.

"It was... fun," you reply carefully, your tone neutral. You couldn't bring yourself to admit just how much you missed Paris, how it had felt more like home than this place ever did. Instead, you plastered on a facade of indifference, hoping to shield yourself. "It's too bad that we left."

Your mother let out a light laugh as she glanced back at you. "We'll be back as soon as we can. I just missed New York so much and I'm so happy to be back." What she didn't mention was that the only reason she was back was for her business, she wanted to open more shops in Manhattan.

"Yeah, it's nice to be back," you replied, forcing a smile. Despite your mother's attempt to lighten the mood, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

Josie, your stepmother, chimed in, her voice cheerful. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you'll adjust to being back in no time. Especially with Eleanor's party tonight, you'll be attending that... right?"

"Yes, yes she will." Your mother answered for you. You knew that your mother wanted to reintroduce you back into Manhattan society but you didn't even have time to adjust back into New York time, you were jetlagged.

You didn't want to even think about why you even left in the first place. When you decided to leave, you promised that when you'd come back, you'd leave it in the past. You'd leave him in the past.

Nate. The mere thought of him sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the heartache you had endured before leaving for Paris. You had promised yourself that you would never allow him back into your life, that you would move on and leave the past where it belonged.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed as your mother and stepmother continued to discuss the details of the upcoming event, their voices fading into the background as your mind wandered back to memories you had long tried to forget.

──౨ৎ──

"And if they ask you about the business, what do you say?" Your mother quizzed you as she put on lipgloss, looking into the mirror of the hallway of the building that Blair's penthouse resided in.

You tore your gaze away from your own reflection to meet your mother's eyes, a sense of unease creeping into your stomach. "I'll say that things are going well," you replied, your tone carefully neutral. "That we're expanding and looking for new opportunities in Manhattan."

Your mother nodded in approval, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Good," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Just remember to keep it vague. We're a family, and we need to show the world that we're strong, no matter what."

You forced a smile, though the weight of your mother's words hung heavy in the air. The facade of unity was fragile, and you knew that beneath the surface, tensions simmered, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Your mother finally finished her lip gloss, focusing now solely on you. "Remember, confidence is key. You're representing not just yourself, but our entire family."

"Got it." You answered, the words coming out as more of a reassurance to yourself than to her.

Her words echoed in your mind as you followed her towards Blair's penthouse, the anticipation of Eleanor's party looming ever closer. The elevator dinged and the door opened, revealing the glamorous penthouse of the Waldorf's. Your mother's hand found yours as she squeezed it, reassuring as you two walked back into Manhattan's elite society.

"Priscilla Winfrey! You made it!"

Your mother's head turned to meet Eleanor, a charming smile enveloping her lips as she walked toward her.

"Oh, and is that Y/N?" Eleanor gasped as she studied you, taking every little detail in. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart. You're starting to look more and more like your mother every passing day."

"Thank you, Ms. Waldorf," you replied graciously, offering her a polite smile. Despite the compliment, you couldn't shake the sense of unease that gnawed at you.

Eleanor's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to your mother, engaging her in conversation. Left momentarily alone, you scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces that surrounded you.

Your eyes landed on your old friend group, all seated on the couch. A sense of nostalgia hit you as you examined their faces, all the nights you'd spent partying with them playing in your head. Isabell, Kati and Chuck sat as they spoke, talking about God knows what.

You couldn't help but wonder where Blair was, it was her party and she wasn't with her friends. And of course, Nate.

Chuck's eyes finally met yours, a wide smirk on his lips as his eyes fell on your body before back to your eyes. But before you could go up to them, you heard an excited squeal behind you.

"Y/N!"

You recognize that voice anywhere; it was Blair. She enveloped you in a tight hug, her excitement palpable as she pulled back to study your face. "Oh my God, it's been too long." she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling but there was something you couldn't quite place. "You look amazing, as always."

