#it had such a pathetic ending. nothing resolved.

[abra-ka-dammit]

growing up is realizing the weak ending of your original-universe story from jr high was actually only the middle of a much grander, more satisfying tale

#goddamnit i finally figured it out #it had such a pathetic ending. nothing resolved. #it took getting to my 30s and all the experience that came with it to show me #much as i thought my 20s would be the end of my life and was wrong... i thought that story would just have a shitty ending #bc it seemed hopeless that i would ever tie together the pieces into a solid plot that could have a satisfying ending #but ive tied together the frayed ends of my mental health and Lived On #so too will i tie together His. #it doesnt have to end that way Makumi.... there's still time. so long as you yet live there can be justice served and closure gained #whether or not i kept that as ur name in the end. literally still on the fence abt it to this day #in late high school i came to terms my fake japanese OC names sounded kinda stupid and changed a lot of em #now as an older person i find them sorta endearing and wanna just bring them back lol #stupid shit

[awearywritersworld]

men are so quick to blame the gods

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist

humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.

so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.

nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.

that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.

luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.

you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.

when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.

"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.

a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.

it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.

"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.

a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."

"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."

he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.

as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.

the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.

you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.

"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."

you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.

"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."

"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."

"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."

"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."

you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.

"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.

"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"

"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."

sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.

over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.

it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.

it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"

your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"

"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."

though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."

"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."

you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."

it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.

he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."

"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"

"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."

you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."

he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.

"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."

his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"

he muses over your question briefly.

"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?

you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."

"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"

you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"

"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."

"oh. well that's, um, good."

he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.

"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.

"stop what?"

"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."

he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."

"see? that's much better."

"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.

you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.

the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.

when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.

"w-what do you want?"

"i seem to recall asking you a question."

you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.

"i'm not crying," you declare.

sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."

you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."

yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.

and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.

"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.

your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."

"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.

"don't flatter yourself."

he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.

he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.

but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."

you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.

"promise?"

for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—

"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."

"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."

"...night, brat."

less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.

though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.

he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.

he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.

at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.

when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.

you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."

"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"

he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.

you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"

he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."

you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."

he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.

he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."

"but you won't."

he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"

"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."

he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.

"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.

the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.

"i don't know."

"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."

you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.

it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.

he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.

you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.

"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."

just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.

"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"

the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

[etheries1015]

Endless amount of marriage proposals. From your first meeting, to your very last. You couldn't help it, even being human and he a fae, General Lilia was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes upon.

Since your first meeting with him, despite being under threat of his weapon and nearing the end of the war, you had uttered with stars in your eyes your first proposal.

"Please marry me!" Your hands gripped the weapon with anticipation of his answer, Lilias eyes widening as he was taken back from the request. THIS was who he was meant to work with for the next however long? This was the human who stragitized and turned their back on the humans to aid the fae? How pathetic, he thought. He could never see himself remotely getting along with someone as air headed and brash as you.

You had a lot of perseverance, Lilia would give you that much. Yet no matter the amount of times you would pop the question "Will you marry me yet?" he ignored your advances and continued to brush you off, yet each time his resolve had lessen more and more. He could feel your words begin to affect him, and he was not liking it. He had to do something, and fast.

Thus, your simple words of affection drove him to blowing up at you, saying words he would soon come to regret and know deep down in his heart simply was not true. It would never happen! You're nothing but a feeble human in his eyes, and he would never love you. He wanted that much to be clear, that there was a line between you two. At least, to convince himself as much.

The final meeting was much sooner than he thought it would be. He could have sworn he had more time, you were so young, you were supposed to have a life ahead of you. You were supposed to continue to pursue him and break his walls down, to finally free him of his lonely life. He could feel his resolve fading, you were supposed to ask again that evening, yet there you were, bleeding out against the forest floor from an ambush that was unanticipated. You were caught unawares as you gathered herbs in the forest, Lilia now regretting his rejection to your extended invitation out of petty anger from the argument that ensued just the night prior.

Lilia was the first to find you. Hovering over your body with his long strands of hair cupping your frail body. He held your dying body as you moved your hand to his cheeks, cold fingers hesitantly pressing them against his soft pale skin suprised to witness wet tears staining them. You had never seen the general cry before, surely they were tears of happiness that you would stop pestering him with the question of marriage? Or perhaps on the flip side, you wondered. "Have I stolen your heart yet?" You breathed out with your same teasing smile, Lilia gripping your hand tighter as a tear slipped out of his glossed over ruby eyes and onto your muddied cheek.

"You have. A long time ago."

Alternative ending here

#Lilia #Lilia Vanrouge #Lilia x reader #Lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge headcanons #twisted wonderland #Lilia twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #General Lilia #General Lilia x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland fanfictions

[frmisnow]

˙✧˖ ?! — THE GOOD GIRL, I TRAINED YOU TO BE. - MDNI !!!

— ‧₊˚ — 🎱: " good pets keep their promises, don't they??"

summary. sending your husband a video of you touching yourself while he's at work was a horrible idea, now you got his tired ass all railed up and he's determinded to make you understand his definition of a good girl.

note. i'd bark for him anytime and everyday, hit me up cheol PLSS GOD I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST SOLDIER where is my self respect :/

warnings/includes. (NSFW) dom! non idol! seungcheol x fem! sub! reader, 'puppy, pet, cum dump, slut, plaything' mentioned, giving head (m), big dick cheol cause ofc, cheol softens up at the end a lil, the nasty but good stuff rly

you were a fool.

a fool for having to set up that phone camera right in front of your pussy, moaning like a little bitch extra loud, just for him.

in defence of yourself: you didn't intend to make him mad, you just had to show him that he was the only person that could make you cum several times just by sole thoughts.

you usally weren't like this, you were calm and collected, you could control yourself when horny, you were good at following his little silent rules but not this time.

gulping slightly at the sight of him leaning down onto the kitchen counter, the veins in his big hands visable, his work jacket carelessly thrown onto one of the chairs, beginning to slip onto the floor as cheol took in a deep breath, like trying to regain himself.

with a voice that dripped of authority, he spoke, his words cutting through the charged atmosphere, "You've been a disobedient little pet, haven't you?"

through only his words you felt yourself clench around nothing, pure air, the urge to shift closer to him to sit down on his lap onto his thick thighs and grind onto his hard dick, your dick was overbearing but you once again swallowed it down. you didn't know what to respond, you needed his attention it was almost pathetic - but not responding could resolve into an additional punishment of its own.

seungcheols words hang in the air after a few more seconds of silence, for the first time he turned around, raising an eyebrow at your behavior, "no answer?" his tongue visably running over his teeth, "on your knees"

doing what he asked for: you looked up to him, almost innocently, lips a bit parted, eyes wider doe like, the ones he likes the most.

'playing the innocent little thing, are we?' His voice was laced with subtle amusement, a tiny hint of indulgence. 'but I see right through you.'

"i missed you," you paused, "needed you, just wanted to show you how much"

'your needs are inconsequential, pet,' his tone, though stern, carried a faint undertone of recognition, acknowledging the unspoken words.

you couldn't hide the subtle pout that formed at his dismissive words, a flash of defiance coupled with a yearning for god knows what. "needed to show you," you reiterated weakly.

but much to your disappointment his demeanor remained unwavering, the faintest trace of a smile playing on his lips—a mixture of amusement and determination. 'your need for validation and attention won't change the rules, puppy,' his voice, firm yet still a bit amused, putting on that stupid grin that made you want to rip out your hair.

apropos hair - his fingers careesed yours slowly, others would call it gentle maybe even reassuring..but you knew that he did this just to remind you of your position: his puppy, pet, cum dump, plaything really anything but always underneath him.

"you know what a good pet does? you know what you promised me last time? last time when you were on your knees for hours, begging and begging and pleading like a slut to let you cum- do you remember what you promised?" his tone mocking maybe even a hint of anger, his hand pausing the brushing through your hair.

"i promised..." the words trailed off, your gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet his piercing eyes, "promised to be good, to listen to you always" your head lowering even further.

"and good pets keep their promises, don't they?" his eyes never leaving your figure kneeling in front of him, lifting your chin so you were forced to look at him, "do you want me to give you one last chance to redaim yourself?"

cheols own hands now leaving your face with every word wandering to his hardened bulge, knowing damn well that your eyes followed his hands with every single movement as he stroked over it through the clothing, "you could just show me that you still remember how to be a good girl, the one i trained you to be"

you bit your under lip, it couldn't be simple like this - with seungcheol, there was always some cruel catch like a play on words that you maybe didn't catch which he'll later on meanly use against you or he'll just plainly use the fact that you had a dead needy brain in the moment to his adventage but after all if he had a bad, hard day - he appreciates good head regardless, you knew of own experience with him.

he pulls of his pants and boxers, leisurely like he had all the time in the world like you weren't squirming at the sight of his pre cum coated cock, you didn't need to be told twice as you took the offer he gave you, for once not caring to much about what one of his twisted ideas might be, wrapping your mouth around the tip immediately running your lips around it, the salty and familar taste of his pre cum on your tongue.

the sound wet and sloppy, echoing across the kitchen, cheols fingers going through your hair, pulling it slightly when you tease him just a tad bit to much, guiding your head onto him in a way that leads to the base hitting the back of your throat as you gag in response.

"you're like my personal little cock sucker," pushing his hips forward slightly, actually deep fucking your throat "fuck, s'good at it"

"who taught you like this?" your own moan muffeled against his skin as he lifts up your head, his cock covered in even more pre-cum and spit, "answer"

"you, only do this with you" he nods in satisfaction at your pressed out words as you get back to what you did, stimulating him as well as you could, "good girl, just like that" throwing his own head back, a groan leaving his mouth, "see? you still know how to be one, don't you?"

"wanna come all over your pretty face, down your wet throat," a small whimper escaping him which turns into a louder moan, "use your tongue, spell your fuckin' name on it"

you try your best to take all of him in, almost chocking once more as he pushes his hips forward again, spilling hot cum all over your tongue.

that one lazy grin plays on his face when he sees you swallow his release, "just like that, clean it up" cheols hands again running over your head, careesing over your ears gently in contrast to his words and general presence while you lick him clean.

"good girl, did such a good job" cupping your face tightly, lifting up your head, kissing you deeply, tasting his own cum on your tongue.

"don't get me going while at work, got it?" you nod repeatedly, his fingers still squishing your cheeks, "words, baby"

"promise," a small smile on his face, when in the end you both knew that you'll pull the same shit like in a week just for fun, just to piss him off.

#kpop smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #svt ff #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt smut #scoups fanfic #scoups smut #scoups #kpop scenarios #scoups x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol #seungcheol smut #bts ff #scoups imagines #svt #choi seungcheol #scoups x you #scoups x y/n #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic

[iovetecchou]

Hunting Dogs Oral Scenarios; Giving

Includes... Jouno Saigiku, Tachihara Michizou, Tecchou Suehiro

Contains... smut! face sitting, premature ejaculation, teasing, begging, overstimulation, dry humping, implied public sex, praise, use of "good girl" masturbating (with panties)

AFAB Reader.

2,788 words.

Jouno Saigiku:

"Come now princess, don't be shy. I won't bite unless, of course, you want me to." Jouno quipped out. Smirking from where he was resting comfortably atop the plush duvet. You were straddling his hips, completely bare before him. You gazed at him with hesitancy swirling within your irises.

What if you ended up crushing him? What if the noises you let slip past your lips in the heat of the moment cause him grief? What if-

"Princess... stop overthinking it. Your turbulent emotions are truly giving me a headache. I'll be fine. Now, if you're not sitting on my face in the next thirty seconds, I will have no other choice but to punish you."

You took in a shaky breath before you climbed your way up his lithe frame. Positioning your thighs on either side of his smug visage. "Good girl, so obedient." He whispered. Hooking his forearms under your thighs, pulling your needy pussy down to his awaiting mouth. Your yelp morphed into a whine as Jouno began devouring you.

Your hands gripped the headboard harshly. Your knuckles turned white as you scored your bottom lip with your teeth. "F-Fuck... Jouno-!" You cried out. Jouno wasted no time lapping at your slit skillfully. His tongue explored your needy pussy at a leisurely pace. Lapping everywhere except for your clit. He wanted to hear you beg for it.

"Jouno- please... I need more!" A whine slipped past your lips as you ground your hips down further into Jouno's hot wet mouth. The blind king below you grunted against your slick cunt at your sudden actions. Enjoying how your whole being overwhelmed his senses in the best way possible.

Jouno began darting his playful tongue in and out of your pussy. Still not giving in to your pleas. At this point, you knew what he wanted to hear without him needing to say a single word. Your patience was wearing thin. You wanted nothing more than for your darling boyfriend to completely ravish you.

The second his tongue teasingly flicked over your clit with feather-light pressure, your resolve snapped. "Jouno- please, I want you to ruin me. Make a fucking mess of me, baby... I want to cum all over your face, so, please-!" You babbled out. Bringing your hands down to grip his two-toned locks in frustration. Jouno groaned at your words and sudden actions.

How could he deny you when you asked him so pathetically? Without any hesitation, Jouno brought his tongue back up to your clit. This time, he skilfully flicked your sensitive nub over... and over again. You said you wanted more? Well... ask, and you shall receive. Jouno was relentless, circling his tongue over your clit with the most delicious amount of pressure. Occasionally taking you off guard when he wrapped his lips around your puffy bud. Sucking on it fervently before he went back to lapping at your clit.

The skillful and teasing pattern Jouno created had you seeing stars. You couldn't control the way your hips began rocking back and forth. Your grip on your boyfriend's hair never let up as you now rode his face. Jouno couldn't help but moan against your needy cunt. Your taste, sounds, and ministrations were becoming too much for him.

Jouno's cock was throbbing beneath his slacks. He didn't even mind the sticky feeling in his boxers from his own precum. He was too intoxicated with you. His hips lifted off the bed as he dug his fingernails into your plush thighs. Groaning into your pussy as the slight friction of his boxers against the underside of his twitching cock left him drooling.

He was whining and slobbering all over your puffy clit, as you continued to ride his face. "Hah... Jouno, I'm getting close- please don't fucking stop!" You whimpered out. Tightening your grip on his hair as you clenched around nothing. Jouno's eyes rolled back behind his closed lids at your body's physical reactions to his actions. He wrapped his lips around your clit once more. Delivering a harsh suck to your twitching nub. Jouno let out a whine against your twitching bud in the process, and that was all it took for the coil within you to snap.

"F-Fuck, baby! M' cumming- don't stop... please don't fucking stop!" You grounded yourself against his face sporadically as you toppled over the edge. Cumming all over your boyfriend's tongue and face. Jouno let out a low groan against your sensitive pussy as his movements against your clit halted. You felt him stiffen below you as his nails dragged down the expanse of your thighs.

Your hips slowed down after a few moments more. "Shit, baby... that was amazing..." You sighed. Slowly rising off of your boyfriend's slick face on shaky thighs. Your hands untangled from his snowy red stained locks. Leaving his hair looking slightly disheveled. You took in his features as Jouno tried to catch his breath.

His lips were coated in your arousal as drool continued to seep past his pretty pink lips. Jouno's eyebrows were scrunched up in pleasure, and his cheeks were stained with... tears? "Jouno- were you-?"

"Not, another word." Jouno huffed out. Releasing his grip on your thighs, moving his hands up to your hips. Jouno carefully helped you off his face, placing you down against the plush duvet. You let your gaze wander further, and that's when you noticed...

Jouno had a very prominent wet spot against the front of his slacks. Did he... get so worked up from eating you out that he came... untouched? As if he could read your mind, Jouno spoke up.

"What? Don't flatter yourself too much, darling. The night has only just begun... and I think it's your turn to return the favor, hm?"

Tachihara Michizou:

"Michi, not here- we shouldn't!"

You whispered in a stern tone. Glancing over to your left and right side in the dark abandoned alleyway. Making sure no one could see the position your boyfriend had you in right now. Tachihara was kneeling before you. His lithe digits trailed up your thighs from beneath your skirt. He pulled your panties down in one swift tug, Pulling your legs out of your undies for better access before hooking one of your thighs over his shoulder.

"Don't care, I need you- like… right now." Tachihara quipped out. Smirking up at you before he lifted the hem of your skirt. "Hold this for me, will ya? I want you to be able to see my face as I make you feel real good, yeah?" Your face flushed at his bold words before you ultimately obliged. Gripping your own skirt with shaky hands before you let out a sigh.

"Michi… this is risky!" You pressed. Locking your eyes with your boyfriend's amber ones before he spoke up. "Yeah, but I know you like it… I saw the little mess you made in those pretty little panties of yours. Now, keep your eyes on me the whole time, yeah? Wanna see your beautiful face as you cum for me."

You clenched around nothing at his bold words. Nodding your head once in response. Tachihara didn't wait for a second longer to ravish you. His skillful tongue went straight for your clit. Tachihara pressed his tongue flat against your twitching nub. Delivering quick, harsh flicks to your clit in the process.

You couldn't help the whine that slipped past your lips. "Fuck- Michi! T-Too much!" You scored your bottom lip with your teeth. Trying to suppress your moans. He never did take his time with riling you up. Tachihara always lost himself in the taste of your arousal. His fast actions against your sensitive clit left you breathless almost instantly.

Tachihara couldn't help but smirk into your pussy at your cute attempt to stay quiet. It only encouraged him to ravage you further. He pushed himself further into your needy pussy. Flicking up against your puffy bud at an unrelenting pace. One of his hands came down to palm himself over his uniform. Groaning into your slick cunt in the process. "Ah, Michi… so good…" Your whines were music to his ears. His cock throbbed painfully against his slacks further at your cute sounds.

As Tachihara continued to ravish your pussy, you heard the sound of a belt jangling. Then the sound of a zipper coming undone. You let your gaze travel down your boyfriend's face and to his knelt frame. The sight alone left you breathless. Tachihara freed his aching cock from the confines of his pants and boxers.

You watched him as he reached out for your discarded panties. Clutching them in his grasp before bringing them up to his length. You clenched around nothing at the sight of your boyfriend as he began stroking his cock with your slick-coated panties. His groans against your drooling pussy as he pleasured himself had you seeing stars.

His tongue began to lose all sense of skill as his hand began to pick up in pace against his length. He was eating you out in such a sloppy and messy manner, and you fucking loved it. You moved one of your hands down to his disheveled tufts of hair. Gripping his amber locks fiercely. Your other hand still held up the hem of your skirt. "Fuck- Michi, m' gonna cum-!"

You whined out. Pulling Tachihara's face closer into your needy pussy with the grip you had on his hair. Your leg hooked around his shoulder began to twitch as you felt your release bubble up. All it took for your orgasm to wash over you was the sight of Tachihara cumming inside your panties. That was still wrapped around his twitching cock. The whine he let out against your clit as he came had your eyes rolling back into your skull.

"Shit- cumming… m' fucking cumming-!" You never broke eye contact as you came all over your boyfriend's face. Your legs quivered as your sweet boyfriend worked you through your high. Tachihara's sloppy tongue slowed down before he stopped entirely. Panting against your folds. His movements against his cock came to a halt as well before he pulled his lips away from your messy pussy.

He hastily tucked himself back into his slacks before he unhooked your thigh from his shoulder. Tachihara grasped your cum coated panties in both of his hands. Prompting you to step into the messy undergarments before dragging them up your twitching thighs. Snapping the waistband of your panties playfully as they now hugged your hips snugly.

You could feel your boyfriend's warm sticky cum pressing up against your spent pussy. It caused your face to flush a deeper shade of red. You watched as Tachihara slowly rose off his knees. He smiled down at you playfully before leaning into you. Placing a quick kiss on your lips, letting you get a taste of yourself.

"Fuck, babe… you're so sexy. You have no idea what you do to me… so, what do ya say we switch places now, yeah?"

Tecchou Suehiro:

"Ah, Hiro! Seriously, right now?!"

You were sparring with Tecchou in your shared apartment one moment, and the next thing you know, your boyfriend had you pinned to the floor. Hastily pulling down your shorts and panties. "I can't help myself. You look so beautiful right now." You smile softly at his honest confession. Bringing your hands down to sift through his chestnut locks.

"Need to taste you, baby… is that okay?" He whispered. Looking up at you past his pretty long lashes from where he lay beneath you. He slotted himself between your parted legs, resting his cheek on your bare thigh as he awaited your response. You gave his hair a playful tug before you spoke up.

"Yes, my love… I want this just as much as you do." Your words brought a deep blush to the tops of his cheeks. He offered you a toothy smile before he moved his face closer to your pussy which was now on full display for him. "I'll make you feel good, angel. I promise." His breath fanned against your slick folds as he spoke. Causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

Without another word uttered, Tecchou experimentally darted his tongue out. He delivered languid kitten licks against your puffy clit. Never once parting his gaze from yours. "Hnn… Hiro, so good…" You whimpered out. Grasping his hair even fiercer as your hips lifted off the hardwood floor. Pressing your needy pussy further into your boyfriend's awaiting mouth.

Tecchou felt his cock twitching against the cool floor. He couldn't control himself as his hips moved on their own accord. His hot tongue began exploring your folds. Pausing for a moment as his tongue circled around your entrance. Tecchou began flicking the tip of his muscle in and out of your slick cunt. "F-Fuck… so good, baby." You whined out. Smiling down at your blushy boyfriend as you continued to hump his face.

He felt entranced by you. Your movements, your taste, your gorgeous pleasure filled-expression. He synced up his thrusts against the hardwood floor with your thrusts against his lips. Tecchou whined into your pussy at the increased pleasure. He brought his hands up, interlocking his own with your free hand. His other hand snaked its way under your shirt. Cupping one of your breasts in the process.

He pushed his tongue further into your slick pussy. Swirling it around inside your hot wet walls fervently. Tecchou's eyes rolled back into his head as he felt you clench around his tongue. His cock throbbed painfully as the underside of his length drug along the cool hardwood floor from within the confines of his gym shorts.

"Hiro, more… please!" You babbled out. Pulling him into your pussy impossibly closer with the grip you had on his hair. He kneaded your breast playfully as his tongue slipped out your needy cunt. Tecchou rested his tongue flat against your pussy before he licked up the expanse of your folds. Slowly finding his way back to your clit before he wrapped his lips around your puffy bud.

He began sucking on your clit softly. Bringing his thumb and index finger together beneath your shirt to tweak one of your nipples. "S-Shit… baby, I'm getting close…" You squeezed Tecchou's hand, which was still interlocked with your own tightly. Picking up your thrusts against your boyfriend's face.

Tecchou wasted no time suckling on your clit at a fiercer pace. Making sure to flick his tongue over your puffy bud ever so often. You were seeing stars at this point. The combination of Tecchou playing with your tit and ravishing your cunt was overwhelming in the best way possible. Your interlocked hands were the only thing that kept you grounded.

"Hmn… Hiro, baby- feels so fucking good… don't stop- ah! I'm cumming-!" Your hips stilled against your boyfriend's face as he continued to suckle your clit. He was so lost in the moment. He didn't even realize that he was cumming in his shorts. You felt him whine against your clit as his ministrations against your spent pussy never let up.

"Hah… Suehiro, t-too much!" You cried out. Pulling his face away from your messy cunt by his hair. Before releasing his locks slowly. Your sudden actions finally snapped him out of his trance. He shook his head slightly before he climbed up your frame. Tecchou's thighs were now resting on either side of your ribcage. He snaked his hand out of your shirt, bringing it up to soothe your cheek.

"I'm sorry, angel… I got a bit carried away. Did it feel good?" He smiled down at you softly, awaiting your response. He gave your still-interlocked hands a gentle squeeze. You couldn't help the wide smile that painted over your features at your sweet boyfriend's concerns. You brought your newly freed hand up to cup his own cheek. Pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

Your shared embrace lasted a few moments longer. Before you pulled back for air. Panting against Tecchou's lips softly before you spoke up. "It felt more than good. It was amazing, baby." Tecchou smiled widely down at you before he shifted uncomfortably from where he resided atop you. Your gaze flickered down between your bodies, trying to pinpoint where his discomfort was coming from.

That's when you noticed the prominent stain… at the front of your boyfriend's shorts. Tecchou's face flushed deeper as he traced where your gaze was lingering. "Ah… I'm truly sorry, angel. I can't control myself around you. Everything you do excites me."

