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#my fucking arm hurts yall
domokunrainbowkinz · 4 months
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Tried a new art style and I guess will is gonna be my guinea pig from now on 🥹
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winglesshopeful · 2 months
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I don't want to see another phlebotomy needle anywhere near me for as long as i can get away with.
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crimeronan · 1 year
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concentrating hard and slowly compiling a list of the things that hurt starting with the soles of my feet and working upward. only for it to become increasingly clear that it would be faster and more efficient to simply list things that Don't hurt,
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aihakei · 8 months
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I WANT THE FUCKING CALENDAR BUT NOT ONLY AM I AN INCOMING UNI STUDENT, I AM ALSO AMERICAN.
do i have ~$17? yes. but with shipping costs?? damn idk buddy
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yunymphs · 3 days
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droppin this . . . did yall miss me !!!
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔… hates it when you cry.
glistening, chunky tears that stream down your soft cheeks. he hears the little sniffle that indicates a bigger sob brewing underneath the surface, tears bubbling to your eyes and he's already whispering soft "no, no, no, no no..." as if he can plead the tears away... plead the pain away. when you cry, any sort of teasing or sarcastic remarks is washed from his handsome expression, and your lover immediately takes you into his arms in an attempt to ease your cries.
it hurts you, and it hurts him too.
gojo has always been like this, but when you cry during sex—
its all different.
he has you in his arms for a different reason tonight. gojo's weight pushing your body into the mattress of the bed as he shamelessly hits it from the back. fuck, the two of you have been at it like rabbits for the past four hours. every time you think you're done, gojo finds a new way your body stretches for him. he eases himself inside of your gummy walls, lips hissing the most heinous words into the hot shell of your ear.
he's got you in a head lock. your nose is pressed into the meaty muscle of his forearm, strong bicep supporting you so you don't entirely collapse as his hips rut into your own. you can't help crying out, lip quivering and brain entirely rotted with how fucking good he fucks you.
"f-fuck..." he chokes out. "you cryin' again?"
but truth be told, he isn't mad. he isn't mad at all or sad.
the sight of you crying simply makes him wanna fuck the tears right out of your body.
"mmh... s-sorry—" you wail, a sloppy line of spit falling between your lips onto his hot skin. "'ts not my fault you're s-so big...! agh!"
"oho, so it's my fault now?" he chuckles deeply, slowing his pace.
snowy white pubes brush against your thigh, a hard vein cruelly swiping itself against the plush of your cunt. he's so mean.
it's nasty, but he loves it. in any other scenario, the sight of you crying would break his heart... but witnessing your tears in bed only makes him eager to fill your guts and fuck a baby right into the tummy bulge he gives you.
"fuuuck... 'm gonna cum again," gojo chuckles, almost as if he's amused with his own intense sex drive. "gonna cum in ya. finally gonna give you that baby you want."
"pl... please...!"
"now stop your cryin', 'kay?"
you nod, a strangled "mmhmmm..." into his skin, panting against his forearm.
his hips click into yours once more, finally spilling his milky white seed into the heaven between your thighs. your vision goes entirely black as you come down with him, flopping onto the cushions with a face entirely soaked in an aftermath of drool and tears. gojo pulls out and nearly collapses on top of you, head tucked into your neck. the only sound that fills the room is a symphony of labored breaths and the raindrops pattering against the window.
after a moment of silence, he speaks.
"are you okay?" gojo asks softly, tone changing entirely. you giggle at his duality— this is the same man who was trying to fuck a baby into your guts five seconds ago.
a slender hand comes up to wipe at your wet face. he doesn't care of your remnants of mascara dirty his fingers; he'll clean it later.
"yeah, 'm fine. thank you..." you reply quietly, shifting so that intense sex can slowly turn into a quiet cuddle session. gojo holds you like that and stares up at the ceiling, angelic eyelashes fluttering with a tired exhale.
"i get scared i'm hurtin' you whenever you cry, you know that?"
"i promise it's not like that..." you urge, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.
"you promise?"
"promise."
and he knows its just an instinct. you happen to be a crybaby, and that's completely fine with him. he prefers that anyways.
"fuck."
"what?" you perk up.
"my dick is hard again."
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© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited.
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fate decided that i Am writing a fic about Alden's past after all bc i was Gonna go play today but instead i am Physically Unable To but i can Kinda get by typing so fic is now happening to deal with the situation
Also bc i wrote out the whole damn thing in my head last night before falling asleep
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revasserium · 6 months
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can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)
hold me (still)
opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence
summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.
a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)
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You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.
“Come with us!”
“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.
Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.
“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”
And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.
It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.
Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.
“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.
“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.
Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.
“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.
“Oh, you like her.”
“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.
“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”
Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”
Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”
“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”
Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”
Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.
“Fine then. Go.”
Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.
“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”
“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.
“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”
“What, that a crime now?”
Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”
Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”
Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”
“And how’d you propose I do that?”
Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”
Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.
And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.
There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.
Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.
The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.
On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:
“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”
Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.
For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.
“Is it good?”
It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.
“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”
“Not exactly a glowing review.”
You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.
“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”
“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”
“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”
Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.
“And then what?” he asks.
“And then… he asks her to marry him.”
You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.
“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.
You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”
Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.
The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.
“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”
Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.
“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.
“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”
Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.
When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.
And you do.
He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.
But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.
The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.
On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —
“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”
You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.
“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.
Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.
Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.
“Could do with a good story.”
Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.
You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.
“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”
A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.
“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.
You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”
Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.
“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”
Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”
Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”
Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”
A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.
“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”
Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.
“Whoa… cool name!”
Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”
“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.
“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”
“I… I ran away.”
Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.
“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”
You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.
“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”
You nod, “Something like that.”
Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.
“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.
You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”
Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”
At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.
Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”
You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.
“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”
“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”
Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”
Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.
You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.
You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.
Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.
“Hey.”
You turn, “Hi.”
Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.
“Luffy’s right, y’know.”
“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.
“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”
You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”
“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.
You take a shivering breath and force it out again.
“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”
At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.
He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —
“But we can take it slow.”
You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.
You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.
The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.
You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.
Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.
Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”
Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.
You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.
It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.
When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.
The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.
“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.
To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”
You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.
“What is it?”
You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.
“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.
Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.
Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.
Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.
“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”
And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.
You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.
Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.
Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.
“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.
Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”
You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.
“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.
“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”
Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”
You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”
He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”
And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.
You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.
“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.
“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.
“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“I know… and I’ve said before —”
“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.
You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”
You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.
“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”
You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”
“I could restoke the fire.”
“No, it’s — it’s okay.”
“Alright.”
A bird coos the distance.
“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.
In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”
“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”
Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.
He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.
“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”
His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”
You nod, “Still.”
Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”
You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”
Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”
There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.
You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.
You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.
“Gum Gum — Pistol!”
“Seize her!”
You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.
“No one… ever… leaves us…”
The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.
You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.
His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.
“Hey, look at me.”
You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.
“Z-Zoro?”
“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”
You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.
“Th-they’re here — they —”
“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”
Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.
“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —
You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.
“Zoro, I hurt you!”
At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.
“This is nothing. C’mon.”
He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.
“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.
Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.
They all pivot to look at you.
You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.
Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”
Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.
“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”
Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.
“Got something on your neck, mate.”
Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.
“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”
Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.
The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.
You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.
“Sorry.”
“I’m fine.”
You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”
“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”
You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.
“Hey, look at me.”
You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.
“I’m fine.”
And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —
The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.
For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.
For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.
For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.
And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.
“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.
Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.
You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.
“Crap, I forgot about these.”
Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.
“It’s okay. So did I.”
You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.
“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.
Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.
“So.”
You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.
“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.
You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.
“Right now? Not really.”
“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.
You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.
“Can I ask for something else, though?”
“What is it?”
You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.
“Kiss me again.”
Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.
And does.
And does again.
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c4teyezz · 2 months
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my fav jjk men with babies lol
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my fav jjk men x afab!reader
i kept the baby gender neutral for yall in case, i dont want ppl coming to me like “nO hE wOulD dEfinEtly hAve a-“ shut.
note: on nanamis part it mentions reader being pregnant 🤰
characters: gojo saturo, geto suguru, sukuna ryomen, higuruma hiromi, nanami kento, kusakabe atsuya, toji fushiguro
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Gojo Saturo
- spoils the baby 24/7 and the things the baby has are the best of the best, the price doesnt matter to him
- idk why but he likes taking a big whiff of the babies hair then going like “ahhhh!” after and then kissing their scalp
“look babe i just bought some new clothes for our little one” gojo said smiling up at you as you entered the room. gojo is sitting on the foam rug thing with the baby laying down on it
gojo held up the baby carefully while supporting their neck at the same time to show you their fit. “thats so cute!” you responded then sitting down with him, you look at the tags that gojo ripped out from the clothes “saturo what did i say abt rubbish- $200!? WE SHOULD BE USING THAT MONEY FOR THEIR FOOD”
Geto Suguru
- i feel like hes gonna be a fairly strict but not too strict of a father
- he loveeessss wrapping them up in his robes, hugging/carrying them around like that wherever he goes in the house
“ah-! let go of my hair!” suguru demanded but not doing anything to stop it, the baby just giggles at their fathers reaction not knowing that their lowkey hurting their dad bc obviously theyre just a baby…
you take a quick pic of the sight thats in front of you, giggling along with your baby
“damn this thing is strong!” he said
“dont call your kid a thing!”
Sukuna Ryomen
- he mostly watches you take care of “the brat” he calls them, but is willing to help as long as you give him clear instructions on what the hell hes supposed to do with “it”
- i can see him holding his kid upside down with their legs when theyre like 6 or something and sometimes he drops them on purpose before quickly and successfully catching them, he has no intentions of hurting them, hes mostly doing it to fuck with you. i mean he made the kid laugh so lol
“what the fuck its crying” he pointed out to you as you rock the baby gently in your arms
“yeah i can see that… and stop calling them ‘it’, theyre not some sort of rare space specimen”
Higuruma Hiromi
- even tho in the manga hes portrayed as the classic “no humor, cold, tired man in a suit” kind of guy, i honestly dont think hes just that, hes just like that in professional settings and when things are serious. i can see him make light jokes, like he did with itadori, so he’d definitely do the same with his baby
- he likes gently scratching the babys back, as he knows its relaxing i mean who doesnt like a good scratch on the back sometimes. he doesnt mind when the baby starts fiddling with his tie, but when the baby chews on if he definitely gets a bit grossed out
“bah!” hiromi jokingly surprised the baby which made the baby flinch and cry at their father, hiromi laughed at the baby’s raction “sorry” Hiromi gently apologised while smiling at them, then went back to scare them one more time by covering his face then quickly uncovering his face “boo!”
this time the baby laughed with their father and you recorded the fun moment
(this is also inspired by a reel i saw on instagram, it was so cute 😭)
Nanami Kento
- HANDS DOWN THE BEST FATHER DUH WTF??? do we even have to argue???? since the baby hes been cutting his alcohol drinking as he doesnt want the baby’s sensitive lungs to suffer from the smell. he also lovessssss skin to skin, when the baby popped out and it was his turn to hold the baby in his bare chest, he was over the moonnnnn
- ngl he would mostly take care of the baby more than you, his excuse is since you carried the baby for 9 months, so its his job to support and deal with the baby most of the time mwah mwah
you stare at him feeding your baby their bottle, whose also safely tucked in his loving arms
“kento can i feed them now?” you asked him
“go rest honey, you deserve it” he responded, kissing you on the forehead
“thats my baby youre hogging!”
Kusakabe atsuya
- omg he likes making the baby dance, the baby cant walk yet, so he’d hold them up and make them look like theyre dancing by making them look like their doing that default baby dance toddlers do or gently swing them side to side
- loves placing them on his chest as they sleep as he fiddles with their tiny hand. also he strictly calls them by their shorter version of their name or a random nickname that suits them
“mmph! stop trying to grab my lolly!” atsuya told the baby as it tried reaching for it, eventually the baby caught the stick of the lollipop and forced it out of their dads mouth and putting it into theirs
“hehe gross”
fushiguro toji
- he plays with them by making them pretend that theyre boxing with their hands
- naps naps napsssssss, he always puts them on his chest so that they can nap together on the couch. but sometimes when toji snores, he lets out a loud snore which scares the baby into waking up crying lmfaoooooooo
“hell nah”
“toji just wipe their ass already, im trying to show you how change their diaper”
“fucking hell…” toji muttered as he slowly lifts the baby by their legs
okay maybe hes not the best when it comes to helping sometimes, but at least hes willing to try
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maayong gabii lahat!!! (good evening everyone!!!)
hehe i just wanna say thank you guys for the likes, reblogs, comments, and followers so far :))))
damo nga salamatttt (thank you so muchhhh)
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succubusmunson · 5 months
Text
Breaking In
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Summary: What would you do if a masked man broke into your house?
WC: 4.3K
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), CNC, used he/him/his a lot since eddie is “mysterious”, mask kink, knife kink, blood kink, pain kink, slight humiliation kink, dacryphillia, reader having arms tied, a lot of hair pulling, degradation, teasing, oral (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), choking, face fucking, gagging, cum play??, name calling, pet names, spanking (use of belt), slapping (face, tits), spit as lube, unprotected p in v sex, p in a, orgasm denial
an: huge shoutout to @corrodedcorpses, @bimbobaggins69, @battymunson, @trashmouth-richie, and all the discord servers for the help with this fic! truly don’t think i could’ve gotten it done without any of yall <3
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You felt him press against your backside as he trapped you between his hard body and the wall. "P-please… I’ll do anything."
He darkly chuckles as the mask presses against you, his breathing amplified. "Anything? It’s like you read my mind.” The cold blade of a knife trailed up your thigh, a gasp leaving your lips, stopping right at the edge of your shamefully soaked panties. “I love a girl who gives up so easily."
His cock tightened in his pants even more at how vulnerable you were already being for him. He was going to have so much fun playing with you, he knows you’ll beg for him. 
“I-,“ you choke on your words as you feel his hard cock throb between your ass cheeks. He was pressed so tightly against you that you could feel every part of him, and you couldn’t deny the need that ran through your veins. 
The masked man had busted through your front door minutes ago, chasing you throughout your house before cornering you. It all happened so quickly that it took a moment to process things. 
You immediately pleaded with him, begging him to take what he wanted and go. But what he wanted was you. 
He had tied your hands behind your back as he ghosted his calloused fingers over your body. And his voice, he had whispered so many things to you in such little time. He had many plans for you.
“What was that?” He slammed your head against the wall hard enough that you winced. “You’ve gotta have some words in that pretty little head of yours. I haven’t fucked you dumb… yet.”
You shivered as chills ran down your spine, and goosebumps covered your arms. “Just- please don’t hurt me.” 
“Hurt you?” He rested his masked cheek against yours, inhaling your sweet scent. “There’s always fun in a little pain,” the blade dug into your skin enough to cut you a little, causing you to whine. “I bet your cunt is throbbing.”
It’s a shame that he was right. Feeling the pain of it all did make your cunt throb in such a blissful way. Your face was heating up in embarrassment.
In one swift motion, you were turned around and pushed to your knees, now eye level with the growing tent in the man’s pants. “Well, it’s not gonna suck itself.” 
You gulped as he palmed himself. The heat radiated off his body, you could feel it engulf you. You could tell that he was big when he was pressed up against you, but seeing it more up close, you weren’t sure how it was going to fit. 
Hands grabbed your hair from the roots and angled your head back. You couldn’t see the man’s face, but you somehow knew that his eyes were dark with lust. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can make it fit nice and perfect in your mouth.”
The man pulled your head so it rested against his upper thigh, his cock throbbing under the confines of his pants. You licked over his clothed cock, where the wet spot was forming from all the leaking precum. Your lips closed as much as it could around what you assumed was the tip, suckling on it.
A groan reverberated from his chest, and his head fell back as you took him by surprise. The warmth of your mouth over his hard cock had him bucking his hips. “You’re a desperate slut, aren’t you?”
He reached down and undid his zipper, pulling out his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Let’s see you try and take the whole thing in your mouth.”
You whimper as the precum dribbled from the slit and over his knuckles as he pumped his cock. It made your mouth water with an urgent type of neediness.
“I don’t have the fucking patience for waiting.” He guided his cock to your lips, smearing precum over them. “Now, open that pretty mouth so I can fuck it.”
Without even a second thought, you obediently opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. Once, twice, he tapped it against your wet muscle before sliding it fully in, resting at the back of your throat. He was right about having no patience.
“Jesus- c’mon, you can do it.”