You were nervous, it had been so long since you'd seen your old best friend. Your stomach twisted in guilt as you gave her a tight smile, her hands squeezing yours. "Thank you, Blair. You looked stunning but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

Blair's smile faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure, a flash of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N," she replied, her tone warm but tinged with an undercurrent of tension. "I'm just glad you're here. Like, really here."

You and Blair had been close since you were kids, your families being close since the beginning of time, basically. Your mothers were best friends in school and now, you are too. Before you left Paris, you told Blair and Serena and made sure to give them calls whenever you could. But soon, Serena stopped answering your calls and according to Blair, she just disappeared to a boarding school in Connecticut.

Blair still didn't know the real reason you fled to Paris and that gulit chipped at you everyday, even more now as you saw her lips curve into a rare genuine smile.

"I've missed you, Blair," you replied, your voice tinged with sincerity. "It's good to be back."

"It's good to have you back, Y/N." Blair gave your hand a squeeze before she spoke again. "Excuse me for two seconds, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Of course, Blair," you replied, offering her a reassuring smile as she excused herself.

You let out a sigh before turning your focus back to your mom, who was now in a conversation with a person you weren't sure you knew the name of. You knew you couldn't bother her right now, she was networking.

With a resigned sigh, you resigned yourself to the role of observer, content to blend into the background as your mother worked her magic in the world of Manhattan's elite. It wasn't the first time you had found yourself sidelined in favor of your mother's professional pursuits, and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

You couldn't blame her, though. After the divorce, her career had become more than just a family business—it had become her lifeline, it was the only thing she still had.

You remembered the days that followed your parents' separation, the way your mother had thrown herself into her work with a fervor bordering on obsession. It had been her way of coping, her way of escaping the pain and heartache that had threatened to consume her. You didn't blame her, her high school sweetheart had left her for a woman almost half her age, closer in age with her daughter than her.

You found the drinks table quickly, grabbing a glass of champagne and taking a sip of it. As you lifted the glass to your lips, the cool and crisp taste of the champagne washed over your tongue, distracting you from the emotions swirling within you. With a sigh of contentment, you leaned against the table, letting the hum of conversation and laughter wash over you.

As you scanned the room, your eyes fell on a familiar brunette. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized who it was; the person you'd been wanting to escape since you left for Paris. His bright blue eyes met yours and you felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood through you. It was Nate, your once-close friend, the one person who had been a constant presence in your life before everything changed.

His gaze held surprise as he caught sight of you across the room, and for a moment, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You were frozen, unable to move as he approached you.

You couldn't escape him now.

Nate's lips curved into a smile as he took you in, with all your glory. "Y/N, you're back. It's, uh... good to see you."

"Yeah, you too." You responded, giving him a short answer.

Nate's smile faltered slightly at your response, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his features before he quickly masked it. "So, uh... how have you been?" he asked, his tone cautious as though treading on uncertain ground.

"I've been good. And you?"

"Me too. I'm happy you're back." He looked down at the glass of champagne as he let out a chuckle. "I'm glad you still have that taste of champagne, some things just never change."

You couldn't help but smile at Nate's attempt to lighten the mood, the tension between you easing ever so slightly. "Yeah, some things never change," you agreed, a hint of warmth creeping into your voice.

"Nate!" Blair's voice echoed as she came up to the two of you, grabbing his arm. "You don't mind if I steal him for a second, Y/N."

You and Nate exchanged looks before you tore your eyes from him and back to Blair, a forced smile playing on your lips. "Of course not, he's all yours." In more ways than one, you thought to yourself as the two walked away, leaving you alone once again.

Before you could relish in being alone again, your mother's voice rang behind you. "Y/N! Blair! Look who's back."

You turned to meet the blonde you'd once called your best friend. Serena. Her gaze held excitement as she found yours, you began walking toward and engulfing her in a big embrace.

You didn't know why she left for Connecticut but you knew she would tell you and Blair eventually. You, Serena and Blair had always been close and tight-knit, no matter the circumstances.

Serena pulled out of the hug and put her hands on your shoulders as she studied your face, a grin on her face. "You're glowing, Y/N."