"Hmm… is that so, baby? Then why don't I return the favor? It's the least I can do for getting you so worked up after all…"

I definitely plan on doing a part 2 with the men on the receiving end! so, please have some patience with me! thank you so much for reading this far (:

special tag; @win-writes

#jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader #saigiku jouno #jouno smut #saigiku jouno x reader #michizou tachihara #tachihara x reader #tachihara smut #tachihara michizou x reader #michizou tachihara x reader #suehiro tecchou x reader #tecchou x reader #tecchou smut #tetchou x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #tecchou suehiro #jouno saigiku #tachihara michizou #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines #suehiro tecchou #tetchō suehiro #bsd jouno #bsd tecchou #bsd tachihara #bungou stray dogs

[macfrog]

heart, body, soul cowboy like me chapter thirteen

surprise! happy friday eve. here's some cowboy to get you through it. life has been a little tough on me lately. sorry for the terribly long wait. but the end is in sight, dear readers. tighten the stampede string on your hats. we're coming in to land.

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you and joel are at an impasse. you resolve it the only way you know how

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, alcohol consumption, mention of dr*g use, titty appreciation, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, major fluff, major angst

word count: 14.4k (y’all ask. mother macfrog delivers)

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.” His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says – “I don’t want nobody else.” And that’s a thing. A great big, terrible thing.

It’s been a week since you last saw Joel. Blurred, tilting, pulling to-and-fro across your vision. A week since you last heard him; his low voice like the hum of an electric wire, tired acoustics drumming weakly through his chest into your heavy hand, laced through his own. Fingers draped softly across his swollen knuckles. You wonder if they’re still marked seven days later.

A week since you felt him. Felt your body lean towards him – gravity or dizziness or something stronger – as his weight dipped into the bed beside you. The way it has only a handful of times now, but enough to score it deep into your memory. Enough that you know the difference between him and anyone else, even with your eyes closed and your heart bleeding.

Enough to ensure that, for as long as you live, you’ll know and see each difference between him and every other person you ever meet. They won’t lower their head the way he does, or lift the corners of their mouth like him. Your name won’t sound the same, won’t sound as complete, coming from someone else’s mouth. Your body won’t magnetize to anyone, the way it does to him.

And that’s fine. The separation. The fact that he was a fleeting moment. The fact that it was over before you felt it leave, before you heard the door close behind it. It’s fucking fine.

Still, you let it hurt a while. Just a little while.

The gash on your calf has healed up, your hangover had subsided by Saturday evening. But your chest still feels tight, your hands are still restless. You lie awake staring at the ceiling, surrounded by the clothes you have of his; breathing in the ghost of his scent and breathing out pathetic, aching sighs. He’s all you smell, all you touch.

Except – he’s not anymore, is he? He saw to that well enough.

So you let it hurt. And you think you can just about make do with that.

“Hey, hon,” you dad gently calls, hanging on your doorframe. Your room is dark, drapes closed, the only light source the white light from your laptop.

“Hi,” you reply, with a break in your voice. Your eyes don’t lift from the screen. Jim just told Pam he’s in love with her, but she’s engaged to Roy. But she really loves Jim, she just won’t admit it. It’s cathartic, okay?

Dad steps into the room and awkwardly stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. “Awfully, uh…awfully quiet lately, hm? Everything okay?”

“Fine. Everything’s fine.”

It’s not a lie. You are fine. You’re so fine, you’re actually numb to it.

The problem is that for the last few weeks, you’ve been more than fine. The best you’ve felt in months – maybe even years. The most you’ve smiled, the hardest you’ve laughed. The warmest the blood has ever run through your veins.

And then you’re just – fine again. Back to nothing.

He shuffles between feet. Stares at the floor, where his shadow sprouts from his toes. “I was gonna head into town, grab a few things. You wanna come? Sit in the car with a book, maybe?”

“I’m good, Dad. Thanks.”

“Sure? Whatcha watchin’?”

“The Office.”

He nods. “Right, right. I, uh, I was thinkin’ of askin’ Joel and Sarah over for dinner tonight. You always have fun when they’re around. You and Sarah could spend some time together, y’know?”

Your heart nosedives straight from your chest into your stomach. The thought of seeing him again, this time crystal clear and not while under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or worse, sinks its sharp claws into your shoulders and sinks you deep underwater. His voice gets lost somewhere in the space between you. And when you finally come back up for air, back into the room, you gulp back whatever string of senseless words your empty chest initially offered up.

“Hm…” You pretend to consider the thought, then head straight for passive. “Whatever. Sure.”

Your dad’s mouth opens to respond, and you cut in again.

“I’m kinda tired,” you say, yawning. Trying to make him leave.

He’s not great at taking hints. “Kiddo, I am really worried about you. Weren’t you s’posed to be working this mornin’?”

“You ain’t gotta worry about me. I’m just a little tired, is all. Wasn’t feeling up to restocking tools and dealing hardwood to your buddies.”

It’s only the second truth you’ve told him since he set foot in your room. You never feel much like work, not Sal’s-fucking-Hardware-kinda work, anyway. But the thought of standing for seven hours with a bared-teeth grin plastered on your face, hands blistering from tearing open box after box of stock, shoulder slowly coming up in a bruise from the number of customers tapping on it…you figured Sal could do without you for one fucking day.

“You wanna look some more at other jobs?” Dad asks, and finally you look up. The blurry, luminous silhouette of Jim and Pam is strung in the dim air before him.

You shake your head. “Not right now. I have some bookmarked I can show you later.”

He takes a deep breath, unsure of which angle to come at you from next. Finally, with an air of resignation and defeat, he settles for, “You know where I am if you need me,” and closes your door as he leaves.

You’re staring intensely at the face of every character onscreen. The pixels burn into your eyes. You’re trying harder than anything to get him out of your head. It’s not working.

His hand through yours, his arms around you – warm, safe, protective; the way he smelled, sweet like whiskey, sharp like pine; the way he’d mumble, lips against your head, sweet nothings pressed into your hair; the feeling of his lips on yours, hungry for something only you knew how to give him. The look in his eyes, tender, knowing, loving.

And because he was the only other person fluent in your little secret language – a look, a nod, a tug at the corners of his mouth. His eyes settling on yours only for a nanosecond, one tiny moment in time laced with a thousand words that you translated as quickly as his glance moved across you. It all meant something. It all meant so fucking much.

All of it. You feel all of it as it sinks through your skin, through bone and into your brain. As it curls around your ribcage, holds tight around your heart. Every thought and feeling that flutters through on full display for him to read. And you’d let him, because it’s him. You trusted him. You – you might’ve even –

I mean, what the fuck, right? When the fuck did this happen?

Joel Miller. Joel fucking Miller.

Is this what you thought would happen that very first time you looked at him differently? Tidying up after pizza, leaning into you, telling you you’re nothin’ but trouble? Did he know then, that this was where you were headed?

Did you?

Your phone buzzes. You glance down at it through your tears.

Sarah: wtf is going on ???

You craft a reply as nonchalant as you can manage. Three little letters.

You: Wym?

Sarah: are u good??

You: Yeah lol. Why wouldn’t I be good

Sarah: idfk. weird. my dad’s on the phone to yours rn

That’s great. That’s just fucking great. He’s probably telling Joel right this second how miserable you are. That’s all you need.

You want to hold onto your pride, keep an air of casualness about you impermeable to even Sarah – but you desperately want to know what’s being said. What she’s listening to him say.

You: Yeah? What are they talking about?

Sarah: well now it’s just some andrew guy

Sarah: sounds like a loser

Sarah: we’re coming over for dinner tonight btw

You: Nice. See ya then

Sarah: u wanna come over here before? we can watch love island

You: I’m good. Gonna go for a nap

Sarah: you can nap here. come over!!!

You bury the phone under your pillow without replying. Sarah is like Joel in many ways, but her persistent nature is one avenue in which they drastically differ. Joel would – and has – give you space, let you mope; Sarah will probably text you all afternoon until she’s on your doorstep, takeout in one hand and a telling in the other.

So you drag your phone back out and put it on Do Not Disturb mode. She’s already sent two more texts since her last.

Sarah: seriously. would you come the fuck over. im only on episode 5 i gotta catch up

Sarah: even my dad is worried about you

Yeah. Good one, Joel. Fuckin’ asshole.

----------

They arrive at six on the dot, armed with pizza and a crate of beer. The doorbell rings once, you lean over a degree to glance down the hallway, and Sarah’s stepping over the threshold, her shadow of a father at her heels.

He’s rugged. Hair amok. He kinda looks a mess, sorta looks how you want him to after almost two weeks of no you. But he’s here. He’s right in front of you. And this time, the shape of him isn’t swimming across your glassy eyes.

Your heart swells with relief to see him again, only until it twinges from the wound that he caused, and it hurts all over again. You turn back in your stool to face the kitchen island, making some noncommittal noise when Sarah’s hand presses between your shoulder blades in greeting.

“Tyrique and Ella are kinda cute, but I don’t trust him. Dude’s gonna fuck her over for sure,” she mutters, shoving the box over the counter towards your dad, who accepts the beer from Joel with a pat on his arm.

He’s standing across the kitchen – Joel – as far as he can get from you. You’re sure his eyes haven’t lifted from the floor yet. But you scan him all over, from the loose collar of his shirt down to the cuffs, rolled halfway up his forearms; from the rough hair of his beard down to the soft tufts decorating the skin just below his clavicle.

You scan him all over. The body you know just as well with the flannel and jeans over it as you do without them. The body you’ve squeezed, and scratched, and bit and kissed – and the same one you’ve thrown curses and insults at as it follows you through his house.

If he looked you dead in the eye right now, you’re not sure you could look away. You’re not sure you could stop.

That is, until Sarah presses a chilled beer to your arm, startling you, and silently nods towards the dining table.

She sits on your right, opposite your dad’s seat. She resumes chittering about Love Island. Joel and your dad are still in the kitchen, stacking plates, cracking the caps off their drinks. And then he pushes off the counter, and slowly wanders over.

You watch his every move. Study him, like you’re about to be tested on it. Which foot he steps forward with – always his left – and which chair he’ll pick once he’s at the table – the one opposite you, ‘cause it faces the TV for when he and your dad watch baseball while eating.

Two for two.

He lifts the chair, pulls it back, and angles it to face Sarah’s. He places his beer gently on the mat. When he sits, he doesn’t pull in any closer. Doesn’t risk your legs crossing paths under the table. You pull your knees up, let your shins rest against the wooden ledge. Your dad takes Joel up in conversation.

“So, this Andrew. He’s the brains of the operation?”

The pizza is slowly pulled apart over the course of an excruciating hour-long meal. Sarah puts the next episode of Love Island on while you eat, points out her favorite couples and nudges you to ask your opinion on the girls’ outfits.

“Wouldn’t have gone with those heels,” she mutters, chewing, pointing with her pizza crust to some six-inch ankle-breakers.

You lean past her shoulder every now and then to pretend you’re as engaged as she is. Pretend you’re listening. Your left ear is tuned into the conversation happening across the table.

Your dad thinks Andrew Curtis is fucking hilarious. Hoots with laughter when Joel tells him about his untucked button up. Says, Oh, jeepers, when he hears about the way the guy tripped jumping down from his truck.

The storyteller doesn’t sound so lively opposite. Your dad’s slapping his thigh with laughter. Joel’s shoulders are jerking at best. You dare a glance at him, and he’s already facing your direction. He turns away before your eye reaches his chest.

Soon, the episode ends. The atmosphere dies arm in arm with your dad’s attempt at another conversation. There’s a thick silence between the four of you. You haven’t opened your mouth the entire meal, but even if you did, the tension would clamp its heavy hand over your lips, blocking any words from making their way out of your windpipe.

Sarah clears her throat, manages a tentative, “I –” and then the phone rings, piercing through the awkward mist like a bolt of lightning.

Your dad pushes himself up and trots over, grabbing the handset a little too hastily. “Hello? Oh, hi, Rita. Hi. Yeah. Yep, Joel’s – Sarah? She’s here, yep.”

Sarah’s head drops, hand gripping her glass frozen in mid-air. “Fuck,” she whispers, and Joel shoots her a look across the table.

“She’s – oh, yeah? Well, let me ask ‘er.” Your dad covers the bottom of the handset with a huge palm. “Rita has some…cross –”

“Cross stitch, yeah, I know,” Sarah says, and thuds her glass down. “I said I’d help her out with it. I bet she’s seen your damn truck across the street!” She jabs a furious finger at her dad.

Joel shrugs. “Ain’t my fault the woman has eyes.”

Your body jerks as if to laugh. You don’t catch it in time. He notices.

“She’s on her way over, Rita,” your dad continues, nervously smiling at Sarah as she pulls her jacket over her shoulder. “She’s – oh, sure, I’ll let her know. Alright, now. Bye, Rita, bye. You’ve to bring your glasses. ‘pparently the pattern’s pretty small. You even wear glasses?”

She huffs in response. “I’m gonna be there all damn night. I’ll just get you at home.”

Joel opens his mouth to protest, goes to warn her that she ain’t walkin’ home alone in the damn dark, but your dad holds his hand out.

“We’ll give you a ride home. You come back here once you’re done.”

She nods gratefully and struts off down the hallway. The door slams shut behind her.

Your dad lightly chuckles, sauntering back over to his seat. “And then there were three…” he says, sitting back down.

But the loss of Sarah only cranes the spotlight over to you. Only you. No one else to split it with. No one else to lend it to. You can feel your dad’s eyes on you, waiting for you to make a move, some song and dance for your company.

He lifts his beer to his lips. Nods to you. Makes a song and dance of his fucking own, when he says, “Guess who’s been lookin’ at grad jobs?”

Joel stares at him for a second, like he’s waiting for your dad to reveal who it is he means. Like it can’t possibly be the only she in the room. His thumbs tap around his own bottle. “Oh – yeah?” he stammers, and throws a haphazard glance in your direction. He seems to mean to address you.

You sit forward, choke out a, “Yeah, uh – it’s – well. Kinda.”

“Film?” he asks, and you hear the rest of the question in the tone of his voice. Somethin’ you like, ‘n not just your dad’s suggestion?

You nod, but he’s not looking. He’s studying the label of his beer.

“Film,” your dad confirms. “Shut me the hell up, didn’t she? Came downstairs with her laptop the other night. Where is it, kiddo – New York?”

Your breath catches. The answer cowers at the back of your mouth, terrified to show itself. You force it forward.

“LA.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“I said she might be better goin’ back to school. Reapply for next year, right?” Dad looks to you, and your lips pull in an awkward smile. “…but she didn’t wanna wait around. Told you the other day – this place is like prison.”

He chuckles, but Joel isn’t laughing. He’s staring at his beer, his brows slowly lowering from arched and curious to dark and furrowed. And you want to reach for his hand, want to shoo your dad off and spill your guts to his best friend. Want to explain yourself, show him the webpages and application forms you’ve spent the last few days surfing through – want to justify yourself to him.

But so long as your father is sat here, bumbling to himself about the prices of college courses these days – none of that happens. You simply sit in a stalemate opposite one another – a million thoughts racing through your head, a million and one racing through Joel’s.

“…might change her mind, but who knows? She’s skittish, this one, she –”

Another bleating ringtone cuts what you’re sure would’ve been an endearing compliment short. You say a silent prayer of gratitude for whoever’s at the other end of the line. Your dad sighs and heaves himself up again, swiping the phone from the kitchen counter.

“Hello? Hi, hi, Richard. No, I’m not – well, it’s – sure, sure. What’s –?”

His head falls in much the same way Sarah’s did ten minutes ago. He sighs.

“Right. No, that’s quite alright. I can be there in ten. Yep. Alright. See you in a – hello?”

He drops the phone back into its cradle and runs a hand down the back of his neck, growling.

“Kelman?” Joel asks, jaw turning to his shoulder.

“You bet. Misplaced the damn keys for his site. You two alright if I head on over there ‘n lock up for ‘im?”

“He familiar with Andrew Curtis at all?” Joel quips, and then waves your dad off. “Go on. I’ll be outta your hair by the time you get back.”

In a frenzied blur, your dad’s tying his laces, grabbing his keys, tossing a jacket over his shoulders. He apologizes a total of four times to Joel, thanks him for dinner, promises he’ll pay him back next time he sees him. And then he’s jogging off to the front door, and taking every ounce of comfortability with him.

And then there were two.

You slouch back in your chair, listening through the silence as your dad’s car engine fades down the street. When the quiet humming disappears, Joel’s head turns back to face you.

You’re alone again. For the first time in a week. This is the closest you’ve felt him, even separated by the dining table and a fog of conversation that you have no idea how to begin clearing. There’s more weight to the silence between you than words could ever bear, you know that much. More to be communicated between your eyes than your tongues know the language of. But still, you can see him through it.

Like a lighthouse, shining bright and beckoning you to the shoreline. You can feel him again, as if there’s an electric pulse radiating off of him. And you feel drawn in, like you always do; feel that magnetic pull in your chest, only ever satiated by the meeting of Joel’s.

You shift in your seat. His eyes flit up. Your heart jumps, like it’s a sign he’s really still in there. And then they drop back to his lap, and your chest sews itself back together.

Your eyes start to burn with fast-forming tears. Your throat tightens, tightens, tightens, pushing them higher and higher until they pool across your waterline. Blinking doesn’t help, just drops them onto your cheeks, to be quickly swept away by the sleeve of your hoodie.

All you want is for him to look you in the eye, whisper, C’mere, baby, scoop you up and hold you in his arms forever. Fuck everything you said about the distance being good. That was when he was in his house, and you were in yours. He’s here, right now. He’s sat across from you. You’re finally on your own again. And he’s not fucking looking at you.

You let your legs down and sit up straight in your chair. It’s small, but it feels like a necessary step to silently tell him that you’re in the room with him. You’re here.

It lifts his eyes again. Not to you, but to your empty plate. Then, to the wet stain on your sleeve. You hope it stabs his heart a little.

From the shaky breath he sucks in, it seems to hurt just enough. He clears his throat. Pulls his gaze higher, higher, a little higher, until you’re eye to eye.

A wave of feeling, either burning hot or freezing cold – you can’t tell the difference – stretches across your body. It’s unnerving, and yet calming. It’s soothing on your wound, and irritating all the same. He’s looking at you. You wonder if he can see you.

You stare at one another for a few moments, drinking it all in. You can see him clear as day. You can almost see the shadows of his thoughts as they dance across the frosted-glass windows of his hazel eyes.

He blinks. Breathes in deep through his nose. And then speaks.

“LA, huh?”

You scoff. You don’t fucking mean to, but it’s the opposite of what you expected – and kind of wanted – him to say. Your whole body relaxes, though – finally relieved of the tension of the last seven days, even if only for a moment.

You feel lighter, like someone kicked the door down and this is the first gulp of clean air in your lungs. It’s small, insignificant even, but it does what it needs to.

Which is – it gives you the energy to answer back.

“It’s not a concrete plan. Yet.”

“Yet,” he repeats.

“I’m not running from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Get your head out of your ass.”

He wants to laugh. He should’ve expected it.

“I didn’t say anythin’. I think…I think it sounds like a good plan. ‘n you’d be close by to Sarah, so.”

This conversation feels like you’ve been left alone for ten minutes with your dad’s buddy. Sanitized. Surgical. Which would’ve been what it was little over a month ago, but it’s not now. Now, it’s totally different. There’s more than just that one neat string between you.

You’ve held his hand. You’ve kissed him. You’ve touched him, in ways you’ve only ever touched a handful of people. And even then – none of those times have been anything like the way you’ve touched Joel. You’ve tasted him, you’ve felt him as he climaxes somewhere deep inside you. You’ve pulled him into your body, over and over; you’ve let him have you in ways nobody else has.

There exists a complicated, messy web of history and emotion, woven tight between you. The weight of it bears down on the surface of the dining table.

And he’s talking to you about fucking grad jobs.

“Could you just – stop fucking with me?” you ask, sincerely. You’re not angry, you’re not hurt. Not anymore.

Joel lifts his chin. Studies your face. “I’m not fucking with you.”

“Yes, you are. You’re talking to me about some job, like there’s nothing else to talk about. Like there ain’t nothin’ else we might have to discuss.”

His response is resigned. Bored, even. “What else do you wanna discuss?”

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, um, I don’t fucking know. Last week?”

Joel takes a swig of beer. You take it as reply enough.

“I don’t have any clue where you’re at, Joel. You pick me up from Frank’s, beat a dude up for me, put me to bed, ‘n then when I wake up, you’re gone. Oh, but you left your fuckin’ shirt. By accident? Or for me? Who the fuck am I to know?”

He holds back a smile. “I had work.”

“Right,” you nod, “Andrew Curtis.”

“That guy’s an idiot. You’d probably like ‘im.”

“I bet. I’m fond of idiots, apparently.”

This time, he can’t hold it back. A smirk spreads across his lips, soft and shy, but there. Right there. You could reach out and fucking touch it.

And then he nods. Leans back in his chair, folds his arms, and nods. The smile begins to fade.

With it, goes the breathing space between you. The fog starts to thicken again. The web tightens some more. Your chest begins to ache. Things feel normal for all of two minutes, and then they’re back to awkward air so heavy that you can feel it on your shoulders, feel it forcing you into a slump in your chair.

This whole thing is built on lies. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. The only truth there has ever been has been between the two of you. Two lonely figures, wrapped in each other’s arms in the eye of a storm. So –

Fuck it.

You sniff. “I thought – that the most we were risking was my dad. I thought the worst that could happen was him findin’ out.”

Your voice is quiet. Unsure of itself. One word carrying you to the next, not totally sure where you’re going with it.

“I didn’t know I was risking losing you, too, and now…now, you’re just gone. Like, you don’t wanna talk to me, you barely wanna look at me. I don’t…I don’t have you anymore, and it’s all fucked up. Do you know, I – I wouldn’ta done any of it if I thought you’d go?”

Joel flinches. Tightens the hold on his arms.

“I want you to come back,” you say, stronger this time. Louder. Clearer. You’re ignoring the tears sweeping across your vision. “Just come back. You don’t even – you don’t even have to touch me or nothin’. We can just hang out and talk, we don’t have to…we don’t have to do anything.”

Your voice wobbles by the end. Your lips tighten around it, shutting it off before you can say anything more to embarrass yourself.

Joel’s still quiet. He watches wordlessly as you stand, pile the plates atop one another and make for the kitchen. As you place them gently into the sink, you feel the weight of him behind you, reaching over to set the bottles alongside them.

“I ain’t gone anywhere,” he murmurs, and you twist to face him.

“Joel. This is the most we’ve touched in two weeks. Putting dishes in the sink.”

He repeats himself. Adds, “I’m still here. I still care about you.”

You shrug. “Then – show me.”

He steps back. “Show you,” he scoffs. Your expression doesn’t shift. “Show you? Like I didn’t just almost break my damn knuckles defendin’ you? Take you home in the dead a’ night, deal with all your drunk bickerin’?”

Your head tilts. He’s right. But you want more than that. More than spitting threats and leaving flannels behind. You want his hands, and his lips, and his voice. You want –

“…Lord, mighty me.”

Your dad’s voice follows the sudden jolt of the front door opening. You and Joel are already five feet apart by the time his body appears around the corner, one hand leaning on the wall, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How on Earth that man has his own construction company, I have no idea. Called me halfway to the site ‘n said he found the keys in his damn pocket.”

“Always the scatterbrains,” Joel says, leaning casually against the counter.

“Sure is. You ‘n me oughta start our own, show ‘em all how it’s done. Anyways. What’d I miss?”

Before you can answer, Joel’s speaking again. He sounds in a hurry. “Just tidyin’ up. We were talkin’ about graduate programs, actually. You know what,” he turns to you, “I’m sure Sarah has some old brochures from UCLA. Might have some stuff worth checkin’ out. You wanna come get ‘em?”

It takes a second for you to realize he’s talking to you. His eyebrows are arched, his thumb pointing over his shoulder. He came up with the lie so damn quick, you have whiplash.

“I – yeah, sure. Yeah.”

Your dad runs his tongue between his teeth. “UCLA. Huh. Well, don’t keep Joel too late.”

“I w…I won’t,” you reply, following at the heels of the swaggering figure towards the door. You dodge his eye contact and dip your head behind Joel’s shoulder, thankful for his protective stance in front of you.