His cock hit the back of your throat with each thrust of his hips. The mask did little to conceal his loud groans as you swallowed around him. “Knew I had to fuck this mouth as soon as I saw you. Ah shit- knew you’d be such a good girl and take it too.”
Tears began to fall down your cheeks as he held your head still, his cock sliding in and out of the back of your throat that you barely had time to breathe. You could feel your lungs burn with the need for oxygen. 
He gnawed at the inside of his cheek the further you took him into your mouth. In all honesty, he could blow his load right now, but he had to hold it at bay to make this night last.
You tried to rip out of the restraints he had your arms in, but the rope he brought was too strong. It kept you in a docile, just how he wanted you to be for him. 
“Awe, are you crying?” He swiped a few tears away as he pushed his cock further down. It was so far down your throat that your nose was in the thick patch of hair at the base of it, and his balls pressed wetly against your chin. “It’s a good thing I like criers then, isn’t it?”
He pulled you off his cock, strings of saliva connecting the two of you. “Do you like having your face fucked?” 
You looked up at him with big doe eyes, makeup smeared along with your tears, and your lips swollen from being used. No words found their way out of your open mouth. 
Slap! A ringed hand came in contact with your cheek, a pathetic, high pitched moan to escape your throat. “Oh, fuck,” He laughed at you as your face heated up in embarrassment. “You really do like pain. What a dirty fucking whore. Now answer the question.”
“Yes…” Your voice was meek, quiet. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you are. 
He pushed your head further down and ran the velvety skin of his heavy sack across your lips. “Be a good slut and suck my balls, yeah?”
Your tongue rolled against them, massaging them before suckling on them. You couldn’t help but to moan at the feeling of them.
Above you, the man grabbed his cock, stroking in slow pumps and smearing some of the precum across your forehead. “Should I make a mess on your face? Paint you a pretty little picture.” 
His balls fell from your mouth as you went to shake your head, but a slap left your face stinging in pain mixed with pleasure. 
A whine left the back of your throat, causing him to chuckle at how much of a pain slut you really are. That’s information he’d use later. 
“Did I tell you to stop? Put them back in your mouth.” 
You let out a huff, pouting out your lips. “And if I don’t want to?” 
Another slap, and he was yanking your head back to his cock, waiting for you to get back to sucking, moaning the second your tongue licked at the leaky slit. 
You couldn’t not obey him, not when his cock was throbbing hard in front of your face, the tip red and angry. 
“See? It’s not that hard to be a good, useful slut for me. I bet you like this too, huh? Being used like a stupid toy.”
Your cunt throbbed between your legs, silently begging for some attention. How could you be enjoying this? This man broke in, was claiming your body as his to use, but your body wanted it- craved it even. God, you were disgusting.
“Wrap your lips around it,” he guided your head up and down his cock, the vein on the underside gliding easily across your tongue. 
“Tell me you love having my cock in your mouth. Fucking. Tell. Me.” He enunciated each word with his cock thrusting down your throat.
You tried, as much as you could, to talk around his cock. It caused more drool to drip from your mouth, down your chin, and across the peaks of your tits that spilled over the top of your dress.
“Can’t talk?” He ran a thumb over one of your hollowed cheeks, feeling his cock rest in your mouth. “Is your mouth too full? Too busy getting me off?” He was mocking your struggles, fake sympathy lacing his voice.
He held your head still, thrusting quickly into the back of your throat. The loud, wet gawk, gawk, gawk sounds of your gagging echoed off the walls. As embarrassing as the sound was, it made your cunt become more slick, your panties becoming more wet the more you heard yourself taking every inch of his cock.
A string of curse words slipped past his lips as your throat constricted around his massive cock. He swore he could’ve cum from that sight alone, the days leftover makeup running down your face, lips swollen and red, eyes glassy from all the tears you had been crying. You were the most perfect site he had ever seen. 
Between you swallowing around his cock and the warmth of your mouth, the man standing became closer and closer to cumming. And you could tell it by the twitch of his cock and see it in his stomach muscles tightening under his shirt. “Y-you better- fuck yes- swallow my cum.”
One hard thrust and a loud groan later and his body was shaking, cum shooting onto your tongue. Some of it dribbled out of the sides of your mouth, making you more of a mess. 
“My fucking god! You taste that? You taste what your mouth did?” He pulled his cock out, his cum and your spit stringing from it. “Show me your tongue.”
Instead of obeying this time, you spit all the cum that didn’t shoot down your throat, right onto the toe of his black boot. You made sure to look at the eye holes of the mask as you did it.
You yelped in pain as he pulled your head back, but you still had a proud smirk on your face. “Oops?” 
“Oops?” He voiced boomed, and he pushed your head down until your face was mere inches from his boot, his cum shining from the moonlight that peeked through your curtains. “Lick it up.”
You hesitated, barely sticking your tongue out. 
He lifted his foot, the toe of the boot now pressed to your lips. “Did I fucking stutter? Lick up my fucking cum.” 
The roughness of his voice has goosebumps forming over your skin. You were scared and horny, adrenaline pumping through your veins. 
You slowly licked up the mess you made, making a show of it. The salty taste lingered on your tongue until you finally swallowed, showing him that you finally did, in fact swallow.
“It’s not as funny when you have to lick my boot like some sort of pup, is it?” He pulled you to your feet and dragged you over to the couch, throwing you face down. “But it will be funny for me when you’re begging to cum on my cock, and I don’t let you.”
Your panties were pulled to the side, and your ass cheeks were spread apart as he looked at both holes that were displayed for him, deciding which one to use first. 
He breathlessly sighed as his thumbs pulled your pussy lips apart, slick stringing between them. His tongue wet his lips, a hunger for your taste growing inside him. 
He slowly dragged his thumb up and down your slit, collecting your slick, and caught your clit with the pad of his finger. You were dripping, and his eyes couldn’t leave where you clenched around nothing, a silent plea to be filled with whatever he was willing to give you. 
“You didn’t want this in the beginning, and now look,” his finger dipped in your cunt for a second, getting it nice and covered before pulling it out. He brought it to his mouth and loudly sucked on it, pulling it out with a soft pop! “You’re making a mess for it.”
The whines that fell from your mouth were loud. You wanted to speak, beg him to give you more, but all the words came out jumbled together. Your mind was already foggy from all the teasing. “I- yes- need it!” You could barely form a small sentence.
“God, you’re fucking gross for this.” He trails his gloved finger over your cunt and up to your puckered ass as he slowly rubs over the rim, “can’t wait to feel both of these holes as they squeeze my cock.” 
You heard the jingle of his belt as he pulled it through his belt loops. The hairs on your body stood up in anticipation for what was to come next. Suddenly, your mouth was dry as you tried to beg him. 
In one swift motion, his leather belt came down hard on your ass. Spank! “Tell me.” Spank! “Tell me that’s what you wanted.” Spank! “Tell me that you’re nothing but a filthy slut who likes to be fucked by a masked stranger.”
You cried out, heat rising to your skin.
Each spank, no matter how painful, made your clit throb harder. A sigh of relief fell from your lips as gloved hands rubbed over the tender, almost raw skin of your ass, soothing you. 
“I-I’m a filthy slut…,” your tongue rolled from your mouth and over your lips, trying to make your voice not so shaky. 
“And?” He waited for you to continue, his palm roughly rubbing over the welts forming from the belting.
“Who likes to be fucked by a masked stranger- oh my god.”
Two fingers quickly sunk into the wet heat of your cunt, down to the knuckles. They expertly pumped in and out at a slow pace, but it was enough to have you whimper into a pillow. “You’re making such a mess on my gloves, tsk, tsk.”
You let out a breathless sigh as he slid in two more fingers, scissoring you open. “Fuuuck.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He felt you clench around his fingers and quickly pulled them out. “Oh no, no. I can’t give in that easily, can I?”
You tried to turn your head around to look at him, but he forced your face down. “Keep your head forward, got it?” 
He lifted up his mask just enough for his mouth to be free, kissing over the globe over your marked up ass. You rocked your hips back and forth, his lips comforting the sting that was still there. 
You could hear him inhale deeply. The sweet smell of your arousal had his cock twitching and leaking. He’s never smelled something so enticing. 
“Needy little thing.” He mumbled against your skin as his lips ghosted over your puckered ass. 
His tongue licked over it, the two of you moaning in unison. He moaned from the taste, and you moaned at the feeling of the feather-like touches. 
“More,” you pushed your ass closer to his face. “Pretty please.” 
He finally gave in, diving into your ass like it was his last meal. His tongue licked over your hole, getting it nice and wet before sliding it inside you. You clenched around his tongue, moaning loudly as he pumped it in and out. 
“Holy shit-,” your legs shook as his tongue opened you up more. 
He pulled back, a glob of spit fell onto the small gape that his tongue left. His thumb slides in with ease, another finger sliding in right behind it. “Look at that,” he pumped them slowly, his eyes never leaving the filled hole. “You like your ass being played with?” 
You nodded your head repeatedly, moans leaving your open mouth. “I- I love it!”
He kept his fingers deep inside your ass, his lips coming down to wrap around your throbbing, sensitive clit. His groans vibrated against you, your back arching. 
Sweat covered your body as he added a third finger to your ass, stretching your hole wide open so it could fit his thick cock. 
His tongue swirled around your clit before licking up to your entrance, teasing it before slowly sliding it in. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your back arching. You felt so full, and his cock wasn’t even inside you yet. 
“Taste so damn good,” he spit on your cunt, rubbing it in with his fingers. “Just like fucking honey.”
“T-thank you.” You yelped when you felt his sharp teeth nibble on your clit. The pain makes you mumble out words and moan pathetically.
“My little pain slut.” For another time tonight, you felt the blade against your skin. This time the knife dug deeper than before. 
You cried out in pleasure and pain as he carved his initials into your ass cheek, something to silently say that he owned you. He took his time, making sure that you felt every slide of the knife, the way it cut into you. 
Blood trickled from your new branding, sliding down your ass. The droplets didn’t get far, though. The man’s tongue was right behind it, licking up all that had spilled. 
Knowing that he was tasting you, your blood made the coil in your stomach almost snap. 
You were so close to cumming, you just needed a little more. “Please let me cum!” You grind against his fingers, the coil in your stomach tightening quickly. “Please, please, please!”
And just as you were about to finally cum, he pulled away, leaving both your cunt and ass empty. 
He pulled the mask down before turning your head to face him. “I said no cumming, remember?” 
You whined loudly, your fingernails making crescent shaped moons into the palms of your hands as you squeezed them. This was torture. Your body craved an orgasm so bad that your cunt was started to ache, but before you could protest, you felt the cold blade against your skin again. 
Gently, he slid the slightly bloodied knife under the waistband of your panties, quickly cutting through the fabric and ripping them from your body. 
“These are mine now.” You watched as he stuck the soaked panties into his back pocket, a little souvenir from tonight.
“Now,” he grabbed his cock and ran it through your sticky folds. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re screaming so loud that maybe the neighbors get scared and call the cops.”
In a blink of an eye, his hips pressed against yours, and his cock was nestled deep inside your cunt. 
“Jesus- fuck!” His hands squeezed your hips, your cunt already squeezing him perfectly. “Such a tight and warm cunt. I should’ve done this a lot sooner.”
Your face fell into the couch cushions as your body adjusted to the size. He filled you to the hilt, balls squished against your clit. “O-oh, you feel so good.” 
He raked up your back, stopping at the base stopping of your skull to pull hard so your back arched. “I wanna hear you moan as you take every. fucking. inch.” He made sure to thrust with every word, his cock grazing your g-spot. It felt like the air was being punched from your lungs. 
“Yes, sir!” You moaned as he slowly dragged his cock out of you, feeling every vein, every ridge as your cunt clenched tightly around him. “Y-yes sir!”
He looked down where you two were connected, his cock already covered in arousal. “I’ve barely even fucked you, and you’re already creamin’ on my dick.” He snapped his hips, jolting your body. “Dirty girl.”
Your mouth fell open as moans spilled from your throat. Each thrust, each groan, was making you fuck back against him. “Don’t hold back.” You turned your head, resting on the arm of the couch to look at the masked man. “I-I can take it.” 
“Yeah?” He untied your arms and laughed as your sore muscles fell to your sides. His arms wrapped around your throat and pulled your body to him, your back now against his chest. “Can you take it?” 
An animalistic growl traveled from his chest as you reached below you, your hands grabbing and lightly massaging his balls as he pumped his cock into you. 
Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes locking with holes of the mask. “I know I can.”
He pushed your body flush against the couch again and fucked you like you’ve never been fucked before. 
Your body jiggled, legs shook, and eyes squeezed shut. You felt high, like your body was full of euphoria, almost on the edge of delirium from how delicious his cock was sliding in and out of your cunt. 
Lewd squelching sounds echoed off the walls, fueling him to fuck you harder, faster. It was to the point that you could barely moan anymore, only silent scream. 
“You hear that?” He pulled all the way out and slammed back in, watching your cunt suck him in. “Hear that pretty pussy make those sounds for me?”
Fingers are quickly hooked in your mouth, opening wide open. Whines, moans, whimpers; all came from your mouth and mixed with the sounds of you being fucked. You still couldn’t catch your breath. 
Drool dripped from your mouth as you tried to speak, trying to beg him more to let you cum. He knew what you were saying, though and could feel how badly you needed an orgasm in the squeeze of your cunt. 
“No, no.” He pulled out with a huff, fingers also leaving your mouth. His breathing was labored, sweat beading on his forehead under the mask.
You were on the verge of tears from how badly you needed to cum. He wasn’t being fair.
“You poor thing.” The head of his cock teased your clit, chuckling as you reached back and tried to pull him closer to you. “Maybe next time I break into your house, I’ll let you cum.”
“Give it to me now,” you sniffled. 
“Awe, that’s cute.” He rubbed up and down your back, stopping at your hips to grab them. “Now, turn the fuck over.” 
You gasped as he flipped you over with ease, showing no signs of a struggle.
“I wanna see you fall apart for me as I stuff your ass full of my cock.” He grabs your legs from behind your knees, pushing your thighs towards your chest.
This new position has your ass up enough for your hole to be on display for him to take. You held onto the back of your legs so he could spit on your puckered hole, rubbing it with his thick fingers. 
You looked down and watched him toy with you, take his time to make sure you were well lubed up. He was enjoying it, too, knowing that he was teasing you more and more. 
“You’re a fucking creep.” Your head fell back against the couch when you felt the tip of his throbbing cock barely slide inside your tight ass. It was enough to have you already panting. “Oh!”
“Say that again, baby.” Slowly, he pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch until he was bottomed out. Your ass was so full of his cock that you couldn’t move, could barely breathe. “Jesus- it’s getting me off.”
The first thrust had you seeing stars behind your eyes, feeling him stretch you wide open made your toes curl. “R-right there, yes!”
He used the grip he had on your legs as leverage, pumping in and out of you slowly until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Barely fucked your ass, and you’re already whining like a pathetic slut.” He sped up with each word, the couch scraping against the hardwood floors below it.
Groans, whines, and skin slapping against skin quickly filled the room as the two of you etched closer and closer to cumming. Your legs shook in his hand as you brought your own down to rub over your cunt, thumb catching on the bundle of nerves that had your breath hitching.
“Hold it.” He let go of your legs, giving you time to wrap them around his waist. “Fucking. Hold. It.” Each word came with a sharp slap to your tits, the pleasurable pain coursing through your body and finding home in your used, dripping cunt.
“I- I can’t-“ 
“You can!” His grunts became louder, thrusts became sloppier. You knew he was close to cumming. You only hoped he would finally let you cum.
“That’s it- keep taking it just like that, baby.” One, two, three thrusts later and he was quickly pulling out, spilling all his cum on your pretty pink cunt. “G-god dammit!” 
His cock twitched as he pumped it, making sure every drop landed on you. “That’s fucking it, all covered in my cum.”
Your cunt clenched as you felt his cum drip down your cunt and onto the couch below you, making a mess. “But I- I didn’t get to…” 
“Told you it would be funny.” He sadistically chuckled as he quickly stuffed himself back into his jeans. 
“You're an ass.” You sat up on your elbows, your body spent from all the fucking and teasing. 
“Don’t worry,” he patted your cheek in a mocking manner before making his way to your busted front door. “I’ll be back.”
You were left shocked, cunt so sensitive from the need to cum. 
It wasn’t until minutes later when the phone ringing pulled you from your daze. You stumbled as you went to grab it, your breath coming out in short pants. “Hello.” 
“So,” Eddie spoke on the other line, a smirk so obvious in his tone. “How did I do, sweetheart?”