"Says you. How did you get even more blonde since I've seen you?" You teased as she let out a laugh.

Serena's laughter echoed through the hallway, a sound that filled you with a sense of warmth and familiarity. Despite the time that had passed since you had last seen each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

"I've been spending way too much time in the sun," Serena admitted with a playful grin, her blue eyes sparkling. "But enough about me, tell me everything. How was Paris? Did you meet any cute French boys?"

You chuckled at Serena's teasing. "Paris was amazing," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you recalled your time. "And as for French boys, well, let's just say they definitely live up to the hype."

Serena laughed, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "I knew it!"

"Serena?"

You both turned to face Blair, a unreadable expression on her face before she quickly masked it with excitement. She pulled her into a tight hug but you could feel the tension, what the hell did you miss when you were Paris?

"So good to see you, how are you?" Blair pulled out of the hug as she looked in between you.

"Oh, look! The girls are back together, my heart is gonna burst." Eleanor gasped as she observed the scene in front of her, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Are you staying for dinner, I'll set a place next to Y/N and Blair!"

"Yeah, um, there's somewhere I have to go." Serena looked in between you, a guilty expression on her face.

"You're leaving?" Blair's voice sounded hurt as she looked back at Serena.

"Yeah... I don't feel well, I-I just wanted to come and say hi. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow." Serena responded as she slowly began to back up, before she turned away.

Blair's expression dropped immediately back to a bitter expression, looking back to you. "At least you're staying. Who needs Serena anyway?" She whispered the last part as she turned away and began walking away.

You began following behind her, "What did I miss?"

"What do you mean?"

You caught up to Blair and you two began walking toward the couch. "I mean... with you and S?"

"Serena." She corrected. "And nothing except all you know. She left without saying a word, to none of us." Blair sounded bitter but you knew deep down, she was just hurt.

"Well, maybe something happened."

"With what?" Chuck joined the conversation as Blair glared at him. You could feel Chuck's gaze on your dress as he smirked.

"Mind your business, Chuck." Blair spoke as she rolled her eyes.

You caught Chuck's gaze, his smirk igniting a spark of annoyance within you. "Chuck, it's not polite to stare," you retorted, your tone sharp as you shot him a pointed look. Some things never do change, you thought.

Chuck's smirk widened at your words, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Forgive me, I couldn't help but admire the view," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You did some growing up in Paris, I could tell." His eyes were focused on your dress as you scoffed.

"Paris does wonders for a person," you replied dryly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

──౨ৎ──

"I'm pregnant! Surprise, Y/N!" Josie shouted as your father pulled her in closer, your jaw slowly falling. She's... what? Your fork clattered against the plate, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed Josie's announcement. Pregnant? The word echoed in your mind, disbelief and shock washing over you in waves.

Your head was pounding, you got home around 12:30 last night because the party lasted a little longer than expected. You were just trying to enjoy your breakfast before school, but then they drop this bombshell on you.

"Wh-what?" You finally managed to stammer out, your eyes wide with disbelief as you looked at Josie. "How does, uh, Charlene feel about it?"

Charlene was Josie's daughter from her previous relationship, she was about two years younger than you and... well, you couldn't stand her.

"You can ask her yourself!" Josie's gaze moved behind you and you turned to face Charlene. Speak of the devil.

Charlene's lips curved into a smile, though there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. "Super excited. I mean, I can't wait to be an older sister."

There was awkward silence before you got up from the dining table, clearing your throat. "Well... I have to get ready for school. This was really nice."

You got up and began walking up the stairs, ignoring their stares. You wanted to stay with your mom but she was staying at The Palace and your father insisted you stayed with them and his shiny new family.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

#gossip girl x you #gossip girl x reader #gossip girl #nate archibald x you #nate archibald x reader #nate archibald #blair waldorf #serena van der woodsen #chuck bass #x reader

[skribblezcorner]

Corset-Trained

HEY YALL!!! comes back after like 2 weeks and drops this. hgnhg small waist Sanji gives me brain worms (they do the same to Zoro trust) so have this fic about it!!1111!!!!! It's also up on my Ao3 if you wanna view it there!! okay buckle in children ~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji loves dressing nice. 