Your dad doesn’t say anything more – instead, he stands back and lets Joel lead you out. You steal a glance back at him as you slip through the door. His face unreadable, his eyes stick on Joel; locked tight on the flannel wandering down the driveway ahead of you. The word loops in your head as though the phone’s ringing again. Guilty guilty guilty guilty guilt–

But then the night breeze is dancing across your cheeks, and you’re following at the heels of Joel again, and you feel light as air in the wake of him. You climb into the passenger side of the truck and watch as he settles alongside you with a sigh. He pulls out of the drive, and his right hand sits idly on his thigh. You think to take it. Joel reads your mind.

He sits it on the armrest between you, palm facing up. You stare straight ahead and let your fingers slip through his. He knots your bodies together, thumb rubbing gently on your knuckle.

Another pound of weight lifts from your shoulders.

----------

Joel drives for twenty minutes before pulling up in an empty parking lot across from a church. It’s pitch-black and deserted. There’s a single streetlight over by the corner, illuminating a trashcan and not much else. You’re shrouded in darkness, save for the soft glow from the lights on the dash.

He switches the engine off and sits back in his seat. Your hands are separated. The distance between you slowly starts to grow again.

“LA,” he says, for the second time tonight, staring at the ceiling of the cabin.

“LA,” you echo, staring at him.

He looks down to you. Smiles. There’s something behind it. You can’t tell what.

“It’s not a grad job,” you say, forcing something up. Your fingers are twisting around the drawstring of your hoodie. “I was lookin’ at grad stuff, but there wasn’t anything I was into. The LA thing is a six-month temp job I saw.”

Joel nods. “What’s that look like?”

“Production assistant. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“Mhm. Sounds like your thing.”

Your brows jump as you pull the tie around your finger. The tip turns white. “Might be. Job ad closes on Monday.”

He sucks in a breath. “Better get applyin’, then.”

Your head cocks. “So eager for me to go?”

“Eager for you to do somethin’ you love,” he corrects.

“But it would get me outta your hair.”

“I don’t want you outta my hair.”

A smirk sneaks its way across your lips. You nod to the view from the windshield. “Why are we way the hell out here?”

“Because your dad bombed our conversation, ‘n I figured we weren’t done.”

“Then talk.”

He licks his lips. Folds his arms, settles deeper into his seat. He turns a little more to face you. The single light from outside catches in his iris, like that same lighthouse beacon you could see earlier. Distant, far off, but there. Still there.

“I owe you an apology,” he says. “I…I thought what we were doin’…What I was doin’…I thought I was causing you more hurt ‘n harm than good. I was scared it’d gone too far. Scared it wasn’t okay anymore.”

“Was it ever okay?”

He shifts again, uncomfortably. In the dim light, you see his face pull. He squints, wobbles his head in consideration. “No. It wasn’t. But we did it anyways, you ‘n me. We made that decision together.”

“Right. And then you went and made the complete opposite decision, alone.”

He’s nodding. He knows. And you think you know, too. It fucking sucked, losing him – but you get it. What was the big plan? How far were you going to let it go? Someone had to pull the plug at some point. Someone had to cut the thing loose.

You lean closer to him. “I just…I wish you’d let me fight back a little. Wish you’d heard me out more. I know what we’ve done isn’t right. I know that. But I – I fucking –”

You sigh. It leaves your mouth shaky and unsure of itself.

There’s something more. Something at the back of your tongue, itching to separate into the dense space between you. Bigger. Stronger. Heavier.

“I missed you,” you concede, shaking your head. “That’s all.”

Joel’s eyes fall shut with a wince when you say it, like it physically hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. But he’s clearer, now – the fog is slowly shrinking away. The words behind his eyes seem to light them in a warm glow. Missed you too, baby.

His hand opens up on the armrest again. Yours falls into it instantly.

He clears his throat then, and says, “Also owe you an apology for – for the Lois thing. I know I should’ve explained a lot sooner, ‘n I’m sorry I had you thinkin’ what you were thinkin’. I didn’t – I didn’t know it was such a big deal to you. Thought you’d know I wouldn’t…do that.”

“I think I did,” you tell him. Your nails run up and down his fingers. “Deep down. Wasn’t so much about her as it was about me.”

“About you?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Me, us, this. It was more of a, Why wouldn’t he want someone like her?, y’know? No lying, no secrets. And she’s old, like you.”

“Easy.”

You smile. “She’s nice. I know she is. My dad went on for five whole minutes about how good you’d be together when I asked ‘im. So – why wouldn’t you wanna be with her, right?”

It’s rhetorical. Joel knows. But he answers it anyways.

“She is nice,” he agrees, “but I ain’t interested. To tell you the truth, darlin’, I was a little preoccupied worrying my ass off about you to even look twice at the woman.”

You freeze for a second. Stare at the outline of his jaw, the jagged bristles of his beard; the soft sweep of hair silhouetted by the moonlight outside. He’s still Joel – even in the darkness, even in the fog. Even when you can’t see, hear, or touch him – he’s still there. Thinking about you. Worrying about you.

“Well,” you sniff, “you don’t gotta worry anymore. I just…I didn’t like the thought of it.”

His head tilts. Beckons you to continue.

You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.”

His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says –

“I don’t want nobody else.”

And that’s a thing. A great big, terrible thing.

“But,” he continues, almost immediately, “this has gotta be – I’ve gotta do right by you. Gotta be honest, now –”

“Wait,” you interrupt, “can you just – stop acting like it’s all you?”

Joel falls quiet. His brows knit together.

“Stop saying things that make it sound like you’re the only one in this. I’m in it, too. I want it. I want you.”

“Baby, it’s not as simple as –”

“Joel,” you take his arms and pull yourself closer to him, legs propped against the center console, “I want you. This. I want us. All of it, I want all –”

Your body is being tugged closer to him, lifted nearer, and his chin bumps against yours, and his eyelashes almost brush against yours when your foreheads link, and his breath sweeps hot and needy across yours, and he – he kisses you.

You stop breathing. You don’t care whether or not it ever comes back. Oxygen replaced by him. Everything replaced by him.

His tongue slips past your lips, his hand glides across your hair to cup the back of your head. He locks you into his body, lets you rest your arms across his shoulders. Your lips find a rhythm against one another; warm, wet, tender.

His free hand cups your cheek, holds your mouth to his just a second longer, before he pulls away, and gives you one last kiss. Softest of them all. Seals the fucking deal.

“We okay?” he mumbles, and you lift your head from his palm. You sit frozen for a second, just looking at him. Looking and looking and looking.

“We’re good.”

He smiles then. A genuine smile. “I thought,” he whispers, glancing around the quiet parking lot, “I could take you on a date.”

So that’s why he brought you out here.

“A date?”

“Mhm. Never been on one, have we?”

“Never could.”

He nods in agreement. “Just ice cream. For now. Thought I’d show you some of my moves.”

“You got moves?” you snicker.

“I’m a catch, darlin’. The ladies swoon for me.”

“Alright, never say that to me again.”

Joel laughs. “There’s a place right around the corner. ‘s go.”

He climbs out of the truck and wanders off towards the sidewalk, and you follow. He looks down at you as you walk. His cheeks swell with the smile on his face, dimples at the edges of his lips.

It’s quiet; quieter than you’d expect, not that you’re complaining. With the sun almost set, you’re doused in light only when you wander under a streetlight. So, it’s no surprise when Joel’s eyes quickly scan the street up ahead, and his hand reaches down for yours.

Your stomach flips. You’re doing everything you can not to let him feel your pulse in your wrist, but you’re pretty sure you can, because he leans his shoulder against yours and asks if you’re okay.

“Good,” you choke out, relieved to have just passed a streetlight that might give away the blush on your cheeks.

Approaching on the right is a sickly-sweet, pastel-painted store front; fairy lights decorating the window, wireframe tables and chairs dotted outside. A bell dings when Joel pushes the door open, holding it open for you to step inside.

It’s…dainty. Sweet. Everything is either teal or pink or white. There’s a giant ice cream cone stood in the corner. There’s a gumball machine opposite it. The lighting is a little garish – kind of reminds you of sitting in the dentist chair, eyes squinting up at the bright white light overhead.

You’re fucking surprised to be stood in here with Joel Miller, of all people. He sticks out like a sore thumb; his worn jeans and crumpled flannel against the minty gleam of the parlor like an earthy tree sprouting in the middle of that same dentist’s office. It makes you giggle, as he leads you over to the counter.

A boy with a teal uniform meets him over a glass case full of different ice cream flavors. His name badge reads Ben. “What can I get you?” he asks, scoop in hand. Your lips press against one another to stop your laugh from escaping.

Joel turns to look at you. He nudges you with his elbow when you don’t return his glance, too focused on Ben’s pink baseball cap, the logo of the shop printed on top.

“Uh,” you consider, glancing down, “I’m good with any.”

Joel sighs, lips thinning. “Am I gonna pick a flavor, ‘n then you decide you don’t like it?”

“Nope. Promise.” You smile innocently, and he turns back to the server.

“I’ll take one scoop of the cookie dough, and, uh…one of the coffee, please.”

When Ben dips to scoop the order into two little tubs, you mock gasp at Joel.

“What?”

“Coffee?”

He shrugs.

“I took you for a vanilla man.”

Ben stands straight and punches some numbers into the cash register. Joel hands him a ten.

“What about me makes you think I’m into vanilla?” he asks in a low voice.

You bat your eyelashes at him. A dark thought crosses your mind, but you think better of voicing it and save Ben the embarrassment of potentially hearing you.

Joel thanks him and takes both tubs in one hand. You make for a booth by the window, but his hand quickly slinks around your waist, diverting you back to the door.

“Nuh-uh.”

“What?” you ask, spinning around.

Joel continues walking, backing you out of the shop. “I am not sittin’ in here. Got a fuckin’ headache already from five minutes in the place.”

“But it’s so cute,” you protest, giggling. “You don’t want your picture taken with the giant cone?”

“Get the hell out,” he mumbles, shoving you across the tiled floor back out to the sidewalk. He can’t mask his own grin, spilling out behind you, taking your hand in his.

You snort as he drags you back along the street. “Maybe I should forget about LA and get a job in there. Drive myself insane.”

“Maybe you should,” Joel agrees. “Least then you’d have an excuse for it.”

You slap his chest. “Where are we goin’?”

“’s just go back to the truck. Quieter. Less fluorescent lights.”

He unlocks it a few paces away, but you stroll past your door.

“What are you doin’?” Joel asks when you pull yourself up into the bed.

“C’mon,” you call back, settling against the back window, “it’s a nice night. Who are we hiding from?”

He tosses it over in his head and cocks one eyebrow. Fair enough. He climbs up and passes you the ice cream, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. He throws it over your bare legs and sits down beside you, grunting as he does.

You smirk when he rests back.

“I’m almost fifty, darlin’,” he warns, reaching for his tub.

Your lips curve and you nod, digging the little plastic spoon into your dessert. You stretch your legs out and cross your ankles, watching in quiet contentment as the cars roll by, squealing to a halt at the traffic lights. Lights are coming on in windows, curtains are being drawn. Joel’s legs lie against yours, joined at the hip, shoulders brushing off one another.

This is the most peace you’ve had in a fortnight. Sat in the back of his truck, no eyes on you, watching the comings and goings of some back street in the city. You talk about nothing, for the first time in what’s felt like forever. You talk about films, and music, and all the stuff that seemed so unimportant before. Now, it all feels imperative. Feels like a life-or-death thing. What’s your favorite movie? You know my favorite movie, baby. But tell me again. Just so I know for sure. Just so that – if anything happens.

You listen when he answers. You watch his mouth as he says the words. For all the times you took it for granted before. For all the times you thought it was insignificant. It’s all significant, now. It all means something. It’s just more strings to the web between you, each one knotting you closer and closer together.

And you talk about what you’ve missed. The two weeks you’ve spent apart. You catch him up as if he was only gone on vacation. As if he was always meant to come back in the end.

“The guy with the weed – same guy you punched – he was –” gulp, “– what was his name again? Knicks? No –”

Joel snorts, spoon scraping around the edge the tiny pot in his huge hand. “Knicks?”

You close your eyes, waving your hand like it’ll urge him to remember the name of a guy he took no time getting to know before he floored him. “No, it wasn’t Kn…Knox! It was Knox, and he –”

“Kind of a fuckin’ name is Knox? Knox?”

“Are you gonna let me talk, or what?” you quip, and Joel brings his wrist up to his mouth to mask his laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Go ahead. Knox had the weed.”

“Knox had the weed, and…he…Fuck, I can’t even remember where I was goin’ with that.” You shake your head and lean it back against the windowpane.

He laughs. For real. A Joel laugh. His shoulders jerk with the force of it. “You were gonna tell me about his friends, I think. Somethin’ about his friends.”

It sparks back up in your brain – the memory. “Right! Right. His friends – that dude with the glasses? That was Zack.”

Joel stares at you blankly, tongue in his cheek. “Zack?”

“Big guy, red face. Buck teeth. From Costco?”

His jaw slackens. He remembers. “I fuckin’ – I knew I’d seen that kid’s face before. That was him?”

You nod. Uhuh.

“Damn.” He chuckles. “He looked at me like I was a wild bear.”

You toss your head, roll your eyes. “Well.”

He laughs again. Knocks your legs with his own.

“Good call, by the way,” your lips mumble around the shape of your spoon, “cookie dough. it’s nice.”

“Wanna try mine?”

“Really?” Your face contorts, eyes screwing. “Coffee?”

“’s good. Here.”

He holds out a spoonful.

“Yeah, nice to you, who drinks, like, thirty of ‘em a day.”

Joel responds by pushing the spoon to your lips and you oblige, opening up and letting him feed you the ice cream.

It’s not bad. It’s ice cream, it can’t be bad. But it definitely isn’t good, and the way your lips purse and your neck jerks lets Joel know exactly how you feel about it. He scoffs, wiping a little from your lips with his thumb and sucking it clean.

“You don’t like it?”

“Why is it…bitter? Eugh.”

He laughs to himself as he loads up another spoonful. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Well, I am not interested in acquirin’ it. You want some of the cookie dough?”

He shakes his head. “You enjoy.”

You both turn back to the street ahead. Joel’s arm is warm at the side of yours, his shoulder right there for you to lean your head on.

He places a kiss to your head when you do.

“What do you think he’d do if he found out?”

You’re not sure where it comes from. Neither is Joel, apparently, from the way he clears his throat and squirms ever so slightly. He knows exactly who you mean.

“I, uh…I don’t like to imagine.”

“It scare you?”

He takes a deep breath. “Naw. I just got better things to do with my imagination, is all.” He prods your arm with his. Picturin’ you.

“Ha. You reckon he’d kill you?”

“Probably.”

“He couldn’t kill you. Wild bear.”

“Well, I reckon he might try.”

“I think he’d call the cops.”

Joel’s head lifts from yours and falls back against the truck with a laugh.

“Help, Officer,” you mimic your dad’s twang,“my grown adult daughter is sleeping with someone!”

Joel’s shoulders slowly stop moving.

“Is that all we’re doin’?” he asks.

“Huh?” You lift your head and look at him. His dark eyes reflect the city lights in the distance.

“Is that all we’re doin’? Sleepin’ together?” His voice is gentle, honest. Genuinely asking, seeking out what you think.

You consider it, tryna sound casual. You know what he’s getting at.

“That’s all we’ve been doin’. Help, Officer, my daughter’s grabbing ice cream with someone? Better?”

He hums. Looks down at the empty tub in his hands. Looks back up to your lips. Draws nearer to you, holds your chin with one finger, looks you dead in the eye, and whispers,

“How about, Help, Officer, my daughter made someone fall in love with her?”

Your breath catches. Your hands fall limp into your lap. You blink away tears.

“You – No, that’s – You gotta say it. You gotta actually tell me, ‘cause I’m not – I don’t wanna misinterpret – We haven’t –”

You’re buffering. Your brain malfunctioning. Your tongue can’t decide which of the words at the back of your throat, all desperate to escape, to let through first.

Joel’s just smiling, watching you stutter and stammer your way through a sentence that leads you nowhere, desperately trying to compute what he’s just said because he’s finally fucking admitted it. He’s finally letting you know, giving you access to a part of him he’s been keeping from you for who knows how long.

Even though all this time it’s been the one thought running through your head that hasn’t passed your lips, it reverberates around your ears like it’s the last thing you ever expected him to say.

Joel’s hand moves to your neck, just below your ear. “Baby,” his thumb rubs your skin, “you know I love you.”

A gasp flees from your lips. Your ice cream is thrown to the truck bed, probably spilling over, and you don’t care. You leap into his lap, arms around his neck, and kiss him all over.

Joel’s laughing, returning what kisses he can, squeezing you with his big hands.

“I love you,” he says again when you come up for air, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard in your life. You sit your forehead against his, whispering breathlessly,

“Fuck, I love you, too.”

You two stare at each other, eyes scanning every part of the other’s face, mapping every mark, line, scar, like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen each other.

Guess it is, right?

This is the first time you’re looking at the man you love and you’re not afraid of it. The first time your chest swells and you don’t gulp it back, the first time you let him feel your heart pounding against the wall of your chest.

It’s the first time you look into his eyes, dark eyelashes and fine lines decorating deep warm brown, and think those three words…and know you can say them. Know neither of you will be spooked, neither of you will try to push them back down where they came from.

I love you. That’s all there is between you now. Your cards are flat on the table, Joel’s, too. Game over. You know everything there is to know about each other. You know each other.

You’ve sunk down his body, turned so your back curves into his chest, his chin resting on your head. Safely encased in his body, sat between his thighs. His hand runs up and down your thigh, lighting drawing lines and circles and writing words you don’t care to guess, ‘cause you probably already know ‘em.

Love hums between the two of you, keeping you warm; your bodies pressed together, hearts beating just inches apart. You blink your eyes open and the single streetlight sails back into your vision – bright as the moon, stirring you from your tranquil bliss.

“Do you,” you turn, and Joel fixes your hair, presses his lips to your forehead, “do you tell all the girls that on the first date? Was that just one of your moves?”

He snorts, and answers by pulling you in to give you a tender kiss.

No. Just you.

“You ready to go?” he asks when your lips part.

“Mhm. Take me home, cowboy.”

----------

His house is dark against the dusky sky. The headlights illuminate the garage door as he pulls up in the drive, squeezing your hand once as the truck comes to a halt.

“And then…” Joel says, holding a finger up to you. Wait right here.

He gets out of the driver’s side and you watch the shadow of him jog around the truck, stopping at your door. He opens it, and holds a hand out for you to take.

You choke on a laugh. “That is…”

“That is what?”

“…so cheesy. You really do that?”

“Uhuh. C’mon.”

Your fingers lace through his and you hop out of the truck. Joel shuts the door behind you and extends his elbow, and you link your arm through his. His hand warmly rests on top of yours.

You both wander over to his porch where he stops, letting you walk up the steps alone. When you reach the top one, only just taller than him on the path, hands still interlinked, you look down.

“Then I say, Thank you for a lovely evenin’, and,” he lifts your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “then…” Joel holds his arms out. Voila. Just like that.

“Wow. I feel…honored.”

“You should.”

“Not even a proper kiss?”

“I just kissed your hand, baby. You didn’t like that?”

“You don’t ask to come inside?”

He scoffs. “Nope. What would I want to come inside for?”

You grin. Shrug your shoulders. Start walking backward to his door.

“Well, I am exhausted after our date, Mr. Miller. I do think,” yawn, “I should be gettin’ ready for bed.”

Joel lowers his head, eyes trained on you, smirk growing on his lips. “Is that so?”

You nod.

He starts to climb the steps.

“I’m sure I’ll be expectin’ a call from you,” you mewl, exaggerated Southern accent crooning to him. Your back bumps against the front door. Joel’s on the porch now. You bite your lip.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he returns, his shadow creeping over you. He reaches your body and his arms come to rest on the frame right above your head.

You hook your hands around his shoulders.

“You really don’t wanna come in?” you whisper, and his jaw ticks.

“I wouldn’t want to be ungentlemanly.”

Leaning in, lips against his ear, you whisper soft enough to shake the breath as it falls from his lips.

“And what if I asked you, nicely, to take me inside and fuck me good ‘n hard until I can’t walk?”

Joel’s eyes pool black when you lean away, head resting back on his door. Your gaze is heavy with lust, eyelashes batting slowly.

“Hm,” he grumbles, body beginning to press against yours. His head cocks. “You don’t wanna be treated like a lady?”

“Nope.” You smirk, hand falling down to cup the bulge quickly forming below his belt.

“Want to be treated like a fuckin’ whore, do ya?”

Chest heaving, you nod, massaging him.

“So dirty, darlin’, feelin’ your date up on the porch,” he tells you, dipping his jaw to run his lips along your neck. “What ‘m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug again, and your fingers find the door handle at your hip. You push, and the wood behind you falls inward.

As you plunge into the dark house, Joel’s rough hands clamp down on your waist, taking you in his tight grip and throwing you against the wall. His lips find your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin, tongue caressing tenderly as he sucks a bruise into you. Heat spreads across your core. You clench your thighs around the feeling.

“Joel,” you whine, hands surfing through his hair. “Fuck, take me upstairs.”

He hums. He’s going to. He’s just not doing it quick enough.

You lift your leg to his hip, and his left hand scoops under your ass. He pulls your center flat against the swelling in his jeans, ruts slowly against your body. You hear a deep groan from his throat.

“Upstairs,” you say again, growing impatient, and he growls, taking you with both hands and lifting you two steps at a time towards his bedroom.

He kicks the door open, loosening his grip on you as he walks over to the bed. Light streams across the room in splinters, peering through the shades from the streetlights outside. Your legs drop and you dance along on your toes, turning him midway until his calves hit the bottom of his mattress.

Your lips part for mere seconds, allowing one reflected expression between you, before you’re pushing him by the chest onto the bed. His body springs when he hits the sheets, staring back up at yours between his legs. His breath courses from his mouth, thick with want and need.

You lay him flat on the mattress, knees either side of his waist, hands curved over his shoulders. His own find your waist, holding on tight as you straddle him, playing with the tie of your shorts when you settle.

You dip your head and brush your lips against his. One long, sweet kiss, and his hands are at the hem of your hoodie, pulling it free, lifting it over your head. You groan as it separates your bodies, let your tongue find his again as quickly as it was pulled apart from it.

“Let me see,” he whispers against your lips, hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts to rub circles into your hipbones.

You smile as you straighten, fingers dancing along the hem of your tee.

“Let me – see,” Joel grunts, when your core grinds into his.

You peel the tight fabric from your stomach, higher, higher, until it lifts your breasts, catching on the curve of them, and as you whip it over your head, they bounce back down. Joel groans from below, staring at the perfect peaked shape. He lifts one hand to cup your tit, runs his thumb over the quickly-hardening nipple.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby.”

“I know,” you tell him, watching as his thumbpad circles the delicate skin. Your back arches into his touch.

And then his hands sink into the mattress either side of his body, pushing himself closer to you. He wraps a strong arm around your back and pulls your chest to his mouth, lips pressing wet kisses to the valley between your breasts. His teeth graze across the round shape up towards your nipple again.

His tongue slips over the hard bud, swirling and soaking all over it. Your head falls back, fingers grip onto his hair. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes. Joel sucks harder.

“S– fuck,” you whisper, nearly voiceless. His tongue is flicking now, lips pulling more of your body into his mouth. “Fuckfuckfuck, I need you, I need you,” you whimper.

He releases your sweet skin, lips shining with saliva. “Tell me where.”

You writhe on top of him, hands pushing your shorts down over your hips. “You know where.”

Joel holds your body steady. “Tell me.”

You whine, trying to rock against him. He doesn’t let up. “Joel, fuck. Betw– between my – fuck.”

“Between your legs?” he taunts, pushing you harder against the hard folds of denim below his belt. “That where you need me? Between those pretty legs, babygirl?”

Your fists ball around the fabric of his shirt, clinging on to him. “Ye-ah,” you whimper, and his weight falls from your grasp.

You feel your shorts tug over the crests of bone by your hips. “Step out of ‘em, baby,” he instructs, and your knee lifts.

He pulls the cotton down one leg at a time, telling you to shift your weight as he curls a finger around the lace of your panties and tugs them down after. Before you can think about it, you’re naked, soaked cunt making a mess over the crotch of his jeans.

He looks up at you expectantly.

“What–?”