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inkedells · 11 months
Note
hear me out: dbf!joel railing u on a bed full of plushies HEKSHDKS <3 maybe ur clutching or biting onto one and he's just cooing at u calling u a good girl HEHE
ok don't mind me popping my mf pussy w this drabble (ALSO YES THIS IS THE DBF!JOEL REQUEST THAT DROVE ME CRAZY YALL)
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summary/bg info: coming home from college for winter break and acting on the sexual tension that exists between you and your dad’s best friend, joel--while finding extra comfort in your childhood plushies.
words: ~700
mdni! | requests open but responses not guaranteed.
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“God, you’re a fuckin’ shy little thing, aren’t you?”
Your mouth only gaped open around a silent moan as your back arched against your childhood bed. You weren’t sure how it ended up in your hands, but you were clutching your favorite plushie, a brown bear with matted curly fur, as Joel continued his ministrations against your clit. The sight of the waistband of your sleep shorts stretched around his wrist was intoxicating, and so was the way his hand moved from underneath the thin cover of its fabric.
“Joel,” you whined, biting your lip as your hips grinded against his hand.
“Mm, that’s right. Only I know how to take care of this pretty pussy. Go ahead, sweetheart, hug your stuffies. I know you wanna.”
You hummed at that, nodding enthusiastically. Your breathing uneven and frantic from arousal, you lazily gathered the plushies surrounding you in your arms as Joel manhandled you until your ass was in the air and your cheek was pressed against the numerous stuffed toys cradled in your arms.
“Now listen here, baby girl. You’re gonna let me fuck this,” He paused to trail a finger along your seam through the fabric of your shorts, as if to make clear exactly what “this” was referring to, “And all you gotta do is keep making those pretty noises and cuddling your little toys, yeah?”
You whined high in your throat in confirmation as Joel slipped his hands underneath the hem of your shorts to palm your ass. 
“Not good enough,” He tsked, still massaging circles into your plump flesh, “Repeat it back to me.”
You swallowed, a blush creeping up on the apples of your cheeks as you clutch handfuls of stuffies. “You’re gonna… fuck… me—”
“—Fuck what?”
You groaned, turning to bury your face in the pile of stuffed toys beneath you. “My pussy,” You mumbled. You were positive your face was already beet red from embarrassment.
“Didn’t quite catch that,” He teased. You knew fully well he heard you, but indulging him in this manner was only making the heat between your legs grow hungrier, so you complied.
“You’re gonna fuck my pussy,” You said clearly, “And I’m—I’m gonna cuddle my stuffies while you use it.”
Satisfied with your response, Joel tugged your shorts down until you felt cool air hitting your pussy. Not for long, though, because soon the radiating heat of Joel’s cock was taking over as he swept his weeping tip through your folds.
“Gonna put it in now, ‘kay baby girl?” He voiced in that gravelly low rumble, and although he posed it as a question, you were smart enough to recognize it as a warning for the inevitable. Joel didn’t bother properly stretching you out, he wanted it tight so it would swallow him up just the way he wanted.
He slammed into you, ripping a coarse moan from your throat before the pain of the stretch became too much and you bit down on one of the stuffies in order to stave off a scream.
“Aww,” He mocked, “Is it hurting you, sweetheart?”
“So… big,” You managed to get out, eyes droopy and your brain completely mush as he pistoned in and out of your inviting heat, “Too… big…”
“Oh, fuck,” He groaned to himself, “You really are stretched. Fucking ruined you.” His breathing intensified as he lightly traced where you and him met with his fingers, clearly aroused by the contrast between your tight little cunt and the way his huge cock is forcibly stretching it open. His feathery touches combined with his abrupt, punishing thrusts had you pushing your ass back even further against his front, craving the abusive jerking of his hips.
Joel breathed an amused laugh at that. “Actually, it seems like it’s just the right amount of big if it’s got you pushing back for more. You like it painful, huh?”
“F-Fuck, Joel, yeah. Yeah, I love it painful. God, please, fill me up Joel. Your cum, I want it, please.”
Joel faked a wince at your words. “Looks like the innocent little girl’s suddenly got a mouth on her. That happen a lot? Does cock tend to get you dirty mouthed?”
With your cheek pressed into one of your stuffies, you peered up at him from the corner of your eye as you breathed the words, “Just yours.” It was only barely loud enough for him to hear it over the wet sounds of him fucking into your dripping pussy. In fact, you weren't even sure if he had heard you until a hint of a smile crossed his face and he told you in that warm, rumbly rasp, "Mm, I know. Because you're my good girl," with every proceeding thrust reeking of pride.
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see my masterlist here
A/N: may or may not do a permanent taglist? not sure yet, just depends on the demand for it soooo maybe let me know in my asks if you want to be on a *possible* taglist for my fics (i only rlly write joel).
anyway thank you all for the support for this blog and my fics!!! truly love you all, and def don't be afraid to reach out and say hello, i need more mutuals whether you're a writer or not!!
taglist for this fic: @777-wonders , @scarlettstarlettsarletts , @pedrosbabygirl , @deathsholywaterr , @devilmademewriteit
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joelscruff · 8 months
Text
feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART EIGHT
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previous chapters | yall are absolutely fucking incredible. truly. i never could have ever expected the response to the last chapter and i'm so so SO grateful to everyone who's been contributing their thoughts and theories over the past week. your engagement and passion for this story means the world to me. so many people wanted so many different things for this chapter and i know i can't please everybody, but i hope this satisfies most of you. thank you so much for being here and for loving this story. here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you don't know what to think after catching joel at the bar. tasha wants to help in the best she knows how - getting fucked up. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexual assault (nothing to do w joel), alcohol, almost penetration word count: 13.6k ao3
You've never felt like this before.
Tasha practically has to drag you into a cab, gripping tight to your hand with an arm around your back as she gives the driver the address of where you're both staying. He barely bats an eye to the fact that you're practically inconsolable, tears streaming steadily down your face as you gasp and sob and stare at the floor with wide eyes. He's probably picked up countless passengers in similar situations and it's not like you can bring yourself to feel any sort of embarrassment over it.
"Shh," she soothes you, still rubbing your back and peering down at you with empathy in her eyes, an expression that somehow makes you feel even worse - she'd told you this might happen. She'd known all along, but you hadn't wanted to believe anything she said about the lack of definition in your relationship with Joel. You'd chosen to believe differently, believe that he was different than the guys your friends have encountered.
How could you have been so stupid?
It's your own fault you're even in this position now, crying in the back of a cab while Joel makes out with some woman in a bar you don't belong in. Your own fault for putting any ounce of faith in someone else for once, for choosing to be blind to the obvious - of course he doesn't want you. Of course you're not his priority. You're not his girlfriend. You're his fuck buddy. You're a warm body and nothing more.
You don't speak for the entire drive, just cry and try desperately to control your breathing. By the time you reach the Airbnb your throat hurts from the sobs, although throwing up on the sidewalk could also have something to do with it. You're just a mess, lightheaded and distant as Tasha guides you into the house and helps you settle on the couch.
"Stay here," she says softly, grabbing a throw blanket and carefully covering your loose and exhausted form, "I'm gonna go get some necessities, okay? This place doesn't have shit."
You nod slowly, just to let her know you acknowledge her words, though you're unsure exactly what necessities she's talking about. She reaches her hand down and strokes your cheek, still looking at you with that sad expression.
"I'm so sorry, honey," she repeats to you for probably the fortieth time in the past hour.
You close your eyes; you can't stand to see the pity on her face.
--
Tasha returns shortly after with her "necessities", which mainly consist of junk food and alcohol. You haven't moved an inch from where she'd left you, still laying on the couch with bloodshot eyes and a quivering mouth. You listen as she busies herself in the kitchen, putting together some sort of snack platter for the both of you that you already know you won't eat. You're not hungry. You've never been less hungry in your life.
"You were right," you finally manage to croak out as she seats herself beside you on the couch, placing the food on the coffee table and turning to you with that familiar look of pity, "He's just like the rest of them."
She shakes her head, "No, that's not true, I never said that," she rips open a bag of chips and starts munching, seemingly lost in thought.
"Oh, we're gaslighting now, are we?"
She raises an eyebrow, "Girlie, tell me when I said what you just said."
"Boys are mean," you quote hastily, turning a bit on the couch to stare up at the ceiling.
"Yes, it's true. Boys are mean. And so are men," she sighs then, dropping the chips back on the table, "Look, I'm not defending him, I promise, but-"
"Tasha," you state coldly, still staring at the ceiling, "Do not continue that sentence."
"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."
"Yes, I do," you shut your eyes and bring your hands to cover your face, feeling the tears starting up again, "You're gonna tell me we never defined what we had, that he was never my boyfriend, that this can't constitute as cheating because there was no relationship to begin with."
She's quiet but you can still feel her looking at you with that sadness, that sympathy, the look of someone who's been here before and knows how it feels. And it makes you so angry. Because-
"Joel wasn't supposed to do this," you continue, softer now, voice shaky as the tears flow down your temples and into your hair, "He's not a boy, he's not like the guys you date. He- he was different, I-" you choke, throat tightening at the thought of him, the image of him with her at the front of your mind again, "I thought he- I thought that we-"
You can't continue, words turning into cries and sniffles turning into sobs. You feel Tasha's hand on your calf, stroking your skin gently despite the fact that you just criticized both her own judgement and her taste in men in the same breath.
"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," she says soothingly, "That's the last thing I wanna do. If anything I'm trying to tell you that this doesn't necessarily make him an asshole."
You scoff at that, "Right. Makes sense," you finally pull your hands down to look at her through your tears, brow furrowing, "Tasha he was kissing her. That- that woman, he was- he touched her face."
"I know he did," she murmurs with a frown, eyes casting downward, "And I know it hurts, but-"
"But nothing," you find yourself tossing the blanket to the floor and standing up shakily, not bothering to even look at Tasha as you stomp toward the bedroom. "I don't need this right now," is the last thing you say before slamming the door behind you.
She doesn't follow you. This is the first time you've ever yelled at her, the first time you've ever felt truly mad at her, and even though you know deep down that this isn't her fault... you still feel betrayed. Betrayed by Tasha's nonchalance, betrayed by Joel's actions, but worst of all - betrayed by yourself.
Because how did you manage to get into this mess in the first place?
You practically rip the too-tight and too-short pink dress off your body and stagger to the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers. You still feel sick, lightheaded and woozy as you press your face to the cool pillow and try to collect yourself. You can't get the image of the woman out of your head; you hadn't even seen her face and yet it's like she's somehow consuming every fiber of your being. All you can see behind your closed lids are those long, perfectly styled braids hitting her bare waist, skin a deep and rich brown that almost sparkled under the bar lights, the way her bare ankle traveled up and down his leg, the soft curve of her cheek as he'd cupped it in his hand-
A sob wracks through you and you pull the other pillow toward yourself, wrapping your legs and arms around it like a koala, remembering how less than twenty four hours ago you'd been in a bed just like this one - except it hadn't been a pillow you were cuddling. And now, what? Who's in that bed now? Another woman? That gorgeous woman who you don't stand a chance against?
You're sure Tasha can hear you crying but she doesn't come, staying in the living room and giving you the space you need. You already feel awful for snapping at her like that - you know she means well, that she's just trying to alleviate the situation in her own way, but you barely even know how you feel about it.
And how do you feel? Hurt? Sad? Angry? Of course you feel all of those things, to a degree you've never felt them before, but underlying all of those emotions is something else entirely, something you can't quite put your finger on - or would rather not put your finger on, because doing so would mean finally admitting something you're not sure you're ready to admit yet.
You try to think about your relationship with Joel up to this point, try and pinpoint the exact moment it went from being something frivolous to being something real, but you find that it's impossible to do so. For you, you could say the moment you walked past his threshold was when it became official. Or when he touched you for the first time. Or when he kissed you. When he made you come. When he called you his babygirl. When you touched his cock. When he put his mouth on your pussy. When you woke up this morning completely naked in his bed.
Any of those moments could have been the moment. But a gnawing voice in the back of your mind reminds you that any of those moments could have equally not been the moment as well. Maybe there was no moment. Maybe this really has just been a whole lot of nothing.
But then you think about the way he looks at you. The way he treats you.
The way he'd comforted and reassured you last night, held you, made you feel safe and secure - "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."
The way he'd shared his insecurities with you over the phone, been vulnerable, honest and open - "I don't want you to look at me differently".
The way he'd dressed up just in case your mother took you to your lesson, looking like he was ready to attend a church service, purposely putting himself in uncomfortable clothing to make sure things went smoothly - "I wanted to make a good impression."
The way he'd told you about his past on his back deck, related his own childhood to yours, tried to calm your own fears and tell you things would be okay - "You gotta focus on what's right for you, on livin' the life you want, not worryin' about what they'll think".
What did any of it mean? What does any of it mean? Has it just been sex this whole time or does he actually care about you? And if he does, why would he kiss someone else?
And what if he's been kissing someone else... fucking someone else... this entire time? What if it's not just you he's been seeing? The thought makes you want to throw up all over again.
You hear a peal of laughter from the other room, a sound that feels odd in the silence and sadness of the bedroom where you lie. Tasha must have put on a movie or something. You feel bitterness rise in your throat, a sudden urge to run out to the living room and grab the remote and toss it out the window, scream at her for finding something to laugh at when you're literally falling apart at the seams.
But the bitterness fades when you hear her laugh again; you love that laugh, have missed it ever since you came home. Tasha has always had such a free and fun way about her, a natural joy that you've always envied. You'd watched her go out night after night over the past three years, come home with the most bizarre stories that you were never able to fully relate to, and yet she always tried to include you in some way, ask you questions, make you laugh.
You remember the looks of shock you'd received from the other girls when you'd first shared that you were a virgin, that you'd never done anything except kiss. She'd sensed your discomfort immediately, seen your embarrassment, and had quickly flipped the conversation to something else more shocking, more embarrassing - at her own expense. Easier than flipping a light switch. And any time it was mentioned after that, she'd always emphasize how lucky you were, how she wished she'd taken her time, how all you were missing out on was bonehead losers who didn't know how to please a woman.
She's always reassured you, always listened, and has always been your number one fan, even when you had nothing to give. You'd told her all about your upbringing, about the way you'd begun to question everything, and she'd given you her own two cents and made you feel better for the first time in a long time. And when you'd told her you were coming home for the summer she'd said, "Are you sure that's gonna be okay for you?"
You trust her. So why are you in this room avoiding her? Why aren't you listening to what she has to say?
With heavy limbs you manage to climb off the bed and tug on your pajamas, wiping your eyes and letting the sadness and humility settle for just a moment. Yes, this is a fucked up situation. But Tasha wants to help you. Let her.
A few moments later you find yourself back on the couch, this time with Tasha's arm around you as she pours you a glass of wine and shakes away your apology. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she tells you softly, "You're upset, I get it."
You sigh deeply and take a sip, wincing at the bitterness but making no move to put it back on the table. "So," you murmur hoarsely, "Why is he not necessarily an asshole?"
--
You stay up late talking for hours about the situation and listening to Tasha's theories, most of which center around a lack of communication - based on her own personal experiences. She also has to factor in the fact that Joel is a lot older, a detail she's still beyond surprised over.
"I just can't believe he's fifty six," she faux whispers the number with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Like... this man knows things. How to take care of you, ya know? You're luckier than you realize."
"Lucky," you scoff, "Yeah, that's one way to describe how it feels."
She slaps your hand playfully, "I'm serious. This is yet another reason I think you just got your signals crossed here. I refuse to believe he's trying to hurt you, especially after how considerate he's been with you up until this point. If this was just about sex he would have dropped you ages ago, honey. I mean, no offense but you're not exactly making it easy for him, are you?"
She's certainly blunt. But she's also right. Joel has been nothing but patient with you this entire time, never expecting anything more than what you've been willing to give. If it was just about sex, this thing between the two of you wouldn't have gone beyond that first day in his house when you'd told him you were a virgin.
You slowly begin to come to the conclusion that you should give him the benefit of the doubt. As much as what you saw hurts, as much as it makes you want to crawl in bed and never get up, you were never Joel's girlfriend. There was never an establishing conversation, never a moment where you laid your heart on the line and told him exactly what you wanted, mainly because you haven't been sure what you wanted up until this point. But now you do.
"Communication," Tasha repeats for maybe the fifth time, "Communication is key. He doesn't know what you want, so you need to tell him. You need to stand up for yourself. And if he doesn't take you seriously, you move on. Simple."