Ever since he was old enough to fit in them, he’d never step foot outside without at least a dress shirt on. The constant dressing up was more of an insecurity problem than anything, when he was younger. 

Coming back from Momoiro, Sanji’s learned a lot more about himself than he anticipated - now he just wears suits ‘cause they look really good on him. Sanji has a nice figure. He knows he does. He keeps lean because of the way he fights, and the three-pieces he wears do wonders for showing off his legs. 

When he feels like it, he’ll even put on a corset underneath his button-down sometimes. he’s noticed that it’s gotten easier to put them on in the mornings the longer he wears them, and he doesn’t necessarily mind his waist getting smaller with time.

Looks like someone else noticed too.

~o0o~

For some context, It starts when his crew finally reunites.

Reuniting in Sabaody surrounded by the crewmates he’s missed for so long feels so rejuvenating. Everybody’s laughing, gossiping, and he feels home again, for the first time in two years. 

Everyone’s almost here, besides the marimo - lost in transit, Sanji guesses. Luffy’s already complaining about his empty stomach, whining for Sanji to make him something

Sanji prepares to kick the idiot in the head, when suddenly the ground shakes.

He looks over to the commotion, and finds two halves of a ship crashing into the shoreline. Unfortunately he has a lucky guess as to what - or rather, who - caused this.

“Shit,” Sanji mutters. Why is it always something with that algae-headed fool?

As it turns out, Sanji was right. upon returning to Sabaody (without his eye, might he add), Zoro had somehow arrived first and proceeded to get himself lost on a completely different ship. Instead of getting off and looking for his crew like a normal person, he cleaved the entire thing in two to ‘get to shore faster’. 

“It’s been two years, and you’re still as much of an idiot as the last time i saw you, marimo.” Sanji huffs, pulling said marimo by his ear towards the Sunny. 

On the contrary, Zoro has not said a word since Sanji picked him up from the ruins of the ship he destroyed. It’s a little concerning, considering all the pair really do is bicker when they’re together.

Sanji turns around briefly to examine the man he’s dragging behind him. “are you even paying attention to me, or has all the algae on your head clogged up your ears?”

Zoro stumbles over his words before he splutters something something about Sanji’s collar being wrinkly, which the other man knows is a lie (because he steamed his button down this morning…)

Even so, Sanji narrows his eyes at the green-haired idiot before feeling around the collar of his shirt just in case. “No it’s not, you idiot!” He hisses, and flicks Zoro on the side of the head, and they fall into their usual banter as they head back to the rest of the crew. 

Every time he looks back at Zoro to deliver a scathing remark, though, he swears something’s…off about the other. He leaves it be for the time being, hoping it’ll resolve itself.

~o0o~

It does not resolve itself, unfortunately for Sanji.

Everyone boards the Sunny joyfully, the ship exploding in laughter as they make their hasty escape from Sabaody. They settle back onto the ship in a matter of hours, and it’s like they never left.

A few days later, Sanji finishes up stocking up the galley’s storage room earlier than he expected, so he makes smoothies for the crew as a sort of welcome-back gift. He leaves his jacket in the galley because it’s pretty sunny where they are right now.

As he bustles around the ship and hands the drinks out to the crew, he feels a set of eyes boring into his back from the edge of the ship. It seems the marimo’s developed a staring problem - ironic, seeing(HA!) that the man is missing an eye.

When he comes around to deliver Zoro’s plain matcha, Zoro’s eyes are closed and he acts like he wasn’t staring a hole directly between Sanji’s shoulder blades the whole time the blond was on deck. Sanji pauses to study the other man for a moment, wondering if Zoro knows his fluttering eyelashes betray the fact that he’s awake.

“Hey. Hey, you lazy fuck!” Sanji kicks at Zoro’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the drink he has in his hand.