He flicks his fingers in a beckoning motion, a Come here, either side of your thighs. You hesitate.

“Darlin’. Up.”

“Joel.”

“Up.”

You take his open hands and shuffle up the mattress, knees pushing into the soft sheets either side of his head. You glance down at him.

“I don’t know –”

“’m not gonna tell you again.”

And he doesn’t have to. You steady yourself, locking your fingers through his behind your ass, and slowly lower yourself down to him. His jaw lifts to meet you, and you think about pausing again, telling him he doesn’t have to do this, asking instead to do something else, something he’ll enjoy as much, something you can both –

But then his lips open around the sweetest part of your body, and your lungs freeze. His tongue slips between, daring where you need him most, and your body sighs in equal parts relief and pleasure.

You’re so fucking wet. You can feel it, leaking onto his lips, spreading around your own as he kisses you, licks you, takes in every drop of you. Your back curls, lips fall open to the ceiling, breath comes in short wisps.

It’s been almost two weeks since the two of you felt like this. Hot, wet, needy. Two weeks of waiting for the other to come back, two weeks of reaching for the phone and deciding against it once the number’s dialed, two weeks of nothing.

And now – everything. Everywhere. Every part of your body ignited for him. You feel him fucking everywhere.

You lean all of your weight onto the palm of your hands, pushing all of it into Joel’s. He’s steady, strong, letting you rock and swirl your hips as he laps at your core.

“Right there,” you whisper, head rolling back. “Keep – keep – oh, fuck, Joel. What the f–?”

He slowly lowers his hands, letting you untangle your fingers and place them on the bed. His own come to hook around your thighs, clamping you as close against him as you can possibly be.

Two weeks of nothing. And now, five minutes of everything. The shards of light from outside blur across your vision; heat starts to prickle up your spine, tickling the back of your neck. You’re smiling, filthy and desperate.

“I’m gonna –” you breathe, and Joel hums. “’m gonna c– come.”

You can hear his response, though he doesn’t say a word. Then, come.

Your hips motion forward. Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Joel’s tongue slips between your folds, warm on the inside of your cunt. And you rock back. Unwind. Unfurl. Exhale. His bottom lip puckers against your clit.

“J-oel. Joel, I’m – you’re – fuck.”

He moans against your sex. His hips shift behind you. Buck upwards, carefully.

Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Tighten – inhale. Unwind. Unf-url. Ex-hale. Tighten. Inh– clamp. Fuck. I’m there. Unwind. Warm. Wet. Tongue. Exhale. Tongue. Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Joel –

Your fingers curl around his bedsheets, nails dig into the cotton. Your orgasm sends a flood of hot pleasure across your cunt, rains down over Joel’s lips, and sets fireworks off through your body which explode into the dark room in the form of a throaty moan.

You’re not sure when you come to. You’re not sure your arms can bear the weight of your body. But when your eyes blink open, he’s kissing the inside of your thighs.

His mouth is glistening. Moustache and beard covered in you. Soft lips pearlescent with your spend. Your body feels heavy, unbearable. You lift your leg and tumble onto the mattress by his side, pussy throbbing when you land.

“I love you,” you whisper, and not for any particular reason. Not because of what he just did. Not because you’re naked in his bed.

But maybe because it feels like this is what you were made to do. To love and to be loved – by him. It feels like this entire thing has been, from its genesis, an exchange. An understanding. Immediate and certain. Here are all the parts of me. You know what to do.

As if there needed no further explanation. No instruction, no tutorial. You just knew.

He pushes himself up, leans over your frame. His jaw lowers, and he licks into your mouth tenderly.

“Gotta be inside you, baby,” he says, and at the same time, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. “Gotta feel you again.”

You nod against him. Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

Joel’s hands are on his belt, pulling it through the loops, dropping it to the floor. Your help him tug his jeans off when he undoes the button. The material of his underwear rubs against your sex; your creamy arousal smears all over the black fabric. You can feel the weight of his stiff cock beneath. It dizzies your head.

He lets your fingers sneak below the elastic, lowering it until he springs free, slapping against the bottom of his tummy. You could fucking drool at the sight of him – the pink tip, beaded with precum; the thick vein on the underside of the shaft; his balls below it, heavy and waiting. Your hands wrap around him and pump slowly as he drags his boxers down, kicking them off at the foot of the bed.

He groans, hips thrusting gently into your palms as you squeeze him. Your fingers slip between your folds, collecting your own slick, coating him in it as you fist him.

“So good, babygirl,” Joel breathes, leaning down to kiss you. “You gonna take it all?”

“Mhm,” you reply, tongue slipping against his.

“Yeah,” he says, “my girl can take it.”

You let his hand shadow over yours, the two of you guiding his cock towards your entrance together. It glides between your dripping folds, the head sifting effortlessly from your clit to your tight hole and back again. Joel laughs, teeth clashing with yours, as he dips in and out, teasing you.

Your ass lifts from the mattress, any movement to draw him nearer. “Stop,” you gasp.

Joel pauses. “Stop?”

“No,” you bleat, “don’t stop. Just – fucking do it.”

“Do what, darlin’?”

“Fuck me.”

And he sinks in.

You’d be lying if you said all you’d done for the last two weeks was cry, mope, and stare at the ceiling. That’d be discrediting everything that this little affair was built on. It’s impossible to forget how the thing fucking started – your hands between your legs, Joel watching from the doorway.

In the moments you didn’t feel the mind-numbing tsunami of heartache overcome you – you felt something else. Memories of his hands on you, the trail of his tongue between your legs, the swell of his cock deep inside you. You tried to replicate it a handful of times with your hands. But nothing – not your fingers, not two, three, or four – nothing stands a chance against him.

He pushes in slow at first, drawing out when he’s halfway, and then in again as he covers himself in the wet his tongue left behind. When he’s soaked, glistening and gleaming, he thrusts. Hard. His tip catches on your cervix, and your back arches in a mix of pain and delight.

Something throbs deep inside as he bottoms out. You feel your opening stretch around his base. You feel your legs widen as if by instinct, accommodating the size of him, the width of him, the pace of him.

You throw an arm over his shoulder, elbow hanging on the nape of his neck. His sweaty forehead sticks to yours, and your hand cups his cheek.

“Harder,” you tell him, and he listens.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, “fuck, you’re so tight. Oh, my – I ain’t gonna last.”

“Don’t – want you – to,” you cry, body jumping as he fucks you quicker, quicker, harder, deeper. “Want to – come – together.”

Your head tips back against the bed, and Joel’s lips attach to your neck. He’s moaning into your skin, teeth biting down, breath hot and quick. He’s not gonna last he’s not gonna last he’s not –

“F-u-ck, Joel,” you sob, your walls starting to close in around him, “feels so – f-fucking good, oh!”

“I know, darlin’, I know. C’mere.”

He takes your cheek and pulls your face back to his, lines his lips with yours and kisses you. It’s messy, haggard, fucking all over the place as your bodies bounce together, but he tastes like sweat, and sex, and you, and him.

“Missed this so fuckin’ much,” he grunts, hips pounding. “Missed bein’ inside you. You know how bad I needed you?”

“Tell me,” you slur, echoing his own words back to him.

He smirks. “Best fucking pussy I ever had, sweetheart. Best – I ever – had.”

“Don’t pull out,” you hum against his lips, and his jaw pulls back a fraction. “Don’t.”

“Baby,” he says, strained, and your head tilts.

“Need it,” you tell him. “Please. Need you.”

He nods, leaning back into you, letting you connect your mouths again. His lips shudder when you pull away, the thought translated clear as day from your mouth to his. And he knows, and he drives in harder, and he fucks the image from your mind. Who the fuck is Lois, when you’re under him and he’s this deep between your legs?

You look up into his eyes, and you find your answer. She’s nobody. There’s only you.

Your body feels liquid, your mind like fog. You pull him into your body, deeper and deeper, until you’re sure you’re one, and there is no place where he ends and you begin, and you’re sure this is what it feels like, this is what those words feel like, not just the sound of them, not just the way his lips move around them, but the shape of them on and in and around your body. Something deafening, something blinding, something screaming from the pits of your lungs as you come all around him, and you feel him come all around you.

His warmth spurts deep inside you, filling you up, dripping down your walls as he collapses into your shoulder, a loud moan drilling into your collarbone. He slows, thrusts in and out gently, pushing his spend deeper and mixing it with yours.

It's everywhere. The feeling. The pulsing, the humming, the singing. He’s everywhere. Him. In your brain and in your lungs and in your body and in your cunt. And you want to keep him there, hold him there, keep your bodies together for five more minutes, just five more minutes.

But then he’s panting into your skin, pressing kisses into that little dip between your collarbone and your chest, and he slowly slips out, come dripping from where he leaves.

He presses his palm deep into the sheets by your head, lifts off of you – but your arm is still around his neck, and you lean with him. Tilted on his mattress, holding onto him, letting him kiss your head; letting his hand move across the surface of your stomach, mapping the gentle slope over your belly button and scaling the tiny mountains of your hipbones. Kneading softly into the skin over which his seed sits, warm and snug, deep inside you. It’s new. You think you love it.

And he’s whispering, “Good girl, did so good for me,” and he nuzzles his nose into your hair, and he tilts your chin back until he can see your face, see your expression, and he smiles with relief when he clocks your doe eyes, your blissful smile, the sweet tinge of red on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he tells you, and you’re staring at his lips.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

You look up to his eyes. “Again.”

“I love you.”

You smile. It breaks into a laugh. “Again,” you whisper, and he kisses you.

Slowly, only once you pull away from him and your breath steadies, Joel takes your body and carefully shifts. He turns onto his back, settles you on his chest, your hips between his thighs. He runs a gentle hand over your hair and you lie against his sweat-shining chest, his heartbeat whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Love and sex, as far as you knew, were always two different things. Separate. One, you weren’t even sure existed. The other, nothing more than a need to be satisfied. Something deep within you, something no one had ever managed to touch. And then Joel. And his lips, and his tongue, and his hands and his cock.

And suddenly the two – love and sex – begin to blur, their edges touch frantically. They bleed into one another, until there are no longer two distinct forms; instead, one big shape which has the curve of your hips and the cut of his jaw.

You love him. And he loves you. You’ve heard it translated between your minds longer than you care to admit, and now – you’ve felt it. Transferred between your bodies. You love him. Jesus, you love him.

It’s as terrifying as it is thrilling. Enamoring, and yet dangerous.

“So,” you sigh, “what’s next?”

He glances down, lifts his eyebrows and gives his head a shake. His hand lifts off of your shoulder with a shrug.

“Like, your next move. What happened with the other eight?”

“The other eight?”

“Mhm. Me, Sarah’s mom, makes two. There are eight others, right? What’d you do afterward?”

“Kicked ‘em out.”

You lift a heavy hand and slap his chest. He shudders with laughter.

“I dunno, baby. Wasn’t all like this.”

Your brows knit. “Like what?”

He takes a deep breath. Your head rises as his lungs fill. “Lyin’ in bed afterward. Talkin’.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“What?” he asks, smirking.

“Who even were they? I wanna know.”

“Why?”

“Just do. I wanna hear about ‘em. When was the last one, before me?”

Joel’s eyes drift off to the ceiling above you, thinking. “May.”

“M–?” You jump up, pushing yourself off of his body. “May?” you repeat, eyes wide. “That’s…so recent.”

“Recent?” He chokes back a laugh. “When’s your last?”

You furrow your brows, dropping his gaze. “We’re not talking about me,” you mumble, thumbs twiddling.

Your last had been two nights before you flew home. You’d gone out with your roommates and dragged home Matteo, an exchange student who you’d worked with on a group project for your screenwriting class. He was three inches shorter than you. He bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you until he came. Then he made himself some cereal, ate half of it, and left.

Joel doesn’t really need to hear about him, you think.

“Do I know any of them?” you ask in attempt to change the subject.

Joel pulls a face. His lips tighten, teeth clench. His eyes narrow to a thin line, looking at you through his eyelashes. He nods tentatively.

“Shut the fuck up. Who is it? Who?”

“I dunno if you know her, but she knows you.”

“What’s her name?”

“Your dad gave us a ride home from the bar. She ‘n him got to talkin’, and he said he had a daughter –”

Your fist lightly drops onto his chest. “Joel, if you don’t fucking tell me who it is, I –”

“She’s an elementary teacher. Long, dark hair. Good few years older ‘n you. Think she said her little sister went to your school.”

“Who – was – it?”

He makes the face again. This time his eyes close over, waiting for the penny to drop. His head shakes lightly.

“You –? No, Joel. Come on. Please don’t…Are you fucking serious? You don’t remember her name?”

“It was a long night, alright?”

“How did you forget her damn name?”

He shrugs. “I don’t fuckin’ know. I was drunk, baby.”

“Elementary teacher? I don’t know anybody whose sister teaches elementary.”

“Guess we’ll never know.” Joel shrugs, and you shake your head at him.

You’re picturing Joel stumbling out of Frank’s, arm in arm with a brunette, heavy feet dragging along the sidewalk while your dad chitters in his ear about the Rangers, or about some rude bartender, or about…you. The brunette turns, and her face is yours. Your features, your smile. Your hand linked through Joel’s. C’mon, baby. ‘s go home.

You chase the image away. It slips from your mind like dust cleared from a countertop. Would never. Could never. Should never.

You replace it with something lighter. Something to make you forget about the dust.

“Does…Does my dad ever go home with anyone?”

“What?”

You don’t answer. He heard you.

“That’s…No. I ain’t answerin’ that.”

“Oh, come on. If you’re takin’ women home left, right, and center, he’s gotta be seein’ that. Does he?”

“I was not takin’ home women left, right, and – No, darlin’, no. It’s inappropriate.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m known for my appropriate behavior, y’know,” you gesture between your naked bodies, “I’m known for the good life choices I make.”

“This,” Joel hooks his hands under your arms and drags you up until your chin meets his, “is a good life choice.”

“Yeah?” you ask through a giggle, your nose bumping his.

Joel smiles softly, runs a hand over the back of your head. Looks between your eyes, a twinkle in his. Yes.

Your lips crash together like waves on the rocks. You’re the sea; he’s the stone. Two different worlds, suddenly married in some unforeseen twist of nature. And when you pour over him, your body lighting him in a twinkling glow of ocean, it’s as though you never existed apart from one another. It’s as natural as the waves on the shore.

“Alright, darlin’,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Speakin’ of inappropriate. I gotta get you home.”

“Why can’t I just stay the night?” you complain. “Like last time. Tell ‘im we’re watchin’ a movie again…”

Joel’s head rests on your arm. “He’s worried sick about you. Ain’t no way he’ll let you spend the night here. You know that. Plus, Sarah’ll be long done with Rita’s cross stitch by now.”

He sits up and you roll into his lap, head resting on the soft skin of his belly. He looks down at you, head tilted, eyes glowing hazel.

You stare right back. The dimples in his cheeks dig deeper when you whisper, “Kickin’ me out right after we finally make up. I see how it is, Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders hunch. “Happens to all of ‘em. Warned ya.”

He shifts off the bed and begins gathering his clothes. You sit up and watch as he pulls his boxers snug over his hips, swipes his tee from the carpet at his feet. As he drapes it over his scruffy chest, your half-naked form meets his at the foot of the bed.

His fingers knot in your hair. You lean into his arms, legs giving as he kisses you gently, breathing you in, stealing any more words of protest from your tongue.

“I love you,” he whispers when he pulls away, tip of his nose brushing off yours. “You know that?”

“Somebody told me somethin’ to do with that, yeah.”

He smiles. “Get dressed.”

You pull the rest of your clothes back on in silence, tossing socks and jeans across the room to one another, giggling like a pair of kids. After all you just did, the palpable pleasure you just sent hammering through one another – this is the part you wish you could bottle. The laughter, the love. The attempts to keep holding onto him, even as he tries to pull his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, even as he links his belt back through his jeans, as he bends to tie his boots.

The fun of it. The hope of it.

The foolish, foolish hope.

“Hoodie.” Joel flings it up towards you, crouched as he tightens his laces.

You pull it on over your bra. Flatten your flyaway hairs, stand straight before him.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You got your phone?”

Your hands instinctively pat your body down. “Oh, nah,” you realize, “musta left it at home.”

Joel nods and heads into the hallway, you at his heel. At the bottom of the stairs, you glance around his house, like it’s the first and last time you’ll see it wrapped into one. It looks different; two weeks of absence and you notice things you hadn’t before.

His coat hanging by the door, probably untouched since early spring. The bowl on the side table where his and Sarah’s keys live. The guitar in the corner of the room, the books in the shelves above it. All him. Every little piece of it. He’s reflected in every object in the room. He’s reflected in you.

You drive back to your dad’s place in silence. Comfortable, sweet silence. Your fingers ghost across his palm the entire time, watching out the window as the dark neighborhood soars by in a blur of porch lights and mailboxes. All too quickly, you’re back in front of your own house.

“What do we do now?” you ask, and through the darkness you see Joel’s smile fall.

After a moment’s silence, heavy and contemplative, he looks back up. Softens when his eyes land on you.

“We’ll be alright,” he tells you, and you believe him.

You lean forward and press a quick but tender kiss to his lips, and your fingers latch around the door handle. Joel’s hand finds the back of your head, keeping your mouth on his.

“Gotta – let me – go,” you mumble between kisses, and he hums a laugh in response. “Joel.”

“I know,” he whispers, finally pulling back. “I know.”

You smile, head tilting into his palm. “I’ll text you.”

He nods once. “See you, babygirl.”

You slip out of the truck and wander past to your front door, twirling as you click the handle. Joel laughs, and the truck reverses back onto the street. You wait for it to disappear before closing the door, and step into the unlit hallway.

The TV lights the living room at the opposite end. You stop by the kitchen, feeling the grumpy rumble of your stomach. Your dad’s armchair is sat facing the screen. You lean over to double check he’s not sat in it, fast asleep while Rangers highlights play on loop before his eyelids.

When you swivel the plaid pattern towards your knees, its only occupant is the remote. You flick the TV off and pad back over to the kitchen, filling a bowl with some chips. You’re hunched over at the refrigerator when his footsteps clunk slowly down the stairs, and he materializes like a specter around the doorway.

“Hey.”

You straighten up, lit in a nervous blue hue from the fridge. “Hey, yourself.”

“Joel gone?”

“’bout ten minutes ago. Where’ve you been? You left the TV on.”

“Just…y’know. You get those brochures?”

Fuck. You were at Joel’s under the premise of picking up fucking UCLA pamphlets – and you’ve come home empty-handed. The lie doesn’t form on your tongue as quickly as Joel’s did earlier. Something else on your mind.

“…sure. Some…interesting stuff.”

Your dad nods. “Good. Good, I’m glad. We can take a look in the mornin’.”

Your eyebrows flinch. “Yeah. That’d be – yeah. I’m…gonna head to bed, alright?”

“Sure,” he says, nodding.

With a can of soda under your arm and your bowl of chips in the other, you nod and cautiously shuffle towards him. His lips are a thin line. You duck by him and trot upstairs, and make it as far as the landing before he’s calling out again.

“Oh, hey.” He holds a hand out, and disappears in a jog towards the living room. You drop back down a couple steps, watching him swipe something from the dining table and pace back over. “You left your phone.”

He’s presenting it like a jeweler shows a Rolex – or maybe more like an investigator handles evidence. Holding it out in almost trembling fingers, afraid to mark it with his fingerprints. Your eyes flit from the phone to his, unsure which of the two frightens you more.

That’s not where I fucking left it.

You lean over and take it from his palm. “Thanks…”

“I think maybe you got a text, just then. It was lit up. Maybe I’m seein’ things.”

You force the corners of your mouth upward. Your cheeks inflate with nerves and shame. “Thanks,” you repeat, and then: “Everything okay, Dad?”

“Everything’s fine, kiddo. Sleep well.” He makes back for the living room.

As you turn, you unlock your screen.

Joel: Left your shirt here, and your bikini from last week. This mean I get to be the one wearing your clothes now?

Panic spills over your head, a wave of freezing cold washing over you when you read his words. Did Dad read them, too?

You continue walking, feeling the weight of your dad’s strange voice on your back as your feet drag you one by one up the stairs. When you make it back to the landing, your cool flees you, and you take the rest of them two at a time until you’re leaning against your bedroom door, panting.

You: Problem. I think my dad saw that text

Joel: How so?

You: When I got home my phone was next to his chair, and he’s being so weird

You: Joel I think he knows something

Joel: I’m sure he doesn’t. He wouldn’t read your phone baby.

He’s trying to reassure you, telling you he wouldn’t even know what it means, maybe he’ll think you spilled something on it, but no matter how many ideas Joel comes up with, none of them slow your heart rate.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, and the anxiety bubbling in your stomach forces you straight back up. Pacing doesn’t help, knowing your dad is directly below you probably hearing the floorboards creak with every step you take.

Your head dizzies with doubts, fears, worries, all frantically throwing themselves against the walls of your skull. You lean your forehead against the cold glass of your window, eyes screwing shut, stars in your vision. Nothing is calming you down.

Joel takes too long to reply back, whether he’s running out of explanations or just fucking forty-eight with an iPhone, but every time your phone buzzes with a new attempt at comfort from him, it only convinces you even more that – no, it wasn’t a stain, it wasn’t a joke, Joel has your top because you took it off for him an hour ago, and then let him fuck you in his bed.

And your dad fucking knows it.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me #smut #fluff #angst

[gojos-fr-bae]

Stood up

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Cursing

Three hours.

You waited at that damn restaurant for three excruciating hours receiving a pitiful look from the waitress and you just couldn't handle it anymore.

Your precious boyfriend had let you sit there and feel embarrassment flood you every time you caught someone staring at you before whispering to their date.

He couldn't even bother bother to text or call nor reply to your texts or answer your calls. And as if this all isn't bad enough this wasn't the first but fourth time that month and you couldn't take it anymore.

It's been so long you two spent time together. He always arrived home when you were already asleep and left before you could wake. You were the only one even tying to keep you two together and you were so, so exhausted. You couldn't keep giving your everything to someone and receiving nothing in return, after all you're only human.

And so, driven by pain, you ignored your tears and painful sobs escaping your chest as you packed all your belongings and wrote one last letter to your soon to be former lover.

It hurt you so much to leave knowing you may never love anyone the way you love him, but you had to do this for your own sake and if that meant walking out that front door and not turning back then so be it.

~

It had been a week since you left the house you shared with the love of your life and you had received nothing but silence from his end, and yet today you woke up to 45 missed calls and so many messages from the bastard but you couldn't bring yourself to open them. You knew that if you listened to even one of the voicemails he left your resolve would crumble considering the texts you also received from his students begging you to speak to him and talking about how much of a mess he is.

You were scrolling through their messages when you barely heard the gentle knocking on the door over the rain outside. You had been staying at your friend's that night and as far as you were aware she was spending the night at her boyfriend's so you had no idea who'd be at the door.

You got up, groaning from the headache your crying had caused and began walking towards the door. You opened the door, breath catching at seeing Gojo standing on the other side of the door. He looked up at you and his eyes began tearing up. They were swollen, red and had bags, his cheeks sunken in slightly. It felt like a dagger was jabbed into your heart and was being twisted. You couldn't bare to see him looking so broken.

"H-hi" he whispered, looking at his feet and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt so that you don't see him breaking or hear how his voice cracks.

"Hi"

"May I- umm, may I c-co-come in?" this time you heard how his voice wavered."

"Goj-"

"Please, d-don't call me that"

"Come in" You said, finally noticing how much he was shivering, his hair and clothes soaked.

"Satoru, did you, walk here?"

"Walk, stand outside the building trying to gain the confidence to enter what's the difference?"

"Oh no, I'm so sorry let me get you some spare clothes, I hope I have something that can fit-"

"No no, that won't be necessary I don't plan on staying long."

"Well in that case uhm... how can I help you?"

There was a heavy silence between you two as you stood in the doorway, waiting for him to respond.

"P-please" he croaked, tears beginning to fall down his face, "Please take me back"

"Satoru don't-"

"I'm so, so sorry. I'm such a pathetic and useless boyfriend and It's completely my fault that we split up because I stood you up and hurt you and I know I don't deserve to be forgiven but I'm begging sugar cube please, I can't live without you"

"Satoru you constantly disregarded me and our relationship. You never spoke to me, constantly stood me up and never even bothered to apologise ONCE, It's like you never even loved me in the first place!" You shouted, feeling your tears begin to blur your vision.