"Simple," you echo, your third glass of wine already getting to you as you peer at her hazily with an upturned brow, "Communication."
"Communication," she repeats, "Simple."
Communication. Simple.
It's what echoes in your head over and over after your head hits the pillow that night, and continues to repeat the following morning as Tasha rouses you from sleep to get you ready for your "lesson". You don't feel as hungover as you'd expected - "That's because we didn't get totally fucked up like we were supposed to," Tasha says to you with a roll of her eyes - but your face is puffy from all the crying.
You're splashing your face with cold water when you hear Tasha call out, "Hey, I think you have a text."
Heart pounding in your chest you run back to the bedroom and grab your phone from the nightstand, the first time you've checked it since you got back from the bar. Your eyes go wide when you see not just one but two texts from Joel. One from last night, around midnight:
Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️
And one from this morning, around seven:
You get home ok? Let me know x
"Don't text him back," Tasha advises over your shoulder, "Keep him sweating a bit, you're leaving soon anyway."
You nod slowly, still staring at the messages, especially the one from last night. When had he sent that? Had he still been at the bar? Still with her? Did he take her home? That familiar sadness and betrayal from last night bubbles in your throat again, tears pricking in your eyes.
No. You will not cry anymore.
You let your phone fall onto the bed and turn on the spot, marching back to the bathroom like a woman on a mission.
"Tasha, make me fucking hot."
--
The Plan: Go to your lesson with Joel. Talk to him about what you saw. Tell him how you feel. And look good doing it.
Communication. Simple. It certainly seems easier said than done; you've never been very good at communication. Your whole life has been spent suppressing your true feelings and your true self for crying out loud - the concept of being completely vulnerable and honest with someone is terrifying. But you know that it's necessary for your heart, and you also know that if you're going to be able to be vulnerable with anyone, it's Joel. He's already seen glimpses of the broken parts of you, not to mention seen you completely naked. How much harder can it get?
And nothing can be worse than how you felt last night.
Tasha essentially makes you her very own doll for the majority of the morning - doing your makeup, styling your hair, choosing your outfit - and you're surprised to find that you don't hate any of it, have no notes or critiques or changes to make. You stand in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror with your eyebrows raised, lips parted in admiration at a job well done.
"I look good," you say with a smile, and Tasha grins at your reflection, "I mean it, Tasha. Like, I still look like me, but..."
"All I did was accentuate what you already have, my love," she replies, reaching forward to fix a piece of hair that's not sitting quite right, "You're just a gorgeous human, inside and out."
You can't help but feel touched at her words, lips turning down into a pout as your hands come up to touch your heart, "Tasha-"
She waves you away, shaking her head, "Bitch, do not get sappy on me right now. Save those doe eyes for Mr. Miller."
Twenty minutes later you're winding through the suburban streets of your neighborhood. You're about half an hour early; Tasha had wanted you to be fashionably late but there's only so much of yourself you can alter in such a short amount of time, your punctuality being one of them. You figure you'll just drive around for a bit to build up your courage, plan out your words.
Joel, I saw you at the bar last night. I saw the woman. And I'm not mad, I'm just....
Joel, my feelings were really hurt last night...
Joel, I can't believe you would kiss another woman after everything we've been doing. Do I not mean anything to you at all? Do I-
Nothing really seems like the right thing to say. You figure once you're standing in front of him the words will just come naturally, flow easily in a way that makes sense and articulates your feelings properly. You can only hope.
You've still got about fifteen minutes before your lesson but you figure there's no point in continuing to circle the area - you're just delaying the inevitable. With a heavy sigh and a few quiet words of encouragement directed at your rearview mirror, you turn onto Joel's street, gripping the wheel tightly and trying to keep your breathing as even as possible. You can do this. You can do this.
You're a few houses down from his when you see it.
Panic turns to shock. Shock turns to confusion. Confusion turns to anger. Anger turns to sadness.
You're already pressing Tasha's number in your contacts before you can fully collect your thoughts.
"What is it? Did you go in?"
"There's a car in his driveway," you hiss through your teeth, feeling the tears spring to your eyes again, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, "She stayed the fucking night, Tasha. He fucking slept with her."
"You don't know that," Tasha replies quickly, calmly, already trying to calm you down, "Maybe it's his, maybe he has another car."
"He doesn't have another car, Tasha," your voice is stoic despite the lump in your throat, "He has his truck and that's it. Joel Miller doesn't drive a purple fucking convertible."
"A purple convertible?" Tasha repeats, voice faltering now, processing the information, "Jesus Christ."
You stare at the driveway, at the car in question - you're still a few houses down so it's hard to see any specific details, but you're sure you can make out a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror inside. This is definitely not Joel's vehicle by any means. Your stomach is in knots, unsure what the fuck you're supposed to do now; you'd thought briefly of the possibility that he'd slept with her, and up until this moment you'd been prepared to hear him admit it to you. But you hadn't expected it to really be true, to almost come face to face with the woman herself.
"I don't understand," Tasha suddenly says on the other line, "He knows you're coming for your lesson, why the fuck would he still have her in the house?"
"I don't know," your voice is almost a whisper, thick with sadness and disbelief, "I- oh shit." You cut yourself off and sink deep into your front seat when you catch the front door of his house opening, eyes going wide as you watch two figures emerge out onto the front step.
"What's happening?" Tasha asks frantically - you can practically hear her pacing on the other end, "Talk to me!"
"They're coming out!" you hiss, "They're on the fucking front step."
"Oh, honey, you gotta leave. You're not gonna wanna see this, you need to just turn around and come back," her voice is full of disappointment, anger that mirrors your own, "I'm serious, this is just-"
"Shhh," you peer over the dashboard at them, squinting against the sun. You can make out Joel's broad back in the early morning light, can recognize one of his band t-shirts and his signature bedhead, pointing in all directions. You can see him, but it's difficult to make out the figure he's with, his body blocking her almost entirely from you. "I think she's leaving."
You watch with a mix of rage and horror as he suddenly leans down and wraps his arms around her, her own winding around his broad form as her hands interlock together behind his back. Your eyebrows raise in confusion, mouth dropping open.
"It's not the same woman," you whisper.
"What do you mean it's not the same woman?"
"Literally that," you breathe, shaking your head and feeling a few tears begin to make their way down your cheeks, "It's not the one from last night, it's someone else."
"How do you know?"
"Because the woman last night was black and this girl isn't, I can see her arms," you snap, a sob threatening to burst its way past your lips, "And this one's shorter, he has to bend down to hug her."
"To hug her?!" Tasha echoes, "What the fuck?"
You watch as they separate from one another, watch with rage burning in your chest as she walks down the steps toward her car. You can see her better now, get a good look at her in the few seconds it takes her to reach the driver's side door. She's wearing a pink dress, frilled at the bottom with a pair of white sandals - she looks young. You're already redacting your prior statement about her not being black - now that she's properly in view, you can see the brown softness of her skin, her afro textured hair plaited neatly into two rows. But it's not the same woman.
"So, what, he had two girls in one night? Is that what you're telling me?" Tasha is saying in your ear while you continue to stare at the woman, watch her open the car door and climb inside with one last wave to Joel, "Hello?"
"I - I don't know. I'm-" you watch Joel wave to her and then head back inside the house, presumably to wait for you to arrive. Your stomach is tight and painful, bile in your throat all over again. "You were right," you whisper, tears cascading down onto your bare legs, "I didn't need to see this."
--
So much for not crying anymore.
You're back on the couch again, wrapped up like a burrito staring at the wall while Tasha paces back and forth around the living room in front of you, talking a mile a minute.
"It was a whole different story when it was just the one girl," she's ranting, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed in anger, "But two? Two girls. In one fucking night. And one of them is half his age," she scoffs, almost a growl, "So what, he just does this in his spare time? Fucks around with girls' hearts and bodies and then acts like some tough, macho contractor with a busy schedule? Please."
You don't need to remind her that you're also half his age - you know she'd come up with a reason why you're different, why you're the exception. And you do appreciate that, but the more she talks the more you're starting to realize that maybe that's never been the case. Maybe you weren't some beautiful coincidence that wandered into Joel's life - maybe he's been doing this for a long time.
Your gaze follows her as she walks around, pacing the same circle over and over again around the coffee table; it's typical Tasha - you've seen her do this on numerous occasions before, but never on your behalf. Your phone suddenly vibrates on the table and your heads both snap toward it, plunging the room into silence. You already know it's him - who else would be texting you this early? You reach over and unlock it, eyes scanning the message:
Where are you?
"He's wondering why I haven't shown up," you say quietly, voice still hoarse from all the crying.
"What a fucking prick. Do not reply," she resumes her pacing, "Two girls the night before he's supposed to have a date with you. Who does that? Who actually does that? Men, that's who. Men do that. I'm swearing off them forever after this. Seriously, I mean it. What the fuck."
You appreciate her concern, appreciate that she's no longer arguing on Joel's behalf, but her words cut you deep regardless. The whole situation still feels surreal. How is it that just over twenty four hours ago he was kissing you softly, sweetly, peering at you with those beautiful brown eyes and telling you he had something special planned for your lesson? What had he wanted to try, a fucking threesome?
"I don't know him at all," you whisper softly, sadly, "I never did. He's a stranger. A complete stranger who I was stupid enough to trust."
Your words seem to touch something in Tasha. She stops her pacing, slowly turns toward you with that empathetic look again and then carefully steps toward the couch, sitting down on the end.
"He just... he was there," you continue, lip trembling, "My parents were being so controlling and I was literally thinking about just... just leaving, finding some way to get back to campus without them knowing and then I heard that fucking guitar and-" you hiccup through a sob, clutching your hand to your chest, "I should've known then. I should've just kept walking. He asked me to come in, Tasha. He wanted to fuck me, then and there. And when I said no I guess I... I became some sort of challenge. Just a stupid, naïve little Catholic girl he could fuck and dump. And I fell for it, hook line and sinker."
She places a hand on your calf, just like she had last night, stroking gently up and down, "You're not stupid," she murmurs, "You're just a girl. A girl experiencing something really special for the first time. And I'm sorry he took that experience from you."
You manage to smile at her, soft and sincere. Despite everything, it feels good to have a friend, to not be alone when you're feeling like this. To be validated and comforted. You have no idea how you'd be processing all of this without Tasha by your side, if you'd have even been able to leave your bed this morning.
"This is so not what I wanted this weekend to be," she suddenly sighs, putting her head in her hands, "I wanted you to have fun, be free. And here you are feeling like shit about yourself. It's not fair."
She's right. It's not fair.
You take a deep breath, then carefully pry yourself out from underneath your blanket, rolling off the couch and coming to stand in front of Tasha with a determined expression on your face.
"You didn't dress me to the nines just for me to cry and feel sorry for myself on the couch," you say confidently, doing your best to wipe away your tears without completely smearing away Tasha's hard work, "I don't wanna think about Joel anymore. I don't wanna cry about Joel anymore. You know what I wanna do?"
She looks up at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face, "Go have fun and be free?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
--
You never thought you'd be the kind of person to go day drinking, but here you are. Tasha had fixed your makeup and then gotten all dolled up herself, ready for a whole day of doing exactly what you'd both set out to do this weekend: have fun.
Your first stop is a little bistro within walking distance of the Airbnb; you already know that neither of you will be fit to drive by the time this is all over, so you stick to places that are relatively close to the house. As you sip your cocktails and dig into a plate of sandwiches, Tasha informs you that she'd purposely booked this house in particular because of its proximity to the local club scene - you're not surprised in the slightest.
Your phone vibrates a few times while you're eating but you don't check it, forcing yourself to avoid reading anything else Joel has to say to you. It's only when it actually rings, two cocktails deep and plate empty, that you briefly consider picking it up.
"Nope," Tasha says, grabbing the phone from you and canceling the call before you can answer, "No more Joel today, we agreed."
"No more Joel," you repeat, nodding. You let her slip your phone into her own purse after putting it on silent - you know she'll keep it safe, and you know it's for the best.
--
You spend the majority of the afternoon popping in and out of local bars and boutiques, shopping and chatting to your hearts content as your body adjusts to the constant thrum of alcohol running through your system, making your head a bit foggy in the best way. It's like nothing really matters except this moment, right now, the beat of live music here and there as the sun gets lower in the sky, the conversations drifting past, the smell of food wafting out of restaurants. Tasha is a constant presence at your side, arm linked with yours as she dishes on all the drama of her life you've missed thus far this summer.
You don't think about Joel.
It's obvious throughout your little adventures throughout the day that people - particularly men - gravitate to Tasha very easily. You're not sure if it's simply because of how gorgeous she is - all curves and plump lips and dark curls down to her waist, purple cowboy hat askew above her perfectly applied makeup - or because she's simply a light. She's so bubbly and completely herself, smiling and laughing and dancing, never apologetic or ashamed. It feels good to have a girl like that in your corner, helping you out of your shell, only wanting what's best for you.
You realize as the day passes that you're beginning to mimic her behavior a bit. Whether it's due to the alcohol or your admiration for her, you're not sure, but either way you can feel yourself loosening up, allowing yourself to be more uninhibited, less insecure, not caring if people are looking at you. And people are definitely starting to look at you.
"Dude over there is staring at you," Tasha says quietly to you as you sip margaritas on the back deck of a country bar. You're now wearing her cowboy hat, stolen it after what can only be described as a predictable turn of events where she'd rode the mechanical bull and lost it in one particularly hard buck. You'd picked it up off the floor and placed it on your head, laughing hysterically as the bull threatened to launch Tasha across the room.
"Where?" your eyes go wide as you take a long sip, waiting for her to point him out. She nods at something behind you and you do your best to slowly turn around, not wanting to be too obvious. In your drunken state, however, it's not very smooth. You almost topple off the chair as you spin in place to find who she's talking about.
Through your laughter you spot him. Typical young Texan - floppy blonde hair and a strong jawline, sun-kissed skin and a white smile that practically glimmers against the sunset. He nods to you when he sees you looking, tilts his head to the side a bit and winks.
You turn back to Tasha, shaking your head, "He is not looking at me," you feel your skin heating up, not just from the alcohol, "There's no way."
"He is looking at you," Tasha reiterates, placing her empty glass down on the table, "You're fucking hot."
Your mind can't help but flash back to freshman year, that godforsaken party when another boy with a similar appearance had looked your way. The hope you'd felt, the desire, the confidence... all of it fading when he approached and chose your friend to talk to instead, not even bothering to glance your way despite standing right there beside her. You can't help but worry that it's happening all over again.
But then you hear a deep voice behind you, southern and sexy: "Pardon me, but I just had to tell you, I think you're the prettiest girl I ever saw."
Your eyes widen and you spin back around, still half expecting him to be talking to Tasha, not you, but his green eyes connect with yours instead. His gaze holds you there, your lips parting with no words coming out as you stare up at him in shock.
"She was just telling me that you're not so bad yourself," Tasha offers with a smile, nudging you under the table with her heel, "Right?"
"R-right," you manage to stammer out, still staring open-mouthed at this gorgeous specimen that has somehow decided that you're the girl he wants to talk to right now. The prettiest girl he ever saw.
He smiles at that, toothy and beautiful, "I'm Noah," he puts his hand out for you to take and you do, grasping it tightly and trying to hold on to the reality of this moment, the way his soft skin feels against yours, the way your brain is buzzing with amazement - and tequila.
Tasha's foot hits your ankle again and you quickly splutter out your name, releasing his hand and awkwardly placing yours back in your lap. You feel the bare skin of your thigh and you're suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you are right now - this dress certainly doesn't leave much up to the imagination. Your thighs and breasts are practically spilling out of it, pink material clinging to your body. But he isn't looking at any of that - he's looking at your face.
"It's real nice to meet you," he says with another smile, "Can I buy you a drink?" he suddenly looks at Tasha, like he's only just remembered she's sitting there, "And one for your friend too, of course."
"She'd love one," Tasha answers for you, nudging her arm against yours gently, "We'll both have another margarita."
Noah nods once, sets his gaze to your face again with a smile, then disappears inside the bar to go order the drinks.
The second he's gone it's like you're released from some sort of spell he'd put you under. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your chest, breaths coming shorter as you turn to Tasha with utter horror.
"What happened to swearing off all men?" you hiss, brow furrowing.
"Please, Noah isn't a man, he's a boy," she scoffs with a smile, twirling her hair between her fingers, "And I know alllll about boys."
--
You don't know how it happens, somehow lost the plot about halfway into your second margarita, but Noah is going to the club with you.