“ What? ” Zoro snaps, his eye snapping open.

Sanji crouches down to place the drink next to him, and levels Zoro with a suspicious glare; like trying to say ‘ you’re not slick ’, but telepathically. 

Zoro seems to realize what’s gong on, and instead of answering he takes an obnoxiously long (and fucking loud) sip as he stares the blonde down with a blank face. 

Blue stares into gray (were Zoro’s lashes always that long?) as Sanji tries to puzzle out what exactly is going on with the marimo. The longer he stares, the more he notices Zoro’s eyes creeping downwards, and the blush materializing on Zoro’s (and subsequently, his own) face, and Sanji looks away because what the fuck ? Is he? Doing that for?!

Sanji straightens up with a huff, trying to cover his embarrassment as he scuttles back to the galley.

When he looks outside the window after a few minutes of calming himself down, he sees the swordsman looking down at his hands, doing…something. He’s cupping both hands into a C-shape and putting them closer and farther apart like he’s gauging something.

What a fucking weirdo , Sanji thinks, and tries to preoccupy himself with something else in the galley.

~o0o~

It all comes to a head one night a week after.

Sanji’s washing dishes after dinner, the rest of the crew presumably settled down and tucked into bed. He’s frantically scrubbing ketchup crust off one of his favorite plates when he hears the door crack open.

“Luffy, you’re not-” Sanji turns around, expecting to defend the fridge with his life - and it’s not Luffy.

Instead, It’s Zoro, who hasn’t come into the galley to steal booze in like… a while. There goes Sanji’s hopes that he might’ve broken that habit.

“Oh,” Sanji says, while the other man stands awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re more welcome in here than he is, I guess.” He nods to the chair, gesturing for Zoro to sit as he turns back around to continue washing dishes.

Zoro sits, evident by the scraping of the chair. “Don’t go looking through my cabinets, marimo,” Sanji quips, “I’ll get you a bottle as soon as I’m done.”

Zoro grunts an affirmative from behind him, and Sanji finishes washing up the last few cups and shit before wiping his hands off and heading towards the wine cabinet.

Sanji feels Zoro’s eyes on him as he bends down to reach for a bottle of rum, and here’s where things start to spiral.

Sanji decides this is the perfect time to have a talk . So, he sets down two glasses on the table where Zoro is sitting, and fills each to the brim before slamming the bottle down derisively.

“Okay,” Sanji starts. “I know you’re a man of few words, or whatever, but you really gotta start talking. Now.”

Zoro snorts into his drink, setting it down before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, like the smug shit he is.

“Yes you do.”

“Nope. I don’t.”

“You’re fucking insufferable, you know that?” Sanji gripes, taking a long sip from his glass. “Let me lay it out for you. You either tell me what’s going on, or, stop staring at me before i take out your other eye, asshole.”

Zoro stares resolutely at the table, picking up his glass of rum and mumbling something into the rim without making eye contact with the man across from him.

“What’s that, marimo?”

“I just wanted to see something,” the green-haired man says, a little louder this time.

“Well, if it was that simple, you could’ve just asked.” Sanji shrugs. “Stop being weird about it.”

Sanji hears something faintly like 'no, I couldn’t have' from the marimo before he sighs in resignation and gets up. “Cook, stand up.”

Sanji is confused. “What? Why?”

One of Zoro’s hands move to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is me asking! Just…do it.”

Oh, so that’s where this is going. “Marimo, even without my shoes on, I’m still taller than you.”

“Okay, whatever, come closer.” Zoro says, still managing to look anywhere but Sanji’s eyes.

Sanji expects a hand at his forehead to, you know, measure height. Instead, Zoro does that weird C- shape he’s been doing with his hands all week, and Sanji feels a warmth around his midsection through the light blue dress shirt he has on.

Zoro’s staring with half-lidded eyes at something and Sanji follows his gaze lower, as they both look at the tan hands resting around his waist. 

Zoro’s thumbs touch - no, they overlap - where they rest above Sanji’s navel, and oh, oh .