"I know and I'm sorry! I feel like and absolute piece of shit but I LOVE YOU Y/N! I love you so much it hurts, I love you so much I almost have a heart attack whenever you smile! And I love you because you are the only one who ever made me feel like that, only one who ever told me that I would be ok who ever held me when I cried, no one else but you!"

"Even if you do I can't keep carrying this relationship alone Satoru! I can't be at peace unless I leave"

"BUT YOU PROMISED!! YOU PROMISED NEVER TO ABANDON ME! PROMISED TO NEVER BREAK MY HEART AND I BELIEVED YOU! I STILL DO SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!" You were both sobbing now.

"Satoru, even if I said yes, I know I would never be your first priori-"

"I quit!" He pressed out quickly, looking up to meet your eyes and lacing your hands in his.

"Wh-what"

"I quit at Jujutsu tech immediately after reading your letter a-and I realised that you were right. You were right about everything! I had neglected and mistreated you so much when you deserved none of it and I'm sorry."

You were stunned. flabbergasted even. You knew how important Gojo was to the Jujutsu world and so did he. You were pretty sure that the world would fall into chaos, he was the only person keeping things in balance. And he quit...for you"

"Satoru-"

"Before you say anything, don't worry about money. I already have tons and once I'm head of the clan it practically doubles so I can spoil you the way you deserve to be"

"Goj-"

"And I promise I'll work harder to make you happy. I know I really don't deserve it because I'm a worthless piece of-"

"SATORU GOJO WILL YOU LET ME SPEAK!"

"Yes ma'am" he said, almost in a whisper.

"Did you really quit for me?"

"Yes"

"Do you really love me? "

"More than breathing"

"And are you really going to change?"

"Anything for you"

"Then if we give this one more shot things will really be different?"

"Yes"

"Okay, then let's do it, I mean what's the worst that could happen?"

His face lit up up before he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"Thank you so much, I love you"

"I love you more sweetheart"

"Eh, doubt it"

Yay

© gojos-fr-bae

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #jujustu kaisen #satoru #gojo x reader argument

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hello cat, may i request a hero who's had a string of bad relationships and a villain who's absolutely in disbelief that that could happen. Like they're absolutely flabbergasted that multiple someones didn't like the hero.

Have a good day! Drink water and rest :>

With the villain's knife nearly digging into the hero's shoulder, they looked up at their enemy, panting and exhausted. They knew the villain loved the thrill, the damn sparring.

It was all a game to the villain, a funny and meaningless game when they toyed with the hero. They liked to watch them fight, loved to challenge them.

The villain seemed way more relaxed than the hero did, after all the hero had a bunch of responsibilities on their shoulders that had an actual weight. The hero was 90% sure the villain was some millionaire with too much time on their hands.

"Quite the intimate position, dear," the villain whispered. They winked and leaned down, making their knife press a little harder against the hero's shoulder. "You look lovely today, by the way."

"Your pick-up lines get worse, do you know that?" the hero asked. They tried to wiggle and somehow get away from their nemesis but it was to no use. The villain sat down on their hips and pressed them into the ground. Their smirk never faltered.

"Oh, come on. You love it."

"Just a little," the hero said. They were pretty sure all of this was a big joke. And even though that was true, even though the villain pretended to like them, the hero welcomed the effort.

It made them feel special. Especially when the villain got jealous.

"Don't tempt me," the villain said. However, their smirk fell when they saw the hero's sad smile. "What is it?"

"What? Nothing, nothing. Where were we? You wanted to stab me?" The pressure faded and the villain looked quite puzzled.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're the only interesting hero in this boring city. Would hate it if you actually fought me."

"I am actually fighting you."

"You're holding back, don't think I am that dumb, please."

The hero sighed. They supposed it wasn't a good idea to tell the villain what kind of troubles they got into when they weren't in costume. It wasn't smart to reveal that much of themselves, was it?

They took in another breath.

But wasn't that why they kept their identity a secret?

"...it's kind of pathetic," they said.

"I commit crimes to get your attention. That is pathetic," the villain joked and somewhere deep down, the hero felt more secure. It was strange how the villain could be such a stranger yet the person the hero was closest to.

"I'm just enjoying this more than I should. I'm not very good when it comes to personal relationships, so your efforts are really refreshing."

"You are not good with personal relationships? You with all your conflict-resolving talk and your words of encouragement and your helpful nature? You?"

"Yeah...can't seem to keep a partner."

"You're kidding. You've kept me for three years." The hero smiled. Whether it was intentional or not, the villain managed to calm their anxiousness.

"I guess I am too needy. Or too distant. Too pushy, I don't know. Maybe I am one of those people who doesn't end up with anyone." They shrugged and the irony of saying that while the villain was sitting on their hips only occurred to them later.

"Oh please, people must be throwing themselves at you. I mean, hello!?" The villain looked down the hero's entire body, suggesting that the hero was some kind of royal everyone drooled over. This time, the hero felt their cheeks burn.

"Ugh, stop it. You're so annoying." They pushed the villain's face away, partly because they wanted to touch them, partly because they didn't want the villain to see their glowing face. But the villain only looked amused.

"You're totally lovable," they said. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

With that they winked at the hero and disappeared into the night.

And the hero realised they had a terrible crush on their enemy.

#h-hopital #tossing this like a chunk of meat into the cage (to my followers) #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

[subbyalbedo]

Kinktober Day 31 - A/B/O with omega!Muzan Kibutsuji

Happy Halloween! 🎃👹

Dom!alpha!reader x sub!omega!muzan

reader has a cock and Muzan gets a little ooc but I’m proud of this ;)

~~~

Muzan Kibutsuji.

To most, a feared demon, the most powerful in the world, and a terrifying creature of the night.

But what they didn't know, was that he was an omega.

For years, he had kept it hidden, using the pathetic human scent patches and taking idiotic pills to remain in control.

Of course, you didn't know all of this. But, you barely knew Muzan except for the fact that he was the extremely powerful demon who turned you, and you hadn't seen since.

But as you were walking down a dark alley, right after a delectable meal, you saw a dark figure slumped against the side of the brick building lining the shadowed road.

Hmm, dessert?

But as you got closer, you smelled that not only was it not a human, but it was a demon.

And...he was in heat.

Muzan was furious. Furious, and panicked, and so fucking screwed, and as he slumped against that wall, he felt like he was falling apart.

He had failed to notice the signs of his heat soon enough to stop it, and now he was hidden in an alley unable to move. He could feel his dick leaking, and he felt so disgustingly needy that he wanted to scream.

The heat was overtaking his body and mind so much, that he didn't know you were approaching until you were right in front of him.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" You grinned down at him, and his pretty red eyes glared back up at you.

"Go away." He didn't know what to do, but he was the strongest demon. He would make you respect him. Probably kill you to make sure no one knows about his...

"Aw, poor little omega is getting angry?" He looked absolutely gorgeous, and very fuckable, and you knew that no matter what, at the end of the night, you'd have him.

"Do you know who I am?!" As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Your eyes lit up with recognition, and he cursed himself for his incompetence.

"Muzan Kibutsuji. You're prettier than I remember." With a sly grin, you reached out to stroke his face.

Faster than you could see, he tore off your arm, fighting off a shiver that was triggered when his omega sensed the alpha.

With some rather quick regeneration, you regrew your arm and looked at his warily.

"Muzan Kibutsuji is an omega? Well, that's absolutely delicious."

At the word omega, Muzan felt repulsed, but the animal inside him made him want to submit to you.

There was nothing you wanted more in this moment than to fuck this gorgeous demon king. But you wanted to make him want it.

So you released your scent into the air, and immediately, Muzan let out a whine, sinking to his knees.

As soon as his legs hit the pavement, he realized what he did, and immediately tried to stand up again, repair some of his broken dignity. But you were having none of that.

"Down, omega." You commanded, and he couldn't help but moan as he crumpled, forced to bow on the ground before you.

"You dare to command me?" He gritted out, he could feel his length brushing lightly on the ground but he refused to rub himself, he refused~

without even meaning to, his body started humping the ground desperately, and even you didn't see it coming.

"I don't even need to command you. You're a slut all on your own."

He was about to lash out, kill you with the little power he still had, but you were a step quicker.

"Can you be good for me?" He felt himself almost let out a whimper, but this time he was able to hold it back.

"Good omega." You purred, and this time, he felt a wave of affection and pure joy come from inside him at your words. "Now, be good and hump my leg, will you?

Quickly, his arms came around your extended leg in a tight grip, and he drew you as close as possible to get himself off, rubbing himself at a hard, grinding pace.

He could feel his resolve weakening as the friction against his cock felt so amazing, each thrust bringing him closer and closer.

He wanted to cum so bad, would you let him cum? Please?

He thought it was just the omega chanting that in his head, but after a moment he felt his lips moving, begging to cum.

"Stop moving."

He let out a wail as he immediately stopped at your commands.

He wanted so badly for his hips to keep moving, he was so close when you made him stop and he wanted to scream, but there was something in him that so desperately wanted to be good for you.

No no no! He needed to stop thinking like this, he’s the fucking demon king, and he wasn’t going to break. “I’ll- ill fucking k-kill you!”

His voice came across as much weaker than he wanted, but he got his point across. He had just about three seconds to enjoy fighting back before you spoke.

“What did you say to me, Omega?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck no no no no no.

He felt tears welling in his eyes, he could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him hate himself, why would he say that to you?

His omega side felt like it was in pain at your words he didn’t mean it please! “Please m…‘msorry! I didn’t- didn’t mean it, please!”

Hell, one moment he wanted to murder you in cold blood, and the next, all he wanted was to nest with you.

Fuck, he needed to figure this out fast because he couldn’t do both.

So, he tried to make the best out of the shitty situation.

If you were going to command him to be your omega, he would, but just for the night. Once he wasn’t stupidly needy anymore, he would murder you and carry on like nothing happened.

So he gave in.

Kneeling at your feet, he gazed up into your eyes with a desperation, he needed you to fuck him, gods please.

“Poor thing needs to be full? I bet you feel so empty in your wet hole, don’t you?”

He nodded quickly, he could feel his ass clenching at your words, slick coating his pants.

“Alpha…Alpha please…I need you to fuck me….”

“Aww, poor little omega. I suppose I’ll have to fill you, won’t I?”

You yanked him up, enjoying his cute gasp as you turned him around and bent him over, arms holding him against the brick.

Unceremoniously pulling down his pants, you found nothing underneath, except for a considerable amount of wetness coming from his hole.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? You were waiting in this alley for the first alpha to come your way. You’re nothing more than a street whore.”

“Yes yes yesss, you’re my alpha, mine mine mine!” Muzan was pressing back into you, practically grinding on you with need as you removed your pants as well.

With all the slick pouring out of him, and the way his hole kept opening and closing, you decided you didn’t need much prep, quickly thrusting in a couple finger to test how much he could take.

Rubbing your length along his slick ass, you quickly thrusted in while yanking his hair back, and reveled in his surprised scream, the pain and pleasure all hammering into one point as he took your cock, groaning with how full he felt.

With just the entering of your big length, he came, back arching and eyes rolling back as he felt himself jerked back and forth by your pace.

All the while, he’s mumbling how he’s your omega, he belongs to you, and please knot him, he’s been good for you,

and you smile at his state, you’re fucking the actual demon king, and you should probably be scared for you life in the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care with the tightness of his ass and his lovely groans, and you decide to go ahead and mark him.

Leaning forward quickly, you bit into the part of his neck, and Muzan moaning even louder, and you knew he’d be furious but you had to!

And as he came once more that the thought of you claiming him, he collapsed into you.

“You’re done already? Oh no, we’ve just begun.”

Poor Muzan will wake up sore all over with a new mate that he won’t be able to get rid of.

of course, maybe he’ll just kill you…

but with your mark on his neck, you highly doubt it.

~~~ hehehehhehehe I hope you enjoyed!

happy Halloween!!!!!!!

#happy halloweeeeeeen #kinktober #dom reader #dom reader smut #sub character smut #smut #demon slayer #kinktober 2023 #muzan kibutsuji #sub muzan #Sub Muzan kibutsuji #Reader x muzan

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .5

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Size difference; Size kink; One sad horny old man; Angst!!!! that will continue just FYI no abusing poor little vic for enjoying the suffering of others :) it’s not my fault :)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: peep the cameo!!!!!! :) 

Word Count: 6.1K

Read on AO3

.5

Vanish. Pass into nothingness: the Keats line that frightened her. Fade as the blue nights fade, go as the brightness goes. Go back into the blue. I myself placed her ashes in the wall. I myself saw the cathedral doors locked at six. I know what it is I am now experiencing. I know what the frailty is, I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked doors. The fear is for what is still to be lost. You may see nothing still to be lost. Yet there is no day in her life on which I do not see her.

Joan Didion, Blue Nights

Weeks pass after that night in his truck. He calls, many times, but you never answer. And it makes you feel like the worst sort of liar, but you can’t. You can’t hear the sound of his voice, it’ll ruin you, destroy your resolve, force you to your knees at his feet, which is, if you’re being honest, the only place you really want to be. It is, perhaps, the greatest struggle of your entire life, to hold on by the skin of your teeth to this idea you have of what it is he and his marriage should remain as, and what you and he should be and should not be. 

It’s Gerri’s birthday, and Tommy and her sister had decided to throw her a party at her house. Big surgeon money makes for a big fancy house, and Gerri was over the moon, filled with happiness and laughter and that wonderful brand of Gerri specific infectious glee that forces even your miserable, morose self to pull your butt out of bed and get ready to go celebrate her. She knows you’re sad, missing him, even if she doesn’t know it’s him specifically. Although, you suspect she might have an idea of it. 

She’d begged you to come during class at the start of the week, planting her stubborn butt on a stool to stare you down while the rest of your students finished up their work and then put away their materials. Please’s and threats of tears and bodily harm and promises of copious amounts of alcohol, and if you’re feeling up to it, I could even hook you up with someone – an accompanying waggle of her eyebrows. What about a surgeon? My sister knows the perfect, sexy doctor for you. You’d profusely, profusely refused that. You could not even consider another man right now, the idea was almost repulsive to you. As she begged and pleaded and whined, another one of your students had come up, eavesdropping on the pathetic display of supplication, “Come on, teach. Don’t be a sour puss, put her outta her misery, and go to the fucking party with her,” she’d laughed. One of your best students – she had the most gorgeous tattoo on the inside of her forearm of two overlapping ferns with an intricately detailed moth at the head. She’d told you once she’d sketched it herself. You’d rolled your eyes at them, sour puss, my ass. But you knew you had to get out of this hole you’d dug yourself into, and so, their teasing had gotten to you in the end – forced you to agree to the party out of sheer preservation for your reputation. Gerri’d taken to calling you the boring barnacle… yeah, and she’d never stop if you didn’t agree – would probably force all your other students into making fun of you for the rest of the semester, as well. Annoying little shit, it was very aggravating that you loved her so much. 

-

The house is stunning – big surgeon money indeed. All shining glass, sleek wood and modern edges. A huge infinity pool in the backyard, flanked by an impressively sized guest house that Gerri said she and Tommy stayed in sometimes when they got too drunk to drive home. 

There was, after all, a doctor from Andrea’s work waiting for you at their undesired and annoyingly meddlesome behest. He was nice, handsome, boring. Not tall enough, not broad enough, hair blonde and straight and kind of straw-like – no dark, silver streaked curls and deep, warm eyes. He kind of reminds you of a shiny scarecrow, if you’re being honest and not very kind. Not Joel enough. But he was nice, and seemingly interested and he’d gotten you a drink and stayed by your side all night, attentive and polite. 

You feel miserable and made out of plastic. Your smile, fake, forced, terrible. Something has to be done about this. Perhaps, electrotherapy, a lobotomy, an exorcism. Anything to get him out of your head. 

The shiny, blonde scarecrow – doctor – is telling you about his shiny, blonde family and their fancy skiing trips now, and oh, do you ski? No? I bet you’d love it – maybe I can take you one day? Never mind that you’d been born without a single athletic bone in your entire body, when, suddenly, you hear your name being barked, rough and angry, from behind you, and then a large, searing hot palm circling your bicep on one side while his other palm slides along the span of the small of your back to grip you at the bend of your waist. Fuck. 

“Joel–”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He does not look at you as he says it, but his grip on your waist tightens for one second. He’s staring down the shiny scarecrow, murder in his eyes. Oh, that look is very scary. 

“What are you doing here?” He turns the scary look on you at that, and nope, nope, it’s even scarier pointed in your direction.

“Tommy told me you were here.”

“Wh– what? Why would he tell you?” He gives you a pointed look, and you glance at the scarecrow, nervous. “You told Tommy?” you whisper back at Joel. 

Poor doctor man looks at a loss, gaze swinging back and forth between the two of you. “I’m so sorry, can you give us a minute?” you say, embarrassed. He takes one look at Joel’s terrifying face and scampers away.

-

Moron, he thinks, sour gaze following the fucker as he tucks tail and runs. He turns back to you, answering your question, “Didn’t have to, baby. He figured it out on his own. Don’t think we’ve been what one could call discreet if you’re really paying attention.”

You shut your eyes tight, bring up a shaky hand up to rub at the delicate wing of your brow. He desperately wants to smooth out the tiny frown marring the space between your eyes. 

“N– no– but,” you stutter. 

He takes the drink you’re holding out of your hand, takes a sip of it – something sweet and way too strong for your light-weight little butt. “Mm, he get that for you?”

You scrunch your nose up at him, and he knows he’s meant to take it as a sign of your annoyance, but all he can think is that you’re too adorable for your own good. “Wh– I– you overbearing, ridiculous – give that back!” you frown up at him as he holds it out of your reach. He sets the glass on a table behind you.

“Hmm–” His big hands span the width of your waist, can’t help himself, you’re so small compared to him. It makes his cock so hard. “Let me talk to you, please. Let’s go somewhere quiet.” He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t be bothering you, he’s reached the end of his rope. 

“No – go away. It’s– it’s Gerri’s birthday.” You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he pulls you further into his chest. “I’m supposed to be having fun. She said she’d be mad if I didn’t have fun.” There are already overwhelmed tears in your eyes, and if he wasn’t so fucking desperate to see you, to talk to you after all these weeks of you ignoring him, he’d run away. Far, far away, where he can never make you cry again. 

“Just for a little bit, please,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, causing the little wisps of hair there to flutter. 

You shiver. “Where– where’s Sarah?” You bring your small hand up to clutch at his beard, cup his jaw, and scratch your nails gently down the side of his cheek, and fuck, he’s ready to burst, just with that, even as your other hand feebly tries to push at his chest. He slides a hand low on your back to press your pelvis into his. 

“Baby-sitter.” Hearing you ask after his daughter has that soft spot behind his ribs where you live now, burn and pinch painfully. 

“And–” 

He cuts you off, doesn’t want to hear you talking about her. “Gone for the weekend – work conference.” Not that he believed that.

You open your eyes again, the tears lining your lashes make them almost glow in your skull. He can’t help himself, he bends to press a soft kiss over your eye, feels the whispering, wet flutter of your long lashes against his mouth. You let out a broken mewl for him – full of all your matched wanting. “F– fine. We’ll– we’ll just talk.”

Just talk, just talk, just talk. 

He can feel the pulse of his blood beat through the line of his erection against his thigh. He wraps his hand around yours and starts leading you through the house, spots Tommy at the back of the kitchen, leaning against the counter talking to someone. His brother takes in the two of you together, gives him a subtle nod, inclines his head towards the backyard – the guest house where Joel was headed. Tommy had known, since that day so long ago when Joel had tried to discreetly tag along to the college – hoping to get a glimpse of you, he’d known there was something. Nothing discreet about your half assed excuses, reeked’a desperation, he’d said. His brother wanted him to be happy, to have a good, fulfilling relationship. He’d been telling Joel to get a lawyer for months, had been the first to tell him to not get married. He’d help him now, give the two of you time to sort this out. He knows just how insane Joel had been these past few weeks, like a caged animal, pacing and hissing at not being able to get at you. 

He steps out the back door and pulls you towards the guest house. He’d been here once, months ago, helping Gerri’s sister out with a repair she’d needed. The two of you would have privacy there to talk, for you to finally stop avoiding him. He needs to speak to you, touch you, smell you. He was going out of his goddamn mind thinking about you, dreaming about you. His cock, constantly at half mast and leaking, at all hours of the day, just at your memory. Desperate, that’s what he is, he’s desperate for you. 

“Who was that guy?”

“Who?” Your voice is anxious, breath hitching. He knows you’re twisting yourself up in knots, and he turns to pull you into his arms now, in the privacy of the dark room, lit only by the light of the moon spilling through the large bay windows. 

“The one you were talking to.” He draws his palm slowly up and down the line of your spine, feelings the little bumps and jitters of your trembling form. Skittish little rabbit. He rubs his mouth over the line of your hair, baby soft wisps tickling his nose and mouth. You smell so good, he wants to rub himself all over you like some sort of animal – mark his territory.

“Wh– I– You cannot be serious right now.” You push at him, turn to move away, but he catches you around the bend of your elbow, tugging you back forcefully into his chest. He presses his front along the line of your back, grips your hip to bring your ass into the hard line of his cock. 

“Does this feel serious to you?” He’s hard as stone, throbbing beneath his jeans. 

“Oh God, Joel–”

“Don’t want you talkin’ to other men, thinking about any other men. I know it sounds insane – can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

“I– I don’t think about anyone else but you,” you whimper. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, brings one large hand up to cradle the weight of your breast and squeeze. He can feel the stiff little furl of your nipple through your dress. He feels a little unhinged right now, overwhelmed by the feel and scent of you. “I miss you,” he whispers. “Have you missed me?” He presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear that has a violent shiver jerking down your vertebrae, you grind your ass harder into him, give him the sweetest little moan. “All I do is think about you.”

“I did, I did– I miss you so much. I wanted to talk to you, I did,” you whimper, “But– but we shouldn’t, Joel,” you say at the same time as your hand comes up and around to twist into the curls at the back of his head. He turns your head with his hand wrapped around your jaw, his entire palm cups around your neck to your cheek, thumb pressing harshly into the corner of your mouth to angle you exactly how he wants you, and then he’s tasting behind your teeth, the wet lick of his tongue into yours sends a bolt of lust straight through him, almost bringing him to his knees. He moans, deep and rumbling into your panting mouth, and your answering keen has the dribble of his precum sliding down his thigh. He needs to be closer, he needs to be inside. Fuck, he’s in danger of coming just from this, just from the sweet taste of you, your little moans, all for him. 

“Did you like that boy? Think he was nice, hmm?”

“Wha– No– no, Joel. I don’t even know him.” Brow scrunching into the most adorable little frown he’s ever seen. You blink your lashes at him, eyes glassy and slightly dazed. 

He snakes his other hand down the front of your dress and under the lace of your panties, cupping the entirety of your mound in his palm. Fuck, you’re soaked and he’s touching you, finally, finally, he’s touching you here. 

“Is all this wet for him or for me?” he says softly, dipping a single finger into your seam, a ghost of a touch over the bud of your clit. Fuck, you’re soft. Soft and swollen and soaking wet. He never wants to see you near another man again, it’s unreasonable, insane, he knows this. But the dilemma of having seen you, tasted you, felt you, but only by half measures, not really having you, well… it sets the stage for insanity. This he cannot help. 

“For you, for you– please, Joel. Just–”

“She’s drooling for me, baby.”

“Don’t be mean,” you cry.

“Will you let me make you feel good, sweet girl? Please, I just want to make you feel good.” He presses wet kisses over your cheek, down your neck to lick into the hollow of your collarbone. Your hips hitch in little grinds trying to gain more purchase against his palm, and he circles your clit slowly. You’re fucking dripping, and he moves down to press over your entrance, gives you the slightest hint of everything else he’d like to give you. 

“Oh, please–” He slides two of his fingers into the last knuckle then, to the hilt. You’re so wet, there’s no resistance at all. Your cunt swallows his fingers whole, and the both of you let out ragged moans in tandem. You’re fucking tight, and he needs to feel you around his cock, he has to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’ll die.

“We– we were supposed t– to talk,” you stutter, little cunt grinding down as hard as you can on his thrusting fingers. The wet squelch is deafening and obscene in the quiet of the guest house, and he can almost feel the steam of your lust and embarrassment at the sound rolling off of your skin like heat waves. 