You are drunk. You know this for a fact. You hadn't been expecting to already feel this fucked up upon setting foot in the club but here you are, Tasha on one arm and Noah on the other. Tasha's had just as much to drink as you but doesn't seem anywhere near as intoxicated as you feel, continuing to be her excitable self when the bass drops and the neon lights start to dance across her skin. She's stolen back her cowboy hat but you've somehow gained your own - you think it might be Noah's.
"LET'S DANCE!" she screeches, pulling you away from Noah and dragging you onto the dance floor. You watch with slightly blurred vision as he goes in the opposite direction, toward the bar, probably to order more drinks.
The music is loud, the dance floor full of people, bodies swaying back and forth, people jumping up and down, grinding on one another, screaming conversations over the heavy bass. The lights are bright and it feels like all of your senses have been heightened, like you can feel, taste, see, and hear everything in your immediate vicinity to the utmost degree. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you can feel it in other places too - your feet, your kneecaps, your skin.
"I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!" Tasha screams to you, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning on the spot, smile wide and joyous as she starts to dance, "DANCE WITH ME, COME ON!"
Your senses are overloading but you try your best to match her energy, copy her movements, focus on just this instead of everything else that's going on around you. This is what you've been missing all these years; this is what you've been waiting to experience. Enjoy it. You let your inhibitions flow and just exist in this moment, having fun with your best friend, far away from anyone who would ever judge you for being here. Far away from your parents and your neighbors and Bethany and -
No. You do not think about Joel.
You and Tasha dance to about three songs before she's tugging you away from the dance floor and over to the bar, back to where Noah is leaning with a beer bottle perched against his lips. He smiles when he sees you approaching, gestures to the little mini drinks beside him, small enough to only have about a thumb of liquid in each.
"Shots!" Tasha squeals, clapping her hands together, "Shots, shots, shots!" She picks one up and hands it to you, then grabs her own, "Come on, Noah, do one with us!"
Noah still can't seem to keep his eyes off you, though you've begun to notice that he's no longer just looking at your face anymore. This time his eyes fall to your breasts as he puts down his beer bottle and replaces it with one of the shot glasses, gaze falling down to your legs before finding your eyes again.
You catch a glint of something darker there, something seductive, and as you bring the glass to your lips you're suddenly aware that beneath the alcohol you feel a bit... uneasy.
--
You're fucked up. You're really fucked up.
Tasha doesn't leave your side, something you're extremely grateful for. You're starting to have difficulty seeing straight, even walking is becoming confusing, let alone dancing. You grip Tasha's shoulders tightly on the dance floor as you both sway to the music, unsure exactly how long it's been since you arrived at the club. She's looking at you with hazy eyes, much drunker now than she was earlier, and your very intoxicated brain is wondering if you're actually going to leave at some point or whether you're just stuck here for the rest of eternity.
You can feel Noah against your back. He's grinding against you to the song, hands on your hips as his groin presses firmly into your ass. It's weird, being in a Tasha-Noah sandwich that you didn't really sign up for. You're too drunk to really know what you want, actually. You feel fine having Tasha this close, feel safe in her embrace, but Noah's presence is starting to make you feel a bit uncomfortable.
"I'm really drunk," you slur, but it's too quiet for either Tasha or Noah to hear you. Tasha just nods as if she understands, head tilting back and mouth popping open as another song begins. She mouths something, probably I love this song, something she's said about ten times tonight.
Noah pulls you in closer, almost like he's tugging you away from Tasha, but your voice is too faint under the music for your protests to be heard. His arms come up to wrap around your middle, and you feel the unmistakable shape of his cock dip down between your cheeks through your dress. At first you think maybe it's unintentional, but then he does it again, and again, like he's using your body to get himself off. On the fucking dance floor.
"Let go of me," you breathe, but it's lost to the music. You watch as Tasha gets further away, your arms dropping completely from her shoulders as she turns and starts to spin on the spot, still staring up at the ceiling, unaware of what's happening. "Stop," you mumble, feeling his clothed cock rub against you again, a sensation you're now familiar with but certainly not in this context. And certainly not with someone who isn't Joel Miller.
The thought of Joel is what does it.
"STOP," you practically scream, yanking yourself away from him and taking a few heavy steps back, shaking your head frantically, "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME."
A few people are turning to look and Noah seems more than embarrassed, hands going up quickly. He's drunk too, you can see it in his face, in his eyes, but you already know he's certainly not the harmless young Texan you thought he was. That feeling of unease earlier sure as hell hadn't been the alcohol talking.
You feel a hand at your waist and you flinch but only for a second, gaze coming to rest on Tasha who's now standing beside you with a look of pure horror on her face.
"What'd he do?" she asks, voice panicked and quick, almost like she's not even drunk anymore, "Are you okay?"
You nod but you can feel tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. Your ears are ringing like they had last night, but it's different this time, almost like you're underwater as Tasha grips your arm and leads you toward the front of the club, away from the loud music and drunk people. Away from Noah.
"Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry," her voice is shaking with emotion when you get out onto the street, hand holding tight to your arm, "I didn't even notice what he was doing. Jesus fucking Christ," she pulls out her phone and dials the number for a cab - through your bleary eyes you see a few teardrops dribble down the bridge of her nose, "We're going home, I'm so sorry, honey."
"S'okay," you manage to garble out through your tears, flowing heavily now in your drunken state, "It happened really fast."
"Doesn't make it okay," she replies, bringing the phone to her ear.
No, it doesn't.
--
"I want Joel," you whisper through your tears once you're settled in the back seat of the cab, Tasha beside you with her hand resting soothingly on your arm.
"What, honey?" Tasha asks softly, "Say it again, can't hear you."
"I want Joel," you repeat, words slurred as your hands come up to cover your face, "I don't wanna go home. I want Joel."
"We can't go to Joel's," Tasha murmurs, stroking your arm, "It's almost three in the morning, he's asleep."
"I want Joel," you repeat, "I wanna see him."
"I need an address," the cab driver says over his shoulder; he's already started running the meter, "Don't got all night, girls."
Before Tasha can say anything you're spluttering out Joel's address through a sob. Tasha starts to protest but you shake your head furiously, tears scattering everywhere, "I'll just walk," you mumble adamantly, "If you change it I'll just get out and walk."
"But-"
"You owe me," you practically spit, "You owe me after what just happened." You don't mean it, but your brain is nowhere near sober enough to fully realize that. And neither is hers.
She doesn't say anything else.
--
It's very strange being back in your neighborhood not sober. Your mind is still ridiculously fuzzy from the alcohol but part of you is able to acknowledge how crazy it is that you're back here so late at night in such a drunken state, driving through the dark streets while your parents are none the wiser. The cab passes by your house and you find yourself ducking down into the seat, afraid they might see you despite it being almost three o'clock in the morning.
"Can you just keep the meter running?" Tasha asks the cab driver quietly as you approach Joel's house, "I'm not staying, I just wanna make sure she gets in okay and that someone's here to help her."
"You're not coming in," you mutter, voice still slurred and heavy. You don't look at her as you say it.
"I'll just wait in the car for a few minutes then," she says quietly, just as the cab comes to a stop in Joel's driveway.
His truck is here, just like this morning. Except this time there's no purple convertible blocking him in, no other woman standing on the front step hugging him, waving to him.
Anger rises in your chest at the memory.
"I still don't think this is a good idea," Tasha says softly - what happened earlier has clearly sobered her up, almost no trace of drunkenness in her speech, "He's asleep, there aren't any lights on."
"Then I'll wake him up," you mumble, opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.
"I'll wait here for a few-," she calls out to you but you slam the door before she can finish her sentence.
You're not sure why you're suddenly being so mean to her. That is, until you stagger up Joel's front steps and feel even more rage bubbling inside you at the thought of standing where he'd stood this morning, where she'd stood this morning. Where the woman from the bar had probably stood too. Oh. You're an angry drunk.
Without any hesitation you push down on the doorbell. You don't bother to wait in silence; you just keep pushing it and pushing it over and over, hearing the dull sound of the bell dinging inside the house. You're vaguely aware of a light being turned on behind the frosted glass as you lean your hand against the door, suddenly feeling dizzy now that you're standing again.
The door opens and you practically fall through it, squinting against the sudden bright light and bringing your hands up to your face as you stagger inside. You feel someone catch you, big hands coming to rest atop both of your arms, and then your name being said in a deep voice, husky with sleep.
Joel.
"Are you okay?" he asks somewhere above you; your ears are ringing again and his voice is loud and muffled, that underwater feeling coming back. You try to mumble something but it comes out an incoherent garble.
You feel him pull you inside, hear the door shut behind you as he kicks it closed with his foot. He guides you inside the living room and your eyes shut tightly against the brightness of the overhead light, shining down on top of you like a spotlight.
"Too bright," you manage to mumble out, bringing your hands up to cover your face. You find yourself being seated on the couch before the light is switched off, plunging you both into total darkness.
"Baby, what happened?" you hear him ask, voice still swimming thickly through your muted ears, "I've been so fuckin' worried about you, where've you been? Where'd you go?" you feel his hands take yours, gripping them tightly. They're so rough and callused, nothing at all like Noah's, and it makes you smile.
"Feels nice," you mutter, already forgetting what he asked you.
"What'd you take?" he asks, and you suddenly realize that there's a very frantic edge to his voice, thick with worry and... fear? "Huh? Tell me what you took so I can help."
"D-didn't take anything," you hiccup, shaking your head slowly.
"Christ, babygirl," he mutters, squeezing your hands again, "Where were you? I called you so many times, I texted you, I-"
"Tasha's got my phone," you mumble.
"Where's Tasha? She alright?"
"In the cab."
"Jesus," he releases your hand and stands up, turns on a dim lamp in the corner of the room so you're not in total darkness anymore. You watch with hooded eyes as he opens the front door again, walks out onto the step and starts gesturing something into the darkness. He looks ridiculous, waving his arms like that - it makes you giggle.
He turns around and walks back over to you with long strides. You can see his face more clearly now, expression lined with worry. He looks tired. He probably is.
"Just wanted you," you mutter, staring at him.
Before he can say anything Tasha is suddenly walking in through the door, expression stoic as she passes the threshold. She avoids Joel's gaze completely, looking only at you.
"What the fuck happened?" Joel asks her, any sort of introductory pleasantries gone out the window, "Where's she been? What'd she take?"
"Nice to meet you too," Tasha grumbles, hitching her purse over her shoulder and walking over to where you sit on the couch, "She's fine, we went clubbing and she got drunk. I'll take her back."
"No you fuckin' won't," he says indignantly, moving to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed, "How could you let this happen to her? She's never done shit like this before, you know that right? She's never been drunk in her fuckin' life and you bring her back like this? You ever heard of takin' it fuckin' slow?"
"Oh please, like I'm gonna take advice from you," she snaps back, walking around him and reaching down to take your hand, "Come on, honey, we need to go. Now."
"She's not goin' with you, she's stayin' here," his voice is loud, louder than you've ever heard it. In fact, you don't think you've ever seen him mad before. It's strange, seeing the way his eyes narrow, his mouth downturned into an angry frown, fists tight against his chest.
"I only brought her here because she said she'd jump out and walk if I didn't," Tasha argues, voice firm, "She's safe with me."
"Safe, huh?" he scoffs, "So why the fuck do you have her phone? Do you know how many times I've tried to call her in the past fuckin' twelve hours? I was this close to callin' the fuckin' police."
"If anyone here needs the fucking police called on them it's you," Tasha's voice is louder now, every word echoing in your brain, "Fucking creep."
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
Your drunken brain can't process much of what's going on at all, both Tasha and Joel's voices blending into one constant loud noise. You bring your hands up to your head and cover your ears, though it can only do so much to block out their voices. What they're saying still manages to come through, albeit muffled and distant.
"You heard what I said. Fucking. Creep." Tasha repeats, "She knows what you've been doing, you asshole."
"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"
"What, don't have the balls to admit it?"
"Admit what?"
"Stop," you say loudly, bringing your hands down from your ears, "Stop yelling, you're hurting my head."
Joel crouches down, picks up your hands and takes them in his again, peering into your eyes. You can't see him properly anymore and you hate it, can only make out bits and pieces as your eyesight just continues to get worse the longer you sit here. You feel sleepy, almost like you're on the edge of unconsciousness.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, thumbs stroking yours gently, "I'm sorry, babygirl. I'll stop yellin'."
You close your eyes, nodding and breathing deeply in and out, loving the feeling of having him touching you again. It's almost like last night didn't happen, like this morning didn't happen.
Last night. This morning.
You suddenly yank your hands away from him, eyes going wide as you remember exactly why you're even here in the first place, why you wanted to get fucked up to begin with. His face comes back into view again, expression confused.
"I know what you've been doing," you hiss, echoing Tasha's words and scooting away from him. You reach your hand up for her to take and she grips it tightly, helping you get up.
"Babygirl," he says softly, brown eyes tender and soft as he eases himself up from the floor, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"We saw you," Tasha says then, linking her arm with yours, "At the bar last night." She means business now, you can hear it in her voice, "We saw you kiss someone else."
His expression changes instantly. Worry, anger, concern... all of it gone in a single second.
"That's what I thought," Tasha says firmly, then carefully eases you out of the living room, walks with you as far as the porch before you hear Joel speak.
His voice is quiet, shaky, "It's not what you think."
"Then what is it, exactly?" Tasha turns then, rounding on him again while you cling to her arm, "You're not playing her? You didn't waste weeks of her life making her feel special only for it to turn out you're just like the rest of them?"
He doesn't say anything and you can't bring yourself to look at him, heart in your throat and tears in your eyes once again as you stare at the hardwood floor.
"I didn't... that's not what..." he finally breathes, "It's not what you think. That's all I can say."
"That's all you can say?"
"Well, I can hardly fuckin' explain myself when she won't remember it, can I?" his voice is raw, hitching on the last few words, "Nothin'... nothin' happened other than some kissin'. It didn't go any further, I swear."
"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"
"I'm not askin' you to believe me," he breathes, "But that's the truth. That's the fuckin' truth, swear on my life."
"And what about the girl she saw leaving this morning?"
He's quiet again for a moment. You're still afraid to look at him, can barely even comprehend that this conversation is even really happening right now.
"That was - Jesus, I never wanted you to find out like this," he mutters, and Tasha laughs without humor.
"Yeah, you thought it'd just stay your little secret, huh?" It's hard to believe she's had just as much to drink as you have tonight - you wouldn't know it by the way she handles herself now, the way she speaks to Joel like she already knows him. She's done this before. She's no stranger to confronting men who did her wrong, or in this case, her friend.
"That was my daughter," he says softly.
Tasha freezes.
The words do their best to seep into your skin, to make their way into the sober depths of your brain that lie dormant, somewhere hidden. You still feel so fuzzy, bleary eyed and heavy and confused, but the words register somehow.
You slowly unhook your arm from Tasha's to finally look up from the floor, moving your gaze to Joel's still form. He's standing there by the couch, arms still crossed across his chest but not angry anymore, a look of pure sadness and shame on his face. He looks small.
"Y-you have a daughter?" you whisper.
"Yes," he replies softly, eyes slowly lifting to meeting yours, "And the woman at the bar, that was her mother. My ex wife." You see tears shining in his eyes, watch as his lip trembles as he softly whispers, "And I swear - I swear it never went further than some kisses. And it won't go any further than that ever again."
You feel Tasha reach down and squeeze your hand. What she's trying to communicate to you, you're not sure. You just stand there staring at him, unable to process this information in your current state, head swimming and ears still ringing.
"I'll tell you everything," he continues quietly, taking a slow step toward you, "When you're feelin' better, I swear. Anythin' you wanna know, I'll tell you." He takes another few steps until he's standing directly in front of you and Tasha, leaning down so he can peer directly into your eyes, "I'm so sorry it happened this way," he whispers, "I never thought - Jesus, I'm just so fuckin' sorry."
You swallow tightly around the lump in your throat, completely unsure of how you feel, of what you're supposed to say or do. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is computing properly.
"You need to take her home," he murmurs, pulling back and turning his attention to Tasha, "Look, I'm sorry for-"
"No, I'm sorry," she suddenly breathes, "I was- wow, that's... I mean, I wasn't expecting that. I'm sorry. I just, I thought-"
"It's okay," he replies, voice still a bit stiff, "Just get her back safe, okay? She's-" he cuts himself off to look at you again, eyes peering down at you sadly. "She's special."
Tasha nods, "I know she is."
The last thing you remember, the last thing that's at least semi-clear in your mind, is the soft look of affection on his face as he stands on his doorstep and watches you go.