The two stand there, stock still, in complete silence, and Sanji can't help the fast beating of his heart as his mind conjures up the image of those firm, calloused hands touching there without the stiff cotton in between -

The silence in the galley is broken by the drip of liquid, and Sanji belatedly realizes it’s coming from him as a splat of red falls onto Zoro’s hands.

“ Hoooo-ly shit, ” Zoro whispers, and, yeah, holy shit is right, because this has unlocked something in Sanji that he was very unprepared for.

Sanji snaps out of whatever fucking trance he was in and frantically tries to save his shirt, moving to get a paper towel from the counter (and mourning the loss of Zoro’s palms touching his waist). “Fuck, fuck! ” Sanji dabs at the stain on the front of his shirt, but to no avail. He settles for wiping his face clean instead.

When Sanji turns around to face him, The marimo is staring at him with wide eyes and the deepest flush Sanji thinks he’s ever had. “Okay, okay.” This is fine , Sanji thinks, and takes the opportunity to stride up to the table they were sitting at and down not only his rum, but Zoro’s as well. 

He coughs as the liquid goes down his throat, and he kind of regrets doing that, but he needs the courage (and the chance he won’t remember this tomorrow). 

“Cook-”

Sanji holds up a hand. “Don’t - don’t say anything.” Zoro falls silent.

He takes a deep breath in, collecting himself before he speaks.“Is that a thing? For you?.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Answer the goddamn question.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Zoro admits, his tone more confused than anything now.

“So,” Sanji calmly says, “Would you be open-”

“Are you propositioning me-” 

Yes. “I swear to god , Zoro.”

He seems to get the message, swallowing thickly before nodding once. Great.

“Good,” Sanji sighs, unbuttoning the two topmost buttons on his dress shirt. “Then, you mind doing that again?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

errmmmmm i hate beta reading so there might be a buncha mistakes in here please lmk if you spot one!! anyway these two are my little meow meows i cant stop writing about them.

#ronoroa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #one piece #zosan brainrot #i cant stop thinking about them #zosan gives me brain worms #small waist sanji.... #WHY do you have a small waist. #FOR OTHER MEN (Zoro) TO GRAB>?????!??!?! #big hands #big hands zoro go brrrrr

[dadsperm]

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 18+ only... no minors please... ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

big brother!seishiro nagi x f!reader x reo mikage

1288 words. f!reader

content warnings: incest (full) - dubcon - threesome - fingering - praise - good girl - slight cucking - power dynamics - slight edging

all characters aged up btw

"You're a pretty sick guy, Nagi, you know that?" Reo laughed idly as he watched your big brother towering above your frightened form. Your eyes moved between the two older men in front of you, unable to believe what was about to happen.

You've always had a thing for Reo. He's cute, he's rich, and the way he's looking to devour you in this moment makes your heart race. Your eyes are fixated on him as the hair he's consistently attempting to keep tucked behind his ear keeps falling in front of his eyes.

A gasp leaves you as Nagi pinches your cheeks and forces you to look at him. His brown eyes staring daggers into your, it's like he's examining how you could even have the audacity to look at a man who isn't him.

"She's my little sister. I'm meant to protect her, isn't that right?" he speaks without shifting his gaze for even a second. You nod, obediently, earning a smile from him. "It's my job to look after you... so I think it's my right to break in your little pussy."

"M-My pussy?" you stutter. You gasp once again as he forces your legs to spread. He flips up your skirt and presses your chest hard enough that your back connects with his unmade bed. You shudder as you feel a slender finger run up the line of your slit. Your soaking panties become stickier with each second his digit is pressed against you.

"Yeah... pretty pussy, baby. Virgins always get wet so easily... 'n your even wetter because you're excited for your nii-san to fuck you. Mmm..." he groans, still teasing your panty-clad folds as he begins to palm at his cock.

You whimper, and he catches the way you glance at Reo like he's your saviour. Like you're begging him to understand you've never done this before, let alone with your brother, and you're oh so worried. Nagi moves the gusset of your panties into the crease of your thigh, baring your petalled flesh to himself and Reo.