“Yeah, yeah, baby. We’ll talk in a second.” He licks a long wet swipe along the edge of your jaw, bites down harshly, and he can feel the tight clench of your cunt at the small hurt. He pulls his fingers from you, and you let out a protesting mewl, but then he’s spinning you in his arms and kissing you. Something savage and uncontrolled rising up inside of him. He half carries, half drags you down the hall to the bedroom he knows is at the back of the house, pulls the neckline of your dress down to get at your tits, sucking and nipping as much of the soft flesh he can get at. All the previous moments of restraint, of not touching, of just watching, have turned him into this uncontrolled beast. He can feel your little feel dangling off the ground, over his boots. He almost stumbles as you lose one of your sandals, stepping over your shoe, and gripping the back of your thigh to hoist you up higher, grinding you against his length. 

He sets you down on the bed, pushing you back to lay across it as he tugs the soft cups of your bra down to get at your bare tits, sucking one peaked nipple into his mouth and pulling hard on the tip. So fucking beautiful. He swirls his tongue around your softness, kisses the underside of it, nips at the full, round side, switches to give the other one the same attention. You’re whining and crying out for him, almost sobbing. So sensitive, so sensitive – little fingers twisted in his hair to pull him closer, but he’s moving down, pulling away from your searching mouth and lifting the hem of your dress. He bends to bury his face in the soft apex of your thighs and breathes deep – satisfaction, hunger, rumbling through his chest. You smell so fucking good. He sticks his tongue out to lick at your slit over the lace of your soft, pink panties, sweet, little bow adorning the front of them. 

“Hush, lemme kiss your pussy for a little bit,” he soothes, “Don’t cry,” and you’re spreading your legs immediately at that. Good girl. 

He hooks his fingers under the soaking wet center plaque of your panties to pull it aside and drags the flat of his tongue right through your seam. Fuck, fuck. He shuts your legs to rip the fabric down your legs and then rips them open again to get at your cunt. Your back arches, curved tight like a bow string, and you spread your legs wider for him, tug on his hair to urge him closer. He settles between the space you’ve made for him – thinks that he just might like to live here for the rest of his life. He sucks your clit into his mouth and starts to press a single finger inside, giving you something to bear down on.

“God, Joel–” your gasps are wet, on the verge of overwhelmed tears, or already there, perhaps, “Feels so– so good.”

“Taste so fucking good–” He starts to fuck you with his finger, adding another, giving you more to stretch around. You’re so wet, leaking down to pool in his palm, and he focuses on your sensitive little nub, licking and sucking and kissing it, all while he watches the heave and tremble of your breasts, back arched so that you can rock into his ministrations. 

“Oh, I’m– I’m gonna come.” Yes, already, “I’m gonna–” He can feel the ripple and throb of your inner muscles working around his thrusting fingers, he hooks them against the deep, spongy spot at the front of your walls and sucks on your clit. Everything goes tight and liquid inside of you. The rapid flutter of your muscles trying to suck his fingers deeper, as you gush into his mouth, has all the blood rushing from his head to his dick so quickly he feels slightly faint. He licks you through it, gentling the thrust of his fingers but not stopping. Your restless legs shift around him, too much, and then he’s shifting back up to you, a bite to your nipple, a kiss pressed to the underside of your jaw, and he’s pulling you down the bed so your ass is right at the edge and tugging at his zipper, pulling his boxers down to free his aching cock and heavy balls. Fist clenched tight around himself, he jacks it once, twice and then presses the angry, red head to your clit, slides the underside of it through your cleft to feel the heat and wetness. Shit, your skin is scorching hot, soaked, and he can see the slight clench of your hole, begging to be filled. 

“Joel, please I– I want–”

“Fuck – will you let me– will you let me put it in? Just a little bit?” He’s thrusting against the slick red of you, palm pressed against the shaft to create friction on either side. On every pull back his head catches the smallest bit at your entrance, and fuck, fuck, it would be so easy, so good, “Just– just for a second, baby, please? Just the tip?”

“I – I don’t– I–” The head catches more fully, the wide tip of it giving you just the first slight stretch of it. “Oh, please–” Please, please, please. 

He feeds you the first inch – eyes glued to the way your little hole stretches obscenely around his fat girth, “Shit,” he snarls. He fucks you just like that, with just the tip and you try and arch even more, impossible, you’re already pulled tight as an arc, trying to take him deeper, and then your knee is hitching against his hip and pressing him in closer. He slides all the way inside, to the very end of you, in one smooth, devastating go. He feels his tip bump against the mouth of your womb, and your shared moan is pained and ragged. Your fluttering lids springing all the way open, eyes wide, almost shocked. The look shared between the two of you – incredulous, as if neither of you knew – had ever occurred to you – that something in this world could ever feel this good. 

He buries his face in your neck, shuts his eyes tight. Fuck, he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come. Your gasping moans, the lush press of your breasts to his chest, the fluttering of your cunt around him – nothing in all his life has ever felt like this. There’s a pain, deep in his chest, in a place he didn’t even know existed. This is like nothing else that has ever existed in this world. He’ll never be able to let you go after this, never, never. 

He wraps his hand around your throat, tries to settle you. “Don’t– don’t move, don’t make a sound–”

“I can’t– I can’t– You’re so deep.” Your legs kick restlessly around him.

“Baby, shut up, please,” he begs, he cannot come yet, he cannot. This is the first time in over three years he’s been inside of a woman, the first time he’s been inside of you. He cannot ruin it with a happy trigger finger. You’re clawing at his back, gasping and crying for him to move, to fuck you, please, please, please, fuck me. He slides a hand under your butt and lifts you slightly off the bed to bring you closer to him, grinds his cock deep, deep, right at your cervix so that you’re crying for real now. 

“Too much, too much,” you clutch tightly at his bicep, going back and forth between trying to push him away and pull him closer. He can feel the wet press of your tears sliding along his cheek, over his mouth, and he licks his lips to taste them, has his eyes rolling to the back of his head at their saltiness. He hitches you more firmly in his grasp and starts to fuck you. His thrusts, deep and devastating, punching all air, voice, thought out of you, heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass.

“You can take it, you can take it. You can take anything I give you. You’re my pretty, perfect girl,” he grits, pulls himself up so he can stare at the place where you’re taking him, puffy, red cunt stretched obscenely around his slick base. 

“You feel so good– I can’t, I can’t– What are we going to do? What are we going to do? It feels so good.” You’re crying, incoherent, fucked out look in your eyes as you claw at his shirt, little nails scraping over his belly and chest. He grips you under one knee to pull your leg up, hooking your ankle over his shoulder to deepen the angle. You come again, instantly, just at the change, the deepening of the angle, the head of his cock battering savagely against that deep, soft spot inside you.

“Fuck, yeah. Let me feel that cunt get wet, little girl.” Your mewls are high pitched, supplicant, and you gush around him. He feels it soak his pelvis, drip down his balls.

No one’s ever been this deep, nothing’s ever felt like this, you say, over and over again. 

He plants one knee on the bed and hunches over you, ankle still dangling limply over his shoulder and pounds into you. The feel of your cunt rippling around him, sucking him deeper is too much. He wishes he could last longer, feel you come around him again. What if you never let him do this again? What if you never want him again after this? What if it’s just a one time thing? He’ll never get over this, he’ll never be able to move on from this. He can’t hold back, he starts to fill you, hot thick spurts coating your insides, and you moan again at the searing heat of him, right at the mouth of your womb, grinds deep, deeper, as deep as he can, the contractions of your inner muscles pulling him in. He wishes he could crawl beneath your skin, live inside of you, make a home for himself behind the safe cage of your ribs, and he thinks that you’re right, nothing has ever felt like this, nothing will ever feel like this again. 

He’s ruined now. You’ve ruined him

He collapses on top of you, wants to crush you with his heavy weight, meld your chests together so that you’ll have to be with him forever after this. He presses wet, breathless kisses to the vulnerable underside of your jaw, behind your ear where your scent is the most concentrated, breathes you in deeply. You wrap your arms and legs around him, and he can feel the clench of your inner muscles around his softening cock. He hasn’t done this in a long time, he wonders what his refractory period is now, if he’ll be able to go again soon, if you’ll let him. 

“I wanted that so badly,” you whisper, nuzzle your nose into his hair. 

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

“I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared of. I would never hurt you,” he promises because it’s the truth. He’d never do anything to purposely hurt you. 

“I’m scared of what I feel for you,” you say quietly, “I– I don’t–”

He slides his hand under you to press you closer. “I know, sweet girl. Me too.” He angles your head to give himself access to your mouth, starts his kiss out soft and gentle, slotting your full upper lip between both of his to pepper soft little pecks and sucks to it, then tilts his head to get a deeper angle and lick into you. 

You’re completely relaxed beneath him. Soft and warm and wet, entirely pliant. So sweet. It’s one of the things he loves most about you, how sweet you are. Sweet and kind and earnest – tenderhearted. You’re right, in a way, this is something to be afraid of. The things he feels for you – the depth of it, it’s not something he was expecting, not prepared for, but he’s certain there isn’t a way of stopping it now. This is what it is, will go where it was always going to go, from the first moment he saw you, touched you, tasted you. 

“What are we going to do?”

“I want to tell her.” It’s the only truth, the only road he wants to go down. He wants to be with you, he wants this out in the open. “You aren’t a secret to be kept or hidden. You deserve to be cherished out in the open.”

Your tears spill harder at that, “Joel–”

“Baby,” he lifts up slightly to look at you, “This is it.”

You turn to look away and he feels dread coil in his gut. If you pull away from him now he’ll lose his mind. He isn’t prepared for this, he isn’t the type of man who’s ever had to deal with this type of feeling. “I – I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I– I don’t want–”

“You don’t want what?” he brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face, runs the tip of his finger along the arch of your brow, down the slope of your nose. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” he says, because it’s the truth. In this moment, he thinks he’d do anything at all you’d ask of him. Open his very veins for you. You have him speared by the heart, eating out of the palm of your small hand. 

“I don’t want to be the reason your marriage ends,” your brow crumples, “I told you. I– I can’t be. I couldn’t live with that.”

“My marriage never really began to start with. I told you that.” He moves to pull out, both of you groaning softly at the sensitive slide of his cock slipping out of you, the slick gush that follows. He sits back on his heels, grips both of your knees to keep you spread and enjoy the sight of the viscous drip of his spend out of your messy hole. He wants to bend to eat his own come out of you. You’ve turned him into some sort of beast, subjugated to the scent and sound and feel of your body. But instead he turns to sit at the edge of the bed, tucks himself back into his jeans. He leans forward, elbows resting against his spread knees, and drags his palm over his face, rubs the scruff of his beard. He feels you turn to curve around him, your hand snaking up the back of his shirt to press your palm against his hot skin, your knees curling into his lap around his waist. “It was never – it was never– I don’t even know. Never a real marriage, I suppose. Or never something either of us wanted for the right reasons. I – I felt like it was the right thing to do, at the time, for Sarah. I told you this. But– but it was never how it should’ve been. I worry now, sometimes, if we haven’t just done more damage to her, built a foundation that’s so rotten, so broken, that she’ll be able to feel it for the rest of her life.”

“Joel,” you whisper, dragging your fingers softly up and down his back. 

“She was born into a broken home – how can I ever– how can I ever make that up to her?” He turns back to look at you then, “A home where her parents never loved each other – barely even tolerated each other. What is that gonna do to her? What will that teach her about love and relationships?” He grips you around the bend of your knee, anchors himself with the feel of your soft skin beneath his rough palm. 

“I think that, from– from experience, that it will be enough for her to know that she has you, that you love her, that you’ll always be there for her. You’re a good father, Joel. A– a wonderful father. She’s so, so lucky to have you.” And the look in your eyes as you say this to him is so earnest, so sincere and kind that he knows, in that very instant, that he’s falling in love with you, that he is already in love with you. He folds over to press his face into your belly, hug you tight to himself. “Your love for her will teach her what love is supposed to be. Honest, forgiving, patient. She doesn’t need any other example than that. That’s enough for a little girl, trust me.” You drag your nails gently along his scalp. 

He presses a kiss to your belly, another to your still bared breast. He rests his cheek on your chest to look up at you. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” What he really wants to say is, thank you for existing, thank you for finding me, thank you for being magic, thank you for letting me touch you. Please, let me keep even one small piece of you, I’ll take such good care of it for the rest of my life, I promise.

“But you– you can’t tell your wife about this, can’t– can’t leave her for me. That isn’t– that isn’t ever what I wanted, or– or set out to do. I told you why, I explained this to you.” He watches a bright flush flood your cheeks, brow folding into a frown as you stutter out the words. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“What’s left of this marriage is going to end either way. It’s only a matter of time.”

“But not for me. Not because of me, or for you to run straight to me. I can’t– I couldn’t live knowing I’d done that.”

“You haven’t done anything. This was done a long time ago, the foundation was damaged from the start.”

“N– no, still. I can’t.” You shift away from him, sit up to right your clothes. There is a part of you that hums the sounds of uncertainty, he can hear it in your voice, but it is so quiet in the face of everything else. The echo of your screeching guilt and fear so loud, it overwhelms everything else. 

“So, then what? This was just a one time thing? You want nothing more from this? From me?” He spits, hurt. He knows he should be gentle, not get angry, but the thought of you taking yourself away from him now makes panic climb like fire up his chest and throat. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, face still turned away from him. “I– I can’t tell you that right now. But I do know that I don’t want you to tell your wife, or to leave her for me.”

“So you think I should stay with her? Even though we’re both miserable. Even though all I want is to be with you. That’s what you want me to do?”

You let out a hoarse, anguished little sound at that, but then: “That’s not for me to say.” Your voice sounds broken, jagged, lacerating. “That isn’t my business,” you say so quietly, almost like you’re afraid to utter the words out loud, know what a lie they are. But he hears it. Loud and clear, like a slap to the face. 

“Not your business?”

“I should get back.” You stand to right your dress, he watches your shaking knees knock together, and he reaches out to catch you if you need him, but you steady yourself on your own. When you finally turn back to look at him, there are tears streaming down your face. In some sick, twisted way, the sight of them is a comfort. They tell him that this isn’t what you really want, that your words hurt you too. In a way, they help him understand you better, as well. You’re trying to do what you think is the right thing, as wrong as it is for all of you involved. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, wringing your hands together. He only nods. You go to clean yourself up in the restroom, shutting the door quietly behind you.

-

When you step back out into the bedroom, he’s already gone, but there’s a glass of water left waiting for you on the bedside table. 

Chapter .6

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

[nisuna]

I wonder what about mad / jealous bff yuji who have the beggest crush on reader i just need angry six w him idk why

I'm living my best life right now 🥰🤤

Thank you for your take!!<3

<3masterlist<3

~short drabble~

TW: rough sex, yuji is crazy strong, wall sex, jealous yuji, angy sex, slut calling, manhandling, but really sweet in the end

"You can't go home with him." he deadpanned

"Huh? Who do you think you are, my boyfriend?? Well you aren't so you have no say in this!"

"What if I wanted to be!" he screamed back

"What?", you scoffed.

"You heard me and I'm not asking you because you're being such a slut in front of me right now. Somebody ought to put you back in your place. You know damn well that I can fuck you better than he ever could!"

"Uhm.."

"Oh shut it!!" you both growled at the guy next to you making him leave quickly.

"Oh yeah? Then give me all you got big boy!, you challenged and he did indeed give you all he got.

He's got you in prone bone, smushing your face into the pillows below you.

"I have to fuck the slut out of you"

"Yeah well keep trying then," you lied. Yuji was way stronger than he looked. Under all of those loose clothes was a big buff man, who was nothing like the best friend you remembered. You tried hard not to salivate and moan as he pulled his shirt over his head after shoving you down on the bed.

While getting your guts rearranged you just didn't want to admit that this was the best fuck of your life and it got on Yuji's nerves.

"Enough, I've had it with you." his relentless hips came to a halt as he pulled out of you.

"What do you mean-"

"Shut it and stand up. Back against the wall."

You cussed under your breath as you obeyed. "Don't try anything funny I'm not in the mood." You let out a high pitched shriek after you felt him lift you up by the ass hooking your legs behind his back. You were desperately holding onto his shoulders in his surprisingly steady grip.

"You always talk about being manhandled by big strong men. Let's see if you can really handle one."

You were at a loss of words as he sank you down on his cock, the new angle hitting much deeper. Your resolve crumbled a bit as you moaned out his name right in his ear.

"That's better."

And as soon as he started moving you up and down against the wall you lost all of your self respect.

"Yuuujii~ wait slow down I can't-"

"Oh sure you can look at you sucking me in you just don't wanna let me go. I got you baby." his voice softened, making you relax in his hold as mewls and whimpers left your needy mouth. To save you some embarasent you began biting down on his shoulder to muffe the sounds you were making. Much to your dismay that didn't help you very much as it only spurred him on to fuck you even harder.

You were getting dizzy chanting his name as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. "'M sorry Yuji I didn't mean to make you mad. I've been good right can I please cum."

"Play with your clit and cum on my cock. Let yourself go baby." he grunted between thrusts. Thank yous spilled out your mouth as you maneuvered your hand from his shoulder to your throbbing clit.

You were rubbing it in sync with his thrusts, getting goosebumps as Yuji kept hitting your spongy spot inside. "'M close.. please don't stop", you whined slightly scratching his back.

"Don't worry, I wont. I got you, make a mess of me.", and you swear you never came as hard as right now, pressing your lips against his greedy mouth trying to muffle your pathetic moans. And he ate it all up, his rhythm getting sloppy as he felt himself getting close from you clenching around him.

He broke away from the kiss momentarilly to whisper against your lips. "'M gonna fill you up, make you nice and plump." And with that he slammed his lips against yours, really giving you his all.

He was gentle when he lifted you off his cock and tried to set you down. And he was there to catch you when your legs gave out, hugging you tightly and whispering into the crook of your neck.

"Sooo..can I be your boyfriend now?"

"Maybe."

"Aw cmon!!!!"

"I'm kidding I'm kidding! Sure," you giggled pressing your lips against his grin.

-----

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

#takes with nini♡ #jjk smut #jjk scenarios #jjk headcanons #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #yuji x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuji smut #yuji headcanons #yuuji x you #yuuji smut #yuuji x reader #itadori yuji smut

[kingkatsuki]

Trying to find condoms in the Abyss is an on-going struggle, especially when you end up being scammed for your last pack of smokes. But it’s okay, because Enjin’s pull out game is strong right. Right?

Why is it never just a drabble when it comes to him😫

Pairing: Enjin x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, you tell Enjin to pull out (and he’s doing his best), creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, one spank, dirty talk, cum swapping, spit.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“Fuck,” Enjin groaned when he picked up his bag from the floor, holding the worn condom pack between his slender fingers.

You would’ve burst out laughing at the dejected look on his face as he crouched completely stark naked on the floor if it wasn’t for the realisation that yet again he’d purchased a dud fucking condom. Your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing as you became resound to the fact that you weren’t having sex tonight— especially not now.

“I swapped a pack of smokes for this shit,” He grunts, his cock bobbing in the air as he still attempts to pull the dry condom over his bulging head.

Enjin had been elated when he’d finally found a seller in the next town over, having spent way too long hunting for any discarded plastics in the trash heaps outside. Honestly he’d probably have more luck if he tasked Rudo to do the job, although it seemed far more seedy to employ him to do Enjin’s dirty work. Having to explain to him what the condom was even for would be a conversation for another fucking day, and definitely not something you’d ever want to be a part of.

You were certain he’d put his foot on the gas a little harder than normal to try and get you both home as quickly as possible. Making eyes at you through the rear view mirror from where you sat beside Tamzy as he willed the drive to hurry up. His final few fragments of resolve already cashed in when he stopped himself from bending you over in a dingy alley to take you where you stand back in the last town.

You’d barely had time to take your shoes off in Enjin’s room before he was hurriedly tugging all his clothes off, getting his arms and head stuck in his shirt as he tried to shrug it off to the side. Jumping from toe to toe as he kicked off his boxers, revealing his heady cock to your prying eyes as you pulled your own clothes off. His feet still covered with socks as he hunched over his forgotten clothes, unwrapping his prized condom.

Your cunt throbbed at the crude sound of him spitting down on his length in an attempt of makeshift lube as he tried to roll the latex along his girth, head hung low in concentration as he held his cock at the base.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened to either of you. Protection and birth control were a commodity in the Abyss and it meant that the items were hard to come by. Often waiting for the Heavens to throw leftover items down below, or using the homemade methods that had varying effects and levels of reliability. The last time this had happened Enjin hadn’t left you unsatisfied, tonguing your clit until your eyes were rolling back into your skull and your toes were curling.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” Enjin grunted as the condom split over his cock, the swollen pink tip now poked out the top of the latex as he knelt on the floor. Lips curled into a childish pout as this time you couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of you, his poor neglected cock bobbing in the air.

“It’s not funny, baby.” He groaned, “Do you know how long it’s been?” Or how much galla he’d wasted trying to procure these. If he got back to that town and found the guy that sold him the dud condom it was gonna be on fucking sight—

You were fully aware, and so was your neglected cunt that throbbed pitifully. Feeling his mattress dip as he came to settle between your parted legs, warm palms smoothing along your inner thighs as he stared down at your glistening folds. Living at the Cleaners compound made it difficult to get many moments alone, from Riyou sneaking in through your bedroom window at all hours, to Rudo interrupting in the common areas and even Zanka had walked in on the pair of you one too many times. The few messy fumbles in the van outside weren’t enough to keep either of you satiated for long, and the erotic books Semiu recommended you did nothing to help soothe the desire running hot like molten lava through you.

“Do you know how much he misses being inside you?” Enjin dragged the leaking tip of his cock through the mess between your thighs, your hips jolting when the head nudged against your puffy clit, “He wants to feel this pretty pussy wrapped around him— see.”

“You’re such a dork,” You shook your head, scrunching your nose at the way Enjin referred to his cock.

“But you love me for it,” He gave you a toothy grin as he tapped his drooling cockhead against your mound before letting the weight of it hang low as he hovered over you to press a sensual, open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Enjin’s fingers brushed through your folds, collecting your slick on them as he pushed two inside you. Barely enough to make you feel full as he curled them inside you, prodding at the spongy spot inside you as you rolled your hips into his touch. His thumb teasingly flicking your clit side to side as you leaned into his touch, but it wasn’t enough—

You could feel his cock nudge your thigh, leaving silvery lines of pre against your skin as you raised your knee to press against it. It wasn’t enough, you needed more. Swallowing his moans in your throat as you felt him break the kiss with a grin, reaching down to hold your thighs together as he pushed the tip of his cock between them.

“You’re to pretty like this, you know that?” He hummed as he started fucking your thighs, the underside of his cock brushing against your slick folds with every roll of his hips as he towered over you.

Your hands reach up to mould your tits, pinching and tugging at your stiff nipples as you tried to give yourself some added stimulation. The graze of his shaft against your clit was barely enough to have you close, the pleasure ebbing inside you was becoming far too intense as your poor neglected hole throbbed pathetically around nothing.

“Put it in,” You whined, delirious from pleasure as you tried to shift your hips. Spreading your thighs to give him room to slip his drooling cock inside your wet heat.

“What?” Enjin stopped his thrusts abruptly, unsure he’d heard you right, “What did you say?”

“Fuck me, Enjin. Please.” You pout, trying to coax him inside your unprotected hole, “It’s not enough.”

“That’s too risky, sweetheart. I haven’t got—” Enjin swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced down between your bodies to look at your tight heat. Your desperate hole fluttering around nothing as he thought about the way you felt when he stretched you open, fucking you into the shape of him.

“It’ll be fine.” You brushed his doubts away, shifting your hips as he kept his grip against your thighs, your cunt still angled in the perfect position for him to slide right in—

“You’re not on birth control.” You can tell his control is wavering, the excuses few and far between as you feel the length of his cock pressed firmly between your thighs. Coating himself in your messy slick, it would be so easy to just reach between your thighs to push him inside.

“So you can just pull out.” You deadpan, as though it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Just pull out. As if it was that fucking easy.

“That ain’t a reliable method of contraception, sweetheart and you know it.” You were frustrated now, huffing at his objections as he sounded like one of the textbooks from Korvus’ study.