--
You're not sure exactly what time it is when you wake up on Sunday. The only thing you're sure of is that your head is pounding and the sun streaming through the window is only making it worse. You roll over in bed and press your face into the pillow with a low moan.
You're never drinking that much ever again.
There's movement beside you and you open your eyes briefly to see Tasha laying in a similar position, still in her dress from yesterday, face smooshed into her own pillow. You can't remember how you got back, memories extremely hazy and shrouded completely in too much alcohol. The last thing you can remember is being at Joel's house, of the brief conversation he had with Tasha, the words he'd said to you...
My ex wife.
It never went further than some kisses.
That was my daughter.
Now that your brain isn't under the influence, you can finally think straight, can finally process everything he said to you last night. Or at least what you can remember. You roll over again with another moan, sensing nausea in the pit of your stomach.
"The hangover is the worst part," Tasha mumbles, and you turn your head to see her looking at you through messy mascara, smudged and smeared all over her eyes, "But you'll be okay."
You stare at her for a few seconds, everything else from the night before slowly coming back to you in bits and pieces. The club, Noah, the way you'd snapped at her...
"I'm so sorry," you whisper, "Tasha, I was so fucking mean to you."
The part of her lips that you can see curve upward into a smile and she shakes her head slowly, "It's all water under the bridge, babe," she murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep, "You had every right."
"No, I didn't. That stuff with Noah, that wasn't your fault."
"I should've known better than to invite him along," she sighs deeply, "I just wanted you to have fun, you know? I wanted you to forget about..." she trails off, biting her lip.
"I know," you breathe, "And I did, for a while. You couldn't have known about Noah, he certainly had me fooled."
She nods, closing her eyes and nuzzling the pillow a bit. You both lay there in silence, the elephant in the room growing bigger and bigger the longer you go without talking about it.
"So, Joel's got a daughter," you finally whisper, "And an ex wife."
She opens her eyes again, raising an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you remember that. You were pretty fucked up."
You wince, "Did I completely embarrass myself?"
"No, not at all," her hand comes up to touch your shoulder gently, thumbing the skin there, "You stood your ground, you did good. And now... now we know the truth."
"The truth," you echo.
More silence. It's like neither of you really knows what to say to the other. You're sure Tasha has already formulated her own opinion, has probably known since last night exactly how she feels about the whole thing. And that scares you a bit - because what if she doesn't feel the same way you do?
And how exactly do you feel about it anyway?
"I think he texted you again a little while ago," she finally says softly, pointing toward your phone on the night stand, "I heard it when I got up to use the bathroom. And there's a lot of texts there from yesterday. He, uh-" she bites her lip, "He was really worried about you, honey."
You reach over and pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before unlocking it and looking at the damage: 9 texts. 18 missed calls.
Shit. You suppose it makes sense. The last time you'd talked to him was on Friday morning in his kitchen, when you'd told him you were planning on going out with Tasha and having a girl's weekend, finally having your college experiences. He hadn't known anything that happened between then and last night, hadn't known you'd seen him at the bar, that you'd gone to his house on Saturday morning and left again, not giving him any explanation as to why you hadn't shown up for your lesson. To him, it had just been complete radio silence.
With a shaky finger you press his name, heart pounding as the unanswered text messages flood your screen. First, the three you've already seen:
Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️
You get home ok? Let me know x
Where are you?
And everything else:
???
Hey, I'm worried about you. Give me a call or a text ok?
Please call me.
I'm outta my mind over here baby. Please let me know you're alright.
I'm scared for you. Last I heard you were going out with your friend and then nothing since. Please call.
Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.
I'm so worried about you. I can't sleep. Please call me.
I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.
Please.
The most recent text was sent this morning, around ten:
I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.
"Did you read these?" you ask Tasha softly, eyes unmoving from the last text, scanning the words over and over.
"No," she replies, "Just saw the notifications."
You scroll back up and read them again, and again, like you'll somehow be able to rewind time if you just keep reading them. You can't believe there's this many, can't believe that the man who'd been so distant the past week is the same man who sent you all of these.
The same man with a whole other life he never told you about.
"What do I do?" you whisper.
Tasha sighs, then carefully pulls herself up to lean against the headboard, crossing her legs and looking over at you, "What do you wanna do?"
You lock your phone again and sit up beside her, exhaling deeply, "I don't know."
You both sit there in silence for a few moments, lost in thought. You can't explain it but you feel nowhere near as betrayed or angry as you'd felt yesterday. Rage is no longer present - and neither is sadness. The only way you can describe how you feel is... relieved.
"He has a daughter and an ex wife," you state.
"He does."
"He has a daughter and an ex wife," somehow saying it again makes it feel more real, but the words still don't trigger any strong emotions. You sigh and look at Tasha, urging her to say something else.
"So, other than that, what's changed?" she asks.
You bite your lip and turn away from her again, shrugging your shoulders slowly, "I mean, that's... that's a lot."
"It is," she agrees softly, "It is a lot."
You swallow, fingers playing with the edge of your dress, reminding you that you're still wearing the same outfit from yesterday. God, you need a shower. You need to wash this entire experience off of you.
"You remember where we landed Friday night?" Tasha asks suddenly, "We talked about the possibility of him kissing someone else and we agreed that communication was the way to go, right?"
"That was before we knew he had a daughter and an ex wife, Tasha."
"Yeah, well... now we do know. And we know he's willing to talk to you about it," she twists her mouth in thought, "So do you wanna talk to him about it?"
"...I don't know."
She suddenly eases herself off the bed, stretching her arms above her head and yawning loudly. You watch as she assesses her pillow, grimaces at the dark makeup stains on the white cotton.
"I'm scared," you admit softly, avoiding her gaze.
"What are you scared of?"
You don't know how to answer that, biting your lip and sniffling a bit. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them and leaning your face into your warm skin.
"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" she asks quietly, absolutely no judgement in her voice, "That's it, isn't it? You're really starting to fall and that's why you're scared."
You can't speak, unable to say anything because you know you'll burst into tears if you do. Instead, you nod your head slowly, up and down against your knees.
"Then you gotta talk to him, honey," she kneels down on the bed, places her hand on your shoulder soothingly, "You gotta hear what he has to say."
You groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you stretch out your legs again, turning on the bed and scooching downward to smoosh your face back into the pillow.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Tasha murmurs softly, "I feel disgusting."
"Welcome to the club," you mumble into the pillow.
You're vaguely aware of Tasha moving around you, grabbing things from the nightstand and puttering around the room as she gets ready for her shower. You sense her standing close to you for a bit longer than necessary, like she's just staring at you without really knowing what to say. With a roll of your eyes you turn to face her, and you catch the briefest moment that she places your phone back down on the nightstand.
Your brow furrows, "What are you doing with my phone?"
"Nothing," she says quickly, turning around and leaving the room without another word.
--
You fall back to sleep without meaning to, and when you wake again, it's only because you hear someone talking in the other room, someone with a deep voice. Tasha must be watching a movie. You curl in on yourself a bit, rubbing your eyes and wincing when you feel the makeup smudge across your face. You really should get up and shower.
You suddenly hear footsteps in the hallway, getting closer. But there's something different about them, something heavy in the way they sound against the floorboards.
The door opens and there's just silence for a few seconds, no movement. Then the footsteps return, closer now, slow and unsure.
You know it's him before his weight sinks into the bed.
Oh, Tasha. Of course you did.
You close your eyes as you feel his arms snake around you from behind. You allow him to pull you in close, feel his nose against the back of your neck, his scruff against your shoulder. He smells like his cologne, feels warm and solid against your back, the denim of his jeans brushing against your bare legs.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers.
You immediately turn within his embrace, coming face to face with the man who you've spent the past twenty four hours hating, being angry at, feeling betrayed by - he's looking at you with a tenderness you can't describe, lips downturned into a soft frown that says everything. He's upset. He's ashamed. He's sorry.
"Why did you kiss her?" you whisper.
He takes a breath, "We have this... arrangement," he murmurs, "We've had it for years. Whenever she's in town - which isn't very often, maybe once every three years or so - we sleep together. It's been goin' on for over twenty years now, it's just.. it's just what we do."
You nod slowly, eyes falling to his mouth and then back to his eyes, "But you didn't this time."
"We didn't," he breathes, "I swear to you, we didn't. We went back to my place, we... we were kissin'," he winces but doesn't close his eyes, keeping his gaze on you, "I.. I went to grab a condom out of my bedside table before things got heavy and I-" he cuts himself off, taking another breath.
"What?"
You watch as he reaches down into his pocket, fishes something out. He brings his hand up and extends his fingers, shows you what's sitting in the palm of his hand.
Your crucifix.
"I saw this," he breathes, "And all of a sudden, I just... I just knew I couldn't."
You stare at the gold cross, watch it glint in the sunlight still cascading through the windows. His breath hitches and your gaze goes back to his face, the lines and wrinkles and grey whiskers, his soft brown eyes and curved nose.
"I understand if you can't forgive me," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I don't expect you to, but I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry that I did."
He closes his fist around the crucifix again and slowly brings it downward to your own hand, urging you to open it. He slips the chain past your fingers, goes to pull his hand away, but you stop him. You grip his hand tightly, the cross digging into both of your palms.
"We never established anything," you whisper softly, "We... we've never said that we're anything. It's just been sex."
He doesn't say anything, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he waits for you to speak again. He's so handsome, so unreal in a way that doesn't make sense to you, and probably never will.
"I wanna be yours," you breathe, meeting his gaze, "I don't want you to be with anyone else."
He leans forward to gently brush his nose to yours, eyes closing as he breathes deeply, the tears spilling over onto his cheeks.
"Okay," he whispers.
You know there's more for him to explain, so many more details you don't have yet that you do want to know. But in this moment, you don't care about any of it. You just want him.
It doesn't take long for you both to be completely undressed, clothes tossed over the sides of the bed as your naked bodies press warmly up against each other, soft and eager. He presses kisses to your neck, breathes you in, runs his fingers through your hair as he hovers above you with absolute need in his eyes, a look you're sure mirrors your own.
He knows you're still not ready without you having to say it. Knows this isn't the right time. There's no need for any words of reassurance or any questions. He knows what you need. You know what he needs.
His cock moves firmly down against your tummy beneath the sheets, his shaft settling perfectly against your pussy, already wet and aching for him like it had been the second he walked into the room. He puts both hands above your head, leans down to kiss you as he drags himself up and down within your folds, up and down, up and down.
It feels incredible, just having the thick length of him rubbing back and forth against your clit, the wide head catching at your entrance every now and then, eliciting a deep groan from Joel and soft whimpers from you. You grip his back tightly, broad and firm and yours, fingertips digging into his skin as he fucks himself against you.
"Feels so good," you whisper in his ear, voice trembling with every thrust, "Feels so good, Joel."
"I know it does, babygirl," he whispers, kissing your ear and grinding himself against you even deeper, moving his hands down to grip your hips as his cock continues to slip back and forth against your folds, "You're so sensitive, aren't you? That big cock feels so good against your little pussy, hm?"
You nod frantically, arms moving up a bit to wrap around his neck, your cheek brushing against his.
"You want a bit of my cock inside your hole, baby?" he whispers softly, secretly, pushing your hair away from your face, "Huh? You want the tip, honey? Just a little bit?"
You don't even have to think.
"Yes," you moan, "Yes, please, put it in, please."
"Okay, baby," he murmurs, pulling back a bit to look down at the mess you're making together, reaching his hand down to position his cock at your entrance, "Just the tip, babygirl, I won't go any further than that. Don't be scared."
"I'm not scared," you breathe, and you absolutely mean it, looking up at him with what you're sure is a completely wrecked expression, "I want it, Joel. Please."
He places the head of his cock against your hole gently, very gently. Then he takes your hands from around his neck and holds them in his, presses them up against his chest as he looks deep into your eyes. You look back, gaze never leaving his as he slowly pushes himself inside you - just the tip.
You gasp.
"Shhh," he breathes, squeezing your hands and continuing to peer into your eyes, never breaking eye contact, "Shhh, you're okay," he murmurs, "You're okay, angel."
You lay completely still, lips parting and eyes going hazy as you focus all your energy on experiencing this moment, on feeling the way the head of Joel's cock feels inside of you. It's pulsing, warm and wide and big inside your pussy, throbbing against your walls.
It feels fucking amazing.
"Joel," you whimper, eyes still locked completely on his.
"You're mine," he breathes, jaw tense and eyes alight with something you can only describe as pure passion, "You hear me? You're the only one I want. Don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody."
You nod desperately, thighs shaking as the fat head of his cock pushes inside just a little more, making you squirm. He stills his hips, still holding your hands against his warm chest.
"Look at us," he murmurs, "Just look."
Your gaze finally unlocks from his, eyes trailing downward to where you're connected, where the thick length of his cock juts out from between your legs. You rise a bit on the bed, whimpering as you look down at exactly where he sits inside of you, wet and dark and filthy and fucking beautiful.
"You can take all of me," he whispers, "I know you can, babygirl. But not now, not here."
"I know," you breathe, swallowing and looking up at him again with tears filling your eyes.
He pulls himself out of you then, places his thick and throbbing shaft against your pussy again and begins to thrust, moving downward so he's pressed up tightly against you, your hands caught between each other's bodies, the crucifix still hanging between your fingers.
"I'm gonna take you away with me, okay?" he says, almost a whimper as he stares into your eyes again, intense and focused, "We're gonna go away and I'm gonna tell you everything you wanna know about me, alright? And I'm gonna fuck you, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good."
You're nodding as he speaks, whimpers and whines flowing continuously from your mouth as you near closer and closer to your orgasm, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger.
"I'll fuck you in the bed, I'll fuck you in the shower, I'll fuck you on the fucking floor," he groans, eyes suddenly shutting and breaking the eye contact he'd managed to hold for so long, his face coming down to bury itself in your neck, "You're mine, angel, you're mine."
"I'm yours," you cry as your climax hits you, knocks the wind out of you as you start to shake beneath him, your hole fluttering against the length of him, "I'm yours, Joel, only yours."
You feel his come hit your stomach, painting your skin as he releases a deep groan into your ear and puts his entire body weight on top of you. You just close your eyes and feel him, exist in this moment for as long as you can, just listening to his breathing match your own as you both come down from your high.
He nuzzles his face against the heat of your neck, squeezes your hand in his between your bodies. The crucifix digs into your palm but you barely feel it.
"I want you to keep it," you whisper in his ear, and he doesn't have to ask what you're talking about, just presses a soft kiss to your neck and finally pulls back to peer down at you with total adoration.
"Okay," he murmurs with a soft smile, "I will."
2K notes · View notes
lingeriae · 6 months
Note
Heyyyyy I love your writing so much!!!! Plus your theme is so nice!! It looks amazing 🫶🏾
Connie & Ony with partners that wear glasses? Can it include NSFW as well?
omg, I loveeee thissss
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ONY
- man I just know ony would be a straight up menanceee
- like, we all know onyankopon is sassy as fuck, so everytime you try to catch an attitude or have something smart to say to him, he looks you up and down throuhg his side-eye and mumbles
"aint about to argue with someone who needs goggles to see, girl bye."
or or or
"bad eyesight or bad attitude, pick a struggle."
- I just know he makes you soooo mad, like mad would be an understatement for reallll.
- Jokes aside, I feel like ony would be very very gentle with your glasses, shit he would care about them more than you. Always telling you to clean them, or putting them in a safe space whenever you fall asleep with them on or leave them out somewhere.
- He'd love you wearing em, without you wearing them too, but he'd love when you were them because of how cutely it frames your face and because you don't have to be hurting your pretty eyes just to see
...speaking of seeing
NSFW
- Ony literally gets so heated if you take off your glasses while your fucking cause when he's fucking you he wants you to see every nasty shit he be doing to that pussy.
- Fixes your glasses if they end up lopsided while he's drilling your shit, like it don't matter how into it he is or how close he is, he will stop and fix that shit. ARGUE WITH YOUR MOMMY!
- he lovessss when you have that shit on while giving him a blowjob, loves how messy your glasses gets when he releases all over them.
- if you cuss him about this, he'll just kiss you on your pretty mouf and tell you that he'll clean em.
CONNIE
omg
- please don't get me started on this.
- bro connie is so fucking annoyingggggg. Like I just know you be having to havea back-up glasses because of him.
- he be dragging that shit right the fuck off your face if yall get in an arguement or if yall are play fighting. asking you some shit like
"oh, cause I thought a visually impaired bitch said sum."