"Woah..." Reo speaks. He turns into a blushing mess as he can't tear himself away from the sight between your legs.

"Never seen a cunt before, Reo?" Nagi asks, a single finger circling your sticky clit before he ease it into your tight heat. "Don't tell me you're a virgin, too." he laughs, shallowly.

Reo clears his throat, his eyes finding yours as he searches for your reactions to the pleasure like an addict. The way your face winces at the single finger intrusion couldn't have ended in any other result besides from him being rock hard. His cock straining against his jeans. He's losing his resolve, knowing he'll need to touch himself soon to alleviate the tension.

"No, I- I have- just never seen one that pretty..." he explains.

His response results in Nagi donning a fake pout, before laughing once more.

"You hear that, baby? Prettiest pussy Reo's ever seen... shit, I have to agree." he explains. He wastes no time forcing a second finger inside of you, pumping and scissoring them inside of you to stretch you out. "I'm gonna make you cum nice 'n hard, like a good big brother should. Because your nii-san has a big cock, y'know? It'll be easier to take after you cum."

"I- I-" you speak, a few tears rolling down your face as you try and find the words to say through the concotion of blinding pleasure with an agonising sting.

"Mm... you always look so pretty when you cry."

"Don't think we should be doin' this... Sei... i-it's wrong..." you sniffle, knuckles turning white as you grip onto the bedsheets beneath.

All he can do is tut as he watches you take his fingers like such a good girl. He curls them against your sweet spot, forcing you to throw your head back. He uses his free hand to swipe his fingers over your clit, and at the same time Reo has finally freed himself from his confines. His cock in his hand as he cant resist but to pleasure himself as you fight with the morality of being pleasured by your brother.

"This is exactly what little sisters are made for, sweetheart." Nagi assures you. "Made for nii-san's to fill up like good little girls. You're mine. 'N if you're a really good girl, you'll let nii-san and his friends touch you and fuck you whenever we want."

"Mmpf..." Reo moans, stroking himself up to a climax. Hearing the way Nagi speaks to you like you're nothing more than a plaything seems to be a sexual awakening for Reo.

As beautiful as you are, as gorgeous as your moans are, as pretty as your pussy is.

You're just Nagi's property.

"A-Am I a good girl? A good sister... f'you?" you ask him with pleading eyes.

He smirks, fingering you more as your tears continue to flow.

"Do you want to be? Wanna be our good girl?" he asks, his head tilting in Reo's direction to include him in the conversation. "Do you think what nii-san is doing is wrong? Or do you want to cum all over his fingers?"

"I think she wants to cum." Reo intervenes.

"I think so too. I think my sweet, baby sister wanted to sound like a good girl by saying this is wrong. But you're so close, aren't you? Naughty girl about to make a mess of her brothers fingers."

"N-No..." you sniffle. "Wanna be good... please." you sob, voice sticking in your throat as you can't bear to say anymore.

"The only good thing you can do right now is what we tell you. So, go on... cum all over nii-san's fingers."

And with that final, strict command, your hips are rolling against his fingers as you try to chase your high. You can't believe this is happening. The absolute astonishing pleasure you're becoming dizzy over due to your big brothers ministrations. All the while your crush is watching with so much lust in his eyes, you think he might cum along with you. His face is becoming sweatier, his fist turning to a blur as he works himself faster.

"I- I love you!" you call out, pearlescent cream coating Nagi's fingers as you continue to experience bliss. His fingers don't stop, and your words are just more encouragement to drag every last aftershock out of you.

You aren't even sure who you were talking to in that moment. To Reo? Your brother? Hell, it might have even just been the feeling of cumming. After it's all said and done, and Nagi still won't give you a moment of reprieve, you can't help but stare at Reo once again. You want to see him cum, you aren't sure why, you just feel that it might be close to art when he does.

"Stop it." Nagi commands as he looks over to Reo.