“We’ll be fine.” You pressed, wide eyes practically pleading with him as you jut your lower lip out for good measure. You reached between your thighs to press the tips of your fingers against his heavy cock, smoothing the fresh bead of pre that oozed from the tip along the soft head.

“Oh yeah?” Enjin raised a brow, his chest concaving when you teased his cock, “Do you not remember what happened last time?”

The last time you’d had unprotected sex, you’d had a scare that resulted in Enjin searching trash piles for the chance of finding a pregnancy test. The futile search ended with you sat in front of the doctor being told that you weren’t pregnant, a result that Enjin still had to foot the bill for— but the stress and panic that came along with it were priceless.

“We shouldn’t risk it.” He shook his head, spreading your thighs apart, “I’ll still make you cum, baby.”

“Enjin, please,” You were whining now, but you didn’t even care, “Just pull out.”

It was cute that you trusted him enough to be able to pull out once he felt your warm, wet walls wrapped around his cock. Especially without the security and safety of that pesky latex barrier that always got in the way, and pinched around the base of his cock to stop him from feeling every inch of you.

His resolve was crumbling in front of you, and you could tell. Your fingers push down on the fat tip, dragging it through your messy folds as it caught against your tight hole. Gasping in satisfaction from the contact as you curved your hips, trying to angle them to dip him further inside. Your fluttering, unprepped hole practically inviting him in.

Just one slight buck of your hips and he’d practically be inside you. Stealing the air from your lungs when his swollen cockhead finally breaches your tight hole.

The stretch was intense. A high pitched mewl escaping your lips as you felt him begin to stretch you open, your cunt swallowing him as he rut his hips instinctively. Burying more of his length deeper in your pliant walls, eyes focused on the way you sucked him in as he disappeared inside you.

Fuck. Enjin grunts, watching you take him inch by inch as your warmth engulfed him. He’d forgotten how good you felt like this, and this was the exact moment he realised what a terrible idea it was. At this rate he wouldn’t even be able to stop himself as he felt you pulse around him. Tightening his grip on your hips as he released the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding, certain he’d leave bruises in his wake as he stared down at the debauched sight beneath him.

Canting your hips pathetically as you tried to move beneath his harsh grip, doing nothing but pressing the thick tip against the spongy spot inside you as you ground yourself against his cock. At this rate he won’t even last a couple of measley thrusts, so Enjin knows he should pull out— to stop this before it goes any further.

But it had already gone far enough— when your warm hands grab for his shoulders and try to pull his frame down on top of you. The movement only serves to bury his cock even deeper inside your pliant walls as he chokes back a groan, and he starts to wonder why he’s even trying to stop you when the damage is surely already done.

“Oh, fuck. Baby,” He groans as he styles for a moment, cherishing the way your silky walls cling to him with no barriers, no limits.

“Fuck me please, Enjin.” You mewl, “I need it.”

And who is he to deny you?

He’s feral, using the harsh grip on your hips to slam you down on his cock. The rough hairs at the base tickle your clit with each downward motion, your slick mattes into it as you soak his length. Drooling down his balls as you cherish the sensation, trying to remember the last time he felt this good.

“So pretty, baby.” He coos, the shlick pap, pap, pap of his hips against yours fill the dingy room as he fucks into you with urgency. His chest heaves as he feels every inch of you pulse around him, coaxing him in and spurning him on as he sets a brutal pace.

It really has been way too fucking long.

Enjin is certain he’s going insane, delirium takes over as he feels you writhe beneath him. Focused on the way your tits bounce with each rough thrust as a feeble ‘oh’ leaves your lips every time he pushes back inside you, like a record stuck on repeat as he drives forward to pull the sound from you.

“You feel so good, Enjin,” You husk, “So fucking deep.”

Every ounce of restraint has left him now, and his balls are dangerously tight already. Throbbing at the prospect of emptying themselves into your warm, drooling heat. But he’s got to be good, he’s got to show restraint. Everything will be fine, he’ll be able to pull out like this and empty his release onto your stomach.

Enjin is certain there’s nothing in this world or all of the Heavens that feels as good as your warm, wet unprotected cunt feels wrapped around his thick cock. He leans down to pull one of your taut nipples between his teeth, lashing his tongue against it as he begins to suck hard. He feels the way your body responds to him, cunt clenching around his cock as more sinful noises slip past your lips.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, you always were so fucking noisy, positive the rest of the compound would be able to hear you “I’m close already.”

Enjin pushes two fingers inside your mouth in a feeble attempt to silence you, pressing down on the pad of your tongue as you pant hard. Closing your lips around them as you suck against his digits, doing nothing but exasperating the throb in his pelvis as he imagines your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck, cum inside me please,” You babble incoherently, drunk on pleasure as the words are muffled by his fingers.

“That ain’t what we agreed.” He practically spits between clenched teeth because how is he supposed to deny you when you sound like that. His cock throbs in agreement with you, and Enjin is certain he’ll have to pull out now before it’s too late. He gives the side of your thigh, just below the swell of your ass a firm spank as you throb around him, “Stop being naughty.”

Enjin’s certain he could do anything to you when you’re like this now. So completely fucked out of your mind, completely intoxicated with arousal. You’d let him cum wherever he pleased without the faintest thought of the dangerous repercussions, burying his cock inside you to kiss your cervix as he douses your pliant walls with his spend. Pulling out to watch it drool from your abused hole before fucking it deeper inside you and filling you again, and again. Until your cunt is stuffed full and drooling with the soppy mixture of your combined releases. Until it all becomes too much and you’re begging for him to stop—

Fuck, he’s got to pull out now or he won’t at all. Enjin’s breath fans your face as he fists the sheets on either side of your head. Leaning his weight off you as he moves his hips back, hissing at the loss of contact.

“Please,” You gasp when you feel him begin to pull out, your thighs tighten around his hips as you lock your ankles behind his ass. Your painted nails dig into his broad shoulders as you cling to him for dear life, even your cunt feels tighter as Enjin chokes back a moan.

“You’re not behaving,” He bites through clenched teeth, hands move to your hips to hold you down in a feeble attempt to make you obey, “You’re being a brat.”

His blunt cockhead brushes your cervix as thick tears clump in your lashes, blinking them back to stare up at him with pleading eyes. Dangerously close to your bliss as you find yourself teetering on the edge of your release.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” You chant in a dull mantra as your cunt tightens around him, practically trying to milk him of his release as Enjin is positive now your hips will be bruised from how hard he’s gripping to them.

“You said—” He snarls, trying to stop his final string of willpower from snapping.

“I know, I know,” You whine, “But I need it, please.”

How is he supposed to deny you now?

He cants his hips forward, feeling your thighs tighten around him even more as they limit his movement. Barely able to grind against you as the blunt tip of him spears the spongy spot inside you with each rough thrust. He’s losing his mind, he’s certain of it, from how fucked out you look beneath him.

“You need to let go, sweetheart,” He grunts, trying one more time to pull back from your tight cunt, his hands grip your thighs to try to loosen your grip, “I’m fuckin’ close.”

“No!” You tighten your grip in retaliation, shaking your head, “I want it, please—”

You’d sign his death sentence one day, he’s certain of it. Your fingers move down your tummy to rest over your mound as you press sloppy circles into your clit. The tips of your nails catch against the matted hair at his base as he tilts his head to watch your debauched movements, feeling the way you begin to clamp down around him when he knows you’re about to cum.

"Enjin, I'm gonna— I'm cumming,” And you do— you cum hard.

And then he fucking loses it.

“Fuckin’ shit—” Enjin’s hips buck wildly as the last bit of resolve he’s been clinging to crumbles to nothing, “You little minx.”

As soon as he feels your walls begin to clamp down around him, he’s a goner. Eyes roll back into his skull as he spills thick white ropes of cum deep inside your unprotected cunt. His hips buck wildly as he’s lost to the pleasure, your walls eagerly milking him of all he’s got to give as he fucks his spend deeper inside you. Inside your ripe, fertile womb.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.” He snarls, blunt painted nails dig into your hips as he holds you steady, emptying his balls inside you as he coats your insides. Leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your pouty lips as he gives you every last drop, so much that it leaks down his shaft and balls and onto the sheets beneath you.

“This is your fault.” He groans as your thighs finally go lax, allowing him to slip his softening cock from your pulsing walls as he looks down between your thighs at the mess you made. He refuses to blame himself for this, especially when it’s all your fault.

It’s obscene. The way his cum drools out of your abused hole and trickles down towards your ass, pooling on the sheets between your legs as Enjin wonders how that’s all his. It can’t be, some of it has got to be you too. The creamy rings around the base of his cock evidence of your arousal as he leans down closer to spread your folds open with his thumbs. Watching intently as your stretched hole continues to pulse around nothing as it pushes more of his seed out.

“Enjin, don’t.” Your hips jerk when he presses two slender digits inside your entrance, shamelessly fucking his cum back inside you with his fingers as he scoops some up that drooled down towards your asshole. Next time he’d fuck you there so he doesn’t have to worry about you being all round and plump with his child— not that that would even be the worse thing in the world, he ponders. His spent cock already stirs to life at the thought, half hard and throbbing at the prospect as he settles himself lower. Wrapping his arms around your upper thighs as he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your puffy clit.

“Fuck, I’m too sensitive.” You whine as he tongues your slit, following the trail of your release as he prods it inside your worn hole. Pushing it inside you to scoop out the globs of his release as he sucks it into his mouth, nose bumping your clit as your fingers immediately thread through his messy blond hair.

There’s just so much, he’s definitely going to have to take you to the Doctors the next morning he thinks. Nudging your clit with his nose as he adds a solo finger to join his tongue, scooping as much of his seed from your quivering hole as he can while he works you towards another climax.

“Enjin,” You cry out in bliss, toes curling as you gush around him. Trying to blink back the white spots that cloud your vision as he presses a few more sloppy kisses to your overstimulated sex, thankful that he’s managed to get most of his spend from your weeping hole although he’s certain it’s not enough.

Moving up your body to grip your jaw between his thumb and forefinger as he forces your mouth open, puckering his lips as he spits a mixture of spit and your combined release onto your tongue. Feeling the depraved mixture hit the back of your throat as you swallow it eagerly, tasting him on your tongue as desire begins to swirl in your abdomen once more. Noticing his cock is still half-hard and glistening with your slick as you reach down to wrap your palm around him, but Enjin’s reflexes are quicker as he catches your wrist in one hand.

“Don’t you dare,” He groans, “You’ve already got us into this much of a mess. We’re going to have to go to the Doctors first thing.”

“So,” You practically sing as Enjin flops down onto the worn mattress beside you with a huff, already knowing exactly where this is going, “If we have to go anyway, we might as well make the most of it.”

You’re already shifting beside him to swing your thigh over his hips to settle on top of him with a smug grin. His cock nestled below your warm heat as you drag yourself along the length of him, “Think about the money you’ll save on condoms.”

Yeah, and all the galla wasted on emergency contraception, Enjin groans internally.

Although his thoughts are swiftly forgotten the moment you wrap your hand around the base of him to sink yourself down on him inch by inch. Suddenly he’s not so angry that he got sold a dud condom, not when he feels the way your silky walls cling to every inch of him as you hit the base.

Yeah, it was worth it.

#enjin x reader #Enjin smut #gachiakuta x reader #Gachiakuta smut

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (34)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: violence, swearing, mention of injuries ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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After their night together, after they were reunited, after he had laid himself completely bare before her, he felt relieved, calm and overjoyed. His wife had seen him as he was, his disgusting empty eye socket, evidence of his disability, and then fucked him as she had never done before.

He thought fondly, looking at her after waking, stroking her hair with his thumb, that they were one.

What had formed between them was an unbreakable bond.

Nothing could destroy what they had.

They were blessed by the gods themselves.

He decided not to wake her and summoned his servant to help him change his clothes. He felt like a newborn.

It was the first time in his life that he felt so connected to anyone. He had thought that such a bond would be his weakness, but now he felt the powerful strength that he drew from her support and tenderness.

She was restoring his equilibrium when the whole world around him was crumbling before his eyes.

He couldn't stop wondering why Daemon hadn't attacked them again. After his first charge they were defenceless, and while he and Vhagar were a threat to him, apart from him, his army was virtually non-existent.

He, however, had begun to gather forces in the Vale, apparently preparing for battle. He feared that other dragons would join the war. He sent a letter to Dareon, wanting him to join him and return from the Citadel, but he knew it would take time.

He had to manage on his own for now.

He had grown to recognise the immense talent and military intuition of his wife's father and her brother. Although very direct and often downright coarse in their words, they were usually right to coordinate all preparations diligently, reckoning with his opinion and words.

He knew that her father would never forgive him for what had happened to his daughter, yet he was able to move on his uncle with all his forces after what he had done to her.

Their relationship had been an amicable one; the four of them, along with Ser Criston, had found a common, stodgy language full of specifics that kept things moving forward, and they could count on putting up real resistance if anything happened.

As Jason Lannister entered their camp on horseback strutting proudly, Aemond thought it was one of the most pathetic sights he had ever seen in his life. To his amusement, his wife's father said aloud what he himself had thought.

"He rides in here like a winner, a dull golden cunt."

Aemond and Criston smiled mischievously at his words, and Royce laughed out loud, low. He figured that he and they weren't as different as they would like to think. Being in their company, he understood more and more the complex nature of his wife. Being around such men she must have shown a golden patience.

Jason Lannister honoured them with the King's orders and his ideas on how to resolve the matter. He felt that they had made a mistake and should attack first.

"We have the biggest dragon in the world, what are we waiting for? For them to come after us?" He asked haughtily, as if he had suddenly discovered some solemn truth. Borros snorted impatiently at his words.

"Yes. If you had looked at the maps you would know that the Vale is a mountainous area and almost impossible to conquer. We have a better chance fighting here, in the lowlands." He said lowly, looking at him impatiently.

They all turned their gazes away when they heard someone enter the tent. Aemond felt his heart stop as he saw his wife dressed in a rich reddish-brown gown, her hair braided into an elaborate headdress. He thought that she looked just as she had in King's Landing and felt his manhood pulsate hard at the sight.

She was dressed in such a way that her burns were not visible.

She looked as if nothing had happened to her.

He pressed his lips together as Royce came right up to her, gripping her cheeks in his hands, kissing her. He felt impatience and frustration at the sight, but recognised that her brother was supposed to love her and show it to her as much as he did. He had shown him how much he cared for her while she was still asleep.

He and her father had gone to war for her.

Not for him.

"I came to find out what our situation is." She said finally, her brother and father looking at her approvingly. Lord Lannister stirred, wrinkling his brow and grunted quietly.

"Forgive me, my lady, we are all glad that you are feeling better, however, we are discussing serious matters here that should not concern a woman." He said impatiently, feigning light-heartedness, but he looked around him, amused, seeking support from his commanders, who nodded.

Aemond pressed his lips together, furious, and wanted to raze Jason Lannister to the ground, but her father forestalled him.

"You are a child of summer, Lord Lannister, and unlike my daughter, you know shit about war. Come, hand me the map that lies there." He nodded at his daughter, and she lowered her gaze meekly, smiling gratefully, and brought her father the map he had asked for, standing beside him, to his right stood his son.

A discussion began about the further plan and support from the Iron Islands. The Greyjoys were an unpredictable family, looking only after their own interests, not eager to cooperate with anyone. His grandfather had forced the Lannisters to put up some gold and make them a generous offer in return for the support of their fleet, but they procrastinated, shrewdly watching how the balance of power would unfold.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a servant who entered the tent, all panting, looking pale at them.

"My prince, my lords, my lady. A messenger from the Eyrie has arrived. Prince Daemon wishes to meet with Prince Aemond and his wife."

Aemond looked at his wife in horror and saw that she too had turned her gaze towards him, pale. For a moment there was complete silence in the tent. Aemond felt his heart pounding.

Daemon wanted to meet him and his wife.

Why?

Was this a trap?

"We shouldn't talk to the enemy. I'm sure he has a plan because he knows that without both of you, everything will fall apart." Said Lord Borros uncertainly, as surprised as they were. Aemond couldn't disagree with him, he also felt it was suspicious.

"I would like to talk to him." Said his wife, looking at him intensely, folding her hands over her stomach. "If you will only consent to it, my husband."

He parted his lips slightly in complete shock, looking at her, completely torn.

She knew his uncle had done it to her.

For some reason he wanted to see them both.

Aemond looked at the servant.

"Where does my uncle want to meet?" He asked lowly, matter-of-factly, coldly. The servant grunted quietly.

"By the Red Tributary of the Trident." He said uncertainly, and Aemond pressed his lips together. He looked at his wife and nodded.

"So be it."

They both walked out of the tent, followed by Lord Baratheon and his son.

"What if it's a trap? If they lock you up?" He asked impatiently and fearfully.

"We will fly on Vhagar. If we only see that something is wrong, we will turn back immediately." He said and nodded at his wife to follow him.

He was excited to discover that she had never before accompanied him on a dragon's back. There had been no opportunity to do so before, but now he was too nervous to really enjoy it.

His wife changed into an attire more suitable for such a journey and joined him, walking up the valley to the hill. The wind blew hard, blowing away their hair as they walked side by side.

"Why do you want to meet him?" He asked lowly, not looking at her. His wife was quiet for a moment.

"I want to find out if he knew that I was in Harrenhal at the time." She replied calmly, and he felt a tightening in his heart.

When they reached the destination Lady Baratheon stopped, looking in horror at the great body of the dragon-beast that just lay before her, plunged into a deep sleep. He held out his hand to her, and she approached him uncertainly.

They moved together towards her, Vhagar's eyes opened lazily sensing his scent. She raised her large head slowly, noticing and sensing the other, a complete stranger.

"Lykiri, Vhagar. Lykiri." He called out low and she stopped, her great nostrils moving restlessly. He felt his wife's hand tighten on his in obvious fear. After what she had experienced, dragons and their fire must have terrified her even more. He intertwined their fingers at that thought.

He helped her climb up and planted her in the saddle in front of him, wanting to have a view of everything and control what was happening to her at the same time. He felt the closeness of her body, her buttocks pressing against his manhood from behind, making him hard even in such a moment and place.

She felt it, as terrified as he was, and turned her face towards him. He pressed his nose to her soft cheek, inhaling her scent. He thought that if they survived this and managed to return, he would fuck her all night.

"Soves, Vhagar!" He shouted low and the dragoness stood up, rising slowly, her movements lifting up clouds of dust and sand, making the whole ground tremble beneath them. He heard a quiet squeal from his wife, who huddled tighter into the fabric of the saddle in front of her, terrified.

She whinnied loudly, startled, as Vhagar took to the air, and he laughed low, amused, for some reason happy that she was accompanying him on this wonderful and frightening sensation of flying through the skies. He embraced her tightly from behind, pressing his cheek against hers, their hair and clothes disheveled by the intense wind and speed.

After a few minutes they arrived at their destination. He made a few laps to see if there were any hidden troops by the river, but there were no trees around, only a plain. Apart from a small canopy, he could not see anyone or anything.

He felt his heart stop when he saw that on a small hill nearby two dragons, not one, were raising their heads, concerned.

Caraxes and Syrax.

Rhaenyra.

He wondered whether to return or land. He didn't understand what was happening or what it meant. However, he thought that if they wanted to talk, so be it.

Vhagar landed on the other side, away from the makeshift canopy with a firm thump, from which his wife squealed again.

He helped her down, gripping her in his arms as she slid down. He looked at her, her face all pale, her hair dishevelled.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked quietly and she nodded. He pressed his lips together and hummed, walking ahead, his wife moving hurriedly behind him.

From a distance he spotted two guards, and beside them two white-haired silhouettes. His half-sister stepped out to meet them, her black attire and hair blown by the wind, the sound of the river all around them.

She stood in front of them, folding her hands in front of her, a few paces behind her Daemon stood, looking intently at his wife. He thought he could kill him now, felt his anger rise anew. His sister's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"My Prince, my Lady, thank you for accepting our invitation." She began, her voice uncertain and soft. He wondered what she was up to, where her sudden willingness to talk had come from.

Neither he nor his wife answered her, looking at her expectantly. Rhaenyra looked at her, tightening her lips as if considering what she wanted to say.

"Lady Baratheon, may I leave you in the company of my husband for a moment?" She asked quietly, a kind of sympathy and compassion in her eyes that made him uneasy. He did not trust her, and her proposal aroused his anger.

"He almost burned her alive. My wife will stay with me." He said furiously and flinched when he felt his wife's hand on his shoulder.

"No. It's okay. I'd like to talk to your uncle." She said calmly. He looked at her with a mixture of horror and awe, not believing what he was hearing.

Daemon nodded. She approached him slowly and together they moved away towards the shore, walking a short distance apart. Aemond watched them anxiously, all tense, feeling his heart pounding hard. His sister saw this and walked closer to him, her smile in her mind meant to be comforting for sure.

"I want you to know that my husband was not aware that your wife was in Harrenhal at the time. I hope her injuries are not extensive. I was greatly relieved when I found out that she survived." She said, tightening her lips, looking him straight in the eye. Aemond didn't know whether he should laugh or spit in her face.

Fucking whore.

"You brought me and my wife here to tell me this?" He asked, his smile wide, mad, malicious, his gaze demented. He thought that he could strangle her with his own hands, ending the entire war. His sister lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers.

"I realised that with her death there would be no turning back from what might happen." She said finally, looking up at him, her voice trembling slightly. "I lost my daughter, irrevocably, forever. She has also lost something, and her harm cannot be repaired."

Aemond stared at her impassively, feeling a tightness in his throat, his heart pounding like mad.

What was she up to? What did she expect from him?

"I realised that you never heard my apology for what happened to you after Laena's funeral." She said, her eyebrows arched as if in pain. He clenched his jaw at her words, all tense, feeling a shudder at the mere mention.

The pain of an eye being pulled out of his skull.

He smiled under his breath.

"Those are cruel accusations and slander. Isn't that what you called what I said, demanding justice? Comforting your sons? Demanding that I be questioned thoroughly about where I heard these rumors." He hissed, looking at her intensely, feeling his consciousness collapse under the weight of the memories, pulling him back to his feelings of those moments, his rage and desire for revenge.

Atonement.

He saw her swallow loudly, turning her face to the side, her hair and cloak blown by the wind. There was sadness painted in her eyes. He thought that she was just putting on a wonderful show of sisterly love for him, which made him want to laugh.

"When you were just two years old, I read you stories about Aegon the Conqueror. It was a big, richly illustrated book, full of figures of dragons and kings, colourful and ornate. You squealed that you wanted to read this one and not another, so we read the same one every night." She said thoughtfully, low, impassively, not looking at him but away, deep in her memories. Aemond furrowed his brow at her words.

It was not she who had read him the stories, but his mother.

He remembered sitting on her lap, her warm arms embracing him, her cheek next to his face, her finger showing him in the illustrations which characters they had just read about.

"A touching story. Too bad it's not true. Only my mother read to me." He said frustrated that she was trying to arouse a melancholy or pity in him, turning his face away.

He watched carefully the silhouettes of his uncle and his wife. He saw that they were standing by the shore and talking intensely about something. He saw his wife start to untie her leather jacket and he furrowed his eyebrows, all tense.

"I did not know your mother could read in the language of Old Valyria." Said his sister amused, looking at him with anguish in her eyes that was painted on her face, and he felt his heart stop.

He replayed in his memories again and again himself on the woman's lap, the great book on her knees written down with letters that he could not yet read at the time.

She spoke in the common language, but he knew now that the sentences she was reading were not written in it. She was translating them on the fly.

This was not his mother.

Rhaenyra must have noticed his hesitation and bewilderment, for she smiled painfully warmly, and he felt a tightness in his throat.

"Your grandfather caught me doing this one evening and forbade your mother's servants to let me into your and your siblings' chambers." She said with a kind of pain and regret from which he felt uncomfortable, a strange pain in his chest.

It didn't change anything, he repeated to himself.

"You read me some stories as a child so I should forgive you? Betray my brother and mother?" He asked impatiently and she furrowed her brow.

"I am your sister too, don't you owe me allegiance as well?" She asked and waved her hand impatiently.

"No." He hissed, clenching his hands into fists behind his back. "I don't owe you anything."

His sister looked at him in pain, searching his face for any hope that she could change his mind, stop the bloodshed and tragedies that were about to happen.

"Do you believe he will be a good king?" She asked mockingly, and he pressed his lips together.