"you acting too bad like I can't control your vision."
"don't be raising your four-eyes head ass at me, ill make sure you stay blind keep playing."
- and he be thinking that shit is sooo funny, like it's not bro grow up.
- it's so funny cause it's the complete opposite when yall are getting jiggy with it
NSFW
- firm believer that connie gently takes off your glasses during sex, im standing on my ground on this.
- I mean pausing mid make-out just to slide that shit off your face, making extra sure to fold the arms before placing them somewhere safe.
where was this energy when we were fighting sir??
- and after he takes them off, he kisses your eyes gently before fucking you into any near surface.
- like I just have a feeling broooo
1K notes · View notes
satoruhour · 7 months
Note
gojo is a prone bone enthusiast you can’t convince me otherwise 😤😤😤😤
a/n: i think it’s impossible for me to write smtg without a lil story. forgive me yall / 0.7k / @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @satohruu ☆
warnings: fwb!gojo, sort of hate sex but they both have feelings, prone bone, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, pet names, praise, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut
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it’s filthy, the way gojo’s got you trapped under him so harshly and roughly, so in contrast with his candy sweet smile as he presented you with another bouquet of your favourite flowers — just another one of his escapades after completing a mission. in front of you, the blur of the flowers enter your vision, but you can hardly recall what colour combinations there were while being pounded into from behind.
“taking me s’well, fuck, baby,” gojo grunts as his body weight’s all pressed up on you: one hand on your lower back and triggering your arch while the other rests on the back of your neck — they hold you down, knees holding your plush thighs together while he watches your cunt stretch for him, “shit, angel, you sure you don’t want to make this a weekly thing?”
you’re moaning at the prospect of possibility getting his cock up your pussy every once a week, but you’re too prideful for that, claiming you hated him while getting soaking wet for him and letting him use you like a fuck toy in his office. his cushions smell like vanilla like you’ve always remembered, and there’s always your favourite piece of chocolate on his desk no matter when you come in, and his cock hits all the spots in you like it always does. maybe routine wouldn’t hurt, maybe gojo satoru wouldn’t mess with your feelings, not when he eats you out like your pussy was his oxygen and fucks you like he loves you.
“f—fuck, satoru—” your fingers dig into the fluffy cushion of the sofa, ass propping up just a little. with each thrust, his tip hits your cervix, kissing it barely just to send your eyes rolling back into your head. gojo moans at how tight you feel, spanning his hands over the expanse of your back and hovering over you.
“y-yeah? what is it, princess?” god, and these names he was calling you didn’t help one bit, angling his hips up into you and you preen, letting out something between a moan and a whine as your hips fuck back onto him.
“cock s’deep, ’toru, mmf…” the wooden structure of jujutsu high is old, terrible, so there’s no doubt the sounds of his pelvis slapping into the fat of your ass could permeate the walls, paired with the squelching slickness of your pussy and your mewls. you’re barely able to turn your body to see the man looming over you from behind, sweat sticking to his forehead, blindfold residing on his neck and ocean eyes trained on your side profile. he grunts softly when your eyes meet his and his hips stammer, switching to slow, grinding thrusts that cause your jaw to fall open. “sa— toru—! that— feels s’good…”
gojo tells himself not to cum when one of your hands wrap around the wrist next to your face, holding onto it for dear life as your body jerks from the deep, gradual thrusts he’s giving you. with this, he relishes in your pussy wrapping around him, the lewd drag of your sopping pussy lips spreading for him and sucking him in with each push of your ass on him; he briefly feels you play with your clit, rubbing impatiently as you held onto his arm.
“satoru, satoru, satoru— w’nna cum, ’m—” you’re squeezing his arm adorably, fingers twining with his that he’s the one who cums first. you were so cute, your hand closing around his as he squeezes your digits. gojo groans as he spills in you, shooting ribbons of cum deep into your cunt before he ignores the sensitivity of his cock and picks up the pace again. he knew you inside out, quite literally, fucking his cum back into you as your little pants pick up in volume again.
“oh my god— right the—” your eyes flutter close as your pussy squeezes his length, coating it with your cum and letting it drip down to his sofa and gojo thinks it’s one of the most beautiful sights he’s witnessed. below him, your mouth closes around his wrist and bites lightly for anchor, making his heart and dick jump at the look of your hooded lids and small smile. his hips move before he knows it, determined to breed you again and make you his.
“w’na go again…” you pant and kiss his skin, “...satoru.”
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futchbambi · 2 years
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Up in the mountains this weekend with mom's friend and her gay son. I was expecting some kind of elder gay-to-younger gay communication, not some greying dude trying his damnest to be the most obnoxious boomer ever
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iikatsukii · 1 year
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When the clock resets.
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synopsis: you’re brought back to life, unsure as to why eywa has given you another chance but as you return “home” things aren't quite the same. . 
pairings: sully family x daughter/sister!reader, neteyam x twin!reader, neytiri x daughter! reader, jake x daughter!reader
warnings: um tbh none except minor cursing, running away, passing out, mentions of malnourishment due to you being dead but yk. oh and ao’nung being a mama’s boy.
word count: 6,064
a/n: THIS IS PART 2 OF TOO LATE!!!! unfortunately there is no red text this time but guys i am still not done with this series because i have a request for if the reader survived the first part. but i will be moving back over to illicit love for a little bit because i didn't even expect this story to blow up like i did. like yall i was just sad and here yall are feeding off my trauma. but its okay yall are my little angst hungry babies. :) (also huge fucking shoutout to @eywas-heir for giving me this idea for pt. 2. go give them kisses for me and say i sent you :d)
taglist: @hai-kbai @ssc7514 @sillydog3-4-5 @hyunskz @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @rairaielv @freeauthordeputyartisan-blog @mel119g @ksata @artyom09 @marcswife21 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @andyfromku
(if youre name has a strike through it that means i wasnt able to tag you im so sorry guys i tried)
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waking up felt extremely weird. you felt like you had taken the longest, heaviest nap ever. slowly opening your eyes to adjust to the light, you take in your surroundings.
you're in a shallow hole, you noticed as you looked around, and there was dirt around you. you look up at what you would think was the sky and see something else that you remember seeing before. you see the leaf covering that the omatikaya place over their passed-away loved ones. you usually see these leaf coverings from the outside. this caused a slight panic to settle in your chest?
why are you here? did you die? what the hell is going on?
you reached your arm up, still feeling weak from not moving your joints in you don't even know how long. you slowly press against the leaf covering, pushing it away from the hole and exposing the sun to your eyes. you shielded yourself before you felt a shadow standing over your form. it was mo'at. the tsahik of the omatikaya clan.
"tsahik?" it was the first word you said, and it caused mo'at to press a hand to her mouth in shock as tears sprang to her eyes. her granddaughter, who had passed away two years ago, was looking up to her from her grave that she had pushed open herself. the tsahik didn't understand. how could the great mother take you away for two years and let their family mourn and grieve your death just to send you back to them two years later?
this made no sense.
"come with me, my child," was the only thing mo'at said as she reached out to grab your hand. she intertwined your fingers, wanting to hold her granddaughter as close as possible, fearing losing you again. she helped you out of the hole slowly as you still had to get used to moving your arms and legs around again. 
"ma tsahik?" you asked the older woman standing before you. "what happened to me?"
she didn't turn to look at you as she said in a hushed, almost hurt, tone of voice, "you died two years ago," you were left speechless. you didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. you tried to think back on what happened before you woke up from your 'nap,' but you couldn't remember anything. no matter how hard, no memories or thoughts came to your head.
"do not try to work your brain so hard trying to find answers that will come to you, my child. you'll hurt yourself." the tsahik jokes.
you looked up at her, seeing the slight smile on her face but missing the faint trace of tears in her eyes. you let out a small laugh at her joke.
"hey! i may not remember anything from before, but i know i was not stupid before i died." you laughed along, but this caused the tsahik to stop in her tracks, turning to you.
"say that again." she said, grabbing hold of your shoulders, her face painted with worry. 
"i was not dumb before i died?" you said, confused at her sudden actions.
"no, child! the other thing you said."
"oh, that i do not remember anything from before i died?" your words were cautious because you didn't know if what you were saying was offensive. 
"we must get you back to the camps." was all she said as she turned, grabbing your hand, but this time she walked with urgency. her pace was hard to keep up with due to your aching body, but you somehow managed. 
once you started to enter your native territory, you felt eyes everywhere. everyone was looking at you. you get it; you died and came back, but did everyone have to stare at you like that? it wasn't like you were the olo'eyktans daughter before you died. 
mo'at brought you to the center of the high grounds camp, and everyone gathered around to see what announcement their tsahik had for them. 
she didn't have some big speech planned. she just held your hand and said to the clan's people. 
"the great-mother has returned my granddaughter!" everyone was cheering and happy. this confused the sully family. the past two years after your death have been hard. the natives completely annihilated every rda soldier, lab, and scientist in sight. it was an unexpected, coordinated attack between the forest na'vi, the ice na'vi, and, surprisingly, even the ash na'vi. due to transportation, the water na'vi couldn't make it to fight the war, but they were able to send over some of their finest healers. 
let's just say no ships are coming to pandora ever again. jake made sure to send a message to the humans back on earth that if they ever sent one of their own to his planet again, he would single-handedly rip them each limb from limb. that was a promise, not a threat. humans had not gotten a chance to respond to jake's words. right after he delivered his messages, he pulled the pin of a grenade and walked out of the ship, it and the rest of the camp's base exploding behind them. although they didn't get to respond, they sure did receive the message, and earth now no longer had an avatar program. as the na'vi walked away from the war, they were victorious once and for all. 
neytiri was quietly braiding her youngest daughter's hair when she heard the cheers and celebration of the clan outside her home. and then that's when her three older children came running into their hut, screaming and crying, speaking simultaneously. it sounded as if they were speaking gibberish. 
"hey, hey kids calm down. what is going on?" jake asked his children, who looked like they were in distress. he was sitting in the home's living area, sharpening his blade as he had nothing else to do. 
"Y/N HAS RETURNED." it was kiri who got the words out first. 
neytiri, jake, and tuk all froze. there was no way. the great mother had taken you right in front of their eyes. you have been gone for two years; it can't be. neytiri had visited your grave just last night. there you lay, closed-eyed and lifeless in front of her, but as she walked out of her home and into the center of the clan's gathering there, you stood. you looked skinny and malnourished, but you were standing, breathing, alive. 
neytiri couldn't believe her eyes. she thought she was dreaming as she approached you slowly. she held your face in her hands, and as soon as she felt your skin against her own, she broke down in tears, engulfing you in the tightest hug you had ever felt. 
"ow." you said when she squeezed a bit too hard. this caused the woman to release you quickly, as she had forgotten how fragile you were right now. 
"ma ite, you have returned to me, oh great mother, you have answered my prayers. thank you, thank you, thank you," she said as she pulled you into a hug again, this time softer, as if she was afraid that if she held you too rough, you would break in her arms. 
you, on the other hand, were nervous. granddaughter? ite? what is going on right now? there's no way you're the tsahik's granddaughter. you couldn't imagine what your mother would be like as a person, let alone any of your family. all you knew was that you were from the forest, but maybe eywa brought you back to the wrong part of the forest? you couldn't even look at the woman before you and pinpoint a resemblance. you had four fingers; some of her children had five, and you weren't like them. only one other child had four tingers, and you noticed it was the eldest son. 
when you made eye contact with him, his eyes softened. neteyam hadn't looked into his twin's eyes in ages. he missed you like no other. yeah, neytiri had it hard losing her first daughter, but neteyam had his twin's life ripped from her body right in front of his eyes. at that moment, it was almost like he felt the bullets go through his chest as well. that's how great the pain of losing you felt. but looking at you now, he felt like his heart was whole again. but there was this look in your eye. you looked different. not physically. you looked at neteyam differently. almost like you didn't recognize him.
mo'at had hoped that seeing your home and your family would cause your memories to come flooding back, but the look on your face was not giving her that impression. 
"i am sorry if i am ruining a happy moment…." you spoke up, causing everyone to immediately silence themselves so they wouldn't miss a word you said. but you didn't say anything that caused any happiness or joy in anyone. instead, your words scared everyone.
"–but i do not know who you guys are. i am not the tsahik's granddaughter and miss, i am not your daughter. i am sorry but i think you have things confused. please excuse me." you pulled yourself away from the woman who claimed to be your mother, but she tightened her grip on your hands.
"ma y/n, what do you mean? you do not remember me? i am your mother, your sa'nu. you are ma ite, my sweet girl." neytiri was taken aback. this isn't right, you're supposed to come back, and then everything goes back to normal. but the great mother has returned you with no memories at all. to you, neytiri was just a stranger claiming to be your mother.  
the next person to approach you was the olo'eyktan himself. you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes because of how his vast form intimidated you.
"itetsyip. maybe if you come home and see some of your things then you'll remember." he said, placing his hand on your back and walking you in the direction of what you assumed was their home. you quickly remove yourself from the two adults who had you in their arms. 
"i am sorry but i am not your daughter. i do not want to enter your home to look at whatever things you think are mine. just because i have no memory of my family does not mean you get to take me away from them. the great mother may have returned me to my body with no memories but that does not mean you get to put whatever you want in my head, trying to get me to believe you. i only just returned. do you not understand how overwhelming this is?" you were scared. everything was happening so fast. 
you just found out that you had been dead for two years, and now these people are trying to push this life in you that you know god and well that wasn't yours. you don't know who these people are, and they were making absurd accusations. maybe you really were in the wrong part of the forest.
"y/n stop joking around. do you not remember us? you are neteyam's twin sister for crying out loud. how can you be cruel enough to pull a joke like this? have we not suffered enough?" lo'ak was fed up with this whole situation. you were his sister, dammit. how could you not remember that? neteyam is your twin. you, tuk, and kiri were sisters. they're standing right in front of you, just begging you to run into their arms so they can embrace you.
you looked at the teenage boy oddly. like he had three heads. he doesn't know what he's talking about. these people are so pushy and demanding; you can't come from a family like this. you thought about it, and you knew they would be able to catch you if you tried to make a break for it, but you didn't want to be here anymore. 
lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the family's eldest son walking up to you. he gently grabbed your shoulders, looking directly into your eyes that were identical to his. 
"you could not have forgotten about your twin brother have you, sister?" his words were soft. they sounded broken like he was hurting inside. from what? you don't know, but this isn't your problem to deal with. these people obviously lost somebody, but it is not you. you are not from here. so you hatched a plan in your head. 
"maybe i just need to walk around the forest and re-familiarize myself. it–" you choked on your words, not even wanting to say it.
"it could help me regain my memories. and then we can be a family again, yeah?" you look into the boy's eyes, noticing them shining a bit brighter. you gave him hope. 
that wasn't your intention. you just wanted to leave, so to make yourself 100x more believable, you hugged him. with all the strength you had in your body, which wasn't much. 
everyone was shocked. even neteyam, but he didn't want to lose this moment, so he hugged you back tight, so you could feel his love but not too tight because of how weak you are. you pulled back from the hug, bowing slightly to everyone before you walked in the direction that you and the tsahik came from so you wouldn't seem lost. you looked back before you could fully disappear into the trees. eyes meeting those of the people who claimed to be your family. looking at them, you didn't even see where you would fit in. they already looked whole. so you managed a small fake smile, sent them a small wave, and continued your trek through the forest, trying to get as far away from the omatikaya people as possible.
by the time they realize you're gone, you'll already be way too far for them to find you. you wandered around, wondering why the great-mother returned you like this? did you not deserve to keep your memories?
almost as if she heard your question, the great mother flashed an image in your head. it was different shades of forest green, with indigo spots placed randomly around its body, looking almost like flowers. its wings were majestic, but you couldn't pinpoint what you had seen until it landed right in front of you, keeping you from walking off a cliff you hadn't even realized you were walking towards. 
you couldn't believe that after two years of being gone, your ikran, syulang, was still alive. you named her syulang because, yes, of course, she looks like she's covered in flowers, but unlike other ikrans, syu was quiet, elegant, almost undetectable in the air. you would never hear her flying anywhere, and nobody knew why. the air would run smoothly over her wings, completely muting the sound of the wind rushing by in comparison to the usual loud, noisy ikrans that everyone else had tamed. syulang was delicate, like a flower.  "syu! hi girl, oh my goodness you’re alive." you said as you created your tsaheylu with her for the first time in years. it felt like the first time all over again, except without the part where she tried to kill you. syulang was happy to see you as well, nuzzling into you. "syulang, we have to go. right now. come on girl, take me home." when you said this, syulang made a noise of confusion but allowed you to mount her anyways. the two of you took off into the night, the eclipse making it too dark for anyone to notice that an ikran was out flying. not like they would hear syulang anyways.