"C-Can't..." Reo explains, his fist still going as he stares at you. He's chasing the feeling you've just experienced, he wants to be in that blissful release with you. He can't stop... he can't... he-

Nagi grabs his wrist and moves his hand away.

"I invited you hear to enjoy my sister's pretty pussy. Have some respect for her. You can jerk yourself off any time, if you blow this opportunity, I won't be kind enough to let you have another."

Reo grunts practically choking out sobs as he's had his ecstacy robbed from him. He takes a few deep breaths, looking at you briefly before looking at Nagi again. He nods, agreeing with his words, the pair of them looking at you again.

"Alright, sweet girl. Nii-san's going to fuck you now."

©𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌

#nagi seishiro x reader #reo mikage x reader #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #seishiro nagi #reo mikage #nagi x reader #reo x reader #nagi seishiro #mikage reo #bllk x reader #reader insert #tw: inc*st #tw cucking #tw praise #tw power dynamics #tw edging

[jamiesfootball]

Do you think Ted knows he's complicit in aiding in Jamie's abuse? What about Rebecca?

Ngl I don’t even think Ted realized it is that bad. As far as Jamie goes, he has a huge blind spot in regards to this topic. This could be for a multitude of reasons: the generation he was born into. The fact that he himself used to play sports and may have internalized the idea that ‘sports dads can be like that’ without ever looking deeper. The fact that his own childhood contained a different sort of trauma, watching his own father struggle with mental illness. Then his trauma with how he lost his father. In a way, Ted follows the opposite of Occam’s Razor- when he looks at Jamie’s relationship with his dad, he sees complexity, he sees zebras.

He doesn’t see the simple facts, the hoof of the matter: that this is a mean person who hurts his kid with the intent to do so.

So before Ted has any realization about how his actions might have exacerbated the situation between Jamie and his dad, Ted would first have to come to terms with how he failed to recognize how bad it was in the first place.

I’d also throw in here that part of the tragedy of all this is how there’s no one character who actually has the full Jamie Tartt backstory cheatsheet- it’s spread out amongst Ted, Roy, Keeley, Jamie’s mum. And Jamie’s not good at asking for help, let alone accepting help.

I do think that of the immediate people in his life, the ones who have the clearest idea of Jamie’s abuse are Roy ‘he’s a living piece of shit’ Kent and Willis ‘alright that’s enough / *head smash* / I’m gonna take a walk’ Beard. They might not have the full story, but something about the way they react has a ‘well that’s all that I need to see’ vibe to it.

(In a darker speculative turn, I do wonder if maybe Beard has mentioned some of his own experiences to Ted. If knowing about Beard’s own experiences with (what I imagine) was also an abusive upbringing may have given Ted the wrong impression about What Abuse Looks Like and how people react to it, and if that plays into his impression of Jamie’s dad maybe not being that bad if Jamie himself appears confident and well-adjusted. A sort of unconscious bias if you will, the kind of paper-thin reasoning that doesn’t hold water when examined but if Ted’s never had reason to examine it…)

Oh. You also asked about Rebecca. Honestly, unless Keeley is talking about him, they’re talking about him in terms of the club, or he is literally standing in front of her, I don’t think Rebecca thinks of him much at all. Not cruelly. It’s just- she mainly knows him as a player and through Keeley. She’s picked up a bit about him, she cares for him the same way she cares for all her players, maybe a little more because of Keeley, but he’s not really a part of her life, nor is she a part of his.

She’s does wonder sometimes, what might’ve happened if she’d never sent him back to Manchester, but that’s from the perspective of the club. I don’t think she knows what that cost him. I think she’d feel awful if she did know.

That’s the other tragedy of Jamie’s story- for any of this to get resolved, someone would have to talk about it. And no one’s talking.

#did not mean for this to get long #thank you for the ask! #ask box is always open #this is also why I LOVE fics that delve in deeper on this topic #there was just so much left unexplored #jamie tartt #ted lasso #rebecca welton #coach beard #roy kent #abuse mention