He thought it didn't matter.

He didn't answer.

She chuckled lowly, tears in her eyes. She shook her head, tightening her lips.

"I don't want to spill my own family's blood." She said finally, and he laughed at her words.

"Then pay my brother homage and return to your Dragonstone with your husband and black-haired sons." He said mockingly, and she pressed her lips together in pain. She stepped closer to him, so that their faces were almost touching, poking her finger into her chest.

"This is my inheritance! I am the rightful heir to the throne! Your brother will rape and drink and your viper grandfather will rule in his name!" She shouted in his face, and he smiled at her words.

"That's no longer your concern." He said, and she lowered her hand, looking at him tiredly.

"Support me and I will give you Dragonstone for life. Your and your wife's children will inherit it. I will condemn Aegon to exile, your mother, our sister and her children will live with you in your fortress. The war will end." She said lowly, looking at him expectantly. He pressed his lips together, looking at her thoughtfully.

Specifics at last.

"And what would you do with my grandfather?" He asked indifferently, and she raised an eyebrow, surprised that he didn't reject her offer outright. She swallowed quietly, lowering her gaze.

"He must die." She said finally.

He could have ended it, turned around and gone back to his camp.

He could.

But he was curious about how desperate she was.

"Who would sit on the throne after your death?" He asked further, saw her cheeks redden, her chin lifted high, as if to show him she was proud of her bastard son.

"Jace is my firstborn son and he is the heir to the throne." She said haughtily, feigning calm. He felt wonderful to play with her like that, giving her hope that he had considered her proposal.

He came up with an idea and smirked broadly.

"Make any of your sons with Daemon heir to the throne, and I will consider your proposal." He said lightly.

She looked at him shocked, swallowing loudly, looking at him in disbelief. She wanted to say something, but he stepped back and called out to his wife. He turned and looked at his half-sister, who was completely torn internally.

"No more talk. Consider it well." He hissed, turning tense towards Vhagar, glancing at his wife, who ran towards him.

He was filled with wild satisfaction at the thought of what he had done.

He had planted a doubt in her mind.

He smiled under his breath, pleased with himself as never before.

If he took away Jace's right to the throne, the Blacks will kill each other by themselves.

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4 @crazymusicgirl104 @ahristata @menaosama @ladywin17 @queenofshinigamis @rae-seri

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #aemond targeryen angst #hotd angst #aemond angst #ewan mitchell smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond smut #aemond one eye #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house of the dragon fandom #ewan mitchell fandom #aemond fandom #hotd fanfiction

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 12

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some self loathing talk, ending that you guys are gonna hate me for LMFAO

notes ; listen guys. i KNOW it’s been a minute, life’s just been really hectic lately- so many ups and downs and i couldn’t come up with what this chapter could be until i remembered- the inazuma trip!

and so that is what this is, the inazuma trip from childe’s POV and NOTHING ELSE happens. i promise :)

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if a mere gaze could incinerate, the letter before you would’ve been reduced to ashes by now.

it sits as pathetically unmoving as paper can get on the table before you— yet you can’t even bear to pick it up into your hands again, what a coward. it’s not even a bad letter either, very far from the bone-chilling mandates you receive from the doctor or directly from zapolyarny palace.

no, it’s an invitation. from ajax.

a simple invitation to a simple visit to inazuma to simply explore the scenery he had so passionately raved about to you before. your stay in sumeru had unintentionally prolonged itself, for reasons that if someone asked you out loud right now, you’d say you just ‘didn’t notice the days going by’. but any dimwit, if there is even such a thing inside sumeru city, would’ve been able to tell that you’re just cowering away from seeing ajax again.

since all of the matters had been resolved— crisis averted, dottore gone, kunikuzushi restored to his sharp-tongued self, you’d expected yourself to feel better. feel happier.

but you don’t.

because the guilt is still there, it still thrashes against your chest and scratches your throat dry, yelling out in a raucous, grating voice that you’re a terrible terrible person.

a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to go to inazuma. who doesn’t deserve to see ajax.

you still think of collei. you’ve been terrified to leave your quarters during the day, lest you bump into her on the streets of the city. you hope she’s feeling better, since all of eleazar was cured. gods, why do you even care this much? you’ve never even met the girl yet you’re desperate for her to forgive you, when you haven’t even done anything to her directly. you want to be worthy of her forgiveness so badly but.. you also think you’re not deserving of it, or any forgiveness at all. what is wrong with you?

“what is wrong with you?”

what.

“h-huh?”

you’re brought back to reality by kunikuzushi’s voice, who looms over the table you sit at, periodically moving his judgemental gaze towards the letter then back to you.

“the last ship for inazuma leaves in an hour, y’know. and you haven’t even started packing! you humans slack so much it baffles me how anything gets done ever.”

you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze elsewhere as to avoid the very predictable death glare kunikuzushi is about to give at what you say next.

“i’m not going.”

thank the archons that his puppet body doesn’t have built-in eye lasers, or else you’d be barbecue by now.

“what do you mean you’re not going?”

“i changed my mind, i’m not going.” you shrug simply.

“as if,” he scoffs. “seeing that imbecile again is all you’ve talked about for days! i can still hear your stupid little melancholic sigh inside my head from how much you do so much as think about it.”

you remain silent, staring down at your own fingertips and fighting the urge to pick your nails.

“now suck up your idiocy for a second and answer me truthfully— why are you not going?”

it’s safe to say that one second you opened your mouth to answer and the next you were practically beaten into the ship, but not before you were almost deafened at kunikuzushi’s yells for you to pack up faster. you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone be so ragingly doting, though you believe he was partially motivated by how irkingly sulky you’ve been lately.

at least you can rest knowing nahida won’t let him rest.

—

“i’m sure they’ll arrive today, tartaglia!”

he’s sure yoimiya is right, yet his leg keeps bouncing impatiently. surely you’d accept his invitation, or at least show sign of life by sending a rejection letter— he could live with the sting of it as long as you were alive and safe in sumeru.

…no, that might not be enough. maybe his letter never arrived to you, maybe he put in the wrong address, maybe the letter did arrive but you weren’t there to receive it because you were unsafe. maybe he should just go to sumeru himself and check in on you. childe’s leg starts bouncing faster. he hates it, this giddy feeling but in a bad way. it’s not the kind of giddy he feels when he’s about to engage in combat or.. when he sees you— it feels terrible, like his heart is beating incorrectly in his chest.

but then he feels erratic taps against his shoulder and he looks over to see yoimiya hopping excited as her other hand points toward the port, where a ship is arriving. yoimiya doesn’t know what you look like, so you might not be in that ship at all— he prepares before getting his hopes up. the two of them step closer towards the port and childe scans the passengers leaving the ship with utmost attention, like he’s never focused so hard in his life. amongst the crowd, the top of someone’s head who looks like you is visible and just from that, his heart stutters. it still beats incorrectly. finally, as though a blessing from the tsaritsa herself, it’s you.

and his heart starts beating right. erratically, but right.

his legs take him to you before can even think of it. there’s a sense of deja vu from your reunion in liyue, except now there’s assuredly nothing that’ll keep you away from each other, for the time being at least. the one thing that’s different this time is that neither of you say anything upon seeing each other, you just both wordlessly wrap yourselves in a tight, breathless hug.

neither of you pull away for a while either, until childe moves 3 inches or so back to keep you at arms length. he exhales heartily, as if he only got to breathe for the first time just now, and takes in all of your features now that he can. he notices that your eye bags seem darker, more prominent— have you not been getting enough sleep?

he’s about to ask you that very question when your eyes flicker towards something, or someone, behind him with a hint of wary surprise in your eyes and he remembers that yoimiya is here and probably shaking with excitement to meet you— he’s spoken a lot about you, but we’ve already gone over extensively just how much he does that.

“a-ah, where are my manners— y/n, this is yoimiya, owner of naganohara fireworks and friend i’ve made alon-“

a shrill squeak comes out from behind behind childe and within the blink of an eye, he’s shoved away by yoimiya, who takes you into her own bone crushing hug.

“oh, y/n, it’s so so so nice to finally meet you!”

the blonde releases you from the hug, her hands fly to hold yours as she hops up and down with joy only comparable to a prancing bunny. whatever standoffishness you felt before melts and you return yoimiya’s excitement with a big grin, one that makes childe’s chest swell more than he thought previously possible.

though much to his dismay, you’re viciously dragged around by a hyperactive firework maker around inazuma city, she shows you all the best shops and spots within the city (especially naganohara fireworks), while childe only hurries to keep up with you two. eventually, you’re released from yoimiya’s ecstatic grasp, as she mentions having to help her father with dinner— the old man won’t even hear the pot boiling on his own, she says.

the two of you end up at a viewpoint in the city, leaning against a railing, shoulders only a breath apart from each other. sunset arrives before you even notice, the caramel rays shining against the unusual violet hues nature of inazuma create a sweet ambience— one neither childe nor you dare to interrupt.

it’s almost painfully awkward, the silence. you would’ve expected to be chatting till the sun rose again about your respective escapades but nothing, perhaps you two have so much to talk about you don’t even know where to start. and so neither of you do.

childe finally decides to take the fall and fills the increasingly cooling air of the evening with a clear of his throat.

“so,” he swallows hard. “have you been well?”

you take a split second to answer, he notices that your fingers fidget as well.

“yeah, just fine.” you nod before nudging him playfully. “what about you? surviving the island weather?”

he frowns— you’re not telling the truth. firstly, changing the subject so fast before he even gets to ask about your… mission in sumeru, whatever it is he can’t seem to remember it. secondly, the way you fidget is strangely familiar to him. it takes a moment but childe recalls, it’s precisely one of your old tells.

when the two of you were young, sometimes your father would bring back board games from his job in the big city— some were guessing games, some were training cards, some murder mysteries and others games all about bluffing. and you were terrible at bluffing, eyes always scattering about, fingers itching against each other, tongue poking against your cheek. old habits die hard, he supposes.

he wishes he could feel good about reminiscing over those moments but really, right now they only serve to prove that you were lying about doing well— he doesn’t like that.

childe opts not to sour the moment, though. it’s not even your first night in inazuma yet.

“i’ve been faring. but uh.. remind me again as i seem to have forgotten,” he chuckles sheepishly. “what exactly was your mission in sumeru?”

your eyes scatter.

“just an on-field investigation about this strange disease that was born in sumeru, eleazar. unfortunately, it’s still all pretty confidential— so no snooping even for someone like you, mr. harbinger.”

“yeesh, sounds serious. i’ll do my best to make sure you unwind from all that uptight working for now, though. i’ve got the next two days planned with all sorts activities and places to show you around in inazuma.”

your shoulders seem to intense slightly at the idea of actually vacationing and childe feels some relief in his chest. he grins.

“but for now— i’d like to take you to try some inazuman cuisine and then get some rest. i’ll show you around the food district but i heavily suggest these… little stuffed balls of rice they sell at this kiosk, i believe they’re called ‘onigiri’.”

“mm, sounds tasty.”

—

“no, i’m telling you i saw it go over here!”

it’s somehow nostalgic, hopping around chinju forest and chasing bake-danukis around like unburdened children. childe swears he sees the esper of your younger self following after you as you hop from rock to rock over the river, giggling at the splashes of water that lick at your ankles. he hears the jingle of the monster yōkai as it tries to taunt him, but he’s long since forfeited his own goose chase to bask in the warm delight of watching you.

it’s like his limbs have shut down, locked in place for the sake of gluing his eyes to your grinning figure who runs up and down after the elusive bake-danuki without another care in the world. you know that the chase is aimless, that the yōkai has no purpose or finality other than to taunt you— but you don’t care, you’ve abandoned the rationality you usually cling to like the air in your lungs just to have stupid fun for once.

and it’s because childe took you here. the pride that fills him due to the fact is so immense that he feels as though he could fell an army of mitachurls without even using his vision.

the image of your state yesterday is still burned into his retinas, how utterly exhausted you looked, not to mention that you lied about being well. it’s the most basic state of being, just being ‘fine’, yet even that wasn’t your truth. the worst of it all is that he can’t even figure out why, what could’ve happened in sumeru that left you like that. it all terrifies him.

“…ax?”

huh?

oh. you’re calling out to him. childe feels his entire being perk up at that and he’s fully at attention within a heartbeat.

“ajaax? you okay?”

you’re standing two rocks away from the bake-danuki over the river current, but you no longer care for it. instead, you look over to childe and wave to catch his eye, worried frown invading your features.

childe nods rapidly. “peachy! i was just, ah— thinking up a strategy to catch that slippery bake-danuki!”

he monitors you closely for the rest of the day, making sure everything goes well as to not make you frown again. he takes you up to the grand narukami shrine, where your eyes fill with light as you gaze up in wonder at the huge cherry blossom tree, a pink petal gracefully lands on your head but it compliments you so splendidly that childe doesn’t have the heart to tell you about it.

he’s only not completely enamored by how the peaceful scenery frames you so majestically because he feels an itch at the back of his neck, turning around to see the guuji of the shrine throwing him a both amused and judgemental stare. she gives him the creeps.

the next day, childe takes you to watatsumi island. it seems you’re once again possessed by a childlike spirit, as you scurry about every inch of the island to take in all of the almost magical details of it. you tell him it reminds you of the fairytales you used to read and the sheer glee in your demeanor almost makes him tear up. at some point, the two of you even go swimming in one of the beaches that frame the cascading island and it’s a sight childe’s dreams only hope to imitate, to see you canonballing into the warm seawater with pure joy— it’s completely incomprehensible to the frigid tundras of snezhnaya that you’re both used to.

to finish it off, you’re back in inazuma city to dine in a traditional inazuman restaurant and you’re both almost bursting from how much you’ve eaten by the end of it. you’re waiting patiently for a waiter to come by your table and give you the check for the food with sleepy eyes— the kind of sleepy that only hits you after a hearty meal.

when it arrives, both of you reach out for the check simultaneously.

“come on, please let me at least pay for the food this time? you already paid for our last two dinners.” you plea.

“nonsense! i invited you to inazuma to give you a tour, you’re a practically guest here-“

“not like you’re a local either… just this once, please-”

“i brought so much excess mora, it’s been weighing down on my backpack. just let me empty it a little more with this check and i promise you i’ll let you pay for our next-“

“but i’ll feel terrible. you’ve been doing everything for me these past two days, it’s the bare minimum for me to-“

“y/n. i insist.”

your poor waiter.

“fine.” you huff begrudgingly, turning to look down at your empty plate with a defeated frown. childe immediately feels like the worst person in the world.

the walk back to your hotel is quiet, eerily so. it’s almost ironically parallel to your first night here, you even pass by the same viewpoint as it’s on the way to your destination— you choose to take a wordless detour to the same railing.

childe is a step behind when he joins you, the first thing he notices is how hard you’re gripping onto the railing, knuckles turning white. the second things how tightly you press your lips to suppress their trembling. and the third thing is the wet glimmer that lines your bottom eyelids. he wishes the earth would give way and swallow him whole.

“y/n… i-“

“w-why are you doing a-all of this?” the breaking in your voice is the worst sound childe has ever heard in his life.

“w-what do you mean? have i done something to upset you?”

you shake your head.

“why are you d-doing all of this for m-me? taking me to beautiful p-places… paying for all my f-food— what did i even do to d-deserve this from y-you?”

childe scoffs incredulously. why would you even be worried about that?

“because you’re my best friend, y/n. i care about you and i wanted to show you somewhere new, somewhere i loved. people simply do that for each other someti-“

“t-that’s the thing, though, i’m not just people! i’m a t-terrible person who works for an even worse person, a fucking m-monster that i let be a monster! people are sickly and d-dying because of him and i j-just let him do it! i don’t d-deserve sceneries or g-good food for free…”

you yell, tears running freely and ceaselessly down your cheeks. childe is almost angry at the complete nonsense you’re spewing, but he scatters his brain for a gentler way to calm you down. then, he remembers a previous tactic of his— he places both of his gloved hands at either side of your face.

successfully, you immediately shut up, save for the erratic breaths that leave you. you’re staring up at him with almost enraged confusion, but not at him, rather at yourself— you truly believe what you’re saying to the point where you’d lose sleep over it, it shatters childe’s heart into a million pieces.

“y/n. please listen to me very carefully. you are not a terrible person, in fact, you’re one of the best people i have ever met-“

“but i c-could’ve done-“ you interrupt and childe immediately squishes your cheeks inward as to press your lips shut.

“shush. you are the most intelligent, caring, attentive, patient person i have ever had the privilege of meeting, y/n. dottore is a psychopath, that’s no doubt, but you couldn’t have done anything to stop him— he’s got power even i couldn’t begin to gauge and… unfortunately he uses them for evil deeds. but you, you use yours for good and for that, you’re infinitely and eternally better than him.”

you’ve stopped crying at this point.

“you’ve only ever used your capabilities to help people— help me, the traveler, all of the new cadets who get stupid injuries in zapolyarny palace.” he chuckles. “and you care so much and so deeply. you took such good care of teucer when he was in liyue, you even chose to go against me, betray our mission, for the chance to help the traveler and save the people of the harbor, you nursed me back to heal when i was at my weakest.

i believe that in this world, the lines between good and bad are blurry— many dance around in its fog, heh, including myself. but you, y/n? i think you’re as good as it gets.”

there’s no reason for childe to still be holding your face in his hands, really, but at this point it seems like the entire rest of the world has disappeared for him.

“this trip has only been the minimum of the thanks i owe you, hell, i’d pay for all of the meals in your life if that even repaid half of what you’ve done for others.”

you chuckle at that.

“but… i-i also wanted to treat you to this because i…”

oh god, why did he start that sentence, he wasn’t ready to admit that just yet. childe’s heart hammers against his chest, bound to break out at any moment, and his throat becomes dry almost immediately. his hands are so clammy that he desperately wants to pull them away from you, unfortunately his limbs betray him and stay right where they are. childe thinks he feels a heartbeat at his fingertips, like he can feel it from the pulse in your neck, but his fingers shake too much to discern.

years in the battlefield, a harbinger title over his head, falling into the abyss and childe has never felt as terrified as he does now— he feels as though he can’t breathe.

the entire world, time and space, halt at the tip of his tongue, where it’s next words will forever change your relationship. but then again, childe did say he could live with rejection so long as you were safe and sound…

…couldn’t he?

“…b-because i mean to go to fontaine soon.”

i saw this tweet in the midst of finishing this chapter and i was like “oh my fucking god. them.” LMFAO

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

#childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe fic #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #tartagalia genshin impact #childe tartaglia #childe genshin #tartaglia genshin impact #childe genshin impact #genshin fic

[wordstome]

*sticks a sign that says “ask me about the au I have in my head for daydreaming purposes of falling in love with your dance partner König” on the wall*

whoever is the anon who sent @kneelingshadowsalome that ask about König falling for a dancer, this is your fault!

You guys are paired up for an advanced choreography because you’re easily the best dancer and König is strong enough to do a lot of complicated moves that involve carrying you. You’re both fully capable of being professional, but there’s a LOT of touching. But that’s fine, right? You’re only flushing hot because the choreography is strenuous. You’re only imagining things when it feels like his hands linger on you a second longer than is needed. You’re definitely projecting when you look into his eyes and see burning hot desire.

You’re both perfectionists, so it’s only natural that the two of you meet outside of rehearsal to practice. Nothing to do with the fact that when you close your eyes, all you can see is him staring into your soul above the mask he always wears.

God, crushing on your dance partner is so pathetic. You’re coworkers, and that’s it. You don’t even know if he has a partner already. What woman wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to make this graceful giant hers? You try, you really do, to push all your most lurid fantasies into some dark corner of your mind so you can just get through this practice session and run home to take care of business. But all of your resolve crumbles when you’re in his arms.

He ends up fucking you against a mirror.

psst. This is the choreography I always imagine doing with him. It’s not the one I had in mind when I wrote this post because there’s no strength component to it, but 🥵🥵🥵

and if you want a REALLY spicy version? …dm me.

#this could easily fit into a ballet au #but I was imagining contemporary dance #ghouljams has also already done a ballet König au so go check that out #cod #könig #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty #konig #könig cod #konig cod #könig mw2 #König x reader #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x you

[eternal-armin]

Can you write a Vi x reader where they’re together and they have like, a safe word for arguments. Like, if one of them goes too far the other person can say the safe word and they’ll just take a moment to calm down and do fluffy stuff. But this time, when Y/N says the safe word, Vi just goes “to hell with the safe word Y/N!” and just continues the argument. A really angsty ending please (maybe a second part where they make up?)

i absolutely adored this prompt, and we will have a fluffy make up part 💗 i hope you enjoy it, anon!

violent. i

i chose 'pineapple' because it symbolizes hospitality. idk, it just spoke to me lol.

"vi, please, can we not do this right now?" you were tired and injured and feeling everything a little too deeply to handle an argument. even after trying your damndest to fight, you had... well, you'd lost the gemstone. more than that, you weren't able to fight to get it back.

"no. no, i am not gonna let this slide any longer! i helped you so much and this is how you repay me? you've essentially doomed the lanes. what the fuck is wrong with you?! god, you're just- you can't do anything right anymore. what happened to the days when you could hold your goddamn own?"

even though you knew she was just angry, just yelling to let off steam and not caring about the words she said, they still cut like a knife. wrapping your arms tight around yourself, you hated the feeling of tears rising to your eyes again. that just seemed to piss her off more.

"don't you fucking dare start crying right now, [y/n]. you have no right." vi spoke as much with her bandaged hands as with her voice, both trembling from the sheer anger she was feeling. those eyes- that gaze could've withered any lesser being, and yet somehow you were still standing. that was certainly worse.

"pineapple. vi, please." you managed, fighting back a sob.

instead of her tyrade stopping, instead of vi coming to the realization that she was hurting you, that ferocity remained. and, again, it managed to deepen.

"fuck the safe word, damnit!" vi cackled. it was a cold and utterly humorless sound. "i'm not done being mad at you. you're stronger than that! you're stronger than... this!" she gestured at you, as if to say that, whatever you were right now, it was weak and pitiful. that made you scowl. your own rage bubbled up in your chest. "you could've handled it back there. you took one fall, had one bit of shock and now all of a sudden you're a fucking crybaby? jesus christ, i thought you were strong."

you could barely hear her anymore. this woman who had always backed you up, always called you strong, was calling you pathetic. this woman who you had loved for god knows how long was insulting you like you were shit on the side of the road.

"get the fuck out of my apartment," you spat back, words filled with venom. instead of hugging yourself, your arms were now crossed tight over your chest. maybe you were angry, but those pesky tears did not stop.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me, god damnit." your voice broke. you took a deep breath through your nose, not letting your resolve melt for her. even if your voice wavered, you didn't stop speaking. "get the fuck out of my apartment, and i never wanna see your face again. that mission? it takes two, y'know. it was a failure on your part as well.

"now get. out."

there was the surprise and the reel-back. but it came a few moments too late. "c-cupcake, i-"

"shut up! don't call me that! you yell at me like i ruined the entire world, you betray my trust and the agreement- the promise we made to each other, and now you wanna apologize to me like nothing happened? that hurt, y'know! i damn near took a bullet for you. actually, sorry! i damn near took bullets for you. and now you're coming at me with this 'i have no right to cry' bullshit like you're so high and mighty! this is it. we are over, violet. now, i'm gonna say it one more time." you pointed at the door, glaring at her, unblinking, scowling. it was chilling to see you so pained.

"get. out." you dragged out the words like vi was a disobedient puppy. your voice, though weak, was hoarse and final, and filled with such broken animosity it made both of you shudder. vi was the only one who truly reacted.

there was no arguing with you anymore. you said it yourself; this was it.

everything about vi was conflicted. her expression was caught betwen angry and apologetic; wanting to continue to yell at you and wanting to say sorry until everything was fixed. she let out a breath, deciding that she didn't want to hurt you any more than she already had.

vi nodded slightly, biting her lip to keep herself from saying anything. without a goodbye- you would've been angrier if you heard it, honestly- she left just as you demanded, not even slamming the door behind her.

for a few seconds, you stood still as a statue right where you had been, surrounded by a suffocating silence. you pressed your hand to your mouth, feeling the hot tears stream fast down your cheeks like little waterfalls.

you sank to the ground, allowing yourself to sob into your hands. it was the only sound which accompanied you.

maybe somewhere vi was crying with you. but she wasn't your problem anymore.

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