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it's been hours. you still hadn't come back from the forest, and the sullys were getting worried. everyone was tense and stressed until kiri spoke up. 
"she ran away," the teenage girl hadn't even realized it was herself who had spoken. she looked up and made eye contact with everyone in her family, repeating herself.
"she ran away, and she is not going to come back." tears sprung to her eyes as she just wanted her sister to return home. it was like eywa was dangling the most precious thing to them right in their faces, and every time they reached out, she snatched it away. 
"she would not do that. she said she was just going on a walk. kiri have some faith in her. sure she did not remember us but she would not have hugged me if she was just gonna run away. she said she would come home." neteyam argued. he didn't want to believe that you had left them again, but that's what it was starting to seem like. 
"we will check the ikrans. if hers is still there, then she's around here somewhere. we can go out and look for her." syulang had not left your family's ikran nest since the day you had passed. she was too depressed to do anything with her hunter being dead. the sullys made sure to take care of her for you, knowing you wouldn't want syu to suffer like you did. honestly, syulang was the closest thing the sullys had to you after you died. they'd take turns taking care of her at night, bringing tuk every now and then so she could see syulang too. 
the walk to the family ikran nest was full of arguing. kiri said that neteyam and lo'ak had to come to their senses and realize that you were gone again. the boys refused to believe that you would leave again, but as they approached the ikran nest, seeing syulang's corner abandoned gave them the answer they fought over. 
you had left.
"i told you she left. i mean for eywa's sake you guys bombarded her as soon as she got here!" kiri yelled at her family. she knew this was just displaced anger and that she didn't really mean it, but she was tired of holding her tongue. 
"don’t you dare say we bombarded her! she is my twin who died in front of me! eywa forgive me for wanting to hug her after she's been dead for two years!" neteyam yelled back at kiri; this just caused a huge family argument to break out.
tuk, who was standing to the side watching her family fall apart, couldn't help but cry. she just wanted her family to go back to normal. "stop fighting…" it came out as a whisper, her family arguing so loud that they hadn't even heard her. so she decided to make them hear her.
"STOP FIGHTING!!" everyones' heads snapped at the youngest sully child. little tuk had just raised her voice at them for the first time ever.
"give me a break! we are all hurt okay?! us, y/n, grandma, the clan? everyone is sad! we did bombard her! she has not been here for two years. we should have let her settle in first. i get it. you guys miss her. so do i, but ma sa'nu when you talked to her she looked so confused and scared. and nete, when she was hugging you her eyes were so empty. she looked so lost. we scared her away. we had a chance to make things normal again, to be a family again and all you guys could do was be selfish and think about yourselves!! i just miss her. i want her to come back, i–" tuk couldn't even finish what she was saying as her sobs overcame her. neytiri scooped up her youngest daughter, cradling her in her arms, trying to soothe her harsh cries.
tuk had just lectured their entire family, and nobody could be mad at her because she was right. neytiri realized that she had been pushy. jake and lo'ak, too, but it wasn't because they were trying to scare you. they just missed you so much they couldn't contain themselves. they had been selfish, putting their feelings over yours once again. it was the same way they lost you last time, and now, who knows where you went or when you left. the family just remained in their ikrans nest that night, needing all the warmth they could get as they all just held each other and cried.
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you didn't think you could fly any longer. it had already been a few days, and you didn't see the forest anymore. you already didn't have a lot of energy due to you being dead for two years, but it didn't help that you left with absolutely no supplies to survive on your own. everything was starting to look the same. you felt like you were going in circles, seeing the same islands over and over. the ocean water was beautiful, you had to admit, but right now, all you could think about was if it would cushion your fall if you fell off your ikran. you knew it was only moments before you passed out from exhaustion.
the world started to spin as if it wasn't already, your vision was in and out, and you felt sleepy. you were exhausted and couldn't fly another second. as your body completely shut down, you fell off your ikran and into the waters below you, your tsaheylu disconnecting in the process.
had it not been for the hunters out at three brothers rock, you would have died. they noticed your ikran flying in the direction of their mainland, assuming you were a visitor and that they would meet you when they got back to the island, but they knew something was wrong when they noticed your form plummeting from the extreme height, completely motionless. 
they only took a few minutes to have you on the rock. they were nervous about doing cpr on you because you looked to be a teenager.
"ao'nung, come over here!" the hunter in charge called over the olo'eyktans son.
"what is it?" he said, noticing the tension in the air. he looked down, seeing you unconscious on the ground. his eyes widened. where had you come from? pushing that question aside, ao'nung took in your appearance, noticing how thin and weak you looked. he didn't know what it was, but it stirred something in him. you reminded him of his little sister, tsireya. if this was her, he would want one of the hunters to save her, so he put one arm under your shoulders and another under your leg and slid into the water, calling out to his ilu. 
"i'm bringing her to my mother immediately. she looks weak. i don't even know if she'll live, but i have to try." he said before taking off as fast as he could to the mainland. he noticed above him your ikran was flying at the same pace as him, probably too worried to leave your side.
when ao'nung got home holding an unconscious forest na'vi, he received a lot of weird glances from the clan's people, but he didn't care. he rushed home, looking for his mother.
pushing the flap open to see his mother had just put the last of her herbs away, ao'nung called out to his mom. 
"sa'nu! help! i– she needs help. please." hearing her son in distress, ronal was quick to give him her attention. instructing to lay the girl on the floor, she reminded herself to ask him where he had found her, but right now, she prioritized saving your life. she tried a healing remedy that would've usually worked, but you remained motionless. ronal put her ear to your chest, your heart was beating, but it was very faint. she knew only one thing she could do now, and it was the riskiest healing remedy known by all tsahiks. it has a minimal success rate but has healed some of the deadliest injuries known to eywa.  
once the remedy was made entirely, ronal told ao'nung to get out and find his father and sister before coming back. the boy nodded, walking out to find his sister. 
when he spotted tsireya riding on the ilus with her friends, he called her over. tsireya noticed her brother looked a bit more anxious than usual, so she excused herself and walked over. 
"brother what is wro– oh!" ao'nung pulled his little sister into the tightest hug he could muster. she remained shocked as her brother wasn't really one for physical affection at all unless it was from his mother. 
"please just– don't die on me, okay? at least not anytime soon. promise me, okay?" he said, pulling back and grabbing her shoulders as he looked into his sister's eyes. she just nodded and walked alongside her brother, wondering what on earth had him shaken up like this. 
upon retrieving his father, ao'nung returned with his father and his sister in tow. when they entered the tent, you were in ronal's arms, crying your heart out. the woman just looked up to her family, shushing them as she continued to provide you comfort. hearing your cries throughout their home hurt their hearts. you cried like you were hurt like you had experienced grave pain, and it was coming back to haunt you. 
from this moment on, the family decided they would take you in. they didn't know who or where you were from, but they wanted to heal you of this pain. their hearts hurt hearing how much pain your heart had to endure. there's a reason why eywa brought you to them, and they were not about to let you go.
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you had been living amongst the metkayina clan for about half a year now. you weren't even recognizable from when you had arrived at the clan. when you got here, you were thin as a twig, you never had the energy to do anything, and you cried yourself to sleep every night. now, you had filled out your form, even gaining a bit of muscle from adapting to the metkayina ways. you had also completed your iknimaya, which meant you were allowed to get a tattoo. you choose to get two. the pain was well worth it, though, because once your leg sleeve and arm tattoo were complete, you couldn't have been happier. 
you finally felt like your life was worth living again. you no longer cried yourself to sleep; instead, you snuck out with your brother and sister, going to the small island where all the young na'vi hang out. you were finally happy. the great mother had brought you home. she had returned you to your family. 
the only odd thing was your dreams recently. you dreamed of the forest, of nantangs, woodsprites, and ikrans. things that have nothing to do with the metkayina. it was weird. you felt like eywa was trying to shove memories in your brain, but you were so at peace with your life that you disregarded it, too caught up, in reality, to be bothered by silly dreams. 
you loved life on the beaches, in the sand, underwater, just taking in the beauty of awat'alu as you sat on a rock. at the same time, you watched ao'nung, tsireya, and rotxo playing on their ilus in the water. they were splashing each other, just taking time to be the teenagers they knew they'll never be again. you were about to cannonball in the water to join them when you all heard the horns of the clan being blown, announcing new arrivals. 
you all stopped what you were doing, looking toward the screeches you heard. you knew that sound, that was bob, jake's ikran.
wait a minute… what?
whos jake?
‘jake sully’ said a voice in your head. you recognized it as she had spoken to you once before, but you couldn't remember where. 
why is this name coming to your head right now? you felt your wrist being grabbed by your sister, tsireya. she dragged you to the beaches of your clan's home, where everyone else had gathered. you stood behind your father, tonowari, as you continued to think about the name that came to your head. who is jake sully, and why did you just remember his name? 
"my children, ao'nung, tsireya, and–" tonowari paused, looking to his side at his children, realizing one was missing, until he turned around and realized you were just hiding behind him. 
"–and my youngest, y/n, will teach your children the ways of our home, so you do not suffer the burden of being useless here," tonowari stepped aside, pushing you in front of him, so the family who had arrived could see you. 
you looked up to make eye contact with the first person you spotted.
"tuktuk." the words were quiet from your mouth. the little girl, who had her head tucked into her mother's neck, perked up when she heard the nickname you used to call her.
"kiri, cut it out. that is not funny!" tuk said, looking at her sister, offended she would play a sick joke on her like that after they had just left their home. 
jake and neytiri decided to move their family from the omatikaya clan, deciding that being there reminded them too much of you. it hurt to continue to live on the soil that you died on. so they up and moved their whole family elsewhere, flying towards warmer air and gorgeous waters. they fully expected to be able to find uturu with jake being toruk makto and their war being over. what they hadn't expected to see was their dead runaway daughter standing amongst a sea of teal na'vi.
slowly walking towards the family, tonowari called out to you, but ronal placed her hand on her mate's chest, telling him to shut up and watch what was happening.
"tuktuk," you repeated as you walked towards the girl. when tuk realized that the voice was coming from in front of her and not behind her, she turned her head around, her yellow eyes meeting yours. 
"y/n!!" tuk practically dropped herself from her moms' arms, running up to you. 
you met her halfway, falling to your knees, pulling your little sister into a hug, her face in your neck as you supported her head. as you looked at each one of them, their names, faces, and memories came back. you remembered everything. 
"and you're neteyam, and lo'ak and kiri!" when your siblings heard you say their names, it was like a switch in them flipped. within seconds they were all in the sand hugging you and tuk, crying because you finally remembered them. 
you pulled back from the hug, looking at the two people who hadn't joined the hug yet. 
"sempu," you said, reaching your hand out to jake. he didn't even try to conceal his tears as he allowed himself to join his children in their hug. 
your mother still stood there in awe. neytiri was scared. she was the reason you left last time and didn't want to scare you away again, so she just stood with tears rolling down her face, not knowing what to do. for the first time in her life, neytiri didn't know what to do. 
you could see the hesitation in her eyes. but you were confused as to why. neytiri was the only one who treated you right before you died… so why is she the last to come to you.
"mom?" you called out to her, but she didn't move. did she not want you anymore? has she gotten used to the family without you? 
you tried once more, refusing to lose your family again. "sa'nu, please." a tear rolled down your cheek, looking into your mother's eyes. you saw all the hurt and stress, everything she had to endure while you were gone. 
hearing you call her sa'nu was the last push neytiri needed before she fell to her knees and joined her family's embrace. you have returned. you returned to your family, and you were safe. everyone pulled back from you, taking in your appearance. you had matured a lot since the last time they saw you. you and neteyam were about the same height now, but your muscles surpassed his due to all the swimming you do. 
you noticed that he had noticed too, and you just nudged his shoulder with your own, "do not worry, twin, i will teach you everything you will need to know. maybe you will grow up to be big and strong like me," you teased your twin. neteyam rolled his eyes, laughing along with you. 
"woah! y/n, you have a tattoo?" lo'ak asked as he looked at your left leg. you just laughed at his silly question. of course, that's the first thing he asks you. 
"she has two! there's one on this arm as well," kiri said, holding out your right arm so they could see the tattoo that you had there as well. 
"no fair, mom, i want a tattoo." tuk said, whining to her mother. neytiri laughed at her daughter's statement and just pet her head, moving her braids out her face. "maybe when you're older, tuk," she said.
"babygirl," your father grabbed your attention. "i just want you to know that we are all so sorry for how we treated you before you past–" you cut your father off, shaking your head. 
"it is in the past. the great mother may have returned my memories but it is me who gets to choose which ones to remember. i want to leave the past behind me. i have found a new home here. new peace. a found family who loves me dearly. i don't want you guys to feel like you have to atone to anything. eywa has given us a new start, so i think we should welcome it with open arms instead of trying to mend that has already been healed," you really had matured in your time away from the sullys. 
they all looked at one another. if that was what you wanted, they would be sure to leave the past in the past so they can embrace the chance to make things right with you. 
you stood, the rest of the sullys following. you walked back over to tonowari and ronal, pulling them into a hug. 
"just because my memories have returned does not mean that you are not my family anymore. you have all helped and healed me from wounds that i did not know i had so i can only thank you, sempu, sa'nu. you guys are my found family and i would not trade you for the world." smiling up at your other parents. Wow, this is gonna get confusing, but you were more than excited to have two families. 
you looked over and pulled ao'nung and tsireya into the hug as well. "you guys, too, thank you so much," you said to your siblings. they couldn't do anything but hug you back. you may not be their biological blood, but they could care less. you are now one of their people. ronal and tonowari will always see you as their daughter, and ao'nung and tsireya will always see you as their sister. you will always be family to them. 
you and tsireya decided to guide the sully family to their new home, as ronal had allowed them to stay. you noticed that lo'ak was eying your sister up quite a bit and decided that you would tease him about it later. you were just happy to finally feel at peace. you finally had the family, the life you had dreamed of. 
you couldn't do anything except thank eywa for all the good she brought into your life. 
‘you're welcome, my child.’ it was the same voice that you heard earlier. when you realized that she was responding to your thanks, if you finally clicked whose voice you were hearing. 
it was eywa.
she was with you. she had always been. throughout this journey, she made sure to stick by your side. that was something that you couldn't be more grateful for. 
‘be free my child, allow nothing from here on out to hold you back. you are meant to live a happy life, and now you are able to do so.’
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hanwiore · 8 months
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“oh gosh…” you moaned as your finger nails slide down the mans back, his arm under yours as you laid on your back. His fingers having a grip on your grey pillows. Your arms had no choice but to go over his shoulders
As his lower half fit perfectly in between yours before your thighs were so far apart, welcoming him in. Both of you bare and sweaty because yall were both on the edge.
He moves his hips in circular motion, digging his fat tip on your g-spot. “Oh- choso no more! I wanna cum!” You whined and his fingers moved your braids away from your face, looking down and at your ruined makeup, mascara sliding down, false individual eyelashes still attached, gloss and slobber around your mouth from the kissing and you moaning with your mouth wide open.
“No more?” He bites your bottom lip and you tighten your pussy around his already fat ass dick. He groans and pushes into you harder, hips still attached to eachother but thighs separating from each small but deep thrust. “You wanna cum on my shit huh?” He moves his lips closer to your ear. “Want me to fucking breed that nasty pussy huh?”
“I-im cumming- ouuuu fuck!” You cried as you heart started beating a little faster, tears forming and thighs trembling. But your thighs wasn’t the only one, chose hips started getting sloppy, getting off because your getting off, he sits up moving his arms from under you and putting both of his hands on your neck, now his hips are disconnected from your just to smack down harshly the neck, “touch the clit baby, want you to squirt on it.”
And you did, you did and you felt it.
You breathing turning labored and the feeling in your stomach that traveled to your toes and spine.
His face turnt into one of hurt, biting his lips so hard as manly whimpers fall through the closed mouth, eyebrows frowning and eyes unfocused.
That was it for you. You squirted and it was to much!
“Oh, fuckfuckfuuuck yes baby.” He moans and pulls you up by your neck, he sits on his heels just so he can fuck up into you like a desperate puppy. “I-imma fucking cum, gonna breed that pussy, ov-over and f-fuckin over again i swear princess.” One hand held on your lower back while the other one gripped the back of your neck as you felt the warm nut feeling you up.